People are fired up when you actually show up
In a state that has not sent a Democrat to the governor's mansion in more than two decades, South Carolina voters have chosen Jermaine Johnson — a former minor-league basketball player turned state representative — as their party's leading voice in the gubernatorial race. Johnson's rise, built not on political dynasty or deep campaign coffers but on the simple act of showing up in forgotten communities, reflects a recurring tension in democratic life: whether proximity to ordinary people can outweigh the structural advantages of incumbency and partisan geography. The race heads to a June 23 runoff before the real climb begins, as Johnson would need to reverse a Republican dominance that has only deepened since 2002.
- No candidate cleared the majority threshold, sending the Democratic primary into a June 23 runoff and leaving the party's nominee still undecided weeks before the general election fight begins.
- Johnson's opponents — a combative trial lawyer calling for government demolition and a business executive with White House credentials — represent the ideological breadth pulling at a party trying to find its footing in hostile territory.
- The sharpest tension in the primary was between Johnson's pragmatic incrementalism, moving bad legislation to 'a little bit better,' and McLeod's demand for structural demolition of a government he called fundamentally broken.
- Johnson's campaign, launched only months before the primary, leaned on grassroots presence over political infrastructure — a bet that being seen in overlooked communities could substitute for years of relationship-building.
- The deeper stakes loom large: South Carolina hasn't elected a Democratic governor since Jim Hodges in 1998, and the Republican lean has only hardened since, making Johnson's path to the general election a steep and uncertain climb.
Jermaine Johnson, a state representative who once played college basketball and spent time in the G-League, won South Carolina's Democratic gubernatorial primary on Tuesday — though the race will continue to a June 23 runoff after no candidate secured an outright majority. Johnson represents parts of Richland and Kershaw Counties and launched his campaign only months before the vote, yet still emerged as the frontrunner in a state that hasn't elected a Democratic governor since 2002.
The primary featured three candidates with sharply different visions. Johnson, a millennial who first won his seat in 2020 by unseating a long-serving incumbent, built his campaign on showing up in communities that rarely saw candidates at all. When rival trial lawyer Mullins McLeod accused him of cooperating too closely with the Republican supermajority, Johnson leaned into pragmatism — pointing to an environmental bill he had nudged from 'horrible to a little bit better' as evidence that working within constraints still produces results. McLeod, rooted in Charleston and state political tradition, argued the system needed to be torn down and rebuilt, not merely refreshed. The third candidate, Billy Webster of Greenville, brought a White House Fellowship and a career running the country's largest Bojangles franchise, framing civic responsibility and business success as two sides of the same coin.
Johnson's unconventional biography — undrafted after college, briefly signed by the Reno Bighorns, then drawn into electoral politics years later — mirrors the outsider energy that carried him through the primary. Whether that energy, combined with his record of community engagement and his ability to navigate a hostile legislature, can overcome South Carolina's deep Republican tilt in a general election remains the central question. The June 23 runoff will first determine who carries the Democratic banner into that larger fight.
Jermaine Johnson, a state representative who played college basketball and spent time in the minor leagues, won South Carolina's Democratic primary for governor on Tuesday, though the race will head to a runoff on June 23 because no candidate secured an outright majority. Johnson represents parts of Richland and Kershaw Counties and launched his campaign only months before the primary, yet still emerged as the choice of Democratic voters in a state that has not elected a Democrat to the governor's mansion since 2002.
The primary drew three candidates with starkly different backgrounds and visions. Johnson, a millennial who made his name by defeating a long-serving incumbent in 2020 with help from CNN commentator and former state legislator Bakari Sellers, built his campaign on a simple premise: showing up where other politicians had not. During a debate, he pointed out that he had been visiting communities across the state that rarely saw candidates at all. "People are fired up," he said. When another contender, trial lawyer Mullins McLeod, criticized Johnson for working too closely with the Republican supermajority in the legislature, Johnson responded with a jab about the difference between talking and doing. He cited his work on an environmental bill, saying he had moved it from "horrible to a little bit better"—a pragmatic acknowledgment of the constraints of governing in a heavily Republican chamber.
McLeod, who works out of Charleston and comes from a family with deep roots in state politics, offered a more confrontational platform. He argued that South Carolina's government was fundamentally broken and needed to be dismantled and rebuilt, not merely refreshed with new faces. His campaign centered on term limits, eliminating what he called crony capitalism, and shrinking government by returning unspent budget money to taxpayers each year. The third candidate, Billy Webster of Greenville, brought a different kind of resume. A White House Fellow during the George H.W. Bush administration, Webster had run the largest Bojangles franchise operation in the country before moving to Washington to work under Erskine Bowles, the deputy chief of staff under President Clinton. Webster's pitch was rooted in his business experience and his belief in pragmatic problem-solving. He spoke of using his Bojangles restaurants as platforms for voter registration drives, framing business success and civic responsibility as inseparable.
Johnson's path to the primary was unconventional. He had played college basketball at the College of Charleston but went undrafted in the 2009 NBA draft. He later signed with the Reno Bighorns, then a G-League affiliate that has since relocated to Stockton and changed its name to the Kings. His entry into electoral politics came years later, and his 2020 victory over a long-serving incumbent signaled that voters in his district were ready for something different. That same appetite for change appears to have carried him through the primary, even as he faced opponents with more traditional political pedigrees and more time to build their campaigns.
The Democratic primary victory sets up a significant test for Johnson and his party. South Carolina has been reliably Republican in statewide races for more than two decades. The last Democrat to win the governorship was Jim Hodges in 1998; he was defeated in 2002 by Mark Sanford, a Republican whose tenure was later marked by scandal. The state's political lean has only grown more Republican since then, making the path to the governor's office a steep climb for any Democrat. Johnson will face the Republican nominee—likely someone backed by or aligned with term-limited Governor Henry McMaster—in the general election. Whether his outsider status, his record of showing up in overlooked communities, and his ability to work within a hostile legislature can overcome the state's strong Republican tilt remains to be seen. The runoff on June 23 will determine which Democrat carries the party's banner into that fight.
Citas Notables
I have been going to places where they have never seen a candidate before, and people are fired up— Jermaine Johnson, during primary debate
The system in Columbia does not just need new leadership—the system is not working the way it was intended. We must go break it to fix it— Mullins McLeod, campaign platform
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did Johnson win when he'd only been running for a few months?
He did something his opponents didn't—he actually went to places where candidates never show up. In a state where Democrats have been shut out of the governor's office for a generation, that kind of presence matters. People respond to being seen.
But he's also working with Republicans in the legislature. Doesn't that undermine him as a Democrat?
It's a trade-off he's made. He can't pass anything without Republican votes, so he's learned to negotiate. When McLeod attacked him for it, Johnson basically said: you can't throw stones if you've never been in the fight. He's not claiming to be pure—he's claiming to be effective.
What's the real obstacle for any Democrat in South Carolina right now?
Time. It's been 24 years since a Democrat won the governorship. The state has drifted Republican in every election since then. Johnson's got charisma and a good story, but he's running uphill against two decades of momentum.
So why does he have a shot at all?
Because he's not running on ideology. He's running on presence and pragmatism. He's not trying to break the system like McLeod wants to—he's trying to work within it and improve it. For voters tired of partisan gridlock, that might be enough.
What does the runoff tell us?
That none of the three candidates had a clear mandate. The party is genuinely divided about what it wants. Johnson won the plurality, but there's still a question about whether he can consolidate Democratic voters behind him.