Twin Cities suburbs diversify; City Councils remain white

Reva Chamblis moved to Brooklyn Park because of its diversity. She liked that her neighbors spoke different languages, had different experiences and didn't look exactly like her.

But when she looked at the city's leadership, she saw a different picture.

Between 1990 and 2010, Brooklyn Park's white population dropped 44 percent. But the six-person City Council is still completely white.

"And if I'm not on the council, that's what it'll be," said Chamblis, who is running for one of three seats up for election this year.

A new batch of U.S. Census data released Thursday shows that the racial composition of the Twin Cities suburbs continues to change. In Dakota County, for example, 81 percent of recent population growth consists of persons of color, and changes in the racial makeup of outer-ring suburbs like Prior Lake and Rosemount are more pronounced, in percentage terms, than in the two central cities.

But of the 10 most racially diverse Twin Cities suburbs, at least six have city councils whose members are all white. The case appears to be similar in the four remaining cities, though officials either did not respond or declined to identify the racial composition of their councils.

As the suburbs evolve, a lack of diverse leadership — not just in terms of race, but also class, age, ethnicity and other characteristics — could affect community engagement, quality of life or even economic growth.

In Brooklyn Park, one of just two majority-minority metro cities — besides Brooklyn Center — Chamblis made history in August as the first African-American woman to win her City Council primary. Two weeks before Election Day, she had more volunteers than fliers to hand out — enthusiasm she thinks stems from seeing a candidate who reflects a large swath of the community.

In Rosemount, candidate Alba Nowlin is also the only person of color in her race, after she tied in the primary with a Somali-American candidate who was then eliminated in a coin toss.

A native of Belize, Nowlin still speaks with a subtle accent and breaks out her Spanish on the campaign trail when she encounters a fellow native speakers. But she doesn't think of herself as the Latina candidate. She's focusing on being the only woman and the only one with young children.

"Hopefully, I can captivate the fact that I have young ones just like they do," she said while door-knocking on a warm September evening, speaking to young, enthusiastic families in one of the city's wealthier neighborhoods.

A candidate's diversity can mobilize voters — as in Chamblis' case — but it can also be limiting.

"I don't want to ever say, 'Oh, you know what? I'm the Hmong candidate,'" said Yang, the council's first Hmong member. "I want to say, 'I'm a candidate who's willing to represent everybody.' That's how you have to package it so that people can swallow it."

In 2012, the Minneapolis council race brought a sea change: seven new members, including three people of color whose communities hadn't been represented on the council before.

"You need the right mix of things to come together," Yang said. For him, winning the election was a matter of bucking the system: He mobilized first-time voters and didn't worry about getting a party endorsement. Still, he said, a lot of it came down to timing.

"I don't mean to say this in a boastful sort of way, but I feel like if I hadn't run at the right time and won, we might not have seen a Hmong person ever elected in Minneapolis," he said. "I think the parties don't really do a good job of growing talent, especially talent in communities that are underrepresented."

Attention to underrepresented communities is often what's missing in places without diverse leadership, Bloomberg said.

Yang said he benefited from having an educational and professional background similar to other elected officials. He also can afford to serve on the Minneapolis council because, unlike in the suburbs, it's a full-time job with pay to match.

"In other places when they're part-time city councils and the pay is practically nothing … it creates a different mix of people," he said.

In Burnsville, the financial strain of running for office has hit home for City Council candidate Jake Nelson. A few weeks before Election Day, he quit his night job at Target to make more time for campaigning. Asked what he wishes he'd had during campaign season, the answer was simple: Money.

"It's kind of that same issue as unpaid internships and things like that, where it really does select for a certain pool of people who can do that," Nelson said.

After a recent candidate forum, one of the other candidates joked to Nelson that he'd never again work that hard for a job that pays so little.

Shakopee is one of the most diverse cities in the metro area. But the current generation of city leaders say that went unacknowledged for a long time.

"We had never really recognized or leveraged or celebrated that fact before," said Mayor Brad Tabke.

He describes walking into Shakopee elementary school classrooms made up of at least 50 percent students of color.

Shakopee's diverse communities — from recent Somali, Asian and Latino immigrants to the Mdewakanton Sioux community — make big contributions to the local economy, many as entrepreneurs.

In 2009, Asian and Latino communities in Shakopee accounted for $75 million in buying power, according to a 2013 report from the Minnesota Chamber of Commerce and the Minnesota Business Immigration Coalition.

"We're raising our children in a world that's going to expect global citizenship," Bloomberg said.

"What if the first step was: How do we make this body, this elected body, as accessible to everyone as possible? What does that really mean?"

Emma Nelson • 952-746-3287