How do you get people to think about politics after the election? Cookies.
He was a company member at Buntport Theater and is a nonprofit founder. He's someone who runs in far-left circles that might consider the NFL, in his words, to be one of the most "racist and homophobic and nationalistic" spaces you could think of.
But what can he say, he loves cheering on the Broncos.
Twelve years ago Weissman formed Warm Cookies of the Revolution , a Denver-based nonprofit that he calls the "world's first civic health club." The organization uses arts and culture to engage people with social issues and civic processes, like city budget planning in Denver , and addressing a lack of youth programming in rural towns .
"I'd watch football games in sports bars, and I saw how smart everyone was, and how much time and dedication they'd put toward sports. We'd also have conversations about, like, who paid for the stadium, and if you live in the neighborhood where it was built, why does everyone have asthma?" he said. From those conversations, Weissman built some of the first programs for Warm Cookies. Halftime talks at local sports bars.
"Of course, we're not gonna come in and say, 'save the whales.' We're gonna come in and talk about an issue that affects us that is related to sports. So, why does the Air Force fly over Broncos games or why are people kneeling during the national anthem?"
That's the spirit of Warm Cookies events: Meeting people where they're at. Enticing them with arts and culture, sometimes sports, and always cookies. The organization has partnered with lowrider clubs to get neighborhoods talking about infrastructure. They've hosted knitting clubs that discuss policing and race. They've held Sunday School sermons about body image, about prisoners, about loneliness.
The cultural activity is the "cookies," the civic engagement is the "revolution."
"'Revolution can seem extremely scary," Weissman said. "The fist up, if this isn't something that already appeals to you then that can be a put off, or even scary. But a warm cookie, I think, is the opposite of that. A warm cookie is welcoming, it's nourishing, and I think it's goofy, it's a little playful." (And yes, they do serve warm cookies at their events.)
"I want desperately for people to have a say in the decisions that affect their lives," Weissman said. "And I think that then I'm obsessed with the challenge of: How the hell do you get regular people to care? You know what I mean? Like how can I get my dad to care? My brother? They're just like regular dudes. I'm sort of just obsessed with that."
More than votingThe biggest misunderstanding that Weissman finds himself engaged in is explaining that civic engagement isn't just voting. To him, it's taking ownership over the public institutions that people interact with on a daily basis.
We reached out to Weissman after the election this week. Despite his left-leaning politics, which Weissman is extremely upfront about, he seemed unfazed, even unmoved by Trump winning the presidency. At least, as far as the organization goes.
"There was all this lead-up. There was all this money. There was all this time. There's all this analysis and 'look what he said' and 'she did this,' etc. And then it's over," he said.
Earlier this week, the New York Times reported that the presidential race will have cost at least $3.5 billion, with the single biggest expense going to advertising . Television ads that will disappear the moment the election is over. In Colorado, Kamala Harris and Donald Trump raised over $25 million in total, according to Federal Election Commission filings .
Weissman acknowledged that federal policies have local effects, but emphasized that most of the day-to-day decisions "where people come into contact with civic life" happen locally, with cities and counties, and do not necessarily align with major elections.
"The work that we do is about the civic life of a community and caring for each other. How you feel in your neighborhood, how safe you are, what kind of food is nearby, what jobs are available — the infrastructure, the schools, the sidewalks and the roads," he said. "So after an election, we're supposed to feel like when the Broncos win or lose kind of thing and it's just like, there's so much more to do. Elections don't matter as much as what we do between them."
Tonight, Warm Cookies is hosting a post-election dance party at Green Spaces in the RiNo Arts District, in Denver. Show up and shake off any of the feelings — good, bad and ugly — that an intense election season brought up in you. It's also a chance to think about the future. There won't be a cover charge. Instead, the group is asking attendees to write themselves a postcard with their pledge for the first 100 days of the Trump administration.
They had a similar party after Trump's 2016 victory over Hillary Clinton, which Weissman said they received criticism for.
"A lot of people in Denver thought Hillary was going to win. And there were all sorts of responses (to the event), but I remember a lot of people were pissed. They were like 'how can you celebrate right now?'"
"Of course it matters who wins, but ultimately what are we gonna do about it either way? Our main thing is to vote every day. Vote the 364 days other than Election Day, you know?" Weissman said. "And I think that keeps it in perspective."
So even though the dance party is framed by the presidential election, the idea is to get people to think about their immediate surroundings, how they can engage with their community and their city and county officials, and what actions they can take to better the lives of their neighbors.
"Do we care about each other? Do we teach each other about forgiveness? Do we think about how we want our youth to have coming of age ceremonies?" These are some of the questions framing Weissman's understanding of civic engagement.
Sure, it's idealistic. But he's under no illusion that, especially in today's political climate, everyone will come together and change things all at once.
"I think most of the work that I want to see done, the change I want to see, like, I don't think it's gonna happen in my lifetime," Weissman said. "So I hope it's the day after I die. You know what I mean? I hope it's as soon after my lifetime as possible."
