Recovery offers a blueprint for healing not just individuals, but the divisions tearing our democracy apart.
The road to recovery—and the right to recovery—is essential to a free and fair democracy. In honor of National Recovery Month, this installment of Women & Democracy is presented in partnership with the O’Neill Institute for National and Global Health at Georgetown Law, exploring the often unspoken intersections of addiction, recovery and gender justice while highlighting public health and policy solutions that prioritize dignity, equity, access to care and civic engagement. Alongside this companion essay collection, Ms. is releasing a multipart podcast mini-series, The Long Way Home, hosted by Dr. Michele Goodwin in conversation with leading experts on recovery. The multimedia collection, The Right to Recovery Is Essential to Democracy, amplifies critical perspectives on race and incarceration, LGBTQ experiences, maternal health and pregnancy justice, and personal storytelling.
I am a young gay man in recovery from a substance use disorder. For many years, alcohol and other substances felt like the only thing that made me feel safe, seen and comfortable in my own skin. It nearly killed me, but recovery gave me my life back.
Recovery is not just a personal journey. It is a political one. It provides a roadmap for how we might mend and heal our seemingly broken democracy: people of different faiths, political parties and diverse identities sitting beside one another, offering a hand to someone in need, and saying: You got this, you are not alone. At a time when our country feels increasingly divided and many are left feeling isolated and alone, recovery offers hope, investing in one another, in community and in the belief that every person matters.
The message to me was very clear: Who I was wasn’t acceptable. … This is not just a crisis of public health, it is a crisis of democracy. A nation cannot thrive when its children are left behind.
Growing up in a small Midwestern town, I never fit the mold, nor could I live up to the expectation of what a boy was “supposed” to be. I was bullied for how I dressed and looked and called a “pretty boy” and “sissy” when I expressed vulnerability or showed emotion. The message to me was very clear: Who I was wasn’t acceptable. Anxiety and depression followed.
By the time I discovered alcohol and other substances as a teenager, it felt like the only thing that made life bearable.
For a while, this gave me permission to breathe—but the relief was short lasting and eventually didn’t provide the feeling I was longing for. My life spiraled into darkness. I failed out of college, began losing relationships and ultimately felt like I was losing myself in the process.
My story is just one of millions.
We are at an inflection point in our nation’s history. Families are being torn apart and children are left behind as parents die of overdose. Nearly half of teens have experienced cyberbullying. Two-thirds of children face trauma that can alter the course of their lives. These pressures leave too many young people isolated, turning to substances when they have nowhere else to go. This is not just a crisis of public health, it is a crisis of democracy. A nation cannot thrive when its children are left behind.
This is why recovery matters now. There are many pathways to recovery, including non-abstinence based approaches. It is paramount to meet people where they are in their journey. Recovery is about connection, and it offers a roadmap for healing across differences and how to rebuild belonging and purpose in a fractured society. Recovery brings hope—not only to individuals, but to families and communities. It is a civic act that restores the very conditions that make democracy possible: participation, resilience and shared purpose and vision.
Recovery is a collective effort that doesn’t happen on its own. It requires our communities and society at large to become willing to make space for it. It means ending stigma and using person-first language that doesn’t reduce people to their illness like “addict” and “junkie.” Instead, it is recognizing substance use disorder for what it is: a medical condition that can be treated and a crisis of isolation and lack of connection that can be addressed with effective policy solutions, such as investing in community-based recovery organizations that help people rebuild their lives, integrating recovery supports into schools, workplaces and health systems and ensuring policymakers hear not only statistics, but stories of resilience, hope and redemption.
These actions build democracy. When people recover, they become active participants in their lives. They vote, parent, work, study and volunteer. Recovery doesn’t just change individual lives, it makes our society safer, more just, and more connected.
In 2012, I failed out of college with a 1.1 GPA. I thought my future was over. Today, I’m working toward my second master’s degree in addiction policy, determined to show others the limitless opportunities that recovery makes possible. No matter how dark life becomes, there is a way to move forward.
Recovery has given me and more than 23 million Americans not just the chance to live, but the opportunity to fully participate in our communities and our society. At a time when our country feels dangerously fractured, recovery shows us how to mend our democracy, stitch by stitch. Together, one day at a time, we can recover.
