Hope and Unity

Ana Lozano
My understanding and interest in politics has been vague until this year. I never truly understood the power of my vote until I attended the DFL convention for district 60B as a delegate. My only motive for wanting to become a delegate was simply to have a better understanding of the process. That all changed when I heard Ilhan Omar speak at my caucus, I was automatically intrigued by her humble and genuine nature which is hard to find in today’s legislatures. I was also excited to have a representative that would understand the struggles of an immigrant family in the U.S.

My mother an asylee from El Salvador’s civil war will finally be receiving her U.S citizenship after 26 years in this country! We have struggled to find our voice and place in this country because with no representation for immigrant families our issues go unheard and unnoticed. I entered the DFL convention early Saturday bursting with excitement, energy and hope to finally elect a representative that understands the challenges that communities of color face.

The convention started slow but I remained hopeful. I grew more and more impatient in my seat. I started questioning the process, “why am I here” I thought to myself. Adults were acting childish and I felt like I was in high school again.  I have always been hesitant of legislatures, so I was waiting for Ilhan to start playing dirty, don’t they all? Instead what I noticed was a sense of calmness and fulfillment in her. I knew, that she knew that she had already accomplished what she set out to do, to unite communities of color instead of dividing them.

I continue to see representatives, especially white people, people who are accustomed and want to maintain the status quo, try to divide our communities when they run for office, and frankly I’m sick of it! We did not endorse anyone after 12+ hours and I learned that the DFL convention was strategically designed to not endorse a candidate from the start. I thought that this convention would be more accessible, inclusive and easily understood. Oppression will continue to perpetuate in our society if we do not change our political process.

Unfortunately, my day ended with disappointment. As I heard Kahn speak during the Q&A I became more assured that Ilhan would be more suited for the position. Phyllis talked a lot about what she has done for the community and is hopeful that she can do more if she remains in office. Kahn has had 30+ years to fix racial disparities in Minnesota and hasn’t! She no longer represents the community that she is serving. People are asking for a relatable representative that understands their struggles and Kahn is not that person. At the end of the night Ilhan did not receive the 60% of the votes in order to be endorsed, but she has already won in my book. The biggest accomplishment and gift that she gave our community was hope and unity.
I was challenged this weekend to acknowledge that our political system is broken. It’s easier to walk away than to continue fighting for justice. We need more people of color elected into office and representatives that can unite communities instead of dividing them. I will continue to cast my vote and fight for communities of color. The political process wants to exclude people like me out – a young Latina woman in the U.S and although my experience is one of frustration, I will no longer allow other people to make choices for me and my community. I have power, we have power. I love this country as much as you do and together we can build a Minnesota that works for everyone. #It’sTime4Ilhan #UniteNotDivide

Nicole Riegert
This past Saturday morning, donning a blue shirt with Ilhan’s name gracefully scrawled across the front, I ducked into the auditorium at Northeast Middle School to settle in before my first DFL senate district convention began. I was elected a delegate at my caucus on March 1^st, with very little knowledge of what I could expect.

I joined my peers from ward 2, precinct 10 in narrow rows of theater chairs. They were already engaged in spirited conversation about their preferred candidates. The proceedings began smoothly. The Pledge of Allegiance was done “DFL-style,” with an emphasis on the “for all” at the end to remind us of the values we were there to support. This notion of inclusion was reiterated as we voted on ‘credential challenges’—any conflicts with individuals or groups who, for whatever reason, were not seated as delegates/alternates, but wanted to be, were related to the entire present body. Truly, it seemed the DFL is taking every step to ensuring participation is granted to as many as possible.

While the credential challenges were certainly contested, the first large dispute of the day came with the nomination and election of Senate District 60 party officers and state central delegates. Twelve names were presented, six listed under “female” and another six under “male.” Instead of passing the list, delegates voiced concern over which communities would—and would not—be represented. A question of which genders were being represented emerged. I found remarkable that the debates quickly escalated from controlled, timed statements about delegates to raucous arguments and shouting about how gender is defined. In the end, after repeated calls to order, the terms “male” and “female” were replaced with the more appropriate “man,” “woman,” and “non-binary.”

Though maybe not a typical delegate experience, this was, for me, one of the most impactful moments of the fourteen hours I spent there. It reminded me that while the Democratic party is generally quite progressive, there are still ways in which the party can be more inclusive. Better yet, there are still people who see that and will demand change.

Throughout the convention, I picked up a few memorable explanations of why people wanted to be delegates, including:

• “As a trans woman, I felt I have a responsibility to ensure my community is represented.”
• “To be honest, I don’t really like democrats that much. Or politics, for that matter. In fact, I don’t usually even vote in national elections, but local politics are important to me, and democratic platforms are the closest to what I believe in. I came here and learned; I participated, I did what I needed to do.”
• “I came for Ilhan. She deserves this endorsement. I’ve never done this before—which—this is so boring. But I do really believe in Ilhan. She’s really different.”

I did not expect was how overwhelmingly the student population supported Ilhan Omar for House Rep of District 60B.

Seeing and hearing so many of my peers—who were also absentmindedly thinking about getting home in time to write a paper, navigating public transportation back to campus, or what was being served for dinner in the dining hall—gave me a sense of community and confirmed my belief that Ilhan was the right candidate for me. I felt proud to support her; proud to so easily connect with the strangers around me on the things that matter most. Not only were they there to support her—every person I talked to was able to recount their personal conversation with her, and how impactful she was.

Originally, I tried to write this with as much objectivity as possible. It is obvious I support Ilhan Omar, but it is also important to me that I know how privileged I am to be born a U.S. citizen and to have the right to participate in such important proceedings handed to me. I wanted to be a delegate because I care about my community, my future, and my understanding of the political process.

The endorsement of the candidate for district A was fairly easy. With the 60A representative endorsed, it was quite different.  A motion was made for the second time that day to edit the agenda, moving the election of delegates to the State convention up above the endorsement of a 60B candidate. “It isn’t fair,” argued one woman, “that we should have to spend hours here waiting for them to finish their endorsement, when we came here to run as delegates for the state convention!”

Failing the motion to suspend the rules to allow for this change in agenda, the members of the “A side” cleared the room. The building excitement among the crowd was tangible—this was what many had come for. After Mohamud Noor, Ilhan Omar, and incumbent Phyllis Kahn were nominated, each took the stage to speak.

After a Q & A session with the candidates, it was finally time to cast the first vote. At the time, I thought it may be the only vote we would have to cast. Just by looking around the room, one could tell Ilhan had the most supporters—the question was whether she would receive the sixty percent of votes required for an endorsement immediately.

After twenty minutes of anxious fidgeting, delegates settled back into our seats for the results. Noor had just over 10% of the votes, Kahn had just over 30%, and Ilhan had about 54% of the votes—not quite enough for the endorsement. However, like many of my neighbors, once Noor was removed from the ballot after not reaching 20% on the second vote, I assumed enough of that ten percent would choose to vote for Ilhan to end this part of the convention.

Much to our disappointment, hours later, the numbers stayed the same through the fifth and final ballot, with Noor being replaced by “no endorsement.” There would not be a DFL-endorsed candidate on the ballot this November. After a tiring fourteen hours with such a deserving candidate, the results felt disheartening.

Despite the disappointment that came with the results, Ilhan reminded us this was still a victory. Standing on the steps outside of the auditorium, she addressed her supporters graciously, noting the huge lead gained over a 40-year incumbent. She reminded us of her thoughtfulness, passion, and willingness to fight for progressive values under any circumstances. No one received the endorsement, but she received the most votes, and her opponents received an important message about her momentum.