From “Party of Fun” to Out of Touch: Dems Fight to Win Back Men

Paul Riverbank, 11/28/2025Despite recent Democratic wins and bold boasts of reconnecting with young men, internal doubts persist. Party leaders urge a focus on practical issues, but cultural tensions linger, making the fight to keep young male voters engaged both urgent and uncertain.

Yet, take a step back and the landscape blurs. For half a year, poll after poll cast a shadow over Democrats, especially with men under 35. National surveys hinted at a youth electorate cooling to the party—more out of alienation than hostility. Some strategists blamed a messaging gap. Others, like campaign sage James Carville, aired deeper grievances. “The future is female, #MeToo, women are never wrong—men hear this and think, ‘Do I count here?’” Carville said recently, using his signature mix of candor and frustration. You can hardly dismiss him; Carville has called more political tides than most of today’s talking heads have seen elections.

Maybe that’s why Martin—acutely aware of simmering discontent—tried to pivot. He didn’t just cheer on the party’s latest victories; he zeroed in on bread-and-butter economics, blaming losses of faith and jobs on the prior administration and promising that Democrats, now more than ever, will put affordability front and center. For Martin, the path forward leaves little room for culture war trench battles—a message tough to enforce, but easier to pitch after an upswing at the polls.

But those cracks are hard to plaster over. David Shor, whose polling outfit commands respect across the progressive spectrum, admitted he was “genuinely shocked” at how quickly young Americans shifted rightward. “Younger voters were once clocked as the vanguard of progress. Now, in some models, they’re as conservative as any cohort since the Eisenhower era,” Shor reflected in March, shaking up Democratic self-confidence.

And then there’s the less-polished, often-unfiltered commentary coming from the party’s own bench. Just look at Senator Ruben Gallego in Arizona, caught in a text exchange poking fun at how Democrats look these days—a little drab, a little censorious. “Dem women look like Dem men. We look like the not fun party. Always telling and correcting people,” Gallego quipped, in what his team privately scrambled to downplay. Yet those offhand remarks tap into something real: the sense that Democrats, once the cool kids—the ones with loud music and punchlines—now risk branding themselves as, in Gallego’s words, “not fun.”

This isn’t just campaign trivia. The old progressive slogans, the Woodstock-echo politics of peace and fun, have faded. Many younger men, at least according to exit polls, aren’t sure if the party means them when it talks about opportunity these days. The GOP, meanwhile, sensing the winds, has campaigned on themes of order, tradition, and, perhaps ironically, optimism—values Democrats long claimed as their own.

Despite the tension—and, sometimes, open bickering—party insiders insist the strategy pivot is working, pointing to shifts in reliably conservative districts. There’s cautious talk of a coalition—moderate, economically anxious, and, yes, including young men—taking root. But even Martin’s optimism stops short of triumphalism. Voters these days, especially the younger crowd, have grown weary of slogans. They know when they haven’t been heard.

As Democrats eye the next cycle, they’re still caught in the crosswinds: split between the urgency of cultural change and a longing for universal, practical solutions. The argument over message and method won’t resolve soon. But for now, the DNC’s new hope hinges less on what leaders say at the podium and more on whether those promises reach people who feel, lately, like politics is something done to them, not for them.

If you’d stepped into the press room last week, you’d have found DNC Chairman Ken Martin leaning into the microphone with unexpected fire. “I never want to hear again that the Democratic Party has a problem with young men,” he declared—a statement that startled some, amused others, and rallied more than a few. Martin wasn’t rattling sabers for effect; he pointed to fresh wins, from Virginia’s purple suburbs to the bustling neighborhoods of New York City, suggesting a resurgence where pundits had all but sounded retreat.Yet, take a step back and the landscape blurs. For half a year, poll after poll cast a shadow over Democrats, especially with men under 35. National surveys hinted at a youth electorate cooling to the party—more out of alienation than hostility. Some strategists blamed a messaging gap. Others, like campaign sage James Carville, aired deeper grievances. “The future is female, #MeToo, women are never wrong—men hear this and think, ‘Do I count here?’” Carville said recently, using his signature mix of candor and frustration. You can hardly dismiss him; Carville has called more political tides than most of today’s talking heads have seen elections.Maybe that’s why Martin—acutely aware of simmering discontent—tried to pivot. He didn’t just cheer on the party’s latest victories; he zeroed in on bread-and-butter economics, blaming losses of faith and jobs on the prior administration and promising that Democrats, now more than ever, will put affordability front and center. For Martin, the path forward leaves little room for culture war trench battles—a message tough to enforce, but easier to pitch after an upswing at the polls.But those cracks are hard to plaster over. David Shor, whose polling outfit commands respect across the progressive spectrum, admitted he was “genuinely shocked” at how quickly young Americans shifted rightward. “Younger voters were once clocked as the vanguard of progress. Now, in some models, they’re as conservative as any cohort since the Eisenhower era,” Shor reflected in March, shaking up Democratic self-confidence.And then there’s the less-polished, often-unfiltered commentary coming from the party’s own bench. Just look at Senator Ruben Gallego in Arizona, caught in a text exchange poking fun at how Democrats look these days—a little drab, a little censorious. “Dem women look like Dem men. We look like the not fun party. Always telling and correcting people,” Gallego quipped, in what his team privately scrambled to downplay. Yet those offhand remarks tap into something real: the sense that Democrats, once the cool kids—the ones with loud music and punchlines—now risk branding themselves as, in Gallego’s words, “not fun.”This isn’t just campaign trivia. The old progressive slogans, the Woodstock-echo politics of peace and fun, have faded. Many younger men, at least according to exit polls, aren’t sure if the party means them when it talks about opportunity these days. The GOP, meanwhile, sensing the winds, has campaigned on themes of order, tradition, and, perhaps ironically, optimism—values Democrats long claimed as their own.Despite the tension—and, sometimes, open bickering—party insiders insist the strategy pivot is working, pointing to shifts in reliably conservative districts. There’s cautious talk of a coalition—moderate, economically anxious, and, yes, including young men—taking root. But even Martin’s optimism stops short of triumphalism. Voters these days, especially the younger crowd, have grown weary of slogans. They know when they haven’t been heard.As Democrats eye the next cycle, they’re still caught in the crosswinds: split between the urgency of cultural change and a longing for universal, practical solutions. The argument over message and method won’t resolve soon. But for now, the DNC’s new hope hinges less on what leaders say at the podium and more on whether those promises reach people who feel, lately, like politics is something done to them, not for them.