Tired of an election news doom loop? Escape to social media, where candidates take a break from policy and focus on aligning with pop stars.
“Hey, Aaron, do they sell any ‘me espresso’ here?” a 22-year-old Vivian Redmond asks Board of Supervisors President Aaron Peskin in a reel posted to Instagram in September.
“‘Me espresso’ — what does that mean?” Peskin responds, dryly. She explains the reference; it’s a lyric from Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘song of the summer,’ “Espresso.”
Redmond pulls up the “Espresso” music video on an iPhone. They watch in silence. The 22-year-old social-media director bops her head. Peskin has the expression of a father watching his teenager’s improv troupe perform for the first time: Amused, but diplomatically reticent.
To run for office in 2024, the mayoral hopefuls must dive head-first into an online world where viewers want content that is fun, fast, and intimate — not necessarily words younger voters would associate with any of them. It’s foreign territory.
“You’re not just competing with your political opponents on Instagram,” said Annie Gabillet, Daniel Lurie’s digital director. “You’re competing with their favorite celebrity, their favorite brand.”
Experts agree that it can be hard to translate social-media metrics to ballot predictions, but they are all trying. Academic literature indicates that “social media can have small but nonzero effects,” on an election, according to Ross Dahlke, who studies online political communication at the Stanford Social Media Lab.
That’s not nothing in a close election, which San Francisco’s certainly is: Most of the major candidates are polling at between 20 and 25 percent of first-place votes. Recent polling shows Mayor London Breed, Lurie and Peskin in the top spots, but this is still (almost) anyone’s contest.
And there’s always potential online.
“If one of these videos can go viral, and can build some of that name recognition for one of the candidates, that could add up, especially over a whole city in a close election,” said Dahlke.
With that in mind, San Francisco’s mayoral candidates aren’t going to let Kamala Harris be the only “brat” politician. They, or at least their handlers, understand the power of becoming a meme.
In one TikTok video, Mark Farrell looks up from a textbook on financial modeling, and asks his teen daughter Madison what “brat” is: Good fiscal policy? Alcatraz? Madison fights back giggles.
She loses her composure when, at the end of the video, she looks up from her phone to see her dad in a backwards baseball cap and athletic sunglasses. Farrell makes a “hang loose” hand gesture; dad jokes seem to be the backbone of his comedy.
When he’s not attacking his competitors, the former interim mayor is making family-friendly content: Farrell’s Instagram reels feature dogs he’s met on the sidewalk and kids dressed up for Halloween at his campaign headquarters.
For his part, Lurie’s summer intern, Cal Kinoshita, says he long ago won the “brat” race: He branded the nonprofit founder and Levi Strauss heir as “brat” well before even the presidential candidate took up the mantle. Lurie’s interns have long made a play for young voters: They have held dimly-lit parties in the Castro, and often mix trends into Lurie’s online presence.
In a particularly fitting reel, Peskin buys himself flowers, writes his name in the sand, talks to himself for hours, and says things you don’t understand — while Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” plays in the background. Instead of holding his own hand, Peskin holds his own foot. Yes, really. His high kicks have been documented by Mission Local before.
Mayor London Breed seems more partial to Beyoncé: Instagram photos of her at the first Castro night market are set to “COZY” from the “RENAISSANCE” album, and the pop star is a staple soundtrack at her campaign events. At her birthday party, Breed bobbed her head back and forth to “Get Me Bodied,” and she officially kicked off her campaign to “Survivor.”
The incumbent mayor has, by far, the largest social-media presence of any contender. With more than 250,000 followers across Instagram, X, TikTok, and Facebook, she has more than 10 times the following of her competitors. Farrell has about 25,000, Peskin 20,000, Lurie 13,000, and Safaí about 12,000.
Years of practice in the spotlight have paid off. When the camera starts rolling, Breed’s face brightens. In a turquoise blue pantsuit — one of her signature online looks — the mayor shows off her storytelling, describing her relationship with Kamala Harris, her biological grandmother, and her ‘Chinese grandmother,’ Mrs. Wong.
In another video, Breed also plays “guess that song.” “My London London bridge be falling down like London London London,” she sings along to Fergie.
Pop music isn’t the only way to catch the attention of potential voters looking for videos that require little brain power.
Campaigns couldn’t resist the “very demure, very mindful” viral TikTok that swept the internet over the summer. In the original video — which has more than 50 million views — content creator Jools Lebron shows off a workplace-appropriate outfit.
“You see how I do my makeup for work?” Lebron asks while stroking her straight blonde hair. “Very demure, very mindful.”
Both Lurie and Peskin’s team played off it.
“See how he demands fair wages for our workers who are striking?” says Redmond, who is the daughter of 48 Hills editor Tim Redmond, over clips of the District 3 supervisor mobilizing supporters. “Very loud, very forthright.”
If you don’t follow the reference, just trust that the Gen Z staff know what they’re talking about. The mayor does.
Breed has known Jasmin Corley, one of her campaign’s four social-media creators, since Corley was a 14-year-old dancer at Project Level, an arts program for underserved inner-city youth. Corley, 25, now works with another Project Level alum, 26-year-old Camielle Heagney, to “capture the essence” of Breed’s policies while “still being trendy.”
Being “chronically online,” they say, helps. Corley, for one, has been building a personal brand online for most of her life; she has more than 200,000 followers across TikTok and Instagram.
The women, who say they see Breed as an “auntie,” are in the background of all of the mayor’s most popular videos, prompting her with questions and holding up notes behind the camera.
Their closeness shows: during a merchant walk through the Mission on a particularly humid day, Heagney stuck close behind Breed, helping her find the perfect lighting and smile through the sweat.
Sometimes, they’re even lurking in Breed’s comment section.
After “fighting for my life” in her own comments section, Corley says she’s learned to ignore “trolls.” But feedback on Breed’s posts are sometimes a source of inspiration. One of their most successful videos, which has more than 20,000 views, is a trend recommended by a follower.
“I’m the mayor of San Francisco,” Breed says over her staff’s soft giggling. “Of course I like to have fun. So we’re closing down streets all over downtown, and we’re having partayssss,” subtitles over the video read.
Still, as Dahlke says, “Authenticity feels like the thing that everybody wants, but not everybody is sure how to do.”
While trying to create content that is fun without being flippant, politicians walk a delicate line between “real” and “cringey.” The reactions of Lurie’s 23-year-old staffer are often a litmus test, the team’s digital director said: “If it’s making him laugh in a bad way, we won’t post it.”
The ultimate goal, staffers agree, is to connect with the public through organic, direct to camera videos that feel more intimate than a traditional ad.
So they feature videos of supporters, from labor-union members to firefighters. They share highlight reels from debates most San Franciscans didn’t even know existed. They film their candidate at every rally and merchant walk. These clips are usually set to jaunty music; staffers say they want to keep content bright and positive, especially on Instagram.
Take, for instance, Lurie’s “Sunday Recap” reel. It’s clearly the weekend; the sleeves of Lurie’s crisp signature white button-down are rolled up in every clip. Although he’s in his public-facing version of casual, Lurie still looks slightly out of place surrounded by people in cut-off jean shorts at a El Rio’s “Daytime Realness” block party. Nonetheless, he beams at the camera.
Every campaign says they want to let their candidates’ fun (but still professional) personality shine. Online, they’ve found small ways to differentiate.
In one of his most popular videos — almost 5,000 views and counting on Instagram — Ahsha Safaí holds up an acai smoothie bowl, explaining the difference between his name (“ah-shah sah-figh-ee”) and the fruit (“ah-sigh-ee”) with a grin.
Farrell regularly appears alongside his family. It’s usually his wife, Liz. But scroll through his TikTok, which has 27 followers, and you’ll uncover a montage from his father-son camping trip set to country music. The photos are sweet. The editing, awkward. Farrell is a dad, after all.
Breed and Lurie’s teams say they try to teach viewers about San Francisco and explain local politics. In one of Lurie’s more popular Instagram reels, former intern Kinoshita wears a stylish pair of overalls and speaks into a tiny mic, explaining ranked-choice voting.
Peskin’s cooking videos have also been a runaway hit, his social media director says; they were recently featured in the Chronicle, which highlighted him making a bean salad while touting the benefits of rent control.
“If it’s a good morning, I will wake up to some texts with various videos of Aaron cooking,” said Redmond. Sometimes she sends Peskin guiding questions to make the videos more politically informative, but mostly “he just makes them,” inspired by recipes he finds online, and sends them her way. She edits and posts them.
An added bonus: The videos are a handy way to get through the New York Times’ paywall; Peskin is partial to their cooking section.