Our friend Erin Hofteig
Honor Erin
It’s been just over a week since I got the dreadful news that my friend Erin Hofteig passed away, and honestly, I still haven’t fully processed it.
A few days ago, I posted that my dog died in Rwanda and that I had another surgery that felt like a triple mastectomy to address the unresolved infections following my January DMX surgery for cancer. And somehow, neither of those was the worst part of my week. Losing Erin Hofteig was.
I know it was for so many. Erin was everyone’s friend in our community.
I was just with Erin a few weeks ago. We were actually together several times that week doing what so many of us in this work do — socializing, conferencing, networking, reconnecting with friends and colleagues who become family over decades in this movement. She was in good spirits as she always was when out and about with our people.
I first met Erin in 2004 when we worked together on John Kerry’s presidential campaign. She was one of the early digital staffers at a time when digital organizing was still being invented in real time. Our paths crossed constantly throughout the years — at conventions, trainings, organizing spaces, campaign events, social gatherings, and especially through the our community that grew up around progressive politics and democracy work.
One of my favorite memories was going to Netroots Nation in Chicago in 2007, where we ended up backstage at Lollapalooza in hanging out with Ben Harper and Pearl Jam before spending the evening talking politics, music, life, and movement building afterward with them at their hotel bar. It felt like one of those magical moments that only happen in this strange, passionate world we all inhabit.
Over the years, Erin remained one of those people who were always there — deeply woven into the fabric of this movement and the relationships that sustain it.
Two years ago, I hired Erin to help with several communications projects. Not long after, I fell and badly broke my leg while walking my dog, Bruno. Erin was at my house working when it happened. I called her in a panic to come help with Bruno, and she rushed over immediately. In true Erin fashion, she laughed a little, told me not to worry, and said she’d take care of him for as long as I needed. And she did. Mostly still working right next to me while I needed to be in bed for weeks.
That was who Erin was. Fiercely committed to the people she cared about. Generous. Loyal. Present.
Earlier this year, Erin was also one of the very first people to reach out after I shared my cancer diagnosis. Of course, she understood it better than most. Even while carrying so much herself, Erin never stopped showing up for other people with empathy, humor, honesty, and care.
Everyone who knew Erin knew she faced many health challenges over the years. Honestly, I thought she was a bionic woman. But one of the most chronic struggles she faced was something far too many people in our industry experience: instability and perpetual cycles of unemployment that come with cyclical political work. It is its own kind of epidemic in democracy and campaign spaces, and we do not talk about it enough. Though if you know me, you know I do - incessantly.
That’s one of the reasons I’m especially honored that Erin’s family and friends have agreed to let me help create a fellowship and program in her name at Global GAIN. Most of our common friends are likely more familiar with GAIN Power, but Global GAIN is our sister C3, so this is a charitable endeavor.
We’re still working through the many details, but I hope her many friends will support it. In the coming weeks, we’ll be sharing more about how we plan to memorialize Erin by supporting other people who dedicate their lives to this work. You can donate how to a fund we’re building to make sure Erin is never forgotten.
We’ve set up pages on ActBlue or Zeffy (which I’m biased towards because there truly are no credit card or service fees) and may add others.
And to friends and family who can’t donate - please visit HonorErin.org to share your memories and photos. FB and other socials are great but we’re hoping to aggregate all her stories here so everyone can see them together. The site is still a work in progress, but it will grow over time with your help.
Erin was a passionate Democrat. A passionate progressive. A passionate feminist. A passionate advocate for democracy, health care, public education, voting rights, DC statehood, and home rule. She loved baseball and poker. She loved her family and chosen friend family fiercely.
And she loved this work.
Like so many talented people in our movement, Erin could have pursued more stable work or a lucrative career path elsewhere. But she never stopped believing that this work mattered and that she was needed here.
She helped support communications work for both GAIN Power and Global GAIN, and she absolutely loved RootsCamp. When we brought RootsCamp back in person, she was one of the very first people to volunteer to help make it happen. In many ways, she embodied exactly why I care so deeply about building stronger infrastructure and more sustainable support systems for democracy professionals.
At the end of the day, what I care about most is protecting democracy, winning elections, advancing progressive policy, and pushing back against the authoritarian forces threatening our country right now. Erin cared deeply about all of that too.
I encourage people to read her recent writing and reflections. She had so much insight, humor, compassion, honesty, and clarity to offer.
In one of her recent posts, Erin wrote:
“It’s a matter of making it to that amorphous sunrise… in the meantime, look for the slivers of hope, maintain connections to the world you want to be a part of, and keep moving.” (from Everything is Terrible: How to keep a little bit of perspective and keep moving forward - real world things we can work towards that will make it a little better)
That was Erin. Even through everything she endured personally, medically, professionally, and politically, she kept moving. She kept showing up. She kept fighting for the world she wanted to be part of - and rarely wallowed in her challenges.
I’m devastated that Erin will not be here to continue this work alongside us. But she also personifies why this work matters so much — and why we have to do better at taking care of the people who dedicate their lives to it.
There are so many of us who miss the community spaces we once had in this movement — spaces like NOI built by and for others where people felt connected, trained, supported, and valued. I can promise you this: we are going to keep building those spaces. We are going to keep investing in training, mentorship, leadership development, and community.
Erin, there is so much more I want to say about you. And I’m grateful that through the work ahead of us, I’ll be part of the team tasked with helping keep your memory alive and get to do just that.
I’m heartbroken. I’m angry. I’m grieving.
I’m angry that our politics and our movement too often fail to take care of the very people who give their lives to advancing justice, democracy, and progress. That means we have to take care of each other.
And we will.
Erin I promise your life and your work will continue to inspire people. So many of us who loved you — and who love this work — will continue building something worthy of your memory.
Rest in power, Erin.