Most college students spend their days thinking about their classes, parties, or internships, but Bushra Amiwala has her mind on bigger things at the moment. The DePaul University sophomore is running for a seat on Illinois’ Cook County Board of Commissioners, and will be facing off against the incumbent (who has held the position for 16 years) and another candidate in a primary election being held on March 20, 2018. Here’s how she got started, and what it’s like to run for office.
In the summer of 2016, I had a lot friends telling me they would be voting for Donald Trump to be our president. As a Muslim woman who wears a hijab, it just didn’t make sense to me. I wanted to know what it meant to be a Republican, and the opportunity came up for me to work for my senator at the time, Republican Mark Kirk.
As a field intern, my responsibilities included working in the community, trying to gauge interest from prospective voters and get a sense of what issues mattered to them most. One way I sought to accomplish this was by asking people five survey questions that Kirk's team would issue policy around. The first question on that list was, “On a scale of 1 to 10, how fearsome are you of an Islamic terror attack on U.S. soil?” And I had my hijab on! Most people would do something weird with their lips and look around and give an uncomfortable laugh and then say, “Ten, very fearsome.” I realized that the lack of visibility of Muslims in politics has led to people having this idea of fear associated with us — it’s fear of the unknown.
Three months after the campaign, I got a call from the Senator’s office. They said they were reflecting on their intern team, and they realized that I collected the most survey results, meaning I knew how to communicate easily with people. They told me that a current Democratic committee leader would be stepping down from the Cook County Boards of Commissioners after 16 years, and that you only needed to be 18 to run for the seat. They were basically getting at the idea that I should run.
I didn’t say yes at first. I’d always shied away from politics because people say, “Politicians are corrupt and dishonest and untrustworthy. You don’t want to be one of those!” It was off-putting. But every cause that I cared about (including education, health care, and property taxes) had a political component — so I knew I had to pay attention. That's when I realized that we can change what it means to be a politician in America. Being a member of the Cook County Board of Commissioners is a part-time position — you have to attend 22 board meetings a year. Since I’m still a student, it just seemed like a practical place to start. My voice can serve as a voice for all immigrants, refugees, or people who come from low income families, millennials and young people, and women.
A couple of months later, I called the senator’s office back and said “Yes, I want to run, will you all support me?” and they basically said, “Hell no! You’re running as a Democrat!” I was like, “Oh shoot, true,” which shows how naive I was at the time.
When I decided to run, I was really scared — my address is public information now. Last summer, I got a hand-written letter that said, “Don’t implement Sharia law at the county level and you’ll have my support.” And when NowThis posted a video about me, there were comments saying I should run for office in my own country (I was born and raised in the United States)! But then I noticed that some of the people who were writing about my candidacy were from Texas, and I saw it as flattering. People in Texas have heard about me? Good work!
It’s been really hard to juggle college and campaigning. You have 17-hour days and I spend six of them in class. I have classes twice a week and I’m also taking a class online, which I opted for to have more flexibility. When I started the campaign, I was a one-woman show. I didn’t have anyone supporting me, there was no team to speak of. I was almost embarrassed to ask someone to help me and to work for free. But since then, I've come a long way. I’ve been able to staff the campaign with volunteers who dedicate their time, effort, and energies simply because they believe in me. I’m always surprised when people ask, “How much money can you raise?” I’ve realized money is what legitimizes your candidacy. In January, I had a fundraiser and, when I booked the event venue, I was expecting 150 people. Eventually, I had 350 people buy tickets and 410 people showed up! The money I raised was for mailings. Each piece of mail costs me 50 cents and I have to send out 100,000 pieces. Do the math.
As a candidate, I’ve learned you need to have a thick skin. At one event, an opponent twisted some of my experiences for his personal gain. It was embarrassing — you look around a room and there are about 500 people who just heard him say something they probably believe, even though it isn't true. It’s really easy to let one negative comment overpower hundreds of positive ones but you have to be able to see it another way. What really keeps me going is the wave of support. Every day I can open my Facebook page to messages from young girls, or their moms saying, “My daughter looks up to you.” As a kid, I always thought you had to be a model to make it, but to see that intelligence and passion has brought me here is so humbling.
No matter what happens in the election, I’ve been able to show people that if your heart’s in the right place, you’re working toward making a difference, and you’re fighting for the right causes and a positive change, you’ll see the results in one way or another. Everyone has power, whether it’s in our voices or in our actions — just use it for good, and good things are sure to happen.
