Becoming An Activist: Laurie Beckel

These are times that call us to action.  Luckily, members of the Clear Creek County Democrats are actively engaged in Clear Creek County, organizing protests, volunteering with local nonprofits, and working to bring about changes in the county, state, and nation.  Everyone has a different path to political action and activism.  “Becoming an Activist” is a periodic series that tells the individual stories of activists in our community.  If you have a story you would like to tell, please let us know.

A Political Orphan in a Very Red, Political Family

 by Laurie Beckel, Chair, Clear Creek Democratic Party

From a young age, I knew I saw the world differently.

Our family watched the evening news together, but while my parents absorbed the broadcast with a sense of righteous affirmation, I came away with questions—and a growing ache of empathy. I couldn’t ignore the struggles of the people on the screen. While those around me spoke in absolutes, I was drawn to the gray areas, the human faces behind the headlines.

My first political action as a fifth grader was to write a letter to the Kennedy White House in support of civil rights, spoken by a child.  What a surprise when the letter in response came back with the President's signature!  This experience likely marked the beginning of my lifelong commitment to advocacy and political involvement.

Loving, well-intentioned parents raised me in a deeply conservative household. They taught me many things—kindness, discipline, the value of hard work. But they also passed down a worldview rooted in rigidity and suspicion of “the other.” For me, that lens never fully fit. Something inside me resisted. Instead of absorbing fear, I absorbed compassion.

Over time, my political views became more defined—and more divergent. I supported causes that weren’t welcome at the dinner table. I asked questions that went unanswered. I learned to tread carefully in conversations that mattered deeply to me, because they quickly became landmines.

There’s a particular kind of loneliness that comes from loving people you no longer feel ideologically safe with. You miss the innocence of belonging, of assuming shared values. But in its place, you gain clarity and resolve.

I don’t regret my roots. They shaped me. But I’ve found my voice elsewhere, in communities that value justice, equity, and the shared humanity of all people. I may be a political orphan, but I’ve built a chosen family—one defined not by blood, but by belief.

And in that, I’ve found home.