Fight Like a Mother

by Shannon Watts

  Our “momcott” had been going strong for about four months when one sleepless September night, I received a Facebook message at 1 a.m. from someone I didn’t know that said, “Congratulations, you won.” Starbucks had sent out a late notice to its employees that guns—all guns, not just the open carry of guns—were no longer welcome inside Starbucks stores. This was an unbelievable victory: one of the most powerful CEOs at one of the most prestigious brands had listened to a group of angry moms.

  What was even more exciting was that this wasn’t public knowledge yet; I found out about it from a Starbucks employee. My PR instincts started firing, and I saw a chance to take control of the narrative and make this story about the power of moms to influence corporate policy and social change. Since I was awake anyway, I wrote a press release. I texted around to find a Moms Demand Action volunteer who was both a graphic designer and also awake. No surprise, I found one—and we posted everything by 3 a.m.

  I found out later that Starbucks had written press releases days earlier—that hadn’t mentioned Moms Demand Action—but had embargoed the announcement (PR language for asking media outlets not to report on the information until a specific date). Howard Schultz was planning a media blitz to make his announcement the next morning.

  I spent the next two days doing interviews and sharing Moms Demand Action’s perspective on open carry and corporate responsibility. And all thanks to moms’ ingenuity (and, okay, insomnia), we were able to get out in front of a huge story.

  I imagine that the Starbucks higher-ups shit a brick when the PR team told them that morning that the cat was already out of the bag and they now had to follow our lead—which, by the way, was the lead of the company’s customers. It brought me such glee to see our scrappy organization take on a big, well-oiled machine. It was also very gratifying to take the credit we earned that we likely wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.

  Ultimately, we helped force cultural change and shift what’s considered normal and acceptable. And we garnered even more momentum: once we won this battle, we won more. Later, Moms Demand Action would go on to launch campaigns targeting other businesses that moms patronize about their open carry policies (I share more about those successes in Chapter 5).

  And while social media are important components of our strategy—those pictures of people carrying weapons inside Starbucks did as much as or more than our small boycott did to sway public opinion and change Howard Schultz’s mind, I’m sure—its root is still the fact that most companies know they need the support of moms to survive.

  I got a fair amount of pushback from our volunteers about #SkipStarbucksSaturday. I heard a lot of “Why are we devoting so much time to Starbucks? We need to stay focused on legislation.” While their point was valid, you leave too much power on the table when you don’t use every tool available to you. Thanks to that campaign, we not only changed Starbucks corporate policy, we also made Americans aware of open carry laws and their inherent danger—something no one was talking about before Moms Demand Action called attention to it.

  The fact is: Companies need moms’ business. They need our loyalty. And when lawmakers don’t protect their constituents, companies now understand that they need to protect their customers.

  Let Your Fear Motivate You

  Don’t worry if you feel like you don’t know what you’re doing or what to say, or if you’re afraid of what others will think if you take a stand. There is no weakness in being afraid. In fact, although it’s uncomfortable, fear is a great motivator. Ironically, a huge fear—like the fear that your child will be traumatized or, worse, shot at school, on the sidewalk, or when pulled over by the police—will get you to start doing the smaller things you’re scared of, like standing up and speaking out.

  The NRA has been using fear to motivate its members to be vocal for decades because those members are (irrationally) afraid something will be taken away from them—their guns, their rights, their privilege, and their power. And with all due respect to the Second Amendment (which, by the way, I fully support), being afraid that your kids will be taken away, or that every American kid’s childhood innocence will be taken away, is a way more powerful driver.

  One thing moms are not afraid of is the NRA. We’ve raised teens, after all. If anyone should be afraid of anyone in the gun debate, NRA lobbyists should be afraid of moms. So should the politicians who kowtow to the NRA. After all, a woman brought you into this world, and women will take you out—out of your elected seat in municipalities, statehouses, and Washington, DC.

  Magic Happens When You Walk Your Talk

  We teach our kids not to be bullied and to stand up for themselves. And when we step up to fight for a cause we believe in, we model that action for kids, which is the most influential way we can impart the things we want our kids to learn. When our kids see us stepping up, we inspire them to take a stand for the things they care about too, whether they do that now or years from now. We all need to see examples of people we identify with doing things that might otherwise seem impossible.

  When you become an activist, you model that for your kids.

  Something magical also happens when you dare to do things that scare you: you give yourself the opportunity to find the people who feel the same way you do. This is where that uniquely female trait of bonding and supporting one another comes in. One Moms Demand Action volunteer said it best when she wrote on our Facebook page: “Sometimes I feel like I’m out on a high wire when I speak publicly or when I attend an event and armed opposition shows up, but I also have this real sense . . . that Moms are forming a safety net below me. I feel like being myself and speaking our truth is finally safe. Moms charge my batteries so I can go out again and again on the high wire.”

  The only catch is that your soul sisters won’t be able to find you if you never open your mouth and speak—whether it’s at a live event, while waiting to pick up your kids at school, or on social media. Getting involved in an issue you care about helps overcome the undeniable fact that motherhood can be isolating—it’s easy to feel siloed in your own house. When you join a cause and find the women who feel similarly about an issue you’re passionate about, it’s such a relief. Especially if you live in a place where your ideas and thoughts are in the minority. Wherever you live, you realize just how many other women have your back, and have it in a big way. That’s why our volunteers get tattoos and go on vacations together; an undeniable bond comes from being in the trenches.

  You may also be afraid that your family or friends will disapprove if you get involved in a polarizing issue. But the truth is, people will respect you when they see you doing something that’s clearly scary. When Sabine Brown worked on starting a Moms Demand Action chapter in Oklahoma, her dad was very upset. He was a gun owner who supported gun rights; even more than that, he was afraid for her safety. But she didn’t let his concern and disapproval stop her. She kept inviting him to attend events and kept sharing why she cared so much about gun safety. He went from opposing her to supporting her to showing up at legislative sessions wearing his red Moms Demand Action T-shirt. When you demonstrate your commitment, the naysayers in your life often become supportive—and sometimes they even get involved.

  Let the knowledge that you’re on the right side of history bolster you to get started, and know that once you do, your people will find you. In the beginning you may only have the courage to show up. But that still counts. And once you get over that initial fear of being seen, it will get much easier to start opening your mouth.

  2

  Build the Plane as You Fly It

  Five and a half weeks after starting the Facebook page that would unleash an army of angry moms on the NRA, I found myself on a stage in front of hundreds of thousands of people. It was January 2013 in Washington, DC, and I don’t know if it was the weather or my mortal fear of public speaking, but it felt like the coldest day of my life.

  I was sitting between the actress Kathleen Turner and Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, waiti
ng for my turn to address the crowd at the March on Washington for Gun Control. My hands were shaking so badly—again, whether because of the cold or my nerves, I couldn’t tell—that I could barely read my notes for the remarks I had prepared. I thought to myself, “If anyone had told me that starting this group would involve public speaking, I never would have done it.”

  In my former life, I used to call in sick on days I was scheduled to give a presentation. To my own colleagues. Walking up to that podium on that frigid January day now seemed like more than I was physically capable of doing. What was I doing here? Who cared what I, a stay-at-home mom from Indiana, had to say about gun laws? It took everything I had to stay where I was and then make my way to the podium when it was my turn to speak.

  That certainly wasn’t the only time I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. There were many moments in the days and weeks after starting Moms Demand Action when I felt overwhelmed, underprepared, and generally exhausted by the never-ending demands of my new volunteer position. In a matter of days, I had gone from a stay-at-home mom who could come and go as she pleased to being tethered to my phone and computer from the moment I woke up until it was time to go to bed again. In those early days, there were weeks when I and other early volunteers worked fifteen-hour days, seven days a week.

  Each night, I slept with my phone under my pillow. I’d reach for it as soon as I opened my eyes and start catching up on the emails and social media posts that had come through during the night. I’d get on my first conference call while I was getting the kids ready for school. In those days, I was on conference calls all the time—while driving the kids to school, at the grocery store, at my kitchen table.

  John and I had been married for only five years at the time, but he was a godsend. He had always cooked dinners, but now he started making breakfasts and lunches, too. He was supportive, even when I started traveling for the first time in our marriage—we’d spent pretty much every waking moment together since getting married in 2008. Suddenly, I was regularly flying to Washington, DC, Silicon Valley, and New York City.

  One day, when I’d been asked to fly to DC for a White House press conference in twenty-four hours, John looked both sad and angry. “I miss you,” he confessed. “I miss the life we had before you started this Facebook page.” I felt for him. I missed him, too. But it was almost like I didn’t have a choice—Moms Demand Action had taken on a life of its own, and I couldn’t let down the volunteers who had already devoted so much time and energy to the cause or the kids whose lives we were trying to protect.

  I went from being a helicopter parent to a parent who was barely able to keep track of all of my kids’ school and sporting events, let alone attend them. I missed choir concerts and soccer games and awards ceremonies, but my kids never complained—in part because so many times when I couldn’t be there, John attended in my place. I felt guilty at times, but I also felt fulfilled, and I knew the work I was doing would ultimately benefit my kids—and their kids.

  I couldn’t help but throw myself into this work; our momentum built so quickly that I could almost feel my hair blowing back. Even though I didn’t know completely what I was doing, every cell in my body told me that if I tried to figure out what I was doing before I did it, I would miss the moment, like a boogie boarder who gets left behind by a wave. It was exhilarating to grow so quickly; it also made me see that I had to let go of my long track record of making plans and following them to the letter, checking off every item on my list along the way. I had to let things be good enough.

  You Have to Get Started Before You Think You’re Ready

  I want all women to get this message, particularly every type-A woman who is prone to cross every t and dot every i before diving in: you can’t wait until you, your message, or your circumstances are perfect to start creating the change that you know you’re here to play a role in making. I know that all the research, planning, and preparation you typically do before you make a move comes from an honorable place. You want to do a good job, after all, and there is nothing wrong with that. But if you dig a little deeper into what’s making you want to be completely buttoned up before you make a move, I think you’ll see that what’s really at the heart of all that perfectionism is fear: fear of making a mistake, and particularly—God forbid—of making a mistake in public.

  Getting started before you’re ready requires you to trust in yourself. If you don’t, you’ll try to tell yourself that you’re incapable or unworthy of leading, when in reality, you’re more than adequately—dare I say, perfectly—qualified. If you wait to be asked to lead or try to create a consensus to move forward, what could have been will pass you by.

  You don’t have to be impeccable to start something. You just have to feel you’re called to do it and believe that your passion, smarts, and fortitude will see you through.

  When I started Moms Demand Action, some people told me I was reinventing the wheel. They said I should just join another organization that already existed. Some said I wasn’t the right person to lead because I hadn’t been personally affected by gun violence. Others said that living in the middle of Indiana would make it too difficult for me to connect with lawmakers and the media.

  While I was open to their input, I gut-checked everything they said. And each time, my gut told me they were wrong. When I sat down to think about any objections as to why I shouldn’t plow ahead, I realized that angering others or failing was less upsetting than not trying at all. And so I didn’t wait for anyone’s permission to move forward. I gave myself permission—and you can do the same for yourself, too.

  I’ve met other women who are or want to be activists, and I’ve noticed that a desire to be perfect frequently gets in their way and limits their impact—and that is not the way to build trust in yourself. For example, a friend who is a national corporate activist hadn’t responded a full day after a company had violated a policy in her platform. I reached out to her to ask why. She said she needed to do research, then her board would review her messaging and materials, and then she’d send out a press release. She expected to have something out by the end of the week. I knew that the moment would have passed by then, but I didn’t want to give her a lecture. So I simply asked her why she was doing it that way. She admitted she didn’t want to get caught making a mistake.

  There have been so many times when pulling something together quickly has helped Moms Demand Action further our cause. For instance, in the weeks leading up to the 2018 midterm elections, I saw a tweet from a Virginia town councilman who said he’d be happy to take out any protestors with his semiautomatic rifle. I re-tweeted it. The next day, the Washington Post wrote an article about it, and then he deleted his Twitter account. It didn’t get him out of office, sadly, but it at least took away a platform from which he could threaten his constituents and spread divisive and violent rhetoric. If I’d waited and thought about it, the moment would have passed and he’d likely still be broadcasting from his bully pulpit.

  There is a healthy balance between being accurate and acting quickly. One doesn’t need to cancel out the other. It takes confidence to act even when all your ducks aren’t in a perfect row, but once you start doing it, you build the trust in yourself to know that if you make a mistake, you’ll figure it out. Waiting until everything is perfect only puts you at the end of a long line of people who have the same idea.

  I’ve spoken to so many women over the years who told me that they had the same idea after the Sandy Hook shooting: that American mothers had to come together to do something. But they couldn’t imagine themselves being the answer to the question “Who will lead?”

  There was certainly nothing extraordinary about me that made me the right person to help galvanize American moms around the issue of gun safety. I wasn’t connected to anyone or anything inside the DC Beltway or even politically active. I wasn’t a gun owner or a policy expert. And I’d never been directly affected by gun violence.

  I want to acknowledge the privile
ge of that last point: how lucky I was that gun violence had not hit closer to home for me than Sandy Hook. Many people of color don’t have that luxury. Too many Americans have never had the privilege of standing on the sidelines, or even feeling safe in this country. Until Sandy Hook, I’d never worried that gun violence could affect my family. My biggest worries were about my kids making friends and getting good grades. I realize now that I was living in a bubble.

  But what I knew for sure was that as a former PR executive with an almost twenty-year career under my belt in branding and marketing, I had a skill set I could use to create a clear message and a sophisticated, compelling brand; and to attract attention to the cause—which turned out to be half the battle in the early days of Moms Demand Action. I had to let that be enough. I knew that Sandy Hook had created an opening for moms, and I wanted to maximize it. So I didn’t wait until all of my ducks were in a nice line. I just jumped in.

  Be Very Selective About Whose Voice You Let in Your Head

  The first year after I set up that Facebook page, there were many times—during moments of frustration, despair, or fatigue—when I thought about giving up. If it weren’t for the encouragement and objectivity of the Moms Demand Action volunteers—women I’d met only on the internet but whom I came to trust with my life—I’m not sure I would have had the fortitude to keep going.