All posts by I Am Team Pete

This website is an unofficial grassroots project made by supporters of Pete Buttigieg (2020 Presidential Candidate). Our goal is to collect tweets posted by supporters that show just how diverse Team Pete truly is.

Shocking Revelations Suggest Pete Buttigieg Is A Good Person

The more you learn, the more you fall in love

by Ben ChapmanMar 25, 2019 (

For the Indiana mayor with a funny surname, the political world is inside out. The more voters learn about his history, his motives, and his character, the more they fall in love with him.

Buttigieg may be one of the most accomplished 37 year-olds walking the planet. He is an accomplished pianist who once played on stage with the South Bend Orchestra and Ben Folds. His husband tweeted this video of him playing piano at what appears to be a bar in South Bend, Indiana.

But musicianship is the least of his talents. The former Rhodes Scholar reportedly speaks seven languages, learning Norwegian just so he could read the work of novelist Erlend Loe in the original language.

In respect to Buttigieg’s character, after graduating from Harvard, Buttigieg joined the Navy reserves and was deployed to Afghanistan. He apparently joined the military for no other reason than his belief in service.

But what about likeability? Try loveability.

Buttigieg’s Twitter personality is humble but witty. His online presence omits the abrasion that turns off moderates while maintaining a dry subtlety that endears him to fire-spitting progressives. He has a smart social media game. And if 2016 is any indication, that’s a quality necessary for a modern day President.

It also helps that the social media sphere so far seems to be unanimous in adoration for him. One recent viral tweet described a person’s experience with Mayor Pete’s translating skills.

The leading argument against Buttigieg? As a mayor, he’s not the traditional image of “electable.” But grounds for that stand are fading quickly as Buttigieg garners editorial after editorial in support of his ethos.

A long year remains until most voters will make their decision, but from where we are now, Buttigieg is making a convincing case that he deserves a spot on your short list.

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No, I don’t like Pete Buttigieg just because I’m gay

by Brian Rowe May 16, 2019 (

Recently someone asked me which of the democrats running for President I liked the best.

This is kind of a hard question to answer just because there are so many people running. But I needed to say something, so I told this person some nice things about Kamala Harris and Cory Booker and Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders.

But I finished by saying that in the past few weeks the person I’ve been most impressed by is Pete Buttigieg, the 37-year-old mayor from South Bend, Indiana, who has kind of taken the nation by storm with his incredible wit, quiet demeanor, and intellectual prowess. He served time in Afghanistan. He speaks at least five languages. And he’s openly gay.

I spent close to a minute spilling out plenty of qualifications about Buttigieg. I mentioned a few things he’s said in interviews that made me sit up and take notice of this most impressive individual.

The person before me nodded. Cracked a smile. Then that person said, “You only like him because you’re gay.” This reaction sort of stunned me.

I’ve been openly gay since 2006. I have had a partner for five years, and we share a nice life together. Gay rights of course are important to me in every shape and form. And yes, it would be the thrill of a lifetime to one day see an openly gay man become President of the United States.

But this isn’t why I like Pete Buttigieg. It’s a reason, sure, I would never deny that, but I’d put it way down on the list. His being gay wouldn’t even be in my top five of reasons I find him to be an exciting candidate. I would never get behind a political candidate just because he’s gay, and I wouldn’t want anyone else, no matter your political affiliation, to assume that about me.

That if he were straight, I would be looking elsewhere. That if he were straight, there would be nothing at all that excited me about him. This couldn’t be further than the truth. The same way it’s not true that if you’re a straight while male, you necessarily need to get behind a straight white male candidate. The same way it’s not true that if you’re a black person, you have to get behind a black candidate. The same way it’s not true that if you’re a woman, you automatically support one of the female candidates without a moment’s thought.

Sure, who you are plays a big role in your outlook on life, in your personal beliefs, on the way you see the world. But to get behind a political candidate just because someone is gay or is black or is a woman is never a strong enough reason to vote for anyone. There always needs to be more. And this thinking toward others, including our friends and family, isn’t going to get us anywhere.

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In Pete’s Words: What Will Your Role Be?

by Peter P.M. Buttigieg May 25, 2016 (

I took a seat at the table, and the new Indiana Secretary of Commerce turned to me. Not realizing I was the mayor-elect he had traveled here to meet, he genially asked a question I had often heard at introductions in the corporate world: “So what’s your role?”

I tried to think of a response that would clear things up but not embarrass him. You couldn’t blame him for not instantly recognizing me; after all, I was not only new but also 29 years old. I said: “the title is mayor-elect, but the role is more of a philosophical question.”

By some turn of organizational American English, the word “role” has become a euphemism for “job title.” Yet there is a deep distinction between roles and titles, and grasping this is especially urgent for a young person leaving the warm embrace of a place like Harvard, who might be en route to a first full-time job title (and a new role).

If you had pulled me aside on Commencement Day, 2004, to ask what title I might like to hold in ten years, the reply would not have been terribly imaginative. “Professor,” I might have said, or “attorney,” or “Congressman.” All worthy titles, of course. But you can bear such positions well or poorly, use them or squander them. My answer would have been shallow because the question is shallow.

But had you asked what I thought my role in life might be, you might have gotten me thinking about the inscription on the gate by Massachusetts Avenue that reads on one side, “ENTER TO GROW IN WISDOM” and on the other, “DEPART TO SERVE BETTER THY COUNTRY AND THY KIND.” Soaked in history, literature, and IOP events, I had grown just enough in wisdom to understand that fulfillment and purpose would come through service to others.

Like many classmates, I was still overly concerned with what titles I would hold one day. Only by eventually relaxing that interest would I find an unlikely and twofold path toward the role that now defines my work: to put ideas into practice, apply my education, and make myself useful to my community and country.

The day of my 10th reunion, I was awoken at about 3 a.m. by a rousing phone call from my old roommates from Leverett House. I was on leave from the mayor’s office for seven months to go on active duty orders, asleep in my quarters at Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan. I’ve never been happier to get a call in the middle of the night. Over there, my roles included working to help disrupt funding to the Taliban, mentoring enlisted analysts, and ensuring that American personnel in the vehicles I drove or guarded got to their destinations on time and alive. Had you told my 22-year-old self that I would one day hold the title of ATFC LNO to CJIATF-A, I would have been mystified by the military gibberish. But explaining that I would one day be an officer trusted with the lives of soldiers and civilians in a war zone would have motivated me to live up to that call.

Likewise, at 22 I would not have seen “mayor” as a title in my future. To the extent I thought about holding office, I assumed then (naively, and despite a good education) that national politics was where all the important decisions happened. But if you had explained that there would come an opportunity to play a meaningful role in the revitalization of my once-declining hometown, to help shape streets and neighborhoods and lives, I might have heard a calling.

I had no idea that those titles would prove to be the specific vehicles for a longed-for role as an effective public servant—and an exceptionally fulfilling professional life. Nor could I have foreseen the path that brought me here, which included a brief business career and a doomed run for Indiana State Treasurer (a job title I’d never heard of in 2004). That path became possible only once worrying about the next position took a back seat to an expansive sense of what my role could be.

The public servants I most admire from our generation of Harvard graduates have made the kind of choices that deep vocation requires: decisions to go live in an unglamorous place, to pass up more superficially appealing and respectable opportunities, even to risk one’s life for a greater good. They now play compelling roles because they pursued not a position but a disposition.

If you are called to play an impactful and positive role in, say, the relationship between the U.S. and the Muslim world, why fixate on whether your path to that role sees you titled as an activist or novelist, soldier or scholar, cleric or diplomat?

A Harvard degree is a rare and powerful tool to impact and shape your surroundings. It is certainly useful for securing a coveted title. Titles matter, but like a good education, a title is a tool. Your job matters when it lets you contribute to your role—not the other way around.

Peter P.M. Buttigieg ’04 is mayor of South Bend, Ind. A former president of the IOP’s Student Advisory Committee and columnist for The Crimson, he lived in Leverett House as an undergraduate.

In Pete’s Words: Why coming out matters (2015)

by Pete Buttigieg – Jun 16, 2015 (

Any day now, the Supreme Court will issue a decision on same-sex marriage that will directly affect millions of Americans. It comes at a time of growing public acceptance and support for equal rights. But no matter what the Court does, issues of equality are hardly settled across the country. Today it remains legal in most parts of Indiana (though not South Bend) to fire someone simply for being gay, and bullying still contributes to tragically high suicide rates among LGBT teens.

Still, our country is headed in a clear overall direction, and swiftly. Today 57 percent of Americans support same-sex marriage; just 15 years ago, the reverse was true.

Experiences with friends or family members coming out have helped millions of Americans to see past stereotypes and better understand what being gay is — and is not. Being gay isn’t something you choose, but you do face choices about whether and how to discuss it. For most of our history, most Americans had no idea how many people they knew and cared about were gay.

My high school in South Bend had nearly a thousand students. Statistically, that means that several dozen were gay or lesbian. Yet when I graduated in 2000, I had yet to encounter a single openly LGBT student there. That’s far less likely to be the case now, as more students come to feel that their families and community will support and care for them no matter what. This is a tremendously positive development: young people who feel support and acceptance will be less likely to harm themselves, and more likely to step into adulthood with mature self-knowledge.

I was well into adulthood before I was prepared to acknowledge the simple fact that I am gay.

It took years of struggle and growth for me to recognize that it’s just a fact of life, like having brown hair, and part of who I am.

Putting something this personal on the pages of a newspaper does not come easy. We Midwesterners are instinctively private to begin with, and I’m not used to viewing this as anyone else’s business.

But it’s clear to me that at a moment like this, being more open about it could do some good. For a local student struggling with her sexuality, it might be helpful for an openly gay mayor to send the message that her community will always have a place for her. And for a conservative resident from a different generation, whose unease with social change is partly rooted in the impression that he doesn’t know anyone gay, perhaps a familiar face can be a reminder that we’re all in this together as a community.

Whenever I’ve come out to friends and family, they’ve made clear that they view this as just a part of who I am. Their response makes it possible to feel judged not by sexual orientation but by the things that we ought to care about most, like the content of our character and the value of our contributions.

Being gay has had no bearing on my job performance in business, in the military, or in my current role as mayor. It makes me no better or worse at handling a spreadsheet, a rifle, a committee meeting, or a hiring decision. It doesn’t change how residents can best judge my effectiveness in serving our city: by the progress of our neighborhoods, our economy, and our city services.

We’re moving closer to a world in which acceptance is the norm. This kind of social change, considered old news in some parts of the country, is still often divisive around here. But it doesn’t have to be. We’re all finding our way forward, and things will go better if we can manage to do it together. In the wake of the disastrous “Religious Freedom Restoration Act” episode here in Indiana earlier this year, we have an opportunity to demonstrate how a traditional, religious state like ours can move forward. If different sides steer clear of name-calling and fear-mongering, we can navigate these issues based on what is best about Indiana: values like respect, decency, and support for families — all families.

Like most people, I would like to get married one day and eventually raise a family. I hope that when my children are old enough to understand politics, they will be puzzled that someone like me revealing he is gay was ever considered to be newsworthy. By then, all the relevant laws and court decisions will be seen as steps along the path to equality. But the true compass that will have guided us there will be the basic regard and concern that we have for one another as fellow human beings — based not on categories of politics, orientation, background, status or creed, but on our shared knowledge that the greatest thing any of us has to offer is love.