The last day to pull candidate papers, collect signatures and file to run for local office in Hawaii is Tuesday, June 4. And while some of you might balk at the thought of putting your name out there to be scrutinized and having to face the consequences of being branded a loser if you come up short, I’d like to give you some reasons why you should run anyway.

When I was still a little kid in the 1980s, I noticed a recurring pattern whenever I would hang out at a friend’s house.

Those of you reading this who are fellow Gen Xers may recall back then during the late ’70s and ’80s there was a fad for collectible drinkware where our favorite cartoon shows all had glasses with the characters painted on them. As was polite custom whenever one would be a guest at someone’s house, I’d often be offered a soda or punch beverage served in one of those gaudy glasses.

My friends and their parents would usually take two ice cubes from a Rubbermaid freeze tray, drop it in the glass, then pour in a room-temperature Pepsi or Hawaiian Punch. What is the problem with this? Two ice cubes are almost never enough to cool a drink, so the end result is you get a lukewarm beverage that is only marginally more satisfying than if you had just consumed room-temperature soda or punch. 

When you come to my house, by contrast, you get a glass of ice loaded to the brim and the original soda can to pour at your convenience.

One gram of melting ice extracts an average of 333 joules of thermal energy from a room-temperature beverage, so the more ice you put in — it’s not rocket science, guys — the cooler things are. And thus, here is a lesson I want all of you to commit to memory this election year: It’s much cooler when there are more of us running for office.

Not Enough Choices On The Ballot

You should definitely run for office if there’s even the slightest chance that you might have something positive and uplifting to offer the community.

Part of the problem, especially here in Hawaii, is that despite all the pikake-scented talk about aloha, acceptance, inclusion — and all those other great buzzwords, our actual experience here is often one of rejection, division and isolation. As a result, we are extremely sensitive to shame as individuals and hyperconformist as a community. 

In my last article about social breakdown, I talked about a concept called avoidance. No one wants to be laughed at, no one wants to have to be grilled over their personal history and no one wants to have the title of “loser” if they come up short in the election.

No one, and I mean absolutely no one, wants to see that look in the eyes of one’s peers that silently says “See? I told you that you were always a loser and shouldn’t have tried. Why can’t you be more like so-and-so?” 

But as the late Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld once said during a Pentagon briefing, “Your problem is, you’re proceeding in a perfectly logical direction to an illogical conclusion.” Rumsfeld had a lifelong rule of “You can’t win unless your name is on the ballot.” 

All across America, every city and state is imploding because people are becoming more and more avoidant. There are not enough choices on our ballot, and this is why. The establishment is counting on you being sensitive to shame, reactive to implied threats and deterred by trauma.

I get it. Like the ice cubes I told you about, if there are only one or two of us in the electoral glass, the establishment can keep the temperature relatively the same and negate the effects of change. And that’s why it seems like so far, nothing ever changes.

It’s much cooler when more of us run for office. The effects of change are not all on you. But collectively, when many people run for office together, we can quickly change the status quo. Some, maybe even most of us will melt in this election. But we will have changed the temperature and disrupted the status quo. It’s not about you. It’s not about me. It’s about us. It’s a leap of faith, but it’s also a patriotic act that says “I matter, you matter and I have an idea that I’d like to talk about, so I’m going to run.”

It’s Not Too Late To Run

Your first step will be to go to the Office of Elections website as soon as possible and get your nomination papers for the seat of your choice. Then you will need to collect signatures of people who are willing to put you on your ballot. Depending on what office you’re running for, you may need more.

When I helped a friend years ago who decided to run last minute, we printed multiple copies of the nomination form and stood in front of supermarkets in the district and just randomly asked people, “Would you sign this, my friend is running for office!” We got all the signatures and got them on the ballot.

Once you’re confirmed as a candidate, you’ll also have to register with the Campaign Spending Commission, but don’t be afraid, you can read more about it here. You could in theory run an entire race just by walking door-to-door and talking to people without airing ads or doing mailers, and many do.

You’ll also by default receive endorsement questionnaires from various special interest groups and be invited to candidate forums, where you’ll have the chance to talk about what’s on your heart — and maybe that alone is enough, because it means someone who used to be off-the-radar is now suddenly being seen and heard by stakeholders and community members.

Now listen to me, no matter what happens: You’re not a reject. You’re not a loser. You’re not a face in the crowd, nor should you desire to remain that way. You have permission to be a choice for our future. I believe that sometimes God puts something on our hearts to be an invitation to the people around us. Real rejection is when we do nothing, defer to conformity and submit to obscurity. 

When we’re old and passing away, we’re not going to remember the moments when we conformed and complied with the petty expectations of the people around us.

We’re going to relish the times when we did something bold and took initiative. We’re going to remember when we took risks. We’re going to remember the bold statements that were intense, cringy and awkward, but had to be said. And we’re going to remember the people who were, pardon my Gen X analogy, courageous and cool enough to run.