Decentralize or Die
Let’s just say it plainly:
We are tired.
Tired of watching politicians die in office, still gripping power with trembling hands.
Tired of being told to wait our turn by people who haven’t had a new idea since rotary phones.
Tired of inheriting the consequences of decisions made by people who won’t live to feel their impact.
This nation is not just broken.
It’s held hostage by the expired.
But I’m not here to complain. I’m here to change the rules.
Because the truth is,
Most movements fail not because they lack heart, but because they center a single person.
One leader. One voice. One martyr. One fall from grace, and it all crumbles.
I refuse to play that game.
I am decentralizing my power.
What Does That Mean?
It means I’m not the movement.
We are.
It means I’m using every ounce of visibility I gain to amplify the voices of others, especially those who’ve never been given a mic.
It means Power of the Narrative is not a brand. It’s a vessel, a house for collective truth-telling, for griefwork, for systemic honesty, for the rebirth of political imagination.
It means that if they come for me
The movement survives.
Because it was never just me.
You can’t kill what’s already been multiplied.
Why This Strategy Works
Let’s get surgical for a moment.
Decentralized movements:
Last longer
Resist infiltration
Bypass ego traps
Scale faster
Build trust across differences
They’re harder to corrupt because they don’t depend on charisma alone.
They’re harder to cancel because no one person is the linchpin.
They’re more magnetic because people see themselves in the movement, not just cheering for someone else.
It’s not about me being the hero.
It’s about you realizing you were the story all along.
This Is a Reversal of Political Norms
We’re taught to believe that if you’re not at the top, you don’t matter.
That power trickles down.
But that model has failed us over and over.
From Congress to city hall, we’re watching the collapse of power-hoarding systems.
The new model?
Power ripples outward.
You tell one story.
You light one room.
You give one person the audacity to speak truth.
And suddenly it’s not a speech, it’s a storm.
That’s what we’re building.
What This Looks Like in Practice
If I run for office, you’ll see it.
If I host a podcast, you’ll hear it.
If I sit with a grieving mother, a healing survivor, a teenager finding their voice you’ll feel it.
Every campaign, every program, every partnership will be a platform for others.
That’s why even if I lose, I win.
Because I walk away with:
A louder network
A deeper archive of truth
A more resilient movement
The system can’t stop a movement it doesn’t recognize.
Especially when that movement has no central command, no single gatekeeper, and no desire to be liked, only to be true.
The Real Threat to Power
This scares them more than any protest.
They know how to silence a person.
They don’t know how to silence a chorus.
They know how to smear a name.
They don’t know what to do when ten thousand people say “we are that name now.”
So when they try to co-opt, dilute, distract, or even assimilate me just know:
They’re already too late.
Because this leadership model is post-martyrdom.
It’s post-permission.
It’s post-party-line.
This Is What Legacy Looks Like
I don’t want to be the next great politician.
I want to be the last person who had to do it alone.
I want what I build to outlive me.
Not just in name, but in practice. In power.
I want others to pick up the mic and say,
“I don’t need to sound like Jacob. I just need to sound like me.”
That’s success.
We don’t need another movement centered on one brilliant, exhausted, over-exposed, and ultimately silenced figure.
We need movements like seeds
Spreading. Sprouting. Rooting in places I’ll never go, in lives I’ll never meet.
This is how we become unkillable.
We decentralize.
We multiply.
We rise.
Let them build statues.
We’re building ecosystems.