At least 15 other people are running for president in 2024, but none of them look like Brooklyn’s Paperboy Love Prince. When the artist, rapper and non-binary activist filed to run in the New Hampshire primary last month, they showed up wearing a voluminous brocade jacket, gold pantaloons and MSCHF’s Big Red Boots, Super Mario-esque shoes made by the designers behind Lil Nas X’s Satan sneakers.
They looked like a cartoon character. It’s all part of the act.
“The folks who are in office have been in there more than many kings, queens and monarchs,” Paperboy says. “At that point, they become so out-of-touch with what it’s like to be an everyday American. My focus now is to highlight that by not blending in with them.”
Blending in has never been an issue for Paperboy. They achieved local recognition during a 2021 New York mayoral run with a platform that included canceling rent, abolishing the police and legalizing psychedelics. Paperboy Prince is also a rapper, releasing topical songs such as Futuristic Schools, a rallying cry to improve public education. (Sample lyrics: “We need to raise the IQ of our nation / See the future of schools like That’s So Raven”).
Working out of their Love Gallery, a community space in Brooklyn’s rapidly gentrifying Bushwick neighborhood, Paperboy sells merch, distributes food, clothing and books, and holds a 24/7 Twitch live stream. Outside sits the Love Bus, painted pink, green and rainbow cheetah print; during an impromptu photoshoot Paperboy jumps on top and starts waving to drivers passing by.
Love is all around Paperboy, who has made it the center of their campaign. “I’m fighting for centering this country around love, putting it first, being anti-war, and pro-love, and creating love centers around the country,” they say. Think of these as town halls where people can gather, meet friends, learn new skills, or, in Paperboy’s words, “create a love connection”.
Running against candidates who espouse racist and transphobic rhetoric only validates Paperboy’s campaign of compassion, they say. “If you’re going to choose love, confidently choose love, because the people who are choosing hate right now are confidently choosing hate.”
Paperboy does not give their age – they believe reporters place too much focus on it. Ask where they’re from, and they’ll say “the African side of the moon”. They don’t like to claim heritage in any one place. “That’s what gets us to start separating ourselves from other people,” they explain. “I’m all about bringing us together.”
Paperboy was born on Earth, though, growing up between New York and Maryland, with a Pentecostal bishop grandfather and equally devout parents. Paperboy counts their father as one of their biggest inspirations, alongside Kid Cudi and Bob Marley. (During an interview, Paperboy blasted the reggae icon’s music from a nearby speaker.)
“When I was a kid, I watched my dad working with people who were homeless, or unhoused, or incarcerated, along with mothers and students,” they say. “He created programs for the youth, using whatever resources he had, to better the lives of people around him. That’s what inspires me to do the same.”
Paperboy got into politics through rapping, taking an interest in Andrew Yang’s presidential campaign and promise of universal basic income.
They were also fed up with parking tickets: while working as a TaskRabbit, Paperboy got so many parking tickets (“like, $1,000 worth”) that traffic cops booted their car. They needed their car for work and called their local representative for help getting it back. They didn’t hear back.
“I realized [politicians] don’t actually care about us,” Paperboy said. “There’s not enough compassion, so I decided to run on love.” Paperboy likes to campaign outside New York City’s department of finance, where people go to pay parking tickets. “It’s still one of my biggest areas for recruitment into my campaign,” they said.
As someone who wears a Game Boy around their neck and who advocates for building underwater cities and mandating recess for all, Paperboy’s used to getting treated like a joke by mainstream politicians.
They’ve made friends with Vermin Supreme, a longtime satirical candidate in New Hampshire primaries, known for wearing a boot as a hat and promising a free pony for every American. But Paperboy’s dead serious about their platform and feels their antics bring attention to the ridiculous nature of modern politics.
“Right now, the folks who are running for president are basically the mouthpieces for major corporations that have bought out political parties,” they said. “These people are way less genuine than any character; Mickey Mouse has more soul than these folks. So, yeah, I’m a character, but I’m the character that’s here to wake people up.”
