The goal of any political speech is to connect with an audience. We hope they will hear our ideas and experiences and think: This person is like me. They get me—so they can represent me.

To help make those connections, candidates often attempt a sort of rhetorical shortcut, appealing to shared identities of gender or background, assuming audiences will fill in the story of someone who understands certain issues and communities. And it’s not just identities. Some of the most popular (and controversial) buzzwords—from decrying “wokeness” on the right or advocating for “equity” on the left—serve the same purpose. They signal to audiences that we’re part of an in-group.

The trouble is these shortcuts don’t often work.

No community is a monolith. From abortion rights to criminal justice reform to immigration, demographics don’t necessarily determine what drives people to the voting booth. While we may see a common cause with those who come from similar backgrounds, others may not and how those experiences shape our worldview is different for everyone. As many women who’ve run for office (or tried to step into leadership roles) know, identity has always been a double-edged sword. Where some see long-awaited representation, others see pandering.

Buzzwords can be just as useless. For some, using the academic word “equity” over “equality” shows you understand the nuances of structural barriers to success. A significant portion of the population, however, associate the term with a stock portfolio, think it means discrimination, or don’t understand it at all. Any argument that requires a Wikipedia pre-read is already lost.

Most importantly, these shortcuts illuminate almost nothing about the life we’ve lived, the accomplishments we’ve achieved, or the values we hold. When we rely on our audience to fill in the blanks, we miss the chance for a deeper connection.

A candidate can tell us how, “as a mom…” she supports a policy. Or, she can show what that looks like in real life: “I’ve stayed up until the early hours of the morning cradling a sick child, terrified it’s something more than just a cough… and that’s why I’m fighting for this change.”

Similarly, imagine someone saying they support “upward mobility,” versus “making sure all kids have the chance to get a great education and a job that pays their bills when they’re finished.” It’s more words, but it tells us more, too. It’s a vision rather than a distant abstraction people may or may not understand.

When we speak plainly, when we tell real stories, we don’t only establish our in-group status — we cross identity barriers. It’s in the details, not the generalities, that we find we’re all alike.

Politics may be a team sport, but most people care less about the boxes you check than the values you hold. They care about what you believe. They care about what you’re willing to fight for—and they hope it’s them.

There are no shortcuts to connection. When we say what we mean and tell people something true, voters will listen.

Amber Macdonald is a managing director of executive communications at SKDK. She is also a former Special Assistant to President Joe Biden and chief speechwriter to First Lady Jill Biden, Secretary of Health and Human Services Sylvia Burwell, and other leaders.