Bringing My Whole Self to the Campaign:” Intersectional Identities and Latina Candidates
“Running for Our Lives”: Confronting Racism, Sexism, and Escalating Political Violence
“Wait Your Turn”: Latina Candidates Share Conflict with Major Parties and Civic Organizations
“Comadrismo:” Latinas Mobilizing, Mentoring, and Supporting Each Other
“Bringing My Whole Self to the Campaign:” Intersectional Identities and Latina Candidates
Latina congressional candidates frequently articulated forms of intersectional identity when describing their political history and development within national politics. These forms of identity – while diverse in their particular manifestations and articulation – typically wove together elements of their personal history, with ethnicity, race, culture, national origins, gender identity, social and economic position, immigration status, religious identity/affiliation, language, and familial relationships. They provided a series of grounded perspectives drawn from lived experiences that informed key aspects of their professional development and political work — from candidacy to election. These articulations of identity were also foundations invoked in policy formation, issue advocacy, constituent relationships, and strategic decisions on how to spend their limited resources. Despite differences in political ideology and policy, the appeals to racial and ethnic identity, national origins, and community were pervasive across Latina candidates. In this way, Latina officeholders such as Democratic U.S. Representative Sylvia Garcia (TX-29) and candidates such as Republican Jazmina Saavedra (CA-44) actively constructed and advanced forms of “Latinidad” in discussing their identity and its impact on their political careers.
"It makes a difference who's in office. We bring different strengths. I'm a poor kid from South Texas. I have picked cotton and I have baled hay. We were on the commodity food program. I can tell you the taste of cheese, and oatmeal, and all that stuff they used to give us. So that's an experience that's so different — it takes everybody at the table, and it makes a difference.
For example [with the case of] Vanessa Guillén, who was my constituent, I worked really hard to make sure we got some changes made to the military justice code on sexual assault, and made sure that her family was treated right. Her family could have walked into any other office. They may not have had someone to speak to them in Spanish. They would maybe not have been as responsive. They may have sided with believing what the Army said and not really listening to the family. That's why it makes a difference." (Interview with Democratic U.S. Representative Sylvia Garcia [TX-29])
"I make the decision [to run] based on my heart, based on my value as a Christian woman, as an immigrant, because I didn't born here, I came from Nicaragua, from a communist country. I run away from a communist country looking for a better opportunity for a better life, for a freedom. And when I saw my freedom being attacked by other people, I say, ‘This is the time to fight. This is the time to do something for this country,’ a country that, to me, is my country. Even I came here when I was 19 years old, but I've been here for over 33 years. So, my daughters already born here, my granddaughters already born here. So, this is my country and I love the United States, maybe more than my original country.” (Interview with 2018 Republican candidate Jazmina Saavedra [CA-44])
As noted in Congresswoman’ Garcia’s reflections, the identities and personal histories of many Latinas manifest in their work and decision making, often providing strength, insights, and perspectives that allowed them to advocate for marginalized members of their districts. In other cases, the reflections on identity manifest in the recognition of their unique location as women of color and the intersecting modes of subordination at work in their lives that also weighed on their campaigns.
"Sometimes it's a bit overwhelming because how you are judged, the sexism, the racism, being a woman of color, just compounds all of those issues that while male Latinos may go through and suffer some of those same biases, for women the sexism, it just becomes overwhelming at times…It took me 14 years to get to Congress and it doesn't have to be that way with a little help, right? It doesn't take that long for men to get to Congress, oftentimes because they have a compadre that shows them the way, or they have organizations. (Interview with Democratic U.S. Representative Norma Torres [CA-35])
The complexity of these intersecting dynamics meant that Latina candidates often struggled to bridge communities and weave together support while bringing their whole selves to their campaigns. Democrat Candace Valenzuela, who ran for the open seat in Texas’ 24th congressional district in 2020, described confronting both colorism and building coalitions as she brought together white, Black, and Latino communities.
"I've always seen myself, my whole life, as a coalition builder because I've lived at a nexus of these cultures, both Black and Latino, and...the predominant white American culture. I grew up on the border, so just growing up in El Paso has shaped the way that I view things. I think people like to bring themselves to their campaigns, and I was very much like, okay, I'm not going to pick one identity or another identity. I'm going to be very much who I've been my whole life, which is all of these things, and it was not always easy.
Visually people cannot separate me, and I experienced a lot of colorism growing up with Latino communities. I sometimes can feel like an outsider with Black American communities too. It's a difficult line to walk, even when you're not walking it politically. In terms of official institutional support, everybody I came to said, ‘Yeah, of course you're ours. You're ours and we accept you and we love you. We know that you're going to be a faithful caucus member and work for communities because we see you busting your butt all of the time anyway.’ I got broad acceptance, but I definitely got some fire from folks for different things. I had a lot of white people saying, ‘She's not Black enough,’ and a few Black people, but more white people than Black people were like, ‘Is she really Black?’ And I'm just like, ‘No, no.’"
For many Latina candidates, their relationships to their family history provided the strongest connection to race and ethnicity, and this personal history figured significantly into their development and their political practice. This included their position as mothers (for those who had children), as grandmothers, and as multigenerational caretakers to older parents and extended family.
"Because of my upbringing is that it took me so long to, to get involved in politics. Because in Mexico, you might as well be a drug dealer. If you're going to be involved in politics, it's the same corruption. And so, for my parents, it was very hard for them to accept that I wanted to be in politics, but now they’re staunch Republicans. And I told my dad – my dad's 85 – he said that when I go and pass out flyers, he wants to go with me. And so now it's ON. And my daddy still wants to protect me. So, I'm like, ‘dad, you're going to get tired.’ And he says, ‘It's okay mi’ja… just put a chair there for me.’” (Interview with 2020/2022 Republican candidate Irene Armendariz-Jackson [TX-16])
Even within these expressions of intersectional identity there were differences between Latina Democrats and Latina Republicans. For example, conservative Christian religious identity and religious affiliation figured strongly into the candidacy and political agenda of several Latinas Republicans.
“Well, I got involved in about 2016 in politics. I had been apolitical and my voting record was very nothing to brag about…My husband was sent to Washington, D.C. because he is a border patrol agent. He just retired in December, but because of his work, he was sent there and we were there for six months because I am a Christian woman. I felt that the Lord was letting me know that we, the church needed to invade the halls of Congress and change the laws to reflect the values that this country was founded on, and they were God, family, and country. And so, when I came back, I made the decision to get involved civically — not a lot of conservative or Republican groups here in El Paso. And they were very hard to find, but I was immediately thrusted into helping in a campaign, which was for the congressional candidate at that time." (Interview with 2020/2022 Republican candidate Irene Armendariz-Jackson[TX-16])
Some Republican Latina candidates viewed their campaigns as part of a larger “culture war” and embraced the fight over abortion access, as well as limiting rights to gender identity and expression.
"The war really is… a culture war, a culture campaign. Understanding that is, is a goal. Because it's not the same. If I go up to somebody and tell them, hey, do you believe in your sex amendment to an 80-year-old Mexican born naturalized citizen? That it's not gonna resonate. And I said, do you believe in abortion? No. Why? Because it's murder...and I tell them, well [my opponent] supports abortion and [other Democrat] supports abortion up until birth." (Interview with 2020/2022 Republican candidate Irene Armendariz-Jackson [TX-16])
“It's so different. Sometimes when I see things are happening, where they attack our childrens with all the indoctrination, with the lesbian, all those things, I get like, ‘Oh, I need to do something. I need to open my mouth. I need to teach the community. I need to open their eyes and let them know what is happening.” (Interview with 2018 Republican candidate Jazmina Saavedra [CA-44])
Some Latina Republicans even echoed the deeply racialized messages centered in the Trump campaign that targeted and vilified Latinas/os/xs and specifically Latina/o/x immigrants.
"But at least we need to learn the language when we get here, we need to love and respect the law and make this country better, not even worse. Because sadly, I can say one of the reasons why California is terrible is because there is a lot of Hispanic present in California and we bringing all the bad things that we used to do in our country, and we bring our culture here which is not the best. I'm sorry to say it, but as Hispanic, we don't bring our best from our culture to the United States. So, we need to educate ourselves because the way the politician make decisions, at the end, they're affecting our regular life. Our kids at school, our businesses, our economy, and everything." (Interview with 2018 Republican candidate Jazmina Saavedra [CA-44]))
"I think Trump made it to where he was so loud that Hispanics started listening and saying, ‘You're right, you're right’. And people say, ‘oh, well, he called Mexicans this and that,’ I'm sorry, but the shoe didn't fit me, so I'm not gonna wear it. Now with my husband being border patrol, absolutely. There's rapists and drug dealers and prostitutes that cross illegally all the time, pedophiles, domestic violence, criminals, they do. And we gotta understand that this is our country. I don't care if you're brown, white, Black, this is our country. And I don't care if you're my cousin. If you come to my country illegally, you're gonna get kicked out.” (Interview with 2020/2022 Republican candidate Irene Armendariz [TX-16])
Notably, there were also Latina Republican candidates who took concerted steps to distance themselves from such openly racialized messaging. While Latina Democrats were more attuned to the relentless racialized targeting of Latina/o/x communities, especially in the 2018 and 2020 election seasons, some Latina Republicans expressed concern and even opposition to language that demeaned Latina/o/x immigrants. Republican Asusena Resendiz, who ran in an open seat in Texas’ 13th congressional district in 2020, recalls pushing back against another Republican candidate deploying anti-Mexican rhetoric during a candidate forum:
“He was all about, ‘Mexicans have no business coming into this country without their papers. They don’t need to visit anyone…They don’t need to visit anyone. If they’re going to continue to send money home to their families, why are they here?’…Oh, my gosh. Okay — that was an opportunity for me to also say, ‘Let me tell you why we send money to our families.’ But I'm the only one that was, can't even say debating, but I was debating candidates to defend immigration…. I’m more proud of my heritage now than I was just three years ago maybe. I think it's because I felt that I fought the good fight. And now that I feel that I have some of these battle scars.”
These candidates often had to walk a fine line within their own party as they were pushed to adhere to messaging that was gendered or racialized and invited to openly advocate for Trump, even as they opposed both the message and messenger. Ultimately, complex forms of intersectional identity resounded throughout the campaigns of Latina congressional candidates. These expressions of identity sometimes manifest as forms of resistance to gender and racialized norms and obstacles, while in other instances they manifest as traditions and customs drawn from cultural backgrounds that grounded the candidate. While these identities were not always expressed in language that was explicitly racialized or gendered, collectively they represented perspectives drawn from lived experiences within Latina/o/x communities that consistently advanced issues, narratives, and positions that they believed served those populations.
“Running for Our Lives”: Confronting Racism, Sexism, and Escalating Political Violence
Tethered to their discussion of identity, Latina congressional candidates repeatedly recalled encounters with forms of racism, sexism, and blatant forms of anti-Latina/o/x discrimination. Several noted that these manifested in increasingly aggressive and hostile confrontations including organized political violence, such as the January 6th insurrection that drew white supremacists to the capital animated by intersecting forms of racism, sexism, heterosexism, transphobia, and efforts to undermine democratic transition. Research centered on violence against women in politics (VAWIP) confirms these threats, noting that political violence increasingly targets women of color — whose very presence in largely white political institutions disrupts and transgresses norms of whiteness and masculinity and whose work often challenges intersecting modes of inequality and subordination to represent marginalized communities (Amnesty International 2018; Herrick, Thomas, Franklin, Godwin, Gnabasik, and Schroedel 2021; Krook 2017; Krook 2020; Krook & Restrepo Sanín 2016; Rodriguez 2020; Thomas and Herrick 2022; Thomas, Franklin, Godwin, Gnabasik and Schroedel 2019; U.S. Capitol Police 2022.).
For some Latinas serving in Congress, the escalating violence invoked past trauma, such as the violence encountered by immigrants escaping authoritarian governments, economic upheaval, and militarized unrest. Democratic Congresswoman Norma Torres (CA-35) fled political violence in Guatemala with her family at age five and, following thousands of other Central American migrants, sought refuge in the U.S. As a naturalized immigrant who had witnessed state violence, the insurrection prompted painful parallels with the conditions faced by her family in Guatemala.
“I get a little emotional because I think about that day [the insurrection on January 6th] and being a woman of color, an immigrant, and the same reasons why my parents sent me to the U.S. What my parents were trying to protect me from experiencing, I experienced in the U.S. Congress. Think about that for a moment, how violent of a work environment it has become. And even as we were running for our lives, I remember talking to a reporter who reports on Latin America, and he asked the question, ‘Wow, you're an immigrant from Guatemala. This is something that happens there quite often.’ And I responded to him with, ‘Yes, this is what my parents sent me to the US to protect me from.’ So, I think that more than ever the sacrifice is real and it has to be done.”
Notably, Congresswoman Torres linked her election to office and commitment to service in the face
of escalating threats to a strongly held relationship with her district, one grounded in her own identity, and she pledged to defend and protect marginalized communities who were increasingly the targets of racialized and gendered attacks.
While the impacts of escalating threats of violence were prominently noted in interviews with current Latina congressional members, several Latina congressional candidates also described racialized and gendered threats stemming from the resurgence of white supremacy. Reflecting on her 2020 campaign in Texas’ 24th congressional district and the types of racist comments and scrutiny she experienced as an Afro-Latina, Democrat Candace Valenzuela noted:
“We had a significant transition in March of 2020 when we had the pandemic. I think that the racist echo chamber was enhanced by the fact that people were locked in their homes with Fox News, that they were locked in their homes with a great deal of access to misinformation, to some really bad campaigns...I was going up against the Fox News apparatus and that is something that is a significant bolster to the racism and misinformation. It's astounding to me that they are able to say some of the things that they say, like the replacement theory — the idea that we are intentionally coming in to replace people. These are things that people hear and believe and there were lots of people just taking aim at me from that perspective. So, I had a lot of people who spent time wearing me down.”
The intense psychological, emotional, and physical impacts of racist narratives such as the replacement theory and its amplification and enabling among conservative media generated costs for Latina candidates such as Valenzuela that extended far beyond the election outcome. For some candidates such as Democrat Virginia Madueno, who challenged a sitting incumbent in California’s 10th congressional district in 2018, the violence took its toll as it extended to her children, even after she lost the race.
“You raised a little bit about it, but that is the toll that a campaign takes on a family. I say this, because when I started, my twins were four or five and my oldest was eight. And I'm still dealing, to this day, with the fallout of what my politics did for my children, so bad that when my oldest son was a freshman in high school, my son was beaten. My son was beaten so badly that we had to remove him from that school, and it's because of my politics. Going to his high school three days after the incident and to hear the police sergeant ask me if I had any enemies, because the assault on my son was unprovoked, the assault on my son was so random. To hear that, it really gives me so much heartache and pain to think that... And my husband tells me and reminds me it wasn't my fault, but I do feel responsible, if you will, for some of these traumas that I have put on my family. Politics is a blood sport. It really is."
One of the most common and pervasive forms of abuse and harassment occurred through email and social media platforms, where trolls are rewarded for incendiary messaging and relative anonymity makes accountability harder. Republican candidate Irene Armendariz-Jackson (TX-16) noted, “there were trolls on social media calling me derogatory names saying, ‘go back to Mexico,’ ‘pura India,’…’wet back.’” Democratic candidate Roza Calderon (CA-4) recalled being hyper-scrutinized and undermined for her appearance:
“I was continuously attacked just on my looks. As a Latina you know we like to wear our red lipstick, and we love to wear our high heels, our femininity as part of our power. But I was written letters constantly about how I was the reason why women were not advancing in the workforce, the reason why women had to aspire to look a certain way.”
While the preponderance of Latina candidates who reported online harassment described aggressors as associated with white supremacist, alt-right, and conservative groups, escalating harassment and threatening behavior weren’t confined to one party or ideological sector. Running in a highly competitive race in the 50th congressional district of California in 2020, Democrat Marisa Calderon recounted threatening behavior from supporters of her Democratic challenger.
“The bulk of the opposition and trolling and the vitriol that was in our direction — it came from the other Democrat, and really the other Democratic operatives if you will. From the moment of filing in the district, we were at the registrar's office and a person from the other Democrat's campaign was shouting at us in the registrar's office so much so that my campaign manager had to serve as a body shield to keep that person from entering my space. And we were accosted verbally on the streets, same person shouting at us, none of which I feel like would've happened had I been a man. It was gendered stuff meant to try and intimidate me. And, truth be told, it's alarming when a grown man who is larger than you starts shouting at you in a public crowded space. It doesn't feel good, and it doesn't feel good to have to lean on another person to help to make you feel safe in that space. I consider myself to be a pretty independent person, but I didn't feel safe with that man yelling at me.”
Calderon’s description highlights another recurring element in the candidate interviews; namely, how frequently the violence draws on forms of aggressive masculinity to intimidate and undermine the safety, security, and autonomy of Latinas in order to push them out of the political process. In this case, Calderon needed a physical shield simply to file her candidacy papers. Elsewhere, women described needing bodyguards and support from local law enforcement or capitol police to ensure the safety of themselves, their staff, or family members in their daily work.
Krook (2020) notes that for women of color in politics the increasing violence both stems from enduring forms of racial and gendered inequality and is uniquely tailored to undermine, discredit, deter, and deny their existence in politics. In this way the violence is not merely an extension of partisan competition nor a “gendered extension of existing definitions of political violence privileging physical aggressions,” but rather a collection of practices intent on denying women’s participation as women in politics (p. 3). Moreover, intersectional violence results in attacks on the policies and practices advanced by women of color to address inequalities among their constituencies as well as attacks intent on curtailing their ability to merely exist in the political office and public life. This was especially true among Latina candidates and congressional members who advanced immigration reform either in their prior political career, in their campaigns, or found themselves challenging racialized practices of immigration reform in their districts. Democratic candidate Virginia Madueno (CA-10) relayed such challenges during her campaign:
“I went against the grain here in my community with law enforcement when I saw the injustices that were being committed against undocumented citizens, especially those that were driving without a license and who were being pulled over for just the most random of incidents, whose cars were being taken away... Families were calling me, and one in particular where they left the newborn child and husband on the side of the road. That is the type of thing that I dealt with as a mayor…. I spoke out, and I stood out because I spoke out. And I think that's what has created, I guess, that target. I have seen some candidates come out pretty unscathed, not to the level of what I have seen or had to endure in my campaign. Is it still ugly? You bet it is. Incredibly ugly.”
While it is too soon to know the full impact of escalating violence, initial reports suggest a reduction in vital election service providers and election administrators across the country (Bump 2021). Potential long-term effects include more women who are targets of racialized and gendered abuse leaving office, cutting short their terms or their candidacies, or avoiding public office altogether. Undermining the candidacy or tenure of Latinas in Congress and Latina candidates not only threatens the political institutions, it specifically undermines advances in racial and gender justice, inclusion, and expanded forms of democratic representation embodied in their work.
“Wait Your Turn”: Latina Candidates Share Conflict with Major Parties and Civic Organizations
Support from major political parties and high-profile civic organizations such as EMILY’s List and BOLD PAC are instrumental to the success of any candidate’s election (and re-election) to Congress and this is especially true for candidates traditionally marginalized from formal political processes. The relationships that Latina congressional candidates detailed with their affiliated political parties were complicated and often troubled by a history of racism, sexism, and harassment, as well as formal and informal practices that excluded Latinas from participating and undermined their campaigns altogether. In many instances the barriers centered on leadership or practices within local or state party groups that deterred their candidacy. In other cases, it was party operatives or surrogates who they described turning on them, creating obstacles, or simply dissuading them from running. Less frequently, the candidates pointed to road blocks within national party structures. Several Latinas – even those who spoke of having productive relationships with their party – were told “wait your turn,” pointing to a lineage of potential candidates that didn’t include them. Democratic candidate Marisa Calderon (CA-50), who ran for an open seat in 2020, described a patronizing experience she had with a male congressional member who tried to block her candidacy:
“There was a member of Congress who called me ‘young lady,’ – ‘Listen up, young lady – we already have a qualified candidate in this race.’ That same member of Congress interfered with donor calls. The institutional Democrats in particular say things like ‘you're going to split the vote, fracture the vote, wait your turn.’ All of these things are really code for the sort of gendered issues that we’re talking about because it's no one's turn. It's not even like we're talking about an incumbent. This was an open seat!”
These types of obstacles led to inconsistent and fragmented forms of support from the candidates’ political parties and in many cases ardent barriers to their campaigns. While some Latinas, such as Republican candidate Irene Armendariz-Jackson, described receiving initial positive support for her candidacy; this proved to be short-lived as she failed to receive significant endorsements, funding, staffing, volunteer support, and even detailed open opposition from within the state Republican party aimed against her:
"The opposition came from really within the party. Two weeks before the election I had the gentleman that I actually helped for 2018. He became the chairman. He sent out a mass email saying he didn't support me. Wow. And this is the Republican chairman? Yes. He turned his back on me. Yes. And I volunteered for free and did a lot of coordination for him for a year and two months." (Interview with 2020/2022 Republican candidate Irene Armendariz [TX-16])
Even Latina Democrats from California with a history of prior political experience and strong party affiliation described facing obstacles and opposition from within their own party. Democratic Representative Norma Torres (CA-35), who ran as an incumbent in 2018, 2020, and 2022, and who had a long history of prior elected experience as a city council member, mayor, assembly representative, and state senator before successfully running for Congress in 2014, described the racialized and gendered barriers she encountered from within her party.
“I reached out to the DCCC [Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee] and there were no return calls. So, I really started thinking hard about where my place was. I was very welcome in the [California State] Senate, as I said. I didn't want to be in a place where I was not going to be welcome as a new member...I was shocked when the DCCC didn't exactly turn me away but refused to help in any way. There was another woman, a white woman from San Francisco who was an attorney, and there were two other white males that were running on the Democratic ticket. And I have to tell you that it became very personal for me that here I wasn't a nobody running in a district from San Francisco, a district that is a freight corridor with 70+ percent Latino, poor working-class community. I actually represented that district. And I was very proud of it, but the rejection was really difficult for me.
There was a reporter from Central America that at one point contacted the DCCC for a comment. And his take was this is history in the making — the first Central American in Congress that was an immigrant and can really speak to those issues. He didn't exactly quote what was said to him, but when I talked to him, he said: ‘You really should rethink running because I don't think they want you there.’ And that was really hard to hear because once again, we should be looking to increase the number of women. We have a big tent and that is what I am most proud of. Either way I ended up running. I did not allow them to put me in a box. I felt by then this was my seat, and I was going to own it. And I did [win] by 64%.”
While relationships between Latina congressional candidates and the major political parties were complicated and often inconsistent, additional organizations played a key role in the emergence of Latina candidates in 2018, 2020, and 2022. This included a range of labor organizations, EMILY's List, the Latino Victory Fund, and Bold PAC. Among progressives, national organizations such as Our Revolution and Justice Democrats provided support particularly in the form of volunteers and endorsements. In addition, a number of non-partisan groups provided additional candidate training and information, especially for first-time candidates, including groups such as Emerge, Higher Heights, and PODER. Of these non-partisan organizations, EMILY’s List elicited the most feedback. For experienced high-profile candidates such as Democratic Congresswoman Sylvia Garcia (TX-29) who had prior elected experience, a strong pro-choice record, and had previously run a congressional campaign in 1992, support from EMILY’s List, Latino Victory Fund, and Bold PAC came swift and strong.
“In 2018, when the day that I decided to do [run for Congress], before I could even call them, the Latino Victory Fund called me immediately that very night, and said, ‘Sylvia, we're so excited. We've worked with you so much as a senator and as a commissioner. We're with you. We're going to help you. No matter who else runs, whether or not it's going to be a Latina, we're with you.’ EMILY's List called that evening and said, ‘Hey, we were with you in '92. We're there with you, and we're sending someone over.’ They sent someone that very next day, somebody flew in and started working on putting our plan together and building on what my team and I had already started in terms of lining up endorsements.”
Candidates such as Democrat Virginia Madueno, who challenged a sitting incumbent in 2018 in California’s 10th congressional district, also described a supportive relationship with both EMILY’s List and Bold PAC.
“I was introduced early on to EMILY's List, and EMILY's List really took a robust role in my campaign, and they did interview the other two women candidates, but they really felt that I was the kind of candidate that they could get behind. I ultimately earned their support and they had people on the ground floor here helping me. I wish that they had come in a lot earlier because I would've made other decisions in terms of campaign management that I clearly came in very late on. They came in, but I really felt like the boat was already sinking by the time that they had come in. But they were incredible and incredibly helpful, resourceful. They were just phenomenal. Just absolutely phenomenal in that regard…. Bold PAC specifically, also another big entity that came through and helped. Not only did they help financially, but they also came in and helped with mentoring, with bringing in other candidates that we started to develop, again, a rapport so that we could check in on one another. Again, they were incredibly, incredibly helpful.”
Latina candidates without prior elected experience and especially those new to congressional campaigning described a much different experience with EMILY’s List. Democrat Marisa Calderon, who originally filed to run in an open seat race in the 53rd congressional district in California in 2020, was persuaded to switch districts and run in the more conservative leaning and less crowded adjacent district (CA-50) after discussions with representatives from EMILY’s List. However, she described a more lackluster and disappointing response to her campaign after making the switch:
“In reality, because it was a right-leaning district, because there was another Democrat, not an incumbent, but just another Democrat running, a lot of those [non-party related] groups just sat out and kind of took a wait and see approach. Frankly, including EMILY’s List, which I personally found to be surprising. I didn't have prior experience with EMILY’s List…their name is an acronym for exactly what they didn't end up doing...They encouraged me to jump in and then they said: ‘We'll wait and see what happens. Good luck with that!’
There was no early money, and I don't run that company, I don't work there, so there's probably lots of reasons for that, many of which I'm sure makes sense. They didn't make sense for me. It would've been helpful in making a difference because ultimately organizations like that are especially helpful to candidates who don't have huge institutional backing because they can make the difference and help to make you competitive in a race where you might not otherwise be. Instead, what happens is that organizations like that decide they're going to sit on the sidelines, and it sort of becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
In addition to the aforementioned organizations, several Latina candidates also pointed to PODER Pac and the 2016 Hilary Clinton presidential campaign as being instrumental to their own campaigns for Congress. Professional associations, trade groups, and small business coalitions also proved significant, especially for first time candidates and Latinas seeking early support.
In spite of their non-profit status, a number of Latina candidates also described receiving support for their campaigns from local churches and affiliated religious groups, particularly evangelical church groups.
"We went to a lot of Spanish speaking, evangelical churches, and they opened the door to our message, especially because it's a pro-life message. I had a pastor who was a Trump hater at one time. He came, he texted me the morning of the elections, and he said, 'I want you to know that we have never had a candidate like you to represent the church.' And so, from there we gained a lot. The Spanish-speaking megachurches did not open the door to us. It was all these little 200, 300-member, 50 member churches that opened the door to us. (Interview with 2020/2022 Republican candidate Irene Armendariz [TX-16]).
Ultimately, early support from both state parties, EMILY’s List and BOLD Pac made the most difference in the success of Latina candidate campaigns and the absence or inconsistency of such support were most frequently raised as barriers to the candidate’s success.
“Comadrismo:” Latinas Mobilizing, Mentoring, and Supporting Each Other
A key response to the barriers that many Latinas congressional candidates encountered from the major political parties and civic organizations was to form alternative modes of support including creating their own mentoring, fundraising, and marketing networks. Several candidates built coalitions and collaborations with other Latinas, with other women of color, and with other women to fill gaps in fundraising and support left by the major political parties. Democrat Jana Sanchez, who ran for an open seat in Texas’ 6th congressional district in 2018, described an ad hoc coalition of Democratic women that came together during her run. The group emerged organically among women in Texas who shared skills and resources as they ran for Congress.
“We got to meet each other through [Democratic Party] events, and then through text, because it all grew, and everybody said, 'Let me introduce you to my friend, who's running for Congress.' I mean, there were 40 of us. We called ourselves ‘Women on Fire.’ We even did a joint fundraising event. We had an Act Blue page where, if you gave to one, then you'd get a thing that popped up and say, ‘Hey, do you want to give to everybody else?’ And we'd split the money. It wasn't a ton of money, but it was a couple thousand dollars extra that we wouldn't have raised. There were three women who got elected to the state House and the rest of us did not win, but everybody, almost without exception, has stayed involved in politics and has gone on to do other things, either run for other offices, or run other campaigns. Like I said, one of my colleagues from the Women on Fire is now the chair of the Tarrant County Democratic Party. One is a state rep, and she's actually running for lieutenant governor now. Two others are state reps as well. Also, we're all mentoring other women, and supporting other women who run now. And that didn't exist before.”
This kind of candidate organizing parallels voter engagement efforts targeting the Latina/o/x electorate that have been crucial to addressing the limitations in major party outreach, education, registration, and mobilization of Latina/o/x voters (AAPI Civic Engagement Fund & Groundswell Fund 2019). These forms of lateral mobilization have proven significant to increasing the numbers of registered Latina/o/x voters and getting them out during the 2018, 2020, and 2022 elections. Latinas played significant roles as leaders and organizers in these outreach and mobilization efforts through progressive, liberal, conservative, and even religious groups operating nationally and in targeted races such as Voto Latino, Mi Famila Vota, Mijente, National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference, United We Dream, and UNITE HERE.
For several Latina congressional candidates running in 2018, 2020 and 2022, these forms of alternative organizing emerged in new networks, organizations, and structures of support that helped to alleviate marginalization, opposition, and alienation from their own party and from groups such as EMILY’s List. They also translated into supporting existing non-profits, PACS and 501c (4) organizations that were already engaged in capacity building and fundraising for women in some form. For candidates such as Candace Valenzuela, who ran and lost in an open seat in Texas’ 24th congressional district in 2020, these alternative networks provided resources, advice, and advocacy that helped bridge her personal and professional life as a candidate through the pandemic.
“On my own, I've been reinvesting in local infrastructure. I've been helping women to think about running for local office and run for local office. Some of the women that I've helped out with an organization I work with called Vote Mama, they've won...They're an organization that helps women running for any office with school-aged children or children with disabilities. Vote Mama also has a nonprofit arm that works on persuading people to do better policies for women, specifically paid or allowing mothers to use campaign funds to pay for childcare while they're running for office, and everything in between. We talk a lot about breastfeeding policy and making accommodations for those things. It’s a really incredible organization that's just working on seeing mothers in political infrastructure.
This organization was very supportive for all three of my cycles. As a PAC they gave me $5,000 each cycle, and they were moral support. They did help me to navigate the legal structure of using my federal campaign funds for childcare, especially when the pandemic hit, and I had to hire a nanny because I couldn't send my kids to daycare anymore. I needed to have a private person, which is way more than daycare. And it was untenable to do without that help.”
The supportive networks also elicited forms of comadrismo; in other words, communities of care that extended to friendships, political advocacy, as well as care for the social and emotional well-being of each other. In some cases, the comadrismo manifested as care for other Latinas drawn from a shared knowledge and sense of linked fate for the struggle and challenges each faced in running for Congress in a racialized and gendered environment hostile to their interests. In other cases, comadrismo manifested as affection built through years of trust, generosity, joy, and kindness as they worked in similar professional circles and built personal relationships predicated on support. Ultimately, the forms of comadrismo were both pragmatic and empathetic and tethered to their efforts to find more just, humane, and equitable ways of serving. Democratic Representatives Veronica Escobar (TX-16) and Sylvia Garcia (TX-29) embodied this comadrismo as they cheered each other on during through their historic candidacies and continued to advocate for each other as they entered Congress together in 2018. Escobar explained:
“I've known Sylvia for probably 16 years. She was a county commissioner when I was a county commissioner in 2007, and we were both part of the same policy organization. In that policy group, I got to know her, and I just loved her, we became instant friends and we just stayed in touch. She went on to the state Senate, I then went on to become county judge, which is the head of county government, and we followed each other's careers. When I knew she was running – and of course I knew that Texas had never had a Latina – I remember thinking, ‘Oh my God, it would be amazing if Sylvia and I could break this glass ceiling together.’ And then we did!
We try to do a lot together. So sometimes on our Twitter feed, it's the two of us, and we address each other as comadre in hearings, and it's wonderful. When I tweet at her, I'm like, 'Comadre,' you know. That's been the most special of all, is it's not just a friend and not just a fellow Latina, but a dear friend and fellow Latina who kind of broke that barrier with me together.”
Finally, common throughout the interviews was a mindfulness about using avenues of support (both formal and ad hoc) to address the entrenched racism, sexism, and escalating political violence aimed at women in politics that they experienced. Far from atomized efforts intent on strengthening personal resolve, many of the women formed supportive coalitions with other Latinas and women of color similarly situated around the country, pressed for accountability against trolls and attackers, and made significant investments in therapy and recovery for themselves and those around them left traumatized by their runs for office. In short, the women tethered care for themselves to coalition building, accountability, and efforts to address the increasingly hostile environment for women of color. Reflecting on both the trauma and recovery she endured after a deeply racialized and abusive campaign season in 2020, Democrat Candace Valenzuela [TX-24] reiterates this theme:
“I was getting all kinds of terrible things thrown at me. And there's an intellectual part of my head that said the people who are yelling the loudest aren't representative of what the entire district is like. And those people that are yelling the loudest are not the people who are struggling to eat.
I can't speak for every candidate of color. We don't have the same hard luck story. But we come to this process, I think, with a significant amount of trauma and we spend our lives dealing with that trauma by helping other people. And this process is so punishing that it almost takes you out harder than somebody who's just good intentioned and has had a relatively easy experience. It eats a certain chunk out of you. And I'm lucky that after my campaign, I was able to have the space. I had the access to healthcare.
I still advise campaigns right now and I tell every candidate I run across, they need to have a therapist that they're regularly talking to so that they can treat themselves well and so that they can treat their staff well and so they can treat their family well, because abuse becomes pretty bad.”
Valenzuela’s account underscores the hidden labor and unaccounted costs of Latinas and women of color whose path to national office often happens without the needed support from the major political parties and civic organizations. It speaks both to their endurance and resilience in the face of challenges but more important the vital need to attend to these costs — especially with structured and resourced support that understands their intersecting needs and interests.