Lessons From a City Council Candidate
Lessons learned from my run for City Council, as a candidate in Omaha during the 2021 election cycle.
“THROWING YOUR HAT IN THE RING”
We hear it so often, I’ve even said it TO candidates before, as a thank you or encouragement along their journey, or to ask the question of someone who is pondering a second attempt at a campaign. Somehow, now that I’ve run a campaign of my own, I realize how casually this misrepresents the effort behind becoming a candidate. Throwing your hat into the ring, as an activity, feels so flippant, and as a second thought. For me, it denotes a “sure, why not” attitude of last minute proportions. My experience of campaigning was more likened to a bull rider. The preparation before stepping IN to the ring far outweighed the time and energy it took to announce my presence once I got there.
Saying this phrase also implies someone has equal access to resources as those folks who are already in the ring. Not long after the campaign ended (when my opponent won, and retained his seat on the City Council), people began to ask me if I would help recruit others for upcoming election cycles. In every situation and person brought up, I declined, as it feels important that until and unless we are prepared to fully back possible candidates with financial resources, volunteer teams, and really fill the seats around that proverbial ring with wild support, I don’t want to glibly suggest others throw their hat into the middle of said ring.
SAFE CANVASSING
One of the first things I decided, and committed to when announcing my run for office, was to value and honor the time and energy of my campaign team. I prioritized paying the core staff for their efforts (although I wish I could have paid more), and intentionally fundraised thousands of dollars, so we could compensate our team of canvassers who would be working on voter outreach.
As we navigated through the campaign, I knew - in my gut - that we’d need to be careful about the way we conducted voter outreach. I have seen post after post on NextDoor about suspicious young men, in “our” neighborhoods. I watched training videos on how to teach your team to canvass and “door knock” and felt an intuitive message coming through that this strategy wasn’t going to broadly work for my campaign. Not that there was anything unique to my campaign efforts, except that I was hiring non-white team members, and 94% of my district’s voters are … white. That data alone should not raise any flags, but that percentage, added to my own experience living in this part of town, brought concerns.
We had some honest and transparent conversations with our team, sometimes 1:1 so as to not bring attention to individuals. We intentionally scheduled teams to work together so that there was safety in numbers, as well as some “cover” based on how everyone presented based on their race and ethnicity. We hosted learning sessions where we talked through how to pivot away from toxic political conversations, and focus on values. We even talked about my team following their own intuition if a home / property didn’t feel “worth it” to drop off one of my campaign flyers, based on obvious allegiance to our former President.
Looking back on it, I can’t say whether or not it worked. All of our efforts may have prevented a few untoward experiences for some, but it didn’t eliminate the trauma my team experienced. The police were called on two sisters while they were door knocking in a neighborhood. The phone call came in, with voices shaking and you could hear the fear as she relayed what had happened. Feedback received from voters told me that they didn’t care for the “unprofessional” team I had out delivering campaign materials because of the message it sent (the team they were referring to were amazing graduates from a second chance type program here in town).
I learned a big set of lessons, at the expense of the humans who trusted me to not only pay them a living wage, but also ensure their safety. There’s a limited number of things I can do retroactively, but going forward, I have donated a large sum of the remaining campaign funds to a local nonprofit who will be developing a set of resources around safe canvassing (whether it’s for a political candidate, a ballot measure, or neighborhood / city awareness). It is my hope that not only will this benefit campaign teams and those working on canvassing campaigns, but that local groups, businesses and neighborhood associations will take the initiative to also utilize the training for greater community awareness and tolerance.
*Note: While the details will not have a place in this recap of lessons learned, I do want to share publicly that I was the subject of vitriol and disgusting demeaning, racist, sexist and wholly inappropriate comments from people in my community during this campaign. Many comments were in response to our texting campaign, and others were received via voicemail or email as a result of a news piece airing, or someone receiving a flyer in their mailbox. 99% of the time, I took an opportunity to respond, and addressed their concerns boldly, with a demand for respect and accountability. As you might imagine, after every single interaction, my hands shook, and regaining my composure was tiring and trying.
SPEAKING APPROPRIATELY + COVERING MY SHOULDERS
For most of my adult life, I’ve been involved in conversations about being more appropriate, expected, or traditional. I’ve heard workplace admonishments about donning a head wrap (“you sure have a cultural vibe today!”), or comments made about my large earrings. Other times, I heard references to my sleeveless dresses, absence of blazers, or my “funky” outfits.
I’ve also heard surprise at my willingness or ability to broach sensitive or complicated topics. To some it may seem brash, and to others, it’s a welcome invitation to begin hard conversations.
The systems that aren’t working for you, are already dismissing you.
You might as well be visible.
During my campaign, the opinions others have of me felt like they were larger than life. I heard “out loud” statements voicing disapproval in the photo I chose to represent me and my values on signs around town. Folks shared that they didn’t care for what I wore during “that one news story”, and I won’t go into details about the feedback I received about the way I conducted my interviews or spoke about the pillars of my campaign.
I have been very conscientious over the last 20 years to build a reputation attached to my name, that is positive and based on integrity. I worked very hard to soften my edges, and dress in a way that allowed me to enter rooms with confidence but not “too much”. Speak and raise my hand in a respectful but quiet way that deferred to, and honored those with perceived power. What I’ve learned during my campaign is that the time to prioritize that reputation has passed. What others attach to my reputation, based on how I dress, or what I say (and how I say it), is a personal matter for them to concern themselves with. I no longer need to be bothered or worried with how others perceive me. My legacy, my work, my name is valuable and the manner in which it comes to be is unique. Who wants to live a life deemed “appropriate”, anyway?
LIVE IN THE MIDDLE
In order for our leaders to be right, someone else has to be wrong, which rules out people who look and sound different, and whose opinions, mannerisms and life experiences are different. In order for our elected officials to be right, the rest of us are often purported to be wrong.
Early in my campaign, the book Don’t Think of an Elephant, know your values and frame the debate by George Lakoff, was suggested to me. In it, he says:
There is no moral system or political position that defines “the middle” The people in the middle are largely biconceptuals. The goal should be to activate your model (father model, nurturant model) in the people who are in “the middle.” You do that by talking to people using frames based on your worldview.
Midway through the campaign, I wrote this piece about life in the middle. It was a reflection that came to me quickly as I watched a Jeep commercial featuring Bruce Springsteen.
The middle has been a hard place to get to lately. Between red and blue. Between servant and citizen. Freedom is not the property of just the fortunate few; it belongs to us all. Whoever you are, wherever you’re from. It’s what connects us. We need that connection. We need the middle. Our light has always found its way through the darkness. There’s hope on the road up ahead.
-Bruce Springsteen
I think about living in the middle, nearly every day. Naomi Shihab Nye writes about kindness in a “middle of it all” way. Excerpts taken from her poem on Kindness:
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
I learned from my campaign that I don’t want to seek positions of power where one side, political party, system or norm rules over another. It is clear as day to me where the real work happens, and it’s often in the middle. It’s in that space where experiences and perspectives, lived expertise, and struggles overcome begin to piece together the structure for finding solutions that impact the whole, with a laser focus on human centered priorities. I’ll stay here, happily.
BATTLING THE MACHINE + CRUSHED BY THE TENTACLES
In reality, I was never running against my opponent. It was never me against him. It was always me against the machine. The organized operation that simply turns on its spigot when the next election cycle rolls around. Contrast that with the wholly disorganized choice I had and well, we weren’t on equal footing. I would have out-debated him all day long (I know this, however the public doesn’t realize it, because he refused to show up for virtual forums and debates).
I remember speaking with a political science professor early in my campaign. I had been told by several people to talk with him about both a donation to my campaign, and also to obtain his opinion and thoughts on my race. After asking me a series of questions, to then offer feedback, he plainly and clearly told me that I wasn’t ready, and that I would be crushed by the tentacles of the political system. At the end of the phone call, I asked him if he would support my campaign with a donation … and he replied that he would have to think about it.
Fundraising was one of the biggest struggles in the battle of the machine. It’s likely the most crucial component of a political campaign, as it dictates how well you can get your message out, how far the reach could stretch, and most notably, determines how consistent your name recognition efforts can be.
Surprisingly, the most difficult effort of fundraising was from the inside the coffers of my own political party? Yes, inside the circle of people who vote like me, get upset by the same systemic oppression as me, and whom I assumed would be in my corner, made up the smallest percentage of donors to my campaign.
UPHILL BATTLES + DEMOCRACY
“Only if we enhance and reinvigorate democracy at the base will the citizenry find clarity about what to ask for, or what future to envision for their community or region. Only then can local communities put pressure on their representatives in policy-making bodies to push for more courageous policies.” (Reconstructing Democracy by Taylo, Nanz and Taylor)
One of the things I realized very clearly during my campaign was the nuance of politics. Even inside my own party apparatus, I noticed quickly that there is confusion about who the party exists to serve. Is it the voter? Is it policy? Is it candidates? Is it the system? When I would talk with voters on the phone, their first question was what my party affiliation was, quickly followed by sharing they didn’t know the name of their City Council representative. If we don’t know who our reps are, then it’s not a far leap to believe that we also don’t know what their political power is, and what they can do for us.
If we don’t know those things, as everyday citizens and residents of our communities, how are we to know what to push for, and where to apply that pressure?
When I broached these questions to the stalwart individuals, and longtime political pros, I was consistently told that I was facing an uphill battle, and that it would be a waste of energy to try and tackle winning the race, and helping educate the community about how to hold their representatives accountable.
If only I had $25 for each time someone told me this race was going to be an "uphill battle", we would have been able to print 6,000 pieces of literature to reach voters! During the campaign, we worked hard to shift the narrative of the effort, and instead our version of “uphill battle” became:
Choosing joy each and every possible moment (even when the "opposition" felt loud).
Using each and every conversation with a voter (even if they didn’t live in my district) as an opportunity to educate them on the system, and provide contact information for their representatives.
Intentionally seeking out folks to join our efforts (volunteers, advocates) who were mindful of inclusion, and insisted on treating people well.
Working on the long game (national organization endorsements), while focusing on meaningful shifts in campaign management with our team (ie: paying our street canvassers).
Acknowledging the ick of politics, and honoring the opportunity to help shift the tide by holding folks accountable, in the words I choose, and in the way I interact with the "powers that be”.
Truly appreciating and being SO thankful for each and every donation and investment into me, this campaign, and the future leadership of Omaha.
REACTIVE vs. PROACTIVE
Sticking with our values, no matter the cost, we implemented components of a "slow campaign". Very early on in the effort, I established that we would have a minimum 48 hour response time for any breaking news, or situation that required a response from me or my campaign. In doing so, we were able to navigate authentically and respectfully through news cycles, and media stories happening both inside our community, and in the larger world around us. It enabled us to thoughtfully respond with campaign statements about racism in Omaha, multiple traumatizing events in our city, as well as react on our timeline to happenings of the campaign and the antics of my opponent.
Instead of reacting quickly every time he failed to attend a candidate forum, or blast him on social media when his mailbox flyers misstated his accomplishments, we proactively used our energy to further our message, our pillars of the campaign, and prioritize what was important to our effort.
In addition to our 48 hour rapid response policy, we encouraged our team and volunteers to practice kindness on social media, and we did our best to not work on Sundays. Additionally, we asked volunteers about their access needs (what an individual might need in order to enter, approach, pass to and from a place, or communicate with a person or thing, in ways that are safe and supportive). We prioritized taking care of each other. While we may not have won the election, we garnered lifelong relationships with each individual on that team, built on the foundation of mutual aid, respect, and knowing that the more important game was proactive community building.
THE BEAUTY OF TEAM + COMMUNITY
I’ve attempted to adequately and appropriately express my delight, joy, and gratitude to the community of humans who showed up for me and this campaign. It feels impossible to do because of the sheer number of hours volunteered to lit drop, host fundraising zoom calls, send texts, sign wave, share and amplify our message on social media. In March alone, we had a collective 27 hours of behind-the-scenes volunteer work, 52 hours of combined literature dropping hours, 22 hours spent creating swag and collaborating with local artists, 36 hours text banking (sending text messages to constituents), and another 40 hours of my team coordinating all of this – most of whom were also volunteering their time.
The day before the final election, I posted this on social media and it holds so true:
When Omahans are activated, they show up
Regardless of party affiliation, more than you might think, our neighbors want the best for each other (we had volunteers from all three party affiliations AND from folks not registered to vote, whether because of being system impacted, or for other reasons that prevented their ability to vote)
Social media has its place, but we’ve also got to get outside of those three little dots on Facebook, and the echo chamber of our curated feeds, and get out in our communities
It *is* possible to run a hearty, intentional campaign, from your bedroom!
When folks show you who they are - based on their willingness to show up for each other (or not!) - believe them the first time
We need to hold each other to higher standards
We need more media training, social media norms, and open sharing of campaign strategy
If we want to see forward motion in the local political scene, we’re going to need an intentional collaboration between community organizing and political campaign staffing
COLLABORATION
“If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” -supposedly an African proverb
We go farther when we go together. It’s a quote that is all the rage right now (I found this interesting) . In part, I believe it to be true, and (Yes, and) it’s also not always beneficial to all involved, this thing called collaborating. Collaborating sometimes feels like the box of toys caregivers pull down from the high on the closet shelf, in order to keep bored children, busy.
Here, we say, play with this. Figure out this puzzle. Can you find the missing top to this container? Collaboration is sheer magic in some instances, and can be fruitless in others. The new age of emergence will require a sort of collaboration that doesn’t require the watering down or dilution of any power structure, group, or thought leadership. It will demand that we collaborate intentionally, with the right folks in the room, but without tucking anyone away in the corner just to fulfill the optics of inviting everyone to the table.
From Sophie Walker’s book, Five Rules for Rebellion, she says:
“So maybe when we think about collaborating, we should start by working out what the best space IS for that work, and how we might use available tools to make initial contacts. We could consider using social media tactically - just as a first step to make first connections that we then take offline into fresh collaborative spaces. We can rethink our screwed-up social connections by using technology judiciously. We can work to bridge the divides forged by populists and entrepreneurs, by insisting on our own physical community spaces again, and in building those afresh, we can recognize the impact that the lack of them has had on how we relate to, and rediscover one another. And in turn, what that says about the priorities of those in power.”
Kate Raworth, in Doughnut Economics said (this is loosely based, I took rapid notes during a talk she gave and cannot now find the attributable quote):
Interconnected arenas are the household; the state (in which we can be a resident, a public servant, a voter, and/or a protestor); and the commons (a self-selecting community that creates the goods and services we value, in which we can be a co-creator, a sharer, a repairer or a collaborator).
Imagine the synergy created if these kinds of actions, these types of groups were brought into collaborative alignment - parties, social movements, highly informed and solidly committed local community groups, advocacy organizations, mixed with the power of our households. More to come on this topic, as I continue letting the lessons distill and settle, but first, a few quotes:
Network building means that development [of the city] is about building a human relationship community infrastructure that can, in turn, produce a bricks-and-mortar infrastructure. -Bill Traynor (LCW)
The idea is that strong, social capital and a web of connections can serve as a platform for developing new leadership, resident engagement, and change in a city. -Connecting to Change the World: Harnessing the Power of Networks for Social Impact.
“What matters is that there are a lot of different doors.Once you get in, you know you are in a network; you can look around and see other things you can participate in, and you can get the culture. People who will come in through one kind of door, wouldn’t typically come in through another. This is transformative, the genesis of new orientations and identities upon which future action can be built.” -Peter Plastrick and Madeleine Taylor
LEADERSHIP
The media, especially in print, focuses on comparing candidates to each other. As a first-time candidate, running against an incumbent, you could literally feel their stretch and reach to identify my relevant leadership experience, to liken to that of my opponent. In interview after interview, I asked folks to consider whether Omaha was asking for business as usual, or if we were ready as a community, for new leadership. Post-campaign, I have stopped referring to the people in elected seats as leaders (note how often media and news stories refer to them as “elected leaders”) and instead simply refer to them as elected officials. There’s a vast difference between leaders and elected officials, so I purposefully denote them as separate. Not all elected officials are leaders. Not all leaders are in elected positions of power.
Leadership is holding a light up to the shadows, pointing out the opportunities to improve or shift focus, and then looking back to gather the others who will engage in next steps.
From one of the Omaha World Herald articles:
“Hattaway says she fully acknowledges that the experience and leadership she offers, falls in a different mold. Part of her question for the community, she said? “Is Omaha ready for it?”
Leadership is holding a light up to the shadows, pointing out the opportunities to improve or shift focus, and then looking back to gather the others who will engage in next steps.
BEING QUIET
As I wrapped up the campaign, with an intention to “leave well”* I often found myself sitting in complete stillness. I would gather my laptop, my journal. I made sure I had a pen, a magazine, and a blanket. I would light a candle, and close the door. I would be ready to write, or read, or capture ideas.
And then I would just sit, for hours sometimes.
I find that in the post-campaign cadence, I am more in tune with the small things, the wind in the cottonwood outside my windows that remind me of Wellfleet. The sound of car tires on wet pavement, bringing back memories of moving to Omaha as a child, and experiencing city living for the first time. Noticing how the steam from my coffee cup curls and dances. Being hyper aware of the pinched nerve in my right shoulder (from a year of sitting in a chair not meant for office work, at a desk that wasn’t the right height) sending signals to my fingers. I notice the nuance of pain more, when I’m silent.
My brain registers this all as struggle, as conflict, as hard. But in the stillness, I can dissect the reality into joy, resolution, fortitude, the sweet victory of learned lessons, and resilience.
This campaign and this city election was historical for so many reasons - partially due to the diversity of candidates across the entire city (gender, age, disability, race, ethnicity), and partially because many previously “unknown” candidates gave the incumbents a real “run for their money”.
It was also historical and potent because Omaha saw everyday neighbors, stepping up to become candidates, as one corner of their impact and leadership. Many of us said yes to this campaign as an add-on to the roles we were already playing in our communities, in an effort to bring hope, and to bolster movements and change, with policy. We stepped up to these campaigns to offer Omahans an option for expanded priorities beyond trash service, road repair, commercial real estate, and business as usual.
At the end of the day, I ran for two reasons. First and foremost, to win (because no one in their right mind would agree to being a candidate if they weren’t fighting to win), but secondly (and mostly) to do my part to open that door of opportunity wider, for those who will come behind me. It’s been good to lean back into my leadership journey - a continuous effort of growing my own capacity, and linking arms with others to inform and impact the communities I call home.
Politics is the act of building trust, at scale.
--Naomi Hattaway
*Leave well = the art of intentionally closing a chapter in your life, or the act of saying goodbye to a thing, place, or experience, in a purposeful and meaningful way.
