This Is What Democracy Is Supposed to Look Like

By Shannon Striner

Today, Haley stayed home from school because she’s sick. Last night, before bed, we had a different kind of history lesson.

I turned on C-SPAN—yes, thrilling bedtime entertainment—and there was Senator Cory Booker, standing on the Senate floor, still talking. Speaking from the heart. Sharing stories. Resisting.

I looked at Haley and said, “This matters.”
She asked, “Why?”

And I told her, “Because these are our elected officials. Trump may hold a lot of the power right now—but they still have Congress. They still have the floor. And that still matters.”

She pressed on and asked what the goal was and I explained the reason we have senators is so they can bring the stories, issues, and policies that impact the lives of the people they serve in their backyard. What matters in California is different than what matters in New Jersey.

This morning, with a fever still hanging on, we turned it on again. And there he was—still speaking. Still fighting. Still lifting up the people.

He was sharing a constituent’s story—someone who needs Medicaid. Someone like Sienna, who relies on government programs just to have a chance at the life she deserves.

Haley looked at me again and asked, “Why does this matter?”

And I said, “Just listen.”
Listen to the stories. Listen to who he’s fighting for.

Then he started talking about the fight to save the Affordable Care Act in 2020. He reminded the country how it wasn’t policy memos or political games that swayed votes—it was people. Sharing real stories. And that courage helped them convince six Republican senators to vote to protect the ACA.

So I looked at Haley and said, “Do you know your name was read on the Senate floor during that fight? Along with your sister’s?”

She hadn’t connected the dots.

We reminisced about Senator Casey—how he shared our family’s story in the middle of that battle. How he fought for Sienna by name, and how he remembered Haley’s advocacy for her little sister. We pulled down the framed letter and congressional record he sent us. The headline: Protecting the ACA for Sienna Striner.

Then we watched the video again.
And it was amazing.

There’s this small moment—he says, “Haley’s in first grade,” and then pauses with a laugh. Because Haley had just corrected him on the call: “I’m not in first grade, I’m in second.” And he remembered. He smiled. And he corrected himself on the Senate floor.

That tiny moment—her voice, her truth—landed in one of the most powerful spaces in the country.

He even told her she should run for office one day.

That’s what democracy is supposed to look like.

And now Senator Cory Booker is reminding us what democracy still can be.

He’s using a rare procedural opening in the Senate. No time limits. No interruptions. Because this is not just a political stunt. This is a moral stand.

It’s a line in the sand, drawn in a time of political decay—a line between complicity and courage.

And every word he speaks is being entered into the Congressional Record.
This isn’t performative. It’s preservation.
It is a permanent record of resistance.

In a time when history is being actively erased, when books are being banned and truth is under attack, this moment becomes a beacon. A reclamation.

He is turning one of the highest chambers of power into a stage for public testimony. He’s lifting the voices of everyday people and placing them in history.

He’s not yelling. He’s not posturing.
He’s modeling real power:
Thoughtful. Resilient. Grounded.
This is what leadership looks like.

He’s interrupting the normalization of corruption.
He’s calling out lies, disinformation, and dangerous power plays.
And he’s doing it with clarity and purpose—not just for the cameras, but for the record.

This is history class in real time, streamed live, archived forever.
It’s not just for us—it’s for future generations.
It reminds the world that even in a broken system, resistance can still be recorded.

And that matters.

So today, from my couch with a sick kid curled up next to me and C-SPAN still playing in the background, I was reminded why I keep fighting.

Because Sienna matters.
Haley matters.
All of our kids matter.

And they deserve a government that sees them, hears them, and records their stories—not just in tweets or sound bites, but in the official, undeniable, historical record.

Senator Booker, thank you for showing what it means to stand firm in the face of decay. Thank you for showing our children what democracy really looks like.

And thank you for reminding the rest of us that resistance isn’t performative—it’s necessary.

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