A friend took this photo of me at an open mic night last Friday. When she showed it to me, I realized it would shock people.
Image credit: Michele’s friend Janet U.
That’s me at the microphone – singing publicly for the first time in 25 years, and playing guitar in front of an audience for the first time ever.
It would shock people who knew me for the first 25 years of my life to hear that I hadn’t sung or performed or written songs in more than two decades. Just like it would shock the people who’ve known me in the last 25 years that in my younger years I was always on stage. There was always some show, some performance, something with a microphone. It was definitional, woven into who I was.
But when you’re busy building a life, it’s easy to forget to live – or at least to forget to live out loud, with all the texture and three-dimensional technicolor vibrance that you deserve. Responsibilities pile up. Years pass. The things that made you feel most alive get buried under layers of everything else that needs doing.
I didn’t intend to take a decades-long break from performing. But the inertia of years had calcified; overcoming it was going to require some courage.
I spend most of my time encouraging other people to do brave things. It comes with the territory as Co-Founder and Executive Director of an organization that crowdfunds for underfunded Democrats running in some of the reddest parts of the country. I tell candidates to show up in impossible places, to take up space, to be visible even when the odds are stacked against them.
Last week it was my turn to take my own advice.
There were plenty of reasons to back out. My son wasn’t feeling up to going. It was cold. My guitar isn’t fancy. It’s been long enough since I’ve performed that my rust has rust. The man who was up right before me is a singer/songwriter with his own band; he just returned from doing shows in Seattle and saw the open mic as he was walking by. With a borrowed guitar, he performed a 3-song professional set. To say I was following a ringer would be an understatement. Nobody would have blamed me for backing out.
But I pushed all that down.
Because what is life if it’s not for living? What are we doing here on this great spinning rock if we’re not going to do the brave things that make us feel alive, and make a difference, and bring us joy?
So I walked up to the mic, nodded to The Ringer, sat down, and as I was getting settled said:
“Hi everyone. My name is Michele Hornish. It’s been 25 years since I’ve sung in front of people. It’s funny – sometimes life gets in the way of living.”
A few women nodded. I saw something in their faces – recognition, knowing glances. A shared understanding of what it means to make ourselves smaller, to tuck parts of ourselves away.
And then I closed my eyes and sang like 25 years hadn’t passed since the last time.
When the last chord rang out, I opened my eyes to broad smiles and wild applause. The Ringer in the front row gave me a thumbs up. There was plenty of encouragement, many new connections, and even more hugs.
And I remembered so much of what I had forgotten about myself.
Every day I tell organizers and nominees and activists to show up anyway, even when it feels hopeless. To run for office in districts where they’re told they can’t win. To refuse to make themselves small or quiet or accommodating.
But somewhere along the way, I’d stopped showing up for my own brave thing. I had made myself small in exactly the way I was telling others not to.
This moment in our country isn’t just about political resistance. It’s about resisting the urge to make yourself small in all areas of life. It’s about choosing aliveness even when it’s scary. It’s about taking up space even when it would be far safer, far more comfortable, far more advisable to stay hidden.
It’s about stepping out of line and stepping into our own lives.
And actively choosing joy.
Right now it feels like we’re all walking through molasses. The news is jarring, unhinged. Every day brings something else that makes you want to curl up under the covers and make yourself less visible.
But that’s exactly when reclaiming your voice matters most.
Because reclaiming your voice – literally or metaphorically – is an act of resistance all on its own. Not because it’s inherently political, but because fascism thrives when people make themselves small. When they stop creating, stop expressing, stop taking up space. When they’re too exhausted or demoralized to sing, or write, or paint, or organize, or do whatever thing makes them feel most alive.
There’s a reason artists and poets and songwriters are always among the first targets of authoritarian movements. Not just because they criticize power, but because they remind us of our aliveness. They show us what it looks like to take up space unapologetically. They inspire courage in others simply by refusing to dim their own light.
And we all know that courage is contagious.
Choosing joy – actively, defiantly choosing it – isn’t escapism. It’s fuel. It’s what keeps us going when everything else feels impossible. And it’s how we stay alive inside ourselves so we have something left to give to the fight.
Friday night, I finally took my own advice.
I did the brave thing. Not with my own song yet, but with lots of hugs, hearty applause, and a very full heart.
I’m looking forward to the next one.
And friend? If layers of life have covered over things you used to love, I hope you take this as a sign.
Go sing your song.
Let’s get to work.
Actions for the Week of December 16, 2025
Friend, things may be heavy – but you can lighten that load by doing something small – a “small deed” – to bring about the world that you want to see. I call it Action Therapy.
That’s why in each Tuesday post I share a few “small things” – usually a Small Thing to Read, a Small Event to Attend, and a Small Call to Make or Action to Take. My intention here is to give you actions you can tuck into your week with ease – and know that you’re doing something today to make tomorrow better.
Join me in doing so. It matters.
Small Call to Make / Action to Take: Share your healthcare story. H/T Rogan’s List
The impact of the expiration of ACA subsidies is going to be seismic. Millions and millions of Americans will have stories about how they are being impacted, and it’s so important to share them.
I’ve said it before, but humans are narrative creatures and these personal stories resonate far more than you think.
So I was thrilled to see Rogan’s List sharing a few resources that make it easier to share those personal stories: Community Catalyst has a portal for recording videos about how the premium tax credits have helped us and what losing them will mean here, and Families USA is collecting written versions here. Our Democratic members of Congress will also be looking for examples to share of folks suffering from Republicans raising our prices – we can submit them directly to their offices or via Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries here.
YOUR story is persuasive and impactful friend. Share it! 💙
Small Event to Attend: TONIGHT Rural Democracy Initiative and Force Multiplier!
If you’ve been here for a while you know that I’m a big fan of the Rural Democracy Initiative. They do great work (and have great public resources). Tonight at 7pm eastern RDI is appearing with Force Multiplier to introduce “a targeted digital communications project to counteract right-wing disinformation and highlight the direct impacts of MAGA-aligned federal budget cuts on rural communities in six flippable House districts (IA01, IA03, PA07, PA08, PA10, WI03).”
“Leveraging a network of trusted local messengers including the Main Street Alliance, Iowa Farmers Union, and PA Stands Up, the initiative will create and distribute hyper-localized, content that focuses on affordability and the loss of public services.”
Sounds promising, right? I think so too. Join the event by registering here . You can also donate here.
Small Thing to Read: He Watched 12 Hours of Nick Fuentes So You Don’t Have To
Since the murder of Charlie Kirk I have realized that my knowledge of the far right is not nearly as comprehensive as I had thought. Nick Fuentes (whose chant “your body my choice” became a phenomenon among radicalized young men after Dobbs) is a white supremacist influencer whose followers are often called “groypers.” Their extreme views are becoming shockingly mainstream. This very short piece does a good job I think of describing Nick’s influence. Read it at The Atlantic here.
Thanks for reading, friend – I’m glad to see you here! You’re making a difference, I promise.
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