Why Cory Booker’s 25-hour speech mattered, even if it didn’t “change everything.”
Cory Booker recently spoke for over 25 hours straight on the Senate floor in protest of the judicial logjam blocking military promotions — and people had opinions. Some called it brave, others dramatic. Some brushed it off as performative. The speech made waves, but so did the critiques. It was the kind of moment that should’ve fired people up, and instead, many went straight to tearing it down.
And it got me thinking: why are we always waiting for a singular savior to fix everything, just to turn on the people who actually step up?
A big chunk of the internet’s response wasn’t even about the content of his speech — it became a credibility contest. People brought up his past stances, especially his position on Gaza. They brought up how his constituents in New Jersey feel about him. They poked holes in his record. And sure, accountability matters. But at what point does the constant nitpicking become a distraction from what someone is actually trying to do?
No politician is perfect — let’s just put that out there. And expecting them to be is part of what keeps us stuck. If someone can speak for 25 hours about the importance of justice and service members being treated fairly, can we maybe let that exist without needing it to be perfect activism in every direction?
And speaking of criticism — let’s talk about that word: “performative.” It gets thrown around like it cancels out effort. Like because someone is visible or loud, it must be fake. But life is a performance. Politics is literally a performance. The question isn’t whether something is performative — it’s what’s being performed and why.
Try performing for 25 hours straight without repeating yourself. Without eating. Without using the bathroom. Without stumbling over your words or zoning out or losing your point. Staying lucid, clear, focused — for a full day and then some. That’s not just a performance. That’s discipline.
Cory Booker isn’t trying to lead the revolution. He’s trying to get people to care. He’s using his position — his voice, his body, his stamina — to say: something is wrong, and I won’t be silent about it. And honestly, that should matter. We can’t keep waiting around for someone who’s perfectly radical, perfectly polished, perfectly inoffensive to show up and save us. That person doesn’t exist. And even if they did, they shouldn’t have to do it alone.
The truth is, change doesn’t start with perfection. It starts with momentum. It starts with someone doing something loud enough that the rest of us can’t ignore it. Even if it’s not flawless. Even if it doesn’t “work.” Even if it only cracks the surface.
So no, Cory Booker’s speech didn’t save the country. It wasn’t supposed to. But it lit a fire under something that needed heat — and maybe that’s what we should be paying attention to.
The revolution doesn’t need a messiah. It needs movement. And sometimes, all that takes is one person bold (or brave, or stubborn) enough to speak until the rest of us start listening.