When I decided to run for City Council, it came during a time of major personal transition. I had just been selected to donate stem cells through the Gift of Life program and was preparing to step down from my role as board president of the Hamline Midway Coalition (HMC), where I had served for over two and a half years. Friends, neighbors, and HMC members encouraged me to run, and I wanted to do so in a way that honored both my values and my responsibilities.

The organization was still in the midst of a turbulent period—rapid staff expansion, impending staff departures, multiple office moves, and budget instability—and I knew that leadership continuity on the board was critical. Inside the organization, opinions differed on how I should step away. Some urged me to resign immediately to avoid any perception of conflict, while others worried that a sudden departure could destabilize the ongoing work and relationships we had built over the years. We compromised by creating a temporary “Outgoing President” and “President-Elect” structure to guide the transition and maintain momentum. This process had full board support, which was important because we did not have a formal policy for what to do when a board member ran for public office.

At the same time, the campaign was accelerating. Because the special election didn’t yet have a set date, we had to build everything—field strategy, volunteer outreach, communications—on a compressed timeline. I tried to be responsive and thoughtful throughout. When the board raised concerns about my use of a past slogan or photos from community events, I made changes. And when the board’s leadership transition was delayed, I ultimately resigned from HMC entirely to prevent further disruption. I put every ounce of energy I had into separating myself from the organization—posting publicly in neighborhood Facebook groups, and sending multiple corrections to local journalists, always clarifying that I was the “former,” “past,” or “previous” president—never just “President.”

Throughout it all, I was careful not to use any internal materials and sought legal counsel to ensure everything was above board. To this date, I have never been contacted by legal representation from HMC or anyone else regarding the campaign. Despite my efforts, a formal resolution was passed by the board to disavow any connection to me. The language in that resolution hurt. I had put years of my life into HMC, and suddenly I was on the front page of the paper, despite doing exactly what was asked of me by the board every step of the way. But I also understand that as a district council receiving public funds, HMC felt the need to go above and beyond to protect the organization’s neutrality, regardless of the steps I took. I don’t like it—but I’d be the first person to say that I get it.

I’m proud of the work we did at HMC—tackling tough issues like Kimball Court, the library, the stadium, homelessness, public safety, and substance use in our neighborhood. We took flak for that. We got hate mail. And we kept going anyway. We kept feeding our neighbors. We kept creating new events, reaching out to skeptics, and welcoming past volunteers back in. The only score I ever kept was: “Did we convince someone to give our neighborhood a chance?” And we racked up a lot of points. Those victories belong to everyone who’s ever been a part of HMC.

HMC taught me what civic leadership really means: showing up, listening closely, and staying committed even when it’s tough. That’s the spirit I carry into this campaign. I’m still here. Still organizing. Still working toward a city government rooted in transparency, accountability, and service to the people of Saint Paul.