It’s nice to look back on that because when you come to Congress, you’re really encouraged to do your own thing, think only about yourself and your district. But I think we found that we’re stronger when we’re together. And working together now these past few months, we’ve really defied a lot of people’s ideas about how congressmen and women are supposed to behave. Because in the beginning, we heard a lot of, “You just don’t do that.”
Sherrill: I remember I went to someone who I’d known from before I was elected and said, “Oh, should we all get together and talk about a plan for this? Think about where were want to go?” He looked and me and went, “It’s really generally every man for himself.”
Houlahan: It’s a dog-eat-dog world, absolutely.
Glamour: In that environment, have you ever checked in with each other after something happens, to be like, “Is this normal?”
Spanberger: Every day. Every single day we do that.
Houlahan: I keep a list of all that. Literally, I write them down, because I want to remember that this is not normal. I don’t want this to become normal. So I write down all of the things that I think are super offensive, or super broken, or super wrong, so that I can reflect back on them, and not become part of the problem.
Slotkin: We have a never-ending text chain between us, and that’s what we do. “Did anyone else get this set of talking points? Did anyone else see this bill that came forward that we’re supposed to be voting on? Does anyone else have concerns about how this?”
Sherrill: Or sometimes it’s, “Does anybody else know how we’re supposed to find a white suit in the middle of January?”
Spanberger: That one. That is a big one.
Luria: I ordered mine on Ebay. But Mikie has this Brooks Brothers suit that I like, and I saw it was on clearance. I was like, I want that suit, but what if Mikie and I show up in the same suit on the same day?
Sherrill: That would be amazing.
Luria: I could have just said, “It’s our Naval Academy uniform.” Who would have known?
Glamour: Despite your lack of experience in politics, all five of you won these difficult races and I presume learned a lot about how to win difficult races in 2018. How much do you feel that experience and expertise are respected now?
[Laughter]
Sherrill: That’s great.
Houlahan: [Clears throat]
Sherrill: We were just talking about this. Abigail and I were just talking about this, because we had this sense—and at the time, we didn’t know how naive it was—that we could draw on our life experiences and run. And when we told people that we wanted to do that, there was a lot of, “Uh, sure.”
Houlahan: “How cute.”
Spanberger: “Sweet.”
Sherrill: Like, “That’s awesome.” But I think part of the reason a lot of us who are new to politics were able to get in and flip these districts is because people who had been in politics for a while just didn’t see the path. We were so engaged in our neighborhoods and with people throughout our communities that we knew something different was happening. I could feel it in my town, talking to moms in the car line. Hundreds of people came to an event for civic education. We could sense a shift. And then… Well, Elissa has the best line on this.
Donald Trump is spending his week doubling down on his racist suggestion that four Democratic lawmakers—Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, Ilhan Omar of Minnesota, Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan—should “go back” where “they came” from. Last night, he presided over a crowd in North Carolina that at one point chanted “Send her back!” in reference to Omar. At times, when Trump mentioned the women, people in his audience shouted “Treason!” and “Traitors!”
It’s utterly irrelevant to Trump and his supporters that three of four of the women were born in the United States and that the fourth, Omar, immigrated from Somalia as a child and has spent more than half her life as a citizen. In focusing attention on these particular women, Trump activates the well-documented passions and fears of his supporters, people demonstrably threatened by the browning of America. But, he also activates the disgust and repugnance that too many people feel about women claiming power and authority, particularly the power and authority to decide what America is and should be. It would be a foolish and dangerous mistake, particularly as we move towards a presidential election in which more women than ever are candidates, to ignore the confluence of these prejudices.
Trump’s “go back” dictate makes an assumption about who “real Americans” are, and research shows he’s not alone in his warped thinking. For most of our history, the notions of “citizenship” and “manhood” have been as inextricably linked in most people’s minds as “American” and “white” are. Only in our recent past have minorities and women been extended rights, like the freedom to vote, to run for office, to bear arms, to serve in juries, and to work, as elite white man have since independence. Studies show even now, in the words of one social science researcher, that “to be American is implicitly synonymous with being White.” In the same vein, many people’s explicit, and implicit, belief systems continue to support the notion that men are “natural” leaders, but that women are not; that men serve in public capacities, and women private ones. Trump appeals to the specific combination of these beliefs to undermine women as not only incapable of self-governance, but as unfit to govern others. That’s the hateful core of this latest diatribe; people like them aren’t suited to tell people like us what to do.
Trump’s casual “go back” is a dogwhistle to racists and xenophobes but it also reinforces age-old biases against the rise of a “feminized elite.” Women who are educated and progressive, the old chestnut goes, are dangerous to men and to the nation. This tired equation allows Trump’s most extreme supporters to rationalize threats against women as legitimate act of patriotism and renders violence against them a form of twisted self-defense. Trump’s campaign rallies were frenzied carnivals of this misogynistic idea, with thousands of mostly white Americans chanting “lock her up” and parading around effigies of a caged Hillary Clinton. It’s how a West Virginia Republican lawmaker tweeted, “she should be ’hung’,” and another proclaimed, “Hillary Clinton should be put in the firing line and shot for treason.” One of Trump’s supporters was particularly clear when he explained, during the 2016 race that “Hillary needs to be taken out“ and that he was prepared to do it himself. “[I[f I have to be a patriot, I will,“ he said. The same ideas were more subtly conveyed when, earlier this year, a video was aired during a Memorial Day Fresno-Grizzlies game in which Ocasio-Cortez was depicted as an “enemy of freedom“ alongside Kim Jong Un and Fidel Castro.
But Trump isn’t just content to question women’s patriotism. He also impugns their expertise and knowledge. The charge that people of color and women “don’t understand” the complicated affairs that animate our national discourse is a popular right-wing talking point drawn from racist and sexist science. It suggests that people of color and women lack the intellectual capabilities and emotional wherewithal to lead. Of course, that means that women of color who work in the public sphere are special targets of these attacks. A Media Matters supercut of Fox News’s coverage of AOC, for example, demonstrates the network’s near-obsession with portraying her—a woman with a degree in economics and the recipient of a fellowship awarded to high academic achievers—as “ignorant,” “idiotic,” and someone who “doesn’t know what she is talking about.” She is, the hosts emphasize, a “pompous little twit,” who “makes no sense.” In a similar vein, Trump has referred to black athletes, politicians, and media representatives as “low IQ individual[s]” and “dumb.”
Though Trump’s tweets did not call out any of the congresswomen by name, severaloutlets reported that they were likely aimed at congresswomen Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, Ilhan Omar of Minnesota, Rashida Tlaib of Michigan, and Ayanna S. Pressley of Massachusetts. It should be noted that in no capacity does it matter where any of the women were born: They are all United States citizens. Omar is also the only one of the group born outside of the U.S.—she was born in Somalia.
The women, the Times noted, are currently at odds with House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. In a July 10 interview with The Washington Post, Ocasio-Cortez said she believes Pelosi singles out women of color in an attempt to isolate them and their beliefs.
“When these comments first started, I kind of thought that she was keeping the progressive flank at more of an arm’s distance in order to protect more moderate members, which I understood,” Ocasio-Cortez said. “But the persistent singling out . . . it got to a point where it was just outright disrespectful . . . the explicit singling out of newly elected women of color.”
Pelosi herself was quick to jump to the congresswomen’s defense on Sunday, writing in a tweet, “When @realDonaldTrump tells four American Congresswomen to go back to their countries, he reaffirms his plan to ‘Make America Great Again’ has always been about making America white again. Our diversity is our strength and our unity is our power.”
In a follow-up tweet, Pelosi added, “I reject @realDonaldTrump’s xenophobic comments meant to divide our nation. Rather than attack Members of Congress, he should work with us for humane immigration policy that reflects American values. Stop the raids.”
Ocasio-Cortez also powerfully replied to the President’s remarks, tweeting, “Mr. President, the country I ‘come from,’ & the country we all swear to, is the United States. But given how you’ve destroyed our border with inhumane camps, all at a benefit to you & the corps who profit off them, you are absolutely right about the corruption laid at your feet.”
She added in a series of follow-ups, “You are angry because you don’t believe in an America where I represent New York 14, where the good people of Minnesota elected @IlhanMN, where @RashidaTlaib fights for Michigan families, where @AyannaPressley champions little girls in Boston. You are angry because you can’t conceive of an America that includes us. You rely on a frightened America for your plunder. You won’t accept a nation that sees healthcare as a right or education as a #1 priority, especially where we’re the ones fighting for it.” She added, “Yet here we are.”
“But you know what’s the rub of it all, Mr. President? On top of not accepting an America that elected us, you cannot accept that we don’t fear you,either,” Ocasio-Cortez wrote. “You can’t accept that we will call your bluff & offer a positive vision for this country. And that’s what makes you seethe.”
Last week’s midterm elections resulted in so many firsts for women in this country. When Congress is sworn in for its 116th term, there will be a new set of faces who are younger, browner, and more female than ever before. And no, the excitement hasn’t worn off yet.
So you’ll have to excuse the fact that I literally squealed with joy upon seeing New York Representative-elect Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez‘s latest Instagram post from Washington, D.C. featuring none other than her new colleagues Ayanna Pressley, Rashida Tlaib, and Ilhan Omar. This one photo features the youngest person elected to Congress, the first black woman to represent Massachusetts, the first Palestinian-American woman elected to the House, and the first Somali-American Muslim and first woman of color to represent Minnesota.
Talk about a powerful ‘Gram—which Ocasio-Cortez aptly captioned, “Squad”.
Tlaib also posted a photo of this power posse, writing, “#DreamTeam in Congress. Going to hit the ground running fighting for #JusticeforAll. Congresswomen elect Ayanna Pressley, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ilhan Omar. @ilhanmn @ayannapressley @ocasio2018”
I love that these inspiring women are already hatching plans to change the world together and further disproving the old-fashioned notion that somehow groups of women can’t work with each other without in-fighting and jealousy. If these elections proved anything, it’s that the power of women in America has never been stronger.
And based on the comments, I’m not alone. “The #DreamTeam makes me proud to be an American and gives me hope for a better future,” one IG user wrote under the photo. “Well done ladies!”
“Felicitaciones ❤️This brings tears of joy to me today,” said another. “Thank you all so very much for stepping up. Count on me to support you.”
The new Congress will be sworn in in January, but thankfully, our new Congresswomen aren’t waiting until then to hit the ground running. We can’t wait to see what’s next, ladies.
Deb Haaland wears the same pearl necklace almost every day. Not a string of delicate iridescent beads that are usually coupled with the blazers and skirts on Capitol Hill, but a set of sturdy, silver Navajo pearls that she bought at the annual Santa Fe Indian Market. Soon, those beads will be making their debut in Washington D.C. following a midterm election cycle that resulted in a historic number of women taking congressional seats in the 116th Congress.
Haaland is in that group. She’s Native American. She’s a single mother. She bucks against the status quo. And she’s New Mexico’s newly-minted Congresswoman.
“A long time ago people knew where you were from by the jewelry you wore,” Haaland told Glamour over the summer. “They knew you were Navajo or what pueblo you were from because there’s different styles. This [necklace is] Navajo. I’m not Navajo, but I love it so I’ll wear it. Silver is protection.”
A member of New Mexico’s Pueblo of Laguna tribe, Haaland, 57, is now one of the first Native American women to serve in Congress. On Tuesday, she took the lead against her opponents, Republican Janice Arnold-Jones and Libertarian Lloyd Princeton, making history alongside another Native American congresswoman, Sharice Davids of Kansas. The two share more than the obvious connection in heritage and their new House status—Haaland and Davids go back, having supported each other since attending the same summer program at the American Indian Law Center.
“Deb and I spoke soon after I announced I would run. The first time I called Deb, she was like, ‘If you need to sleep on my couch, you can,'” Davids, who is also the first openly gay representative of Kansas, toldGlamour in September. “In some way, I almost feel—Deb, you don’t even know this—that just hearing her on the other end in that first call, telling me, ‘Yes, do this,’ was the validation I needed.”
It’s not hard to believe. The generational power of women and unbreakable family ties are embedded in Haaland’s DNA, she says. Her mother, who served in the Navy, raised Haaland and her two sisters and brother while her father, who was in the Marine Corps, fought in Vietnam. Haaland reflects on the unseen and under-appreciated work and the emotional labor that mothers often shoulder to keep the families together.
“There were four of us and she had to keep order, and she was by herself a lot,” Haaland says of her mom, who’s 83. “In spite of how strict she was, when it came to food, she would bend over backward to cook what we liked. As Pueblo Indians, food is important to us. I almost didn’t realize how wonderful she was about that. I didn’t like raw onions so whenever she’d make enchiladas, she’d make mine without onions and she’d put toothpicks in the top so we knew which ones were mine. You know what I mean?”
These are the little things that make Haaland who she is today. It’s how she can get so laser-focused and particular about the things her constituents need, and why she vows to show up, fully and completely, for the Native American community. “I will do my best to always bring in tribal leaders to speak to the issues that affect them,” she says. “I don’t want to speak for tribes. But I feel like I can speak strongly in defending tribes and the U.S. government’s aggregation of their trust responsibility.”
If anything, she has the background and resumé to do just that.
As the kid of military parents, Haaland moved around a lot, but New Mexico is her home base: She graduated from high school in Albuquerque, and went to the University of New Mexico and UNM Law School. Significant to Haaland being a first is that she’s also a working class indigenous woman who forged her own path into politics, without a silver spoon: As a young mom, she started a salsa company in the 1990s, delivering cases of the stuff out of her Maroon GMC Safari to grocers and gift stores across New Mexico. Her then-two-year-old daughter Somah would ride in the passenger seat.
“I wanted her with me 24 hours a day because I felt like I needed to influence her at that early age and it paid off,” she says.
PHOTO: Deb Haaland
Deb Haaland pictured with daughter Somah.
While pursuing her law degree, Haaland made ends meet with the assistance of food stamps. And with such a busy schedule, she had to teach Somah how to ride the city bus to school in case her mom couldn’t be there. She earned her organizing chops volunteering for dozens of local and statewide campaigns, and mobilized native voters on the 2004 John Kerry campaign and both of Barack Obama’s campaigns (she served as Obama’s Native American vote director in 2012). She eventually became the Chair of the Democratic Party in New Mexico and ran for Lieutenant Governor in 2014. She’s also served as chairwoman of her tribe’s economic development corporation.
Dedicating much of her career to getting out the native vote has primed Haaland to work even harder to protect it: In recent weeks, the Supreme Court upheld a law in North Dakota that requires voters to show identification with a current street address, when many reservations don’t use physical street addresses, leaving thousands of voters disenfranchised and unable to vote. “Native Americans couldn’t vote in New Mexico until 1948, [but] we’ve had elected officials who are deeply invested in making sure underrepresented folks get to the polls,” Haaland says. “Every time I think about the voter suppression happening in our country it makes we want to win even more so I can go to Congress and work to overcome that,” she told Glamour before Tuesday’s victory.
For those who can’t vote, Haaland is hoping to be their voice: Just as she stood with activists at Standing Rock to protest the Dakota Access Pipeline, Haaland is committed to expanding the use of renewable energy in her state, and securing strong healthcare and education. Her inclusivity efforts won’t stop at her community, either: Somah, who’s now 24 and identifies as queer, has educated her mom on gender identity and LGBTQ issues. Haaland’s campaign priorities include working to close the pay gap for black, Latina, indigenous, genderqueer and transgender people, and fighting “bathroom bills” that restrict trans people from using public restrooms.
She’s unabashed about her criticism of Trump, too. Haaland’s called out the president’s immigration policies, which have separated thousands of children from their families at the U.S.-Mexico border, and she is vocal about abolishing ICE. “It’s history repeating itself for no reason, other than a president who is just putting forward the most racist immigration policies we’ve almost ever seen,” she says, comparing the historic separation of Native Americans to the separation of migrant children from their parents.
But what makes Haaland so accessible, such a beacon for her community, is that she feels free to bare it all. Like many women who ran for office this election season, she didn’t hide parts of her story that might traditionally hurt a candidate. In one of her campaign ads, she climbs Albuquerque’s Sandias Mountains while revealing that she’s 30 years sober.
“Deb Haaland’s campaign for Congress is a representation of the culture shift that is being led by Native and Indigenous women to build a future that is safe, abundant and connected,” says Vanessa Roanhorse, CEO of Roanhorse Consulting and cofounder of Native Women Lead. “We need a voice that can advocate for women’s reproductive rights, pushing for stronger laws to protect women and children from violence and closing the pay equity gap that women, specifically Native American women face, and a voice that has directly experienced the disparities themselves,” she continued.
“Deb is that voice and solution.”
What isn’t lost on Haaland is how this moment almost didn’t happen. While enrolled in Emerge New Mexico—a leadership and training program with the goal of getting more Democratic women into public office—she says she learned that if you ask a man to run for office, he’ll say yes the first time. Women, Haaland says, have to be asked seven times before they’ll actually run.
“I bet that’s one of the reasons why women don’t say yes right away,” she says. “If it were my mom, she would think, ‘Who’s going to cook for my kids the way that I do?'”
It’s a good thing she did: Along with Davids, Haaland’s historic win means that two Native American women—on the land where her indigenous ancestors lived—are now U.S. Representatives. It took more than two centuries from the time Congress was established in 1789.
“Representation matters,” Haaland says. “I feel like some young native women are seeing me and saying, ‘Finally, somebody who looks like me.'”
Jessica Militare is a journalist living in New York City
