Why Your Small Acts of Participation Matter More Than You Think

How ordinary people quietly hold democracy together.

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I want to introduce you to my friend Maggie Doucette. Maggie is a political consultant who writes about how democracy actually works at the grassroots level. She’s taught me more about civics and local government in the past two years than I learned in decades of voting. Today she’s sharing something that will resonate with anyone who’s been feeling exhausted by political noise or wondering if their voice even matters. Her perspective might change how you think about participation.

If this piece speaks to you, please tap the heart button, leave a comment, and restack it so others can find Maggie’s work.

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There is a moment that keeps happening to me lately. Someone leans in at the grocery store, the post office, or on the street as I am walking my dogs, lowers their voice, and asks:

“Are you the girl who runs the Point Beach Civic Forum?”

Sometimes the question is about taxes. Sometimes a construction project. Sometimes whatever the town seems to be doing that week. But underneath the question is something deeper: Am I missing something? Does any of this still matter? Do I still matter?

If you have been feeling tired, discouraged, or disconnected from civic life, you are not imagining it. Almost everyone I talk to feels that same heaviness. There is even a term for it in neuroscience: learned helplessness. It describes what happens when the brain has been overwhelmed by too much uncertainty, too much chaos, and too many moments where effort did not seem to change anything. The nervous system starts conserving energy. Motivation dips. Focus scatters. People withdraw not because they do not care, but because their bodies and minds are exhausted.

None of that is a personal failure. It is a human reaction to a very inhuman moment.

When someone pulls me aside and asks a question, I usually say:

“You are not bothering me. You are participating.”

Most people do not see themselves as participants in civic life. They imagine participation as something loud like speeches, protests, or having a perfect memory of high school civics. But the truth is much simpler. You do not need perfect knowledge to matter. You do not even need to remember civics class. Most of us are learning or relearning as we go.

And what I have learned, especially in the last year, is that most of the real work of democracy is quiet. Ordinary. Local. Done by people who assume they are not doing much at all.

Those are the people holding everything together.

The Power of Simply Showing Up

One of the strangest truths about government anywhere in the country is how empty the room often is. People imagine their town councils and boards as busy complicated places. In reality, it is a few officials, a handful of stackable chairs, and a few fluorescent lights that should have been replaced during the Obama administration.

That is why a single resident changes the room.

I have watched it so many times. Someone walks in, sits quietly, and simply listens. There are no speeches and no demands. Just presence. And suddenly the people at the table are aware that someone from the community is watching decisions happen in real time.

Presence shifts power even when it is silent.

And it is true everywhere. In my town. In your town. In places you have never heard of. In my consulting work with local groups, leaders, and people who never thought they belonged in these rooms, I see the same pattern.

People think they need expertise before stepping in.
What they really need is curiosity.
That alone moves the needle more than they realize.

Why We Feel Powerless and Why We Are Not

Across the country, people tell me the same things:

“I am tired. I cannot take in one more headline.”
“I feel like everyone else understands this but me.”
“What difference does my voice make”

These are not signs of apathy. They are signs of a nervous system that has been running on overdrive.

When people repeatedly observe chaos or abuses of power without meaningful accountability, the brain stops seeing a connection between effort and outcome. That is learned helplessness. Motivation circuits quiet down. People retreat. Not because they have stopped caring, but because it is difficult to keep engaging in a world that feels unresponsive.

But here is the part we do not talk about enough.

Even in the middle of a relentless national news cycle, local life still responds to ordinary people faster than anything else in our political system.

Your town notices when you show up.
Your school board notices when you ask a sincere question.
Your elected officials notice when you email and say, “I am trying to understand.”

And this is the key. Small actions with visible outcomes are the neurological antidote to learned helplessness.

When the brain sees:
I did something and something happened,
it begins rewiring out of shutdown.

Local participation creates those small, undeniable moments of cause and effect that restore agency.

The problem is not that people do not matter.
The problem is that they do not realize they still do.

The Small Stuff That Holds Everything Up

Democracy does not survive because of grand gestures. It survives because of thousands of tiny actions that never make the news.

A resident glances at a meeting agenda.
A neighbor asks a clarifying question.
Someone wonders “Why are we doing it this way”
A person shows up once a year simply to listen.

These actions do not look powerful.
They do not feel revolutionary.
But they stabilize entire communities.

If you have ever asked a question, paid attention, or refused to look away even for a moment, you are already doing the work.

How Quiet Participation Becomes Courage

Civic courage is not dramatic. It looks like this:

Someone sits in the back of a meeting.
Someone asks the “naive” question everyone else was silently holding.
Someone shows up even when they disagree because they care enough to be present.

These small choices accumulate. They become the building blocks of a community that remembers itself.

In my work, whether I am helping a local group, a curious resident, or someone trying to rebuild trust in their town, the goal is always the same.

Help people find their voice without fear.
Show them where their influence lives.
Teach them which levers they can actually pull even when the national picture feels impossible.

Those levers still work.
They do not require heroics.
They only require presence.

One Small Step to Try This Month

Look up the agenda for your town’s next meeting. Do not go. Just read it.

Why this matters:

It reconnects you to where you live.
It grounds you in facts instead of noise.
It shows you what is actually being decided.
And most importantly, it creates the crucial moment:
I took an action and something happened.

If you decide to attend later, wonderful.
If all you do is read it, you have already participated.

You have already strengthened something.

You Are Already Part of This Story

Democracy is not kept alive by the loudest voices.
It is kept alive by the curious ones.
The ones who pay attention.
The ones who show up and say, “I care what happens here.”

You do not have to fix everything.
You only have to hold one small piece.
And that is more than enough.

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Want to hear more from Maggie? Check out her Substack.