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Today, we need to talk about closed primaries. More specifically: what happened in West Virginia, why the Republican Party closed their primary to no party affiliation voters, and the very strange follow-up that basically amounted to, “We don’t want your voice — but hey, join our team.” Okay, let’s get into it.
So, first things first: terminology. This is boring but important, so stay with me for a second. In West Virginia there is no “Independent” registration box. When you don’t check Republican or Democrat, you’re registered as no party affiliation — NPA. That’s not a third party. It’s not a mysterious faction. It’s literally opting out of the party system.
Yeah. It matters. Seriously. Because party officials keep getting this wrong. Chairman Josh Holstein’s outreach called a lot of these voters “independent” or “unaffiliated,” and the newsletter asked those people to switch to Republican. But the form they fill out has the words “no party affiliation” on it. So either he doesn’t know the terminology, or he’s softening it on purpose. Either way, it’s... telling.
Here’s the timeline. January 2024: the state Republican executive committee voted 65 to 54 to close their primaries starting in 2026. After 38 years of letting NPA voters participate, they decided to close the gates. The rationale given was... mixed. Some said NPA voters were being swayed by shiny mailers; others claimed Democrats were registering NPA to mess with Republican primaries — though nobody’s shown that happening at any meaningful scale.
Yeah. You heard that right. They argued NPA voters were too easily influenced, then, later, asked those same voters to register with the Republican Party. It’s like telling someone they can’t sit at the table, then handing them a plate and asking them to eat.
Delegate Jim Butler said that NPA voters “will vote for candidates that have the shiniest piece of mail or best TV ad.” Senator Eric Tarr said Democrats had been switching to no party affiliation to “mess with” Republican primaries. And Senator Jack Woodrum — he said the quiet part out loud: “Independent voters have been with the Republican Party for years. We cannot take the right from them to vote in primary elections. Now that we’re in the supermajority, we can’t just kick them to the curb.” Then, well — they kicked them to the curb anyway.
Hang on — that contradiction matters. The rhetoric was basically: ‘We need to protect our party from outside influence.’ But then, fast forward to December 2025, and a state Republican newsletter lands in inboxes asking NPA voters — again, they called them “Independent” or “Unaffiliated” — to please switch to Republican if they believe in Republican values. Chairman Holstein announced a “very intense public outreach campaign” to recruit these voters. You see the disconnect?
I mean… it’s almost comical if it weren’t so purposeful. You literally close the primary to NPA voters and then send them an invitation to join the party. It’s like you barred the front door, walked out the side door, and then—you know—typed an Evite.
There’s a county response worth noting. The Monongalia County Republican Executive Committee passed a resolution in December calling for the state party to reverse course. Chairman Dale Sparks said, and I quote, “There are a lot of people who don’t want to check a box, and we’re alienating them.” That’s real. Some local Republicans saw that closing the primary could actually hurt turnout by pushing people away.
Okay, I’ll get personal for a second. Full disclosure: in December 2025, I changed my registration to Republican. Why? Because in West Virginia the primary is where most races are decided. The general election is often a formality. If the Republican primary is the only election that matters, I’m not going to be locked out. So yes — I checked the box. But let me be clear: that registration change says nothing about my actual political beliefs.
You’re not alone if you do the same. Rumor—and it’s a loud rumor—says a lot of NPA voters are doing the exact same calculation: register Republican to access the primary, vote however you want in November, and let the party claim you on their roster while you… you know, mentally file them under ‘not mine.’
Right — and here’s the kicker: parties run on data. The whole targeting and turnout machinery assumes a registered Republican is at least likely to vote Republican. They spend time and money based on that assumption. So if a big chunk of those new Republicans are actually NPA voters gaming the system to access a primary, suddenly your data is garbage. You’re relying on bad input.
Congratulations, you played yourself. That’s essentially what’s happening. You incentivize people to lie on a registration form for access, and now your voter models, your messaging, your allocation of resources—none of it is as meaningful as you think.
It’s worth spelling out the mechanics: the parties want your registration. They want to claim you, show growing membership numbers, and then point to those numbers when they ask for donations, volunteers, and votes in November. But they don’t want your say in choosing candidates. That’s the irony.
So what’s the actual game? Parties close primaries to reduce ‘outsider’ influence and concentrate the power to pick candidates among their core voters. But then they also want the November turnout numbers that look robust, so they recruit the same voters they just excluded. The result is the party gets the registration—on paper—but not necessarily loyalty or meaningful engagement.
Some people say ‘Why not just join?’ Well, that’s the point. A lot of NPA voters registered as such because they looked at both parties and decided neither deserved their allegiance. That’s not a marketing problem to be fixed with nicer newsletters. That’s a verdict.
And this isn’t just West Virginia. There’s a national pattern. Wyoming reacted to that Cheney-Hageman primary drama by seeing about 16,000 voters switch from Democrat to Republican. The reaction was to pass a law requiring you to register with a party 96 days before the primary—before candidates even file. That’s basically shutting the door early.
Texas Republicans? They’re currently suing to close their primaries entirely. Chairman Abraham George compared open primaries to ‘letting Eagles players choose the Cowboys’ quarterback.’ It’s a sports metaphor trying very hard to make sense, and it doesn’t, if you think about it beyond three seconds.
Pennsylvania has had closed primaries for 88 years. That locks out 1.4 million unaffiliated voters. A lawsuit was filed in December by a group of voters, including commentator Michael Smerconish. Florida? There are 3.6 million no party affiliation voters—27% of the electorate—who can’t participate in primaries. In 2020 a ballot measure to open primaries got 57% approval but needed 60% to pass. Both parties opposed it. Both parties. Right.
The irony is thick: both parties talk about being a ‘big tent’ and welcoming different perspectives, but their systems say, ‘You’re welcome to vote for us in November, but you don’t get to help pick who we are.’ That’s a different message.
Let’s talk numbers for a beat from what we have: in West Virginia, there were 304,174 no party affiliation voters as of November 2025. Republican registered voters were at 507,884 in November 2025. Chairman Holstein acknowledged the closed primary ‘probably has something to do with it.’ Well, yeah.
Nationally, Gallup says 43% of Americans identify as unaffiliated with either major party. Among millennials and Generation Z, that number is 52%. Those are not small groups. They’re growing, and they’re not waiting around for a better slogan to woo them.
People keep asking: are unaffiliated voters actually undecided, or are they deliberate in their independence? The data we have suggests a deliberate choice. For many, it’s a judgment call after watching both parties over time and deciding neither deserves allegiance. These are not people waiting to be convinced by better messaging—they’ve made a judgment.
Which brings us back to the recruitment emails. They’re weird because they reveal the party’s priorities. They want registration numbers. They want to claim people. But they seem less interested in actually letting those people participate in candidate selection unless those people formally join the club.
There’s also the local politics angle. Monongalia County Republicans noticed the contradiction and asked the state party to rethink. Dale Sparks said the party was alienating folks who simply don’t want to check a box. That’s a warning sign from inside the party, not just outside it.
So what do voters do? Some sit out. Some register strategically. Some, like me, check the box to participate in the crucial primary. But—importantly—many plan to vote however they like in November. Registering Republican as an access credential doesn’t make someone a loyal party soldier.
And that’s where the ‘data problem’ becomes tactical pain. Parties rely on registration as a proxy for preference. But when registration becomes a tactical move—an access pass—that proxy breaks. Targeting models, turnout forecasts, and messaging priorities all assume the accuracy of that proxy. It’s a house of cards if the proxy is fake.
You wanted us on your team. You got us on your roster. Not the same thing. That’s the short version.
I know I sound cynical. But I also think voters are smarter than parties give them credit for. If the party is going to try to have it both ways—exclude NPA from primaries and then recruit them for registration numbers—voters will respond in a way that makes that strategy self-defeating. Data will be polluted, and the party will notice eventually.
Let me tell you this: 70% of unaffiliated voters tell pollsters both parties are ‘too extreme.’ 77% call their exclusion from primaries ‘unfair.’ Those are huge numbers. That’s not confusion; that’s a broad perception of exclusion and extremity that parties ignore at their peril.
Here’s a thought experiment: imagine you run a customer loyalty program, but customers can’t influence product decisions unless they pay for a premium membership. Then you close the free voting booth and ask them to sign up. Some will sign up. Some will play the system. Your membership numbers will spike — but your customer feedback will vanish because people signed up for access, not because they love your brand. The same thing is happening here.
By the way — the parties claim this is about ‘party integrity.’ That’s political-speak for gatekeeping. They want a reliable electorate in primaries who will choose candidates aligned with internal priorities. That’s—on the face of it—an understandable interest. But the result of these rules and recruitment pushes is that party registration becomes a hollow credential for access instead of a meaningful measure of loyalty.
Which raises a bigger question: what does party membership mean in 2025? If almost half of the electorate identifies as unaffiliated, and that number is even higher among young people, then parties that insist on closed systems are increasingly out of step with how Americans see political identity. They’re trying to have the cake and eat it too.
Look, I don’t think parties are evil masterminds plotting to deceive voters. Most of this is logic-driven: the party elite sees risk and uses rules to control that risk. But rules that lean heavily toward exclusion have consequences they either don’t want to see or don’t understand.
And when party officials can’t even get the terminology right—calling NPA voters ‘independent’—it suggests a real lack of understanding about who these voters are or why they chose to opt out. That matters because recruitment targeting that treats NPA voters like an undifferentiated mass is going to fail.
Let’s talk about outcomes for a second. If the parties succeed in pushing NPA voters to join but those voters remain transactional—checking the box to access a primary—what happens? You get inflated membership numbers, noisier data, wasted resources on outreach that assumes loyalty, and, potentially, worse candidate selection because the party is relying on bad signals.
I want to emphasize this: the parties didn’t just accidentally create this incentive. Closing primaries and then recruiting NPA voters is a deliberate policy mix. And it shows a short-term thinking: get the registration numbers now, worry about the quality of engagement later. But ‘later’ is where campaigns live. That’s when you need reliable volunteers, donors, and consistent voters.
It’s also worth noting that when NPA voters register to access the primary, they risk being miscast in future targeting. A campaign might shove an expensive, ideologically aligned ad at you because the model says you’re a Republican, even though you registered only to vote in May. That’s a waste of campaign dollars—and it’s frustrating for the voter.
You see? This becomes a feedback loop of waste. Parties waste money chasing phantom supporters; voters get annoyed; trust declines; and the very thing parties say they want—engaged, loyal members—becomes rarer.
All right — a final practical point for West Virginia voters: if you want to participate in the 2026 Republican primary, you need to register Republican. The party made that clear. But also understand what that registration might mean for how the party treats you afterwards. It might put you on a mailing list and a fundraising matrix without actually giving you a voice in shaping candidates unless you show sustained loyalty.
If you’re an NPA voter and you’re trying to decide what to do? Consider your goals. Do you want access to influence who gets selected in the primary? Then register. Do you want to send a message about the limits of party power? Maybe stay NPA and sit out. Do you want to play the system tactically and register only for access? That’s an option lots of people are apparently taking.
I’ll say this: registering purely for access is a defensive move. It doesn’t solve the underlying problem that parties are closing doors and then asking people to step through them. That’s a problem of party structure and democratic legitimacy, not a failure of marketing.
A quick national reality check. Remember those high-level facts: Florida’s 3.6 million NPA voters, Pennsylvania’s 1.4 million locked out, Gallup’s 43% unaffiliated nationwide, 52% among younger voters. Those aren’t footnotes. They’re a signal that party systems are increasingly disconnected from how a large share of Americans think about identity and participation.
And where parties think closing primaries will protect them from outside influence, they might instead be building incentives for people to game the system. That undermines the whole notion of party loyalty that those closed systems were meant to strengthen.
Final thought: the recruitment emails will keep coming. The ‘big tent’ speeches will keep getting repeated. And NPA voters will keep answering the question for themselves: is the box on the registration form worth checking? For many, increasingly, the answer is ‘no’—or ‘only if I have to.’ That says as much about the parties as anything else.
So what do I want you to take away? Three things. One: know your registration status and why it matters. Two: understand that registration is now sometimes an access credential, not a measure of loyalty. And three: recognize that this is part of a broader national trend that both parties need to reckon with if they hope to remain relevant to younger and unaffiliated voters.
If you’re a West Virginia voter navigating this mess, tell me what you did. Did you switch to Republican? Stayed NPA? Sat out? Hit reply, leave a comment, whatever — I want to hear from you. These choices matter, and the more we hear from actual voters the clearer the picture becomes.
Short one: I’m annoyed. But also curious. Politics doesn’t have to be dumb.
And one more quick aside: don’t be fooled by the ‘we want you’ language in recruitment drives. Parties have an incentive to boost their roster. But membership without voice is hollow. If you join, ask what membership actually means—beyond the email list.
If you liked this, share it with someone who’s registered NPA or on the fence. If you didn’t like it, tell me why anyway. I read everything.
Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel like free to share it
By Carrie ClendeningToday, we need to talk about closed primaries. More specifically: what happened in West Virginia, why the Republican Party closed their primary to no party affiliation voters, and the very strange follow-up that basically amounted to, “We don’t want your voice — but hey, join our team.” Okay, let’s get into it.
So, first things first: terminology. This is boring but important, so stay with me for a second. In West Virginia there is no “Independent” registration box. When you don’t check Republican or Democrat, you’re registered as no party affiliation — NPA. That’s not a third party. It’s not a mysterious faction. It’s literally opting out of the party system.
Yeah. It matters. Seriously. Because party officials keep getting this wrong. Chairman Josh Holstein’s outreach called a lot of these voters “independent” or “unaffiliated,” and the newsletter asked those people to switch to Republican. But the form they fill out has the words “no party affiliation” on it. So either he doesn’t know the terminology, or he’s softening it on purpose. Either way, it’s... telling.
Here’s the timeline. January 2024: the state Republican executive committee voted 65 to 54 to close their primaries starting in 2026. After 38 years of letting NPA voters participate, they decided to close the gates. The rationale given was... mixed. Some said NPA voters were being swayed by shiny mailers; others claimed Democrats were registering NPA to mess with Republican primaries — though nobody’s shown that happening at any meaningful scale.
Yeah. You heard that right. They argued NPA voters were too easily influenced, then, later, asked those same voters to register with the Republican Party. It’s like telling someone they can’t sit at the table, then handing them a plate and asking them to eat.
Delegate Jim Butler said that NPA voters “will vote for candidates that have the shiniest piece of mail or best TV ad.” Senator Eric Tarr said Democrats had been switching to no party affiliation to “mess with” Republican primaries. And Senator Jack Woodrum — he said the quiet part out loud: “Independent voters have been with the Republican Party for years. We cannot take the right from them to vote in primary elections. Now that we’re in the supermajority, we can’t just kick them to the curb.” Then, well — they kicked them to the curb anyway.
Hang on — that contradiction matters. The rhetoric was basically: ‘We need to protect our party from outside influence.’ But then, fast forward to December 2025, and a state Republican newsletter lands in inboxes asking NPA voters — again, they called them “Independent” or “Unaffiliated” — to please switch to Republican if they believe in Republican values. Chairman Holstein announced a “very intense public outreach campaign” to recruit these voters. You see the disconnect?
I mean… it’s almost comical if it weren’t so purposeful. You literally close the primary to NPA voters and then send them an invitation to join the party. It’s like you barred the front door, walked out the side door, and then—you know—typed an Evite.
There’s a county response worth noting. The Monongalia County Republican Executive Committee passed a resolution in December calling for the state party to reverse course. Chairman Dale Sparks said, and I quote, “There are a lot of people who don’t want to check a box, and we’re alienating them.” That’s real. Some local Republicans saw that closing the primary could actually hurt turnout by pushing people away.
Okay, I’ll get personal for a second. Full disclosure: in December 2025, I changed my registration to Republican. Why? Because in West Virginia the primary is where most races are decided. The general election is often a formality. If the Republican primary is the only election that matters, I’m not going to be locked out. So yes — I checked the box. But let me be clear: that registration change says nothing about my actual political beliefs.
You’re not alone if you do the same. Rumor—and it’s a loud rumor—says a lot of NPA voters are doing the exact same calculation: register Republican to access the primary, vote however you want in November, and let the party claim you on their roster while you… you know, mentally file them under ‘not mine.’
Right — and here’s the kicker: parties run on data. The whole targeting and turnout machinery assumes a registered Republican is at least likely to vote Republican. They spend time and money based on that assumption. So if a big chunk of those new Republicans are actually NPA voters gaming the system to access a primary, suddenly your data is garbage. You’re relying on bad input.
Congratulations, you played yourself. That’s essentially what’s happening. You incentivize people to lie on a registration form for access, and now your voter models, your messaging, your allocation of resources—none of it is as meaningful as you think.
It’s worth spelling out the mechanics: the parties want your registration. They want to claim you, show growing membership numbers, and then point to those numbers when they ask for donations, volunteers, and votes in November. But they don’t want your say in choosing candidates. That’s the irony.
So what’s the actual game? Parties close primaries to reduce ‘outsider’ influence and concentrate the power to pick candidates among their core voters. But then they also want the November turnout numbers that look robust, so they recruit the same voters they just excluded. The result is the party gets the registration—on paper—but not necessarily loyalty or meaningful engagement.
Some people say ‘Why not just join?’ Well, that’s the point. A lot of NPA voters registered as such because they looked at both parties and decided neither deserved their allegiance. That’s not a marketing problem to be fixed with nicer newsletters. That’s a verdict.
And this isn’t just West Virginia. There’s a national pattern. Wyoming reacted to that Cheney-Hageman primary drama by seeing about 16,000 voters switch from Democrat to Republican. The reaction was to pass a law requiring you to register with a party 96 days before the primary—before candidates even file. That’s basically shutting the door early.
Texas Republicans? They’re currently suing to close their primaries entirely. Chairman Abraham George compared open primaries to ‘letting Eagles players choose the Cowboys’ quarterback.’ It’s a sports metaphor trying very hard to make sense, and it doesn’t, if you think about it beyond three seconds.
Pennsylvania has had closed primaries for 88 years. That locks out 1.4 million unaffiliated voters. A lawsuit was filed in December by a group of voters, including commentator Michael Smerconish. Florida? There are 3.6 million no party affiliation voters—27% of the electorate—who can’t participate in primaries. In 2020 a ballot measure to open primaries got 57% approval but needed 60% to pass. Both parties opposed it. Both parties. Right.
The irony is thick: both parties talk about being a ‘big tent’ and welcoming different perspectives, but their systems say, ‘You’re welcome to vote for us in November, but you don’t get to help pick who we are.’ That’s a different message.
Let’s talk numbers for a beat from what we have: in West Virginia, there were 304,174 no party affiliation voters as of November 2025. Republican registered voters were at 507,884 in November 2025. Chairman Holstein acknowledged the closed primary ‘probably has something to do with it.’ Well, yeah.
Nationally, Gallup says 43% of Americans identify as unaffiliated with either major party. Among millennials and Generation Z, that number is 52%. Those are not small groups. They’re growing, and they’re not waiting around for a better slogan to woo them.
People keep asking: are unaffiliated voters actually undecided, or are they deliberate in their independence? The data we have suggests a deliberate choice. For many, it’s a judgment call after watching both parties over time and deciding neither deserves allegiance. These are not people waiting to be convinced by better messaging—they’ve made a judgment.
Which brings us back to the recruitment emails. They’re weird because they reveal the party’s priorities. They want registration numbers. They want to claim people. But they seem less interested in actually letting those people participate in candidate selection unless those people formally join the club.
There’s also the local politics angle. Monongalia County Republicans noticed the contradiction and asked the state party to rethink. Dale Sparks said the party was alienating folks who simply don’t want to check a box. That’s a warning sign from inside the party, not just outside it.
So what do voters do? Some sit out. Some register strategically. Some, like me, check the box to participate in the crucial primary. But—importantly—many plan to vote however they like in November. Registering Republican as an access credential doesn’t make someone a loyal party soldier.
And that’s where the ‘data problem’ becomes tactical pain. Parties rely on registration as a proxy for preference. But when registration becomes a tactical move—an access pass—that proxy breaks. Targeting models, turnout forecasts, and messaging priorities all assume the accuracy of that proxy. It’s a house of cards if the proxy is fake.
You wanted us on your team. You got us on your roster. Not the same thing. That’s the short version.
I know I sound cynical. But I also think voters are smarter than parties give them credit for. If the party is going to try to have it both ways—exclude NPA from primaries and then recruit them for registration numbers—voters will respond in a way that makes that strategy self-defeating. Data will be polluted, and the party will notice eventually.
Let me tell you this: 70% of unaffiliated voters tell pollsters both parties are ‘too extreme.’ 77% call their exclusion from primaries ‘unfair.’ Those are huge numbers. That’s not confusion; that’s a broad perception of exclusion and extremity that parties ignore at their peril.
Here’s a thought experiment: imagine you run a customer loyalty program, but customers can’t influence product decisions unless they pay for a premium membership. Then you close the free voting booth and ask them to sign up. Some will sign up. Some will play the system. Your membership numbers will spike — but your customer feedback will vanish because people signed up for access, not because they love your brand. The same thing is happening here.
By the way — the parties claim this is about ‘party integrity.’ That’s political-speak for gatekeeping. They want a reliable electorate in primaries who will choose candidates aligned with internal priorities. That’s—on the face of it—an understandable interest. But the result of these rules and recruitment pushes is that party registration becomes a hollow credential for access instead of a meaningful measure of loyalty.
Which raises a bigger question: what does party membership mean in 2025? If almost half of the electorate identifies as unaffiliated, and that number is even higher among young people, then parties that insist on closed systems are increasingly out of step with how Americans see political identity. They’re trying to have the cake and eat it too.
Look, I don’t think parties are evil masterminds plotting to deceive voters. Most of this is logic-driven: the party elite sees risk and uses rules to control that risk. But rules that lean heavily toward exclusion have consequences they either don’t want to see or don’t understand.
And when party officials can’t even get the terminology right—calling NPA voters ‘independent’—it suggests a real lack of understanding about who these voters are or why they chose to opt out. That matters because recruitment targeting that treats NPA voters like an undifferentiated mass is going to fail.
Let’s talk about outcomes for a second. If the parties succeed in pushing NPA voters to join but those voters remain transactional—checking the box to access a primary—what happens? You get inflated membership numbers, noisier data, wasted resources on outreach that assumes loyalty, and, potentially, worse candidate selection because the party is relying on bad signals.
I want to emphasize this: the parties didn’t just accidentally create this incentive. Closing primaries and then recruiting NPA voters is a deliberate policy mix. And it shows a short-term thinking: get the registration numbers now, worry about the quality of engagement later. But ‘later’ is where campaigns live. That’s when you need reliable volunteers, donors, and consistent voters.
It’s also worth noting that when NPA voters register to access the primary, they risk being miscast in future targeting. A campaign might shove an expensive, ideologically aligned ad at you because the model says you’re a Republican, even though you registered only to vote in May. That’s a waste of campaign dollars—and it’s frustrating for the voter.
You see? This becomes a feedback loop of waste. Parties waste money chasing phantom supporters; voters get annoyed; trust declines; and the very thing parties say they want—engaged, loyal members—becomes rarer.
All right — a final practical point for West Virginia voters: if you want to participate in the 2026 Republican primary, you need to register Republican. The party made that clear. But also understand what that registration might mean for how the party treats you afterwards. It might put you on a mailing list and a fundraising matrix without actually giving you a voice in shaping candidates unless you show sustained loyalty.
If you’re an NPA voter and you’re trying to decide what to do? Consider your goals. Do you want access to influence who gets selected in the primary? Then register. Do you want to send a message about the limits of party power? Maybe stay NPA and sit out. Do you want to play the system tactically and register only for access? That’s an option lots of people are apparently taking.
I’ll say this: registering purely for access is a defensive move. It doesn’t solve the underlying problem that parties are closing doors and then asking people to step through them. That’s a problem of party structure and democratic legitimacy, not a failure of marketing.
A quick national reality check. Remember those high-level facts: Florida’s 3.6 million NPA voters, Pennsylvania’s 1.4 million locked out, Gallup’s 43% unaffiliated nationwide, 52% among younger voters. Those aren’t footnotes. They’re a signal that party systems are increasingly disconnected from how a large share of Americans think about identity and participation.
And where parties think closing primaries will protect them from outside influence, they might instead be building incentives for people to game the system. That undermines the whole notion of party loyalty that those closed systems were meant to strengthen.
Final thought: the recruitment emails will keep coming. The ‘big tent’ speeches will keep getting repeated. And NPA voters will keep answering the question for themselves: is the box on the registration form worth checking? For many, increasingly, the answer is ‘no’—or ‘only if I have to.’ That says as much about the parties as anything else.
So what do I want you to take away? Three things. One: know your registration status and why it matters. Two: understand that registration is now sometimes an access credential, not a measure of loyalty. And three: recognize that this is part of a broader national trend that both parties need to reckon with if they hope to remain relevant to younger and unaffiliated voters.
If you’re a West Virginia voter navigating this mess, tell me what you did. Did you switch to Republican? Stayed NPA? Sat out? Hit reply, leave a comment, whatever — I want to hear from you. These choices matter, and the more we hear from actual voters the clearer the picture becomes.
Short one: I’m annoyed. But also curious. Politics doesn’t have to be dumb.
And one more quick aside: don’t be fooled by the ‘we want you’ language in recruitment drives. Parties have an incentive to boost their roster. But membership without voice is hollow. If you join, ask what membership actually means—beyond the email list.
If you liked this, share it with someone who’s registered NPA or on the fence. If you didn’t like it, tell me why anyway. I read everything.
Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel like free to share it