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In June of 2019, I was an 11-year-old kid from a very small town in New Hampshire who loved politics and history. My dad had agreed to take me to see any presidential candidate speaking within an hour of home.
By June, I had seen 13 of the 26 candidates, and my dad was pretty worn out.
But Joe Biden hadn’t made it over to our more rural side of the state. One morning, I saw news that he was set to visit Concord. After some persuasion, I managed to convince my dad to travel past his limit.
On the drive over, I decided I was going to ask a question — I had watched and listened to others ask questions at events — and my dad promptly suggested, “Sure, you should ask him what his dog’s name is or something.” Knowing that would be easily googleable, I just as promptly replied, “No, Dad, that would be a major waste of a question.”
I wanted to make my opportunity worthwhile and ask a meaningful question. Listening to my morning NPR show, I knew there was ongoing debate on whether Donald Trump should have an impeachment trial, so I decided to ask about that.
‘Young Man!’
I left Dad at the back and edged up to the front. As soon as Biden finished speaking, I eagerly raised my hand, we locked eyes, and he pointed to me and called out, “Young man!” He may have been a little surprised by my question, but he took me seriously and answered carefully and thoroughly.
Afterwards, he signed his book that I had read, inscribing, “Quinn, remember me when you are president.” I was beyond happy and privately resolved not to ever take my dad’s glib question suggestions seriously and to ask real questions at every event going forward.
Laura Ingraham — as distasteful as her methods are and as teary-eyed as they made that 11-year-old — prepared me well for what she called the “toxic soup” of politics. I must have watched her diss me a thousand times, but after that, not much fazed or impressed me, including politicians and journalists. Thanks, Laura.
My Star Turn as a ‘Pathetic Political Prop’
The next day, the Laura Ingraham show ran a segment titled “Politicians using kids as props.” In their version of events, I was a “pathetic political prop” who was “coached” on my question. After the clip from the event played, Ingraham exclaimed, “Kids say the darndest things!” to which her co-host added, “…that they are coached to say.” The segment ended with “What 11-year-old is concerned about any of these guys?”
Well, I was. I knew enough about history and politics to believe that real questions mattered. And I didn’t care what anyone’s dog was named.
Laura Ingraham — as distasteful as her methods are and as teary-eyed as they made that 11-year-old — prepared me well for what she called the “toxic soup” of politics. I must have watched her diss me a thousand times, but after that, not much fazed or impressed me, including politicians and journalists. Thanks, Laura.
In June of 2023, I stood up at a Ron DeSantis town hall and asked him the question on a lot of American minds: “Do you think Trump violated the peaceful transfer of power, a key principle of American democracy that we must uphold?”
He completely dodged the question — seemingly intent on establishing that he was “nowhere near Washington” — but not before he asked in a mildly condescending tone, “Are you a high schooler?” I had a little Laura Ingraham deja vu, but this time, I was prepared for any hostile reactions that might come.
A week and quite a few news clips of the encounter later, I showed up at another event seeking to apologize for any trouble I might have gotten DeSantis in but also interested in whether, if I repeated the question, he would serve up a different answer, having seen the negative media coverage.
I was met with hostility, blocking, and glares from his team. When I finally managed to get close to DeSantis and shook his hand, he said, “I know who you are.” He acknowledged me but was certainly not excited to see me. As I got to my apology, I was tugged back from behind and surrounded by security and staffers.
DeSantis left me with a few parting words: “You live in New Hampshire? Come to my next event.” So I did. Upon arriving at the August event, I noticed something very unusual: Not only did I have my very own special security detail tailing me around the event, but his super-PAC staffers were taking Snapchat photos of me with the caption “Got our kid.” It was no great surprise when he wouldn’t call on me. The funny thing was Laura Ingraham had pegged me for a “prop,” but it took the DeSantis campaign to turn me into one.
A ‘Known Disruption’
In October, I went to a multicandidate forum in Nashua, NH. As usual, I was there to learn and ask a question or two. After asking Chris Christie a well-received question, I listened in on another speech. I was planning to leave in a couple of hours, before DeSantis or Haley spoke, depending on how fast my mom got through her grocery shopping.
As I sat there watching a Republican longshot named Perry Johnson, a woman came up, said that I was a “tracker” and told me to follow her to a back room (and yes, on the car ride back, my mother yelled at me to never, ever follow anyone, anytime into any back room, ever again!).
The mere fact that political operatives/campaigns deemed me, a 15-year-old, a direct and serious threat to their events was laughable. Yet such reactions reeked of the sort of authoritarian control that all the history books I’ve devoured told me is beginning to seriously threaten our democratic values.
But in that back room, I was accused of being a “Democrat tracker” and a “known disruption” — accusations absurd and somewhat humorous to anyone who knows me, as I am known as a teenager with a genuine passion for journalism, happy to talk with anybody who is willing from anywhere on the political spectrum.
I was then told that I would be escorted out by police and security. To their credit, the police and security were confused about why they were kicking out a 15-year-old; they later got to the bottom of it and restored my access to the event.
The stupid thing was that the political operative and the massive security detail walked me right by the press out the front door of the hotel. The moment I stepped outside, I was hit with a barrage of phone calls and a few reporters rushing out to make sure I was okay. I called my mom (in the checkout line of course), and she told me to leave the grounds and wait for her. I sat on the cold granite curb and tried to figure out what had happened.
I will admit that I was shaken. The mere fact that political operatives/campaigns deemed me, a 15-year-old, a direct and serious threat to their events was laughable. Yet such reactions reeked of the sort of authoritarian control that all the history books I’ve devoured told me is beginning to seriously threaten our democratic values. I also wondered how any politician who considered me a threat could ever face up to Xi Jinping or Vladimir Putin.
Why I’m Hooked
That irrational fear of me and the over-the-top scare tactics against me have only encouraged me to continue advocating for transparency and accountability in politics. I am convinced that more of us, especially the young voters and soon-to-be voters, need to get more involved, show up, and ask hard questions.
Fundamental democratic values and traditions depend on public attention and involvement. Protecting our fragile and precious democracy must be a collective effort.
Active participation might mean making your voice heard at your local town hall meeting, canvassing for a political candidate who inspires you, or just having a peaceful and enlightening conversation with your neighbor, especially a neighbor on the other side of the political fence.
For my part, engagement means talking about the latest political developments with literally anyone who will take the time, encouraging other young people to step up and be heard, and writing this op-ed right now.
And I will continue to expand my understanding of politics and history in order to respectfully ask hard-hitting, relevant questions — assuming I’m not preemptively kicked to the curb.
Quinn Mitchell is a 16-year-old high school student with a strong belief in participatory democracy. More of his views can be found on his podcast Into the Tussle. We’re excited to report that Quinn will be writing on US politics, youth engagement, the 2024 election, and other topics for WhoWhatWhy throughout the year.
