In City Hall, Women Make History
The last time the mayor of Seattle was a woman was in 1926. When Bertha Knight Landes ran, local papers assured voters that she was “plain” and “unassuming,” that she went to church, that she was not a “chattering woman” or perhaps worse, that she was not a “new woman” either. When she won, Landes made history, and not only in the city: As the first woman mayor of Seattle, she also became the first woman to be elected mayor of any major U.S. city.
In the wake of this year’s election season, almost 100 years since Landes took office, more women will become mayor in the top 100 U.S. cities than ever before, many in historic wins. Seattle elected a woman for the first time since Landes. And at least five other U.S. cities of all sizes elected women for the first time in their histories, too.
Of the nation’s 100 largest cities, seven elected women this year, and in three of them, women unseated men. All told, 21 women now serve as mayors of the nation’s largest cities.
“It’s notable as a part of the larger trend of women candidates defying expectations and making history while doing so,” says Jean Sinzdak, Associate Director of the Center for American Women and Politics at Rutgers University. “While the overall media narrative is focused on the fact that Democrats as a party did exceedingly well last night, the thread in that narrative that jumps out at me is that women and people of color drove that success.”
These mayoral candidates’ political ascent shouldn’t be conflated with their gender, but their particular paths do reveal something about the future of women’s representation in local office—where ceilings are shattering, where barriers remain, and why.
Seattle elected Jenny Durkan, the first woman to take City Hall in 91 years; Manchester ousted a male incumbent to elect Joyce Craig, the first female mayor in the city’s 266-year history; Provo elected the first woman to ever even file to run for mayor, Michelle Kaufusi. Framingham, Massachusetts, which just voted to become a city in April, elected Yvonne Spicer as its first ever mayor—and she's a black woman. In April, St. Louis elected Lyda Krewson as its first female mayor; earlier this month, Canada’s Montreal made its own history, electing Valérie Plante; and on November 18, New Orleans elected LaToya Cantrell as its first, as well.
Six other large cities who already had their first women mayors achieved hard-won seconds and thirds, and there were victories in smaller cities too—but we won't have the final total, updated to include places like Myrtle Beach and Topeka, until after everyone is sworn in early next year.
Since the Center for American Women in Politics at Rutgers began tracking these statistics in 1989, the highest proportion of women mayors in cities with a population of 30,000 and above (including in the top 100), was 21 percent.
“These wins are sure to boost that proportion,” says Sinzdak.
Each of these cities bears a unique set of challenges, and sought a fresh face to tackle them. Three cities in particular have something else in common, too. Even before ballots were cast in Seattle, Provo, and New Orleans, voters were choosing amongst slates of all women (with the exception of one write-in candidate). In Seattle, the city needs a mayor who will tackle the affordable housing crisis, and replace Ed Murray—elected in 2013—who resigned in May amid accusations of sexual assault; in Provo, the newly booming city seeks an advocate for smart growth; and New Orleans residents hope their new mayor will follow through with the housing and criminal justice reforms begun under the current mayor, Mitch Landrieu.
That it has taken so long for these major cities to be helmed by women is perhaps unsurprising. The road to City Hall as a female candidate, even when traveled successfully, is not without its bumps—as evidenced by these women’s experiences. This year, we may have only seen a net gain of two female mayors in the nation’s 100 largest cities, but that accounts for a 10.5 percent increase since last year, and a 133 percent jump in the last six. The pace of women being elected to local office is accelerating, more rapidly than ever.
“In research as far back as I’ve seen, often women say they want to run for office to get something done, and men want to gain power,” says Erin Loos Cultraro, founder and CEO of She Should Run, an organization that champions female candidates. “[This year], women are still saying those same things—we have to do better—but there’s an increased sense of urgency.”
A city like Provo is an especially hard place for a first-time woman mayoral candidate to run for office. There are the usual barriers to women politicos: the cyclical nature of politics; the preponderance of male incumbents; the sexism women know they’ll face if they ascend. But it’s also unique: Provo is home to the Mormon Brigham Young University, known for being staunchly conservative; and religious values that prioritize “traditional” family roles inform much of the city’s base. Not every Provo resident practices the LDS religion (though, even as Salt Lake City’s LDS population shrinks, Utah County’s is growing, this summer peaking at 84.7 percent) and not every religious resident is averse to a woman in power.
But even before Michelle Kaufusi and Sherrie Hall Everett won the primary to become the two candidates for mayor this fall—and even before Kaufusi won—the climate they described was chilly.
“I honestly thought Provo wouldn’t have a woman mayor at this point,” says Kaufusi. “When I went down to submit my paperwork they told me I was the first female ever in the history of Provo to even file.” (She got there before Everett did.)
“I think it’s hard sometimes for women to run because culturally they’re either working or taking care of their families,” Kaufusi says, referring to the state of Utah’s culture more generally. “And, they serve in so many other ways.”
Everett agrees. “The LDS church is not necessarily that culture now, but some of those old ideas and generational ideas have persisted,” she says. “And so I think we’re breaking through a lot of that here.”
When Everett served as a city council member in 2008, she served on a council of five women and only two men. She says at first, she and her peers faced resistance. “There were sometimes derogatory terms about us; and ‘cultural’ terms about us; and sometimes whispers in the hallways at City Hall from other elected officials and things like that,” she says. Everett feels that eventually, the council secured the respect of the community. But in the years that followed, the political pendulum swung in the opposite direction: For the past four years, only one woman has served in City Hall.