Like many authors, I’m going to celebrate RedState’s 20th birthday with some words about it, but I’m going to get a little vulnerable with you about it because RedState is such an important part of my story that I can’t talk about my time with it without allowing you to see inside my heart.
Nearly ten years ago, I was on the brink of getting out of politics, a realm where I thought I didn’t belong. Despite having successfully opened the site Misfit Politics and running it with no funding and all volunteers, I’d closed the site down, wanting to move on to new projects. Thanks to the political/cultural war now known as “GamerGate,” I had made friends and contacts within the cultural world and was primed to begin my journey writing for a website called “The Escapist,” a popular cultural website that talked about video games, movies, and all things geek culture.
It was a contract job, but regardless, I was excited about moving on from the world of politics and starting my journey as an entertainment/cultural writer, but you know what they say about telling God what your plans are: He just laughs.
The moment it was announced that I would be writing for the site, all hell broke loose. Leftists, LGBT activists, and forums began digging into my history. They knew my name from my work on GamerGate, and I was one of those listed for destruction. Despite all the digging, the only thing they could find that could be useful against me was a singular tweet I sent out about the transgender community that I still stand by to this day.
If you want to be trans, then you go right ahead. Don’t force everyone else to pretend along with you.
— Brandon Morse (@TheBrandonMorse) November 11, 2014
This singular tweet was enough to send an army of people to siege the inboxes of the then-managing editor Alex Macris as well as the inboxes of executives at Defy Media, who owned The Escapist at the time. Groups who worked with The Escapist announced they were parting ways with the site. Days later, the powers that be at Defy notified Macris that I couldn’t write there, as I was just too hot of a figure for the brand to touch. I was guided to write for another Defy-owned site that dealt in politics, “Every Joe,” putting me right back into the realm I was trying to get out of.
I was canceled. I’m not going to pretend like it wasn’t a devastating blow. I was heartbroken that something I was so happy about was taken from me, but the event hardened my heart. They sought to destroy me, but it only motivated me to crawl out from the crater, dust myself off, and become much more of a problem for them than before.
I wasn’t one for staying down long. It’s not in my nature. I’m defiant, sometimes to a fault. I don’t take authority well, so much so that it’s bitten me in the rear on more than one occasion. I didn’t do well in school, partly because I didn’t like how the system controlled so much of my young life. That prejudice would morph into a youthful rebellion where I’d skip school to go do anything else. Eventually, I would drop out of high school and go to art school in Georgia. After running out of money, and being unwilling to acquire debt I would have no idea if I’d be able to pay back anytime soon, I’d be forced to drop out of that too.
So there I was. A GED, no college degree, and no real bylines to my name. What I did have was a contract job writing for a site that had little to no name, a talent for writing, a bit of infamy, and a boatload of spite. I also had a talent for making connections and through various trips, I took during my travels working odd political jobs here and there, including working as an undercover agent for James O’Keefe and helped bring down the Texas communications director for Enroll America as well as exposing voter fraud in Colorado. I finally met the people who would set me on a course that would lead to the site you’re reading this on now.
I was living in Waco, barely getting by and desperately looking for something substantial, when I had a fateful meeting at a CPAC convention. I was having a beer with the then-Managing Editor of RedState, Leon Wolf. That conversation would eventually lead to me applying for a writer’s spot at the site, which was accepted thanks to the urging of its future managing editor, Caleb Howe. I released my first RedState article in March 2016.
It wasn’t long before I finally felt I’d found my home. RedState’s style fit with mine. I wrote what I wanted, how I wanted, and when I wanted, and my articles were popular. On more than one occasion, the place was deemed “BrandonState” due to the sheer volume and clickability of the articles I’d release. What’s more, I would write articles about culture, gaming, movies, television, and more. The articles that I was going to release on “The Escapist” found their home, and I was able to add a little bit of my own ideological flair to boot.
I was never the best at any job I’d ever had, but I was good at this one. RedState was freedom. It filled me with purpose. Moreover, given the journey I’d been through, I felt like I earned it. I was finally home.
However, I would follow Wolf to work at TheBlaze after urging by friends and family to accept a writing position there. I’d been showing up at TheBlaze, usually on their television side, being a mainstay guest of Dana Loesch’s on her show “Dana.” It was familiar territory and a place I had wanted to work at for ages, and so I readily accepted. Before I left, I half-jokingly asked Howe, who had taken up the position of managing editor, if I could come back once I was fired from TheBlaze. I knew myself and how I was an ill-fit for a corporate system. Howe assured me I could return.
Somewhat prophetically, in 2017 I was fired by TheBlaze during what I call “the great bloodletting.” I was one of many who was laid off. I’m not going to pretend I was the best writer there. The more structured and brick-in-the-wall style of writing didn’t suit me, likely giving my editors headaches; however, I had put so much work into other parts of the company that were successful, and being let go was a massive blow and felt slightly personal on some level.
I’m not going to lie to you. I was devastated. My once impenetrable confidence was now beaten to a pulp. I struggled with depression. My sadness over the loss of a job I had dreamed of were interrupted by moments of anger. Bitter doesn’t begin to cover it. I felt like I had achieved a great height and was pushed off it. I was plummeting in every way imaginable.
But true to his word, Howe immediately brought me back in. RedState arrested my fall.
I wish I could tell you that I recovered quickly. I didn’t, but RedState only grew from there, and the powers that be put me into positions to help it grow even more. Over the course of time, I would serve under other managing editors after Howe, including my friend Joe Cunningham, Streiff, and now Jennifer Van Laar. As the site progressed and grew, I did too. I would branch out and try different things to help the site and even if they didn’t pan out like I wanted to, it still felt good to be a key figure in something bigger than me. I would be a key player in the site’s VIP program, where I still operate now. I was given the title “Senior Editor,” which suits me just fine.
I don’t know where I’d be without RedState. I sometimes shudder to think about it. I started this journey as some wild-eyed kid in 2011 who wanted to introduce a little levity to a severe political scene, kneeling on his bedroom floor, asking for God to give him purpose, and He delivered. Not in the way I thought He would, but in the way He saw best. Now, I’m a man with a wife, a son, and a title that’s often spoken on television and radio alongside mine when I’m introduced.
“Brandon Morse, Senior Editor at RedState.”
It wasn’t easy getting here, and I have no idea what the future holds, but RedState will always be one of the largest parts of my story, and I like to think I’ll be remembered as a large part of its story too. As the site turns 20 years old, it’s my honest hope that I can continue paying back the site that rescued me twice.
Happy birthday, RedState. Thanks for being there for me in my darkest moments.
And thank you, reader, for reading my articles.
(EDITOR’S NOTE: We’re so grateful for our loyal readers, who’ve made reaching this milestone possible. We continue to fight censorship and throttling from Big Tech, and the only way we’re able to continue bringing the honest, fearless journalism you’ve come to expect is through the direct support of our VIP members. If you’re not already a VIP member, when you join today you’ll receive 60% off with discount code RS20.)
