“Do you support sending our weapons to bomb children overseas?”
“Democrat or Republican?” “Republican or Democrat?”
“What are your thoughts on transgender surgeries for children?”
“What are you doing about the schools?”

This is just a small sampling of the questions I heard repeatedly on the campaign trail. They came up while I was getting signatures to get on the ballot, knocking doors, and meeting people at the city Farmer’s Market. I kept thinking, Wait, I’m running for Farmington Hill City Council … local, nonpartisan, part-time Farmington Hills City Council. What have I gotten myself into?

Let me be clear: running for city council was never a given. People had encouraged me to seek public office for many years, but I never felt like it was the right time. In fact, if you had asked me a few years ago whether I saw myself knocking on hundreds of doors, standing under fluorescent lights at candidate forums, or learning how to gracefully accept both enthusiastic support and bewildering skepticism from strangers, I would have laughed. Politics seemed like something other people did — people with extroverted personalities, thicker skin, or, at the very least, a more flexible schedule.

After the 2024 election, I began to feel differently. The pain of the national election sparked a desire to play a more active role in being the change I wanted to see in my local community. It was the sense that my community deserved more — more transparency, more collaboration, more investment in mental health, more integration of mental health and public safety, more playground equipment for those with unique needs, and more thoughtful decision-making. I recognized the need for younger voices to be at the table. In the early days of January, I decided that I wouldn’t wait any longer for “someone” to step up. I realized I could be that someone.

Deciding to run was both thrilling and terrifying. I was excited to share my ideas for Farmington Hills with leaders and city residents. I went to City Hall, got my petitions, and I began the slog of obtaining the 202 qualifying signatures needed to get on the ballot. 

At the same time, I realized that I needed help with getting this campaign off the ground — I couldn’t do it alone! So, I recruited my sister (a political strategist and performer), my best friend (campaign treasurer), and close family and friends to help me with the basics. Even though I had organized and worked on other campaigns, I quickly learned that it is very different when you are the candidate. There was so much uncertainty and nervous energy in those early days. Still, I maintained hope, stayed true to my values, and leaned on my supporters every step of the way.

Some candidates dread door knocking, but it quickly became my favorite part of the campaign. I loved meeting people in their natural habitat, hearing about what matters most to them, and listening to their stories about living in Farmington Hills. I talked to many folks who shared that a local candidate had never come to their door before, and that my presence alone earned me their trust … and their vote. Voters want to know that their elected officials care. They want to feel connected to them. It’s amazing how that connection can develop in a few minutes standing on someone’s porch.

Over the course of the campaign, I found my voice. I especially enjoyed participating in candidate forums. I discovered that when I talked about what mattered to me — mental health awareness and programming, safe and accessible public spaces, a rebuilt senior center, transparent, fiscally responsible governance — people listened. Not because I was the loudest person in the room, or the most experienced candidate on the ballot, but because I was speaking from a place of genuine purpose. 

I never saw this campaign as running against anyone; rather, I was running for my community.

There were long days, of course. Days when it was extremely hot, windy, rainy — or all of the above. Days when door after door didn’t open (or closed in my face). Days when the weight of my full-time job and other commitments felt overwhelming. But there were also moments I will never forget: an older couple thanking me for listening to their concerns about caregiver burnout, a man inviting me into his backyard to see his beautiful landscaping, helping a man with a disability register to vote, and visiting neighborhoods with protected wetlands that most candidates neglect.

Campaigns have a way of revealing the best in people. My volunteers — friends, colleagues, neighbors, even people I barely knew — showed up with contagious enthusiasm. They walked with me, strategized with me, put lawn signs together, bundled literature packets, reminded me to take care of myself, and celebrated every win along the way, no matter how small. Their belief in the campaign became fuel that carried us to Election Day.

And then came Election Night — a blur of nerves, gratitude, and the surreal feeling of realizing how much community support had carried me to that moment. The election results were close, as I expected they would be. Seeing the checkmark next to my name elicited a whirlwind of pride, gratitude, elation, responsibility, fear and relief. 

Winning the election wasn’t just about securing a seat. It was about seeing a community reflect back the values I had hoped to champion. It was about trust. It was about partnership. This wasn’t the end of anything — it was the beginning. I thought of the doors I had knocked on, the stories I had heard, the concerns people were brave enough to share with me. I thought of the volunteers who gave their time, energy and encouragement. And I thought back to January, when I wasn’t sure whether I could do it. I proved so many naysayers wrong, and it felt so good. 

Running for city council taught me that leadership does not require perfection. It requires presence. It requires listening. It requires showing up for people, even when it is uncomfortable or uncertain. And it requires holding the belief — even quietly, even imperfectly — that your community can be stronger, kinder, and more connected.

I’m grateful for every person who opened their door, shared their vision, offered their advice, or trusted me with their vote. My story of running for city council isn’t just my story — it’s our story. I’m excited for the work ahead and to move our city forward, together.