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Congresswoman Maxine Waters is notone to mince words.

"Get ready for impeachment,senior sex video" she recently tweeted, to the tune of 104,000 likes. Waters' tweet came after FBI Director James Comey's testimony in front of Congress this week about the Trump campaign being investigated for their ties with Russian government officials.

"[Trump] has no self-control . . . I don't think he can even do the cover up," Waters (D-CA) later told me in an interview.

It's the kind of combative language that's landed Waters in trouble in the past, And yet: They're also the reason the long-serving California congresswoman has become, at the age of 78, a rising political star among her growing millennial fanbase.

Waters joined the U.S. Congress in 1991— she's now the most senior black woman in Congress. She was surprised to see her popularity rocket following the November election, after having spent years battling so many other important enemies, most notably Daryl Gates, the former Los Angeles police chief who handled the Rodney King case.

"Millennials are too young to connect to that," Waters said, but the historical disconnect hasn't stopped the growing numbers of her young admirers, who seem to connect more with Waters than leaders their own age.

But even though Waters has made plenty of headlines before, the past few months have pushed her into the spotlight for millennials and their political discussions, where she's now known, lovingly, as "Auntie Maxine." Of course, the congresswoman has a large and loyal fan base outside of millennials, and routinely enjoys around 70 percent of her largely liberal district's vote. Yet, it appears to be progressive millennials—people of color, women, and those otherwise disaffected by the Democratic party establishment—who are driving her rise to social media prominence.

It all started when Waters walked out of a confidential meeting with FBI Director James Comey and set an entire room of reporters on fire:

Since then, her Twitter following shot up, from 33,000 to over 199,000, the largest following of any representative in the House, besides Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi.

And it hasn't stopped. Waters' Democratic colleagues generally criticize the president through the lens of politics (e.g. Trump, as a threat to liberal democratic institutions). Waters, meanwhile, throws that critique into harsh relief, by taking it several steps further: she makes Trump a personal issue that goes beyond the political. And she brings her emotions riding shotgun with her.

It's not exactly what you'd characterize as a typical politician's approach.

"We can't be handling this as if it's normal. Patting each other on the back, talking about gentle lady and gentleman," Waters said. "It's not a human response ... I felt that way when he was running for President of United States, [bragging about] grabbing private parts—I've never seen anything like it. And making fun of a disabled reporter. Kids might do that ... I've never seen an adult do that."

And Waters is nothing if not someone adamant about following her rhetoric with substantial actions. She didn't go to the president's inauguration because it was "a waste" of her time. She didn't attend his joint address because shecouldn't "control her enthusiasm" against him.

I never ever contemplated attending the inauguration or any activities associated w/ @realDonaldTrump. I wouldn't waste my time.

— Maxine Waters (@MaxineWaters) January 15, 2017

In Waters' eyes, powerful figures like Sean Spicer shouldn't be feared. The congresswoman says the people who make fun of Sean Spicer actually have more power than he does, so, she insists, "let's have have fun with him while he's here."

REP. @MAXINEWATERS on Spicer: Nobody takes him seriously anyway... let's have fun with him while he's there #AMJoy https://t.co/d2WcLc6Atf

— AM Joy w/Joy Reid (@amjoyshow) February 12, 2017

Again: Not exactly the most politick of ideas. But for Waters, both the actions she's taking and the way they're being received add up to a pretty self-evident no-brainer.

"[Millennials] like the outspoken way that I handle dealing with the issues," Waters said. "They like the no-holds-barred confrontation. A lot of young people don't have a lot of faith in politicians. You can't depend on what they say. They talk in circles. They don’t speak the kind of language that has truth to them. I'm speaking differently."

In the few months after the election, more than 8,000 millennials have told Run for Something, which recruits progressive candidates under the age of 35, that they want to run for public office. Many of these people don't have traditional political experience, and weren't exactly culled from a talent pool of young D.C. insiders.

Waters, who was born in Missouri as the fifth of 13 children, and who didn't exactly come from a political dynasty herself, can identify. The congresswoman says she got her start in politics not in the state legislatures but when she worked as an assistant teacher for Head Start, the federal program focusing on early education in underserved, working-class communities. It was there that Waters learned about the impact a government program can have—if there are politicians willing to support it, and young people willing to support them, that is.

"I saw the real difference between politicians who supported programs like Head Start, and those who didn't," Waters said. "I started getting really excited about politics."

Waters held onto that feeling all the way through college until 1976, when she decided to run for the California State Assembly. It was women, Waters stressed repeatedly, who encouraged her to run.

"They all came together to support me," the congresswoman said.

Flashback: In 1977, I stood with Coretta Scott King at the 1st National Women's Conference #InternationalWomensDay pic.twitter.com/Xr473DPyTX

— Maxine Waters (@MaxineWaters) March 8, 2017

Even though Waters represented the "anti-establishment" and was considered an outsider activist, she won the election and proceeded to find her place in it. Once in office, she turned some of the proposals she received on the board into actual legislation.

She brought the outside world in.

The anti-establishment activism, largely led by women and people of color, that helped carry the congresswoman to power mirrors the energy Waters saw at the Women's March. It's a burst of young enthusiasm she hopes her own party takes advantage of.

"Let's bring them in. Create advisories. Create millennial events. I'm going to find millennial lawyers to see if they can bring in a new perspective," Waters said. "It's very important that people who are feeling the need to do something ... get activated."

Of course, the political landscapeWaters grew up is very different from the one we have today. And there's a key difference between the activism that helped bring Waters to power and the one on display at places like the Women's March: Americans are more polarized than ever before. People of different political persuasions barely have the strength to talk to one another on Facebook.

And this is precisely the climate Waters thinks millennials can make their biggest impact inside of.

"Many of our conservatives do believe they're more patriotic than anyone else," Waters said. "I think it's time for those who they don't think are patriotic, young people, minorities, I think it's time for them to step up and show leadership"

"There are people who love and appreciate this country, but they don't talk about it that way. Now is the time to talk."

It's hard to see many millennialsplanning to organize with "the other side," especially when the country's two leading parties seem so hellbent on obliterating the other's political agenda.

And you'd imagine that Waters, who once generously offered to help the conservative Tea Party "go straight to hell," would be part of that school. After all, the very program that started her career, Head Start, is now on the Republican chopping block. More than ever before, it seems, the opposing party poses an imminent threat to the people she serves.

Yet Waters stressed that she always tries to reach out behind the scenes to those Republicans who are willing to listen. When John Boehner, the former conservative speaker of the House who Waters once called a "demon" for threatening President Barack Obama's agenda, finally retired, she let some of that past go, and called him to tell him she was proud of him.

Spoken, seemingly, like the teacher she once was.

At the time, Boehner could barely seem to believe it.

"I saw him when he tried to stand against [the Tea Party]," Waters said of the former congressman. "He did favor some of the work I was doing, but I let him know when he pushed it. I wanted to let him know he didn't do anything to be ashamed of."

It's the kind of sensitive relationship-building Waters hopes she can pass onto her millennial fan base, who might be otherwise be resistant to reaching out. It's not that Waters has abandoned her belief—she's attracted something of a reputation in Washington, as it were, for her unflappable left-wing worldview—she just believes in operating on the most human level possible.

"I tell them when I like something they're doing. And I let them in know in no uncertain terms when I think something they're doing inhumane or wrong," Waters said.

The congresswoman doesn't see this as simple politicking. Her politics, and the anger she's so often accused of by critics, is driven by empathy. She's the teacher who grew up and became a congresswoman, but never seems to have left the profession. She gets disappointed when people let her down, and thrilled when they exceed her expectations. She can't imagine operating any other way.

"I mean, I can't make this up. I can't contrive it. I just do what my heart tells me to do," Waters said.

She hopes her young fans do, too.