Isabel Jurado had good reason to smile when I met her earlier this week at the Highland Park home she shares with her father and teenage daughter.
The 34-year-old endured the political upheaval she first caused in March by defeating incumbent Kevin de Leon in a City Council seat that stretches from Downtown to Boyle Heights to Eagle Rock, when she and He was elected before any other Latino congressman. primary member.
Despite losing the general election and facing an onslaught of negative ads, mailers and headlines in the weeks leading up to polling day, she is still the subject of a warning after being ousted for her role. He defeated De León, a giant of Latino politics who had become a figurehead. In a secretly recorded conversation that upends LA politics. Jurado, a tenant rights lawyer and political novice, has also overcome self-harm after being caught on tape saying “F–the police.”
When she is sworn in next month, she will become the first Filipino-American LA City Council member, the first woman and the first LGBTQ+ representative in District 14.
Her victory marked the East Side’s biggest political upset since Chicano activist Raul Ruiz siphoned enough votes from Richard Alatorre in the 1971 Congressional election to allow the Republican victory. She follows a march of politicians backed by the Democratic Socialists of America who have stormed City Hall for the past four years.
Well, there’s a lot to smile about. But what Jurado kept coming back to during our hour-long conversation Monday was a request she heard from many constituents:
Don’t be corrupt.
“I remember this older woman” in Boyle Heights, Jurado said. “She said, ‘Why should I bother voting? Why should I vote for you? You know, all I see is you. [council candidates] Every 4 years. When election time comes, you do good for us, everyone comes, and you go. ”
Jurado circled around a rooibos tea bag with a tag that read, “Your actions prove your greatness.” She was wearing slippers, comfortable pants, a Dodgers hat, and a T-shirt that read “Hecho en Highland Park CA.”
As Jurado recalled, the woman said: “‘Look at this street. It’s dirty. Lampposts? They told me to call. I kept calling. Nothing happened. I did everything right here. I left the country where I was born and raised to escape a government like this, and this is what I got.”
Pitching to the Senora of Jurado: Born and raised in this area. Children of illegal immigrants. Single mother. It used to be eligible for food stamps. She lives with her father because she cannot afford to buy her own place. Above all, she was committed to breaking what her campaign called “the curse of CD 14.” These are MPs who have been embroiled in corruption for more than 50 years, whose seats have been used as stepping stones to higher office, or who have completely ignored their communities.
“And she’s like, ‘Well, you have to be careful.’ [winning] It won’t change you. ”
Isabel Jurado campaigns in Boyle Heights on election day.
(Salahi Apaes/Spanish version of the Los Angeles Times)
The encounter was part of what Ms. Jurado described as a “listening tour,” which she believes is a triumphant achievement and plans to continue after being sworn in.
“People are a treasure trove of information,” she said. “They’re investing in their communities. They’re creating solutions on their own. If they have a partner to accommodate them. And to me, that’s the power of leveraging the collective. I’m not an expert on everything.
Over the course of a year, I watched Jurado’s incredible journey from political longshot to surprise winner to history-maker. I’ve watched her campaign change from basically her and her communications director, Naomi Villagomez-Ruchnik, to everyone now looking for an audience with the East Side’s newest power broker.
In an election night speech, she described her friendship with Ruchnik as “two broke girls.”
“As a candidate, people have something to offer you, especially if you’re representing a very lucrative district,” she said. Jurado looks at the memorabilia piled up around her dining room table, among the scrapbooks, posters, artwork, photo collages and other letters of appreciation that volunteers and constituents have given her, among the letters of appreciation that need to be mailed. I waved. She plans to give away almost everything.
“If you add up these little things, for me it equates to an overall change in attitude. People will give you more, they’ll offer you so much more, and you’ll get used to all of that.” I think that’s where greed comes in.”
First-time elected officials prefer that title to “politician” because it “gives people the impression that it’s not something they deserve,” and focus on “bread and butter issues” immediately after taking office. I intend to. Repair sidewalks. Renovate the park. Fix the street lights. They are calling for Los Angeles to be declared a sanctuary city. She is also poised to charm residents who did not vote for her.
“I approached this work with my own values and ideals,” she said. “But part of what a leader does is listen, especially in the context of those who govern and those who are governed.”
She brought up the police. In October, a student at California State University, Los Angeles, who turned out to be an employee of De Leon, asked at a meetup what he thought about the DSA’s policy of police abolition. Here’s her answer: “What’s a rap verse? ‘F-Police, I think so,'” she told me. These were garbled lyrics by NWA, Kanye West, and Rage Against the Machine.
The comments led to an unusual public rebuke of a political candidate by the police chief, who called for Jurado to withdraw from the race or apologize. Jurado did neither. So will she speak to her critics?
She nodded. When I asked her if she would meet with new Police Chief Jim McDonnell or the Los Angeles Police Protective Alliance, which spent more than $250,000 in independent spending after the audio of Jurado’s remarks was released, she said: I nodded again, “Yes.”
“I recognize that some of my constituents feel safer with more police,” she said. “But at the same time, they say they don’t want to over-police. They’re afraid to call the police for help because they don’t show up on time.”
Jurado sipped his tea.
“So there’s a balance between safety and accountability, and I think we can achieve that. We all have those conversations and we can’t have those two thoughts at the same time. can.”
At a celebration to mark her first election at the downtown Tokyo Villa in March, then-City Council candidate Isabel Jurado, along with field organizer Albert Orozco, 22, of Boyle Heights, presented her with gifts. They laughed as they drew names from the basket.
(Michael Blacksher/Los Angeles Times)
Another big challenge I brought up involves something she cannot change. That’s because she’s not a Latina.
District 14, which is 61% Latino, includes Boyle Heights, the birthplace of Latino politics in Los Angeles. Before Jurado won, Latinos had represented the district for 39 years.
With Jurado’s victory, Latinos will only hold four of the 15 legislative seats in a city that is almost half Latino.
How will she reconcile with Latinos who grieve their lack of representation?
“When we spoke to voters, we asked them, ‘What has your leadership delivered so far?'” she responded. “That’s why they voted for something different. … To me, it’s capital. Why is a predominantly Latino neighborhood, a.k.a. Boyle Heights, the least served by the city? The most? All the city lights are off, there’s no street cleaning, no parking.
Jurado said she wants to fundamentally change her hometown of Highland Park and help Latinos fight the gentrification that has crept into Boyle Heights over the past decade.
“How do we actually create thriving, resource-rich regions?” she said. “It’s not about being Latino or Asian. It’s about physical representation, not just symbolic representation. It’s about Boyle Heights not just being a historically Latinx community, but one. To continue to be.”
When the time was up, I told Jurado I wanted to show him something. “Oh my god!” she gasped as I handed her a vial of sacred clay containing a statue of Santo Niño de Atocha.
Depictions of the Infant Jesus are part of the Southern California landscape, especially revered by both Mexican Americans and Filipinos.
Santo Niño’s notoriety grew on the East Side in 2020. José Huizar, who represented the 14th District at the time, posted an image of the Santo Niño, a Catholic symbol, on social media hours before FBI agents raided the politician’s home. Huizar ultimately pleaded guilty to multiple corruption charges and is serving a 13-year sentence.
So before the Santo Niño festival, I asked Mr. Jurado what he could promise new voters.
“He definitely doesn’t have as much curly hair as Filipinos,” she joked, trying to collect her thoughts. It’s one thing to spew platitudes at a reporter, it’s quite another to do the same in front of the baby Jesus.
“I promise to work hard,” Jurado said at last, looking down at the Santo Niño in his palm. “And having those conversations, even though they may be difficult…and that’s what’s important. Always. It’s not about pomp or circumstance or fame; it’s about the work.”
She looked at me again.
“What do the Jesuits say? Service is an act of love. I know it’s a cliché, but I’m going to love this community by serving it. That is my promise.”
Let’s see how Santo Niño and voters feel in four years.
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