Running for a seat on the San Jose-Evergreen Community College Board of Trustees in 2023 was an uphill battle for Clay Hale, but not one he shied away from. Hale felt called to serve after navigating the complexities of college as a first-generation college student.
Everything almost came to a screeching halt one day near the end of the campaign. It was November 4, 2023, just three days before election day, when Hale and his partner, Jonathan (Jon) Ishii were driving in San Jose’s Naglee Park neighborhood to meet volunteers and knock on doors.
Driving down 10th Street from Japantown, they were caught off guard. A reckless driver ran a red light at the intersection of 10th and Julian, t-boning their car and sending it crashing into a nearby VTA bus stop. The car was totaled, fluid leaking, airbags going off, cuts and bruises visible, glass was shattered, and coffee spilled in the car interior. Blocking the traffic due to the car accident, they were in pain. Ishii was lightly bleeding from the airbag and collision; fortunately, they escaped serious hospital injuries. Still, the crash felt like a dark omen to Hale, as if the universe was signaling the end of his hard-fought campaign.
“This is it,” he said to himself. “We’re not going to win. It’s the universe saying, ‘It’s all over Clay.’”
But fate had other ideas. As all candidates know, when knocking on doors, you’re lucky if 1 in 5 people open their doors. Serendipitously, the sound of the crash brought many people outside. Taking advantage of the opportunity to meet people all at once, his partner grabbed yard signs and door hangers from the car trunk. He had his campaign manager, Aiko, join him in passing out his door hangers and offering to meet with Hale. Holding the campaign literature high, Ishii shouted, “This is Clay Hale! He’s the only teacher running for the community college board. Vote for him!”
The neighbors gathered around, one resident applying Neosporin to cuts on Hale’s hand while he caught his breath beside the crashed car. Some thought Ishii must be in shock and filled with adrenaline. One neighbor told Ishii and Clay to slow down and rest. Ishii responded, “No, I’m just passionate and excited—did you vote yet?”
“Clay, I hope your hand feels better,” a neighbor said. “You got my vote!” Another said, “I have the ballot on the table, ready to go with your name on it.”
After being treated at Urgent Care for x-rays, the trio returned to Naglee Park a few hours later to continue knocking on doors, covering 200 to 300 homes that evening.
“We didn’t have major political endorsements,” Hale said. “We encountered hardships, but we had a solid team. I was just a teacher wanting to provide that perspective on the board.”
With his victory in the November 2023 special election, Hale joined the increasing number of LGBTQ+ elected officials in Santa Clara County. Additionally, he became the youngest trustee elected to the San Jose-Evergreen Community College District Board of Trustees.
A desire to become a high school civic teacher
Hale was born in the Sacramento suburb of Orangevale in October 1994. With a passion for history and a deep appreciation for the teachers who brought it to life, he knew since high school that he wanted to inspire students through teaching. He grew up reading biographies and history books, watching the news, and talking politics with friends and family.
Majoring in history at nearby Sierra College only solidified his goal. Being the first in his family to navigate the college experience was tough, but he persevered and followed his dream of transferring to UC Berkeley after two years at the community college.
“I owe a great deal to the community colleges,” Hale said. “I can confidently say I would not be a classroom teacher without the education I received there and who graduated with minimal debt because I was working 45 to 50 hours a week delivering and making pizza.”
At Berkeley, Hale found a safe and welcoming community and the courage to come out.
“It definitely provided that supportive network which allowed me to come out and share who I was with others,” he said. “By middle school and high school, I knew I was gay, but there’s always that sense of denial. Berkeley gave me that opportunity to open up that side of me.” To his relief, Hale’s family also accepted who he was.
He graduated from Berkeley in 2017, writing his history thesis on the political and cultural relationship between the United States and Latin America, using coffee as an example of diplomacy. Afterward, he struggled with choosing a career, alternating between becoming a teacher or a lawyer.
Settling on his initial vision of teaching, he joined Teach for America, which placed him at an East Side Union High School District school in San Jose. Hale was delighted with the city and grateful to remain in the Bay Area, which he fell in love with while attending Berkeley. Passionate about civics and civic engagement, he felt fortunate to pursue his chosen career in teaching.
Hale completed his master’s degree in education policy and administration during the next two years. Currently, he teaches AP government and AP macroeconomics at Yerba Buena High School.
“It’s definitely hard to get a job as a social science teacher in California. I lucked out with the school where I teach and also the class topics. I look forward to going to work every morning.”
Hale believes education is crucial in helping students improve their communities and their lives. Seeing public policy as a vehicle for change, he pushed to make civic engagement a graduation requirement at his school. Students identify a problem needing solving, reach out to local stakeholders, and suggest ways to bring about change.
“Quality civics education can produce positive outcomes,” he said. “Getting more people to vote, more people to volunteer, having more civic engagement, and gaining civic literacy in how our systems operate.”
Running for Trustee
A seat on the San Jose-Evergreen Community College Board became vacant when the current trustee resigned after being elected to the San Jose City Council in November 2022. A special election was held on November. 7, 2023, to fill the seat, providing Hale an unexpected opportunity.
Hale thought he was uniquely qualified to serve for several reasons. First, he had attended and graduated from a community college. Second, he served as a college advisor for duel enrolled students at Evergreen and Yerba Buena High School.
“I knew the students who go to community colleges, I knew the faculty, and I knew the campus. Being a trustee where I could make policy for everyone was a perfect fit for me,” he said.
Of course, running for office is a whole other matter. He reached out to friends and family, especially his partner Ishii, to ask their opinions and ensure they had his back. He knew he needed time, people, and money to run a successful campaign.
“I don’t think I would have been a successful candidate if it wasn’t for my support system,” he reflected.
Then there were unknowns, such as how voters would respond to his age and sexual orientation. He would only be 29 at the time of his election, making him the youngest person to ever serve on the board and one of the youngest trustees statewide. While campaigning, Hale never hid that he was an LGBTQ+ candidate. His district was considered very diverse and progressive, but queer candidates don’t ever really know if they will be accepted.
Victory
There were four other candidates in the race besides Hale, one of whom was quite formidable. She had won the endorsements of labor groups and the local Democratic party, where she was better known. Still, Hale exceeded his own expectations, coming in first with an impressive 46.89% of the vote. All of his hard work paid off. Everyone was jubilant at his victory party.
Hale was sworn in as the newest trustee on December 13, 2023. He asked Ken Yeager, the first openly gay trustee elected to the board in 1992, to do the honors.
Hale believes being an LGBTQ+ trustee provides him with a lens through which to view policy and to consider how to create more inclusive and equitable outcomes for students. He continues to advocate for increased student retention, transfer, and graduation rates and more community partnerships.
Hale said that administrators, including Dr. Rene Alvarez, Dean of Academic Success and Student Equity at San Jose City College, put on pride events, facilitate an LGBTQ center, ensure gender inclusivity with bathrooms, and affirm students’ identities in a positive way so they feel at home.
“It’s rewarding to see that in place,” he said. “When I was a community college student, there were not those opportunities for our LGBTQ+ community to express who they were.”
Hale’s appreciation for community colleges has only grown over the year he has been on the board. “I have a lot of passion for what community colleges are and the opportunities they provide for our students,” he said. “I definitely don’t think I would be here today without them.”
Another Victory in November
A year later, Hale needed to run for re-election in November 2024. To signal that he would be running a strong campaign to ward off any opponents, he held his campaign kick-off in June and aggressively campaigned and raised funds. His strategy worked; by August, no candidate filed papers to run against him. This allowed him to be elected to a four-year term by default. Surrounded by friends and supporters, he was sworn in on December 12, 2024, by recently elected State Assembly Member Patrick Ahrens.
Sometimes, by luck or hard work, it happens that the right person comes along at the right time for the right job. That’s what happened when the longtime Chief Executive Officer of the Bill Wilson Center was retiring in 2023 after a remarkable 40-year career.
Josh Selo, who had been CEO of West Valley Community Services based in Cupertino, California, was interested in the job, and excited about the prospect of working at one of the largest and most respected nonprofits serving homeless and foster teenagers and youths, particularly those who were LGBTQ+, in Santa Clara County.
For Selo, it was more than just a career shift. Having experienced housing insecurity as a child and enduring merciless bullying in junior and high school, Selo started his career working with youth, young adults, and families. The job seemed to bring together so many parts of his life and experience, including the more than 26 years he has worked for community-based nonprofits, a reflection of his desire to be of service to others.
Fast forward to May 2024 and the evening of Bill Wilson Center’s annual dinner. Held at the Santa Clara Convention Center in one of the cavernous ballrooms, the event was sold out with more than 315 people in attendance. Selo was the MC, informing the audience of Bill Wilson Center’s work in the community, paying tribute to former employee and community leader Janet Childs, and presenting stories of how Bill Wilson Center helped two homeless youths overcome their challenges so they could reach their goals.
Then it was time to fundraise. Standing at the mic, the 6’2”, 48-year-old blended his career experience with his background studying theater in college into true showmanship. Before you knew it, Selo was successfully inviting people to raise their dinner programs to contribute various amounts of money to support the work of Bill Wilson Center, starting with $10,000, then $5,000, then $2,500, etc., all the way down to $100. The room was full of energy, with just about everyone in the convention hall raising their hands in support. All in all, the event raised more than $277,106, making it BWC’s most successful event ever.
Clearly, Selo was right where he belonged.
Early life
Born on Valentine’s Day in 1976, Selo was raised in Los Angeles. His father was a small business owner, and his mother a homemaker. His parents separated when he was 10.
“That period was hard because we were now a single-income family,” he said, adding his mother returned to work as a secretary. “If not for my grandmother, we would not have been able to remain housed. We were always on the edge of remaining housed for much of my childhood. We lived in constant fear of not being able to pay the bills from month to month.”
Selo’s middle and senior years in school were tough. “If you didn’t present as the status quo, you were picked on quite a bit,” he said. “I was bullied for how I walked, talked, for who I was or who I was perceived to be. I was called terrible names. It has left a permanent mark that I have carried all my life. I knew that I was different, but I didn’t know what it was.”
Everything changed when Selo attended college. Inspired by a high school teacher, he enrolled as an English major at the University of California, Santa Barbara in 1993. Shortly into his freshman year, he also began to explore his sexual identity.
“I started to understand what it meant to be gay,” he said. “I finally admitted to myself that’s what I was.”
Dating men was challenging and intimidating. Having a close group of friends and changing his major from English to Theater helped.
At the same time, he said, Will and Grace became a hit on television, helping to normalize what it meant to be gay. He decided to embrace who he was and put it out there.
“I’m very much a fighter. I’m a bit scrappy, and very competitive” he said, “So, I was not a person who was going to hide it. I wore the rainbow rings. I got my ear pierced. I felt like my days of hiding were over.”
Selo feels lucky to have a supportive family, which made his coming out process much easier. “I know from hearing from friends, even from my own husband, that it can be pretty awful when your parents approach you from a place of hate, which can impact you for a really long time.”
Selo told his sister first, as she had always had his back. His mother, who had suspected he was gay, expressed concern about his safety. He delayed coming out to his father, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to accept him as a gay man.
“My dad used to use all these words, tell these jokes. I knew how he felt about gay people. And then when I was 13, he sat me down with a stack of Playboy magazines and told me to check them out. I literally looked at the top one for a minute and walked out of the room. I didn’t know what he was expecting me to do,” said Selo. “That’s why I was nervous about telling him, but he was fine. I really met no resistance from my family.”
Selo had been involved in the Jewish community all his childhood, so when he graduated in 1997, he decided to pursue a master’s in Jewish education. At the time his brother was living in New York and studying to be a rabbi, so he set he packed his bags and headed east. Perhaps not surprisingly, Selo was the only out gay person attending his school. At that time, the conservative wing of the Jewish religious movement didn’t knowingly ordain gay people as rabbis.
After three years and graduating with his degree, Selo took a job at the Jewish Community Center in Manhattan, overseeing programs for teens. JCCs, as they are often referred to, are general recreational, social, and fraternal organizations serving the Jewish community in cities across the country, including Palo Alto, Los Gatos, and San Jose.
This was the first step on a career path that introduced him to the nonprofit world. One of the most memorable projects he led was Operation Chicken Soup. Each month, Selo would bring together high school students from the Upper West Side to make chicken soup from scratch and deliver bowls to low-income and recently unhoused people living in SROs on the Upper West Side.
“We’d chat with the residents and hang out. It was a pretty incredible experience,” he said, adding that while the soup was cooking, he’d talk with kids about homelessness, housing insecurity, and other social challenges.
During his 10 years at the JCC, Selo worked with children, youth, and families, overseeing summer camps, a young family program, and a program for families with children with special needs.
Selo lived in New York from 1997 to 2013. He dated intermittently, which led to his meeting his future husband Philippe Selo online 20 years ago. Their first date was at Jamba Juice at Columbus Circle.
“I knew right away that this was a different kind of person,” Selo said. “He texted me five minutes after the date was over, and told me that it was really nice meeting me. Here is a human who wanted to express that he had a good time and felt like he didn’t need to pretend to be cool, which I really appreciated. I had no idea that now, almost 20 years later, we would still be together. It was an interesting time to be young and gay in New York.”
When they were together for about five years, they started talking about having children and decided to formalize their partnership by getting married. At that time, many states didn’t allow gay couples to wed, so they went to Massachusetts to marry.
“My mom didn’t speak to me for about a month because we eloped,” Selo said. “She really wanted to be at the wedding.”
Their first child, Madeleine, was adopted shortly thereafter, followed by Lexie almost two years later. The family relocated to California in 2013, and Selo found work at the YMCA Silicon Valley and settled down to get to know the Bay Area as a new resident.
Still yearning for a more meaningful career, he returned to school and earned a master’s in business with a focus on finance. He found work as Executive Director for West Valley Community Services. As part of the Emergency Assistance Network, the nonprofit helps people facing food and housing insecurity. During his seven years there, the organization created its first mobile food pantry, and led a $2.5 million capital campaign to serve the expanding need in the region for supportive services.
Bill Wilson Center
Bill Wilson Center was founded in 1973 as a counseling center for runaway and homeless youth. Focusing on housing, education, counseling, and advocacy, it now provides services to more than 5,000 children, youth, young adults, and families in Santa Clara County annually. Its street outreach and crisis line programs reach an additional 100,000 clients, and its behavioral health department provides individual and family counseling.
Working at Bill Wilson Center to provide housing and behavioral health for those in need was right up Selo’s alley. Selo said the nonprofit offers everything from shelter to permanent supportive housing. It provides supportive services, system navigation, education support, workforce development, and job coaching.
“We run the county’s only shelter for minors between the ages of 12 and 17,” he said, adding it also offers housing programs for families and individuals up to age 30.
Bill Wilson Center operates a call center, which works to match people experiencing homelessness with a shelter bed. It also offers to transport them to the shelter along with their pets and belongings. It partners with Santa Clara County to provide programs for current and former foster youth, from a safe space to hang out and participate in social activities to a place to take a shower, wash clothes, eat, and meet with a social worker. It also offers youth with clothing, counselors, coaches, and support.
Selo says Bill Wilson Center gives him the opportunity to do more to serve his community. “There’s a lot more work we have to do,” he said. “I personally am deeply committed to staying in that space for the long haul.
One of the highlights of his first year at BWC was re-launching a housing program for unhoused LGBTQIA young adults that had been funded by the federal government but no longer received federal support. “We were able to put together a pretty robust funding structure, able to support not just 12 months of operations, but 18 months because people felt that this was important.”
“That’s the kind of work that I want to do now. It resonates with me. If I can be the person connecting all of these different parties to make this happen for our young people, that’s what I want to do. It’s how I can make sure that my life has meaning and that the world is even a tiny bit better than it was.”
Selo now has some extra dollars to help make that happen.
For more information about the Bill Wilson Center, go to BillWilsonCenter.org.
Dr. Angelica Cortez, community activist, social entrepreneur, and founder and executive director of LEAD Filipino, brings almost two decades of experience in public policy, advocacy, and community development work to the nonprofit. The organization is dedicated to grassroots leadership, culturally responsive education, health equity, and civic literacy in the FilAm community. LEAD stands for Leadership, Education, Activism and Dialogue.
While working with the California Immigrant Policy Center and State Assemblymember Rich Gordon, Cortez focused on health and human services issues statewide. She fought for state legislation on corporate board diversity while serving as vice president of Racial Justice and Equity for the Silicon Valley Leadership Group. Cortez is the first senior vice president of Justice, Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion for Pacific Clinics, a mental and behavioral health service provider. She also advocates for LGBTQ+ leadership, health equity, social justice, and Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI) political engagement.
“I’m a product of my people and will spend my days working toward community advancement,” she said.
Cortez grew up in an immigrant, working class community in Pittsburg, an East Bay region of the San Francisco Bay Area. Her father spent his early years in the Philippines and immigrated to San Francisco with his family to the United States. Her mother came from a blended family of Guamanian, Japanese, Filipino, Dutch, and Irish heritage. Cortez was raised with rich Filipino and Guamanian customs and traditions emblematic of her culture, including strong family values around service, unity, and collective stewardship.
“I’m very driven by my cultural heritage, my identity, social groups, and causes but also the intersections of being a member of the LGBTQ+ community,” she said, adding in second grade she had a crush on a girl. “I had this attraction but didn’t really understand what it meant.”
Cortez kept her feelings to herself, as they were at odds with her religious Catholic upbringing. Her family attended church on Sundays, where Cortez sang in the choir and read the mass to the congregation. She and her sisters also helped their mother, a Eucharistic minister, bring communion to the sick and homebound.
Although her sisters teased her for being the family’s golden child, lacking gay role models, Cortez felt confused and alone.
“I knew it wasn’t right in the eyes of a devout Catholic family,” she said. “I hid who I was for a long time. I didn’t come out until I was 25.”
In college, Cortez realized she had overcompensated during high school. She was a high achiever academically and athletically and involved with extracurricular activities.
Joining in student activism and a Filipino American student organization Akbayan, at San Jose State University brought her a sense of connection and cultural pride. But through the years, she faced stereotyping.
“I have a million stories of people making lazy assumptions about my sexuality and my husband and my kids at home,” she said. “When they look at me, they see an Asian woman. Because of that, folks would ask me if my favorite Disney princess was Mulan? I’d say that’s a different Asian. I’m Filipina.”
People would also ask if she was into Hello Kitty. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to Hello Kitty,” Cortez laughed, “but just because I’m Asian doesn’t mean I have an affinity for Hello Kitty.”
While at SJSU, having studied political science, grassroots movements, power building, and civil rights strategies, Cortez became aware of social injustice and the importance of public service and representation. As Community and Political Affairs Chair of a Filipino American organization, she helped bring over 200 Eastside Union High School District students to SJSU to attend workshops on college applications and financial aid.
“For a lot of these kids, they were the first in their family to go to college,” she said. “Being able to make a small imprint in their trajectory filled my heart. A lot of them went on to pursue their own journeys in advocacy, activism, civil rights work, running campaigns, working as legislative staffers, and working in the public sector. It’s gratifying to know that I had a piece in that.”
About 16 years later, Cortez was among many community leaders to help launch Delano Manongs Park in East San Jose, the first park in San Jose and among one of the few in the country named in honor of the Manongs, the Filipino American labor leaders that fought for farmworker rights and protections throughout the 1960s.
Although she was initially slow to reveal to friends that she was queer, starting a romantic relationship emboldened her. Being young and in love with a woman at college helped her live her truth, she said, and find the courage to fully come out to herself.
“For me, it was standing in the mirror and saying to myself, ‘You love women. You are lesbian.’ And being okay with that and smiling back at myself,” she said, “and walking with my head held high.”
She was determined to live fully and openly, sharing who she was, regardless of the consequences.
“If my people rock with me and love me, then they’ll walk toward me,” she told herself. “And those that don’t will walk away.”
Today, when working with young students, she urges them to come out to themselves first. Through LEAD Filipino, she partners with other queer organizers to create emotionally and psychologically safe spaces. They provide culturally responsive programs that share stories and celebrate queerness in FilAm and AAPI communities.
Cortez said she was privileged to have her family’s love and support when she came out and appreciates being able to be her true self. She and a close cousin both came out to each other’s surprise and delight.
Cortez was motivated to create LEAD Filipino around issues impacting the Filipino American community, such as system gaps, economic hardship, food insecurity, cultural education, housing, and social justice.
Her career took off after finishing an internship at City Hall and joining the Silicon Valley Council of Nonprofits, where CEO Patricia Gardner became her mentor as well as a second mom.
Through participating in the Filipino Memorial Project from 2008 to 2012, she learned lessons in advocacy, fundraising and building neighborhood buy-in while working to have a mural commissioned at the Milpitas Library depicting the Delano Manongs. The project included outreach to student organizations, letter writing, and testifying at city commission meetings.
Cortez also worked as a legislative staffer with state Assembly member Rich Gordon, who was openly gay and chair of the LGBTQ caucus. She helped staff his portfolio on Health and Human Services and oversaw the internship program in the district office. A bill to include LGBTQ+ history in school books was passed but not yet implemented, she said.
These early professional experiences would influence her decision to one day start her own community organization.
Not seeing a FilAm voice among lobbyists advocating for policy and civic issues, along with attending the Asian Pacific American Leadership Institute APALI), crystallized her desire for coalition building.
Cortez wanted to start an organization to increase FilAm civic literacy and civic representation. In 2015, the organization offered a workshop with the Filipino Youth Coalition in East San Jose. In 2016, LEAD Filipino took off, receiving its first grant to motivate Filipinos in Santa Clara County to vote. The first campaign was called Iboto Pilipino (Vote Filipino).
Leading by example and through open discussion, LEAD Filipino’s leaders help youth come out to their families while providing resources and support. The organization partners with service providers like Santa Clara County’s Q Corner, providing services and education on how to have constructive conversations safely, such as bringing a family member along and talking in a place of comfort.
LEAD Filipino plans to acquire a community center where youth, student, and senior organizations can lead Filipino civic programs, arts, and cultural groups and serve the broader community.
In addition to its transformational programming, Cortez would like to see the organization work toward social justice and the defense of LGBTQ+ communities. She’d like LEAD Filipino to dedicate its resources and advocate for the creation of an LGBTQ+ California policy commission focused on social safety nets that is being spearheaded by South Bay/Silicon Valley Assembly member Alex Lee.
Cortez has dedicated her life around justice, equity, and systems that don’t just reflect FilAm values and experiences, but strengthens how FilAm, AAPI, immigrant, and LGBTQ+ communities interact with systems of power to create the change they want to see. Her contributions are visible across civics and organizing, social impact, and health equity.
“The answer is not to shrink away and think someone else will do it,” she said, “because you’re the person we need to do it. We need to hear what you have to say. We need that diversity of perspective, opinion and experiences. This is the time to lead in your own way, to stick to your convictions and know that you’re not ever alone in this.”
For Arturo Magaña, folclórico dance is an expression of their Mexican and LGBTQ+ cultures.
Magaña has a deep understanding of who they are and what matters to them, including being their authentic self; a gift they received at an early age from their mother.
“This is who I am. I need to represent myself,” they declared to Susan Cashion, co-founder of the Los Lupenos Dance Company, asserting their right to dance with men and perform wearing a skirt.
Today, Ensamble Folclórico Colibri, which Magaña directs and co-founded, strives to brings a sense of acceptance to LGBTQ+ people.
“I’ve seen the faces of young people and their parents when we are performing,” they said. “They see themselves and they see the representation and the pride of our heritage as queer men, or as a lesbian or as a nonbinary person
Colibri includes members both in and outside the LGBTQ+ community. The dance company accepts straight members to show solidarity with its allies. But not everyone is a supporter.
In 2018, the organization experienced pushback by a Folclorico group in Mexico which threatened to request the Mexican government stop them from performing. But Magaña would not be cowed.
“We put our foot down and we said, ‘we’re not going anywhere. You can do whatever you want. We have a freedom of expression,’” they said.
As a result, within a month, Colibri’s likes on Facebook rose from less than a thousand to about 9,000. Unfortunately, the group still faces some backlash from those who feel it goes against tradition.
“It’s more of this fear and repression,” Magaña said. “When we put on our show, I added a tagline that said, ‘We’re not here to change tradition. We’re here to add our stories because they matter.’”
Sharing its community stories through dance is everything to Magaña, and sometimes has the power to change perspective. In 2018, Colibri performed a traditional piece called Quadro with the addition of a lesbian wedding and a dance portraying two men falling in love.
“People saw us in a different light,” Magaña said. “It wasn’t just about dancing men to men or women to women. It was for us to convey our day-to-day story because that’s what folclórico does.”
While performing in an event with the California School for the Deaf, a seven-year-old trans dancer who was so moved, she started crying and hugging them and asked to wear one of their skirts. Her mother said it was life changing for her daughter and made her feel seen.
“That to me, was probably the best acknowledgement that we have received,” Magaña said.
Looking back
In 1992, at age 18, Magaña witnessed men dancing together for the first time during a ProLatino folclórico performance. Intrigued, they joined the dance troupe, which was invited to Washington, D.C. to dance for the Peace March, in addition to performing during San Jose Pride and San Francisco Pride festivals.
After ProLatino dissolved around 1995, Magaña joined the elite dance company Los Lupenos de San Jose as a lead dancer. They stayed with them for about 15 years, performing in ethnic dance festivals and touring with renown artists such as Linda Ronstadt and Lila Downs.
To bring folclórico to the LGBTQ community, they joined Colectivo ALA, Colibri, which eventually became its own entity. The troupe marched in the San Francisco Pride Parade I 2016, receiving an award for the most vibrant and colorful group and honorable mention from the city and county of San Francisco. It annually participates in Silicon Valley Pride. Colibri also headlined Latino Pride in Seattle. They were honored to be invited by Somos Seattle, a queer organization focused on representation of the Latino community.
Colibri was adopted by the School of Arts and Culture at Mexican Heritage Plaza in 2017 as a cultural partner. In 2018, it performed a stage production boasting 40 dancers, including performers from Mexico’s Grupo Folclórico Teocalli. Colibri is also cultural partners with Mosaic America and was featured in 2024 at the World Arts West Festival.
Getting personal
Magaña, a native of Juarez, Mexico was born in 1974. They immigrated to the U.S. in 1988 with their family. Not knowing English and feeling alienated, they experienced culture shock. At school, they were taught all their lessons in an ESL classroom with other people Spanish speakers.
But they felt blessed their mother accepted them as they were and gave them the freedom to pursue their passions.
“I always knew who I was as a queer person,” Magaña said. “I didn’t really have the name, of being queer or gay but I knew I was different.”
Magaña started dance at ten years old at the Casa de Cultura in Mexico. Seeing Folklorico ProLatino in connected them to Mexico, introduced the possibility of two men dancing together and helped define who Magaña was.
To be their authentic self and have self-express as a queer artist, Magaña parted ways with Los Lupenos in 2015.
“There was an opportunity where we got invited to dance and dance men to men,” they said. “I asked permission… and I was denied. I was pouring all my heart and soul into dance, and to represent Los Lupenos and my culture and I was being poured into a cage.”
At the School of Arts and Culture, performing in 2015 with the male co-director was a personal turning point.
“We got on stage… holding hands and holding partners, and we didn’t even want to touch ourselves because we were in front of an audience,” Magaña said. “We didn’t know how they were going to react, so we were very timid. Through the middle of the song, we heard the kids start clapping and cheering. At that moment, something sparked. We were afraid of our own identity, how we were going to be received by other people. But other people are enamored with what we’re doing. It was the right time for Colibri to be part of the community.”
Magaña found strength in RuPaul’s advice.
“I learned you don’t have to pay attention to anyone. You do something that you love because you love it,” they said. “And if other people cannot accept it, (it) is their fear, not the fact that you’re doing something wrong.”
They enjoy performing with Colibri in festivals.
“When people see us dance, they appreciate the color, they appreciate the dance. They appreciate the beauty of the art and it’s beautiful,” Magaña said, adding the troupe performed with the San Francisco Symphony and San Francisco Opera and was featured on the mainstage at the San Francisco Pride celebration.
LGBTQ+ folklorico groups in Mexico emulating Colibri’s mission feels like a seal of approval to Magaña that what Colibri is doing and has done is the right thing.
“It’s representing ourselves as who we are, doing a cultural art, performing a cultural piece as we are,” they said, adding their piece include activism. “We have beautiful pieces that depict a gay wedding, lesbian wedding. We have a beautiful piece from Michoacan that actually depicts the violence that is perpetrated on our trans community. Not all of our stories are happy stories. The main character does not survive. But it’s the reality of what happens to our community. Colibri being a social justice group… and we represent our community… it’s important for us to represent every aspect of our community.”
As Program Manager for Avenida’s Rainbow Collective, which provides services and enrichment for the LGBTQ+ older community, Magaña feels he in the right place at the right time.
“The fact that they are celebrating the community, that they’re doing research to improve the health of our community, is important to me,” Magaña said. “Now that I’m about to be 50… I think that I was placed in this position to also look at myself and look at the services that I need as an aging queer artist. Sadly, our elder community goes back into a closet because of the generation that they grew up in. So having the ability to offer this type of service is very important.”
Magaña said they want to be able to lend a hand, advocate for somebody, provide support and represent their community.
“I think that one of the biggest compliments I have received when I perform,” Magaña said, “is from an audience member that says,’ I see myself in you. You are representing myself and my culture.’”
As the driving force behind Silicon Valley Pride, Nicole Altamirano is a beacon of hope for the LGBTQ+ community, tirelessly advocating for their rights. Her name, Nicole, meaning ‘victory of the people’ in Greek, is a testament to her unwavering strength, leadership, and resilience.
How she came to be one of Silicon Valley’s most prominent queer spokespeople and in charge of the valley’s largest LGBTQ+ event is a tale of her yearning to make a difference and being mentored by a hero whom she met one rainy night. Along the way, she had to part with the Jehovah’s Witnesses when she came out as a lesbian as a teenager.
Altamirano was born in San Jose in 1981. Her father is a San Jose native, and her mother, Dr. Eleana Hernandez, relocated with her family from Corpus Christi, Texas, when she was a child.
Altamirano’s mother came from humble beginnings, working in the fields in Texas with her extended family. She instilled in her daughter the drive to be a community advocate. She worked alongside Cesar Chavez and the Black Panthers in their quest for equality and was an organizer of the Chicano movement.
Altamirano admires her mother for continuing her education while raising her children. She was the first in her family to attend college, eventually earning two master’s and a doctorate degree.
“She was an advocate for the minority and the marginalized,” Altamirano said. “So, I had a desire to protest and to speak my mind when it came to anything that was inequitable. She’s the one who gave me the drive to do what I do for the community.”
Altamirano’s parents were divorced when she was four but her father remained involved in their lives. She has four siblings, including her gay brother and identical lesbian twin sister Athena.
Although her family was lower to middle class, Altamirano’s mother wanted her daughters to be well educated, enrolling them in a private Christian school in Morgan Hill.
“My sister and I were the only brown ones,” Altamirano said, adding their friend Flora was the only Black student. “I remember growing up and thinking that I wish my skin were lighter; I would scrub my skin and hope my skin would turn lighter.”
Altamirano recalls interacting with girls differently as a child and kissing girls at age 6 or 10. “My first kiss was with a girl, not a boy,” she said, “but I never thought anything different of it.”
It was in high school that the “light bulb went off,” and she realized she was a lesbian. At 17, she had her first girlfriend. “I knew that I was very much interested in her as something more than a friend,” Altamirano said. “There was never a moment when I said, oh, wait a second, this is wrong. I shouldn’t be a lesbian, but it made perfect sense. I want to be with women.”
While Altamirano’s family was not Jehovah’s Witnesses, she had learned about the religion from a boyfriend. She enjoyed studying the Bible and studied it in Greek and Hebrew. Her new 21-year-old girlfriend was her Bible student.
Altamirano knew she needed to come out in order to live her truth. She didn’t want to leave the Jehovah’s Witnesses but felt being honest with her church leaders was the right thing to do.
“If you’re telling me I can’t get into eternity in heaven because I sleep with women, you might as well kick me out,” she said.
They told her being gay was wrong and asked her to leave. Despite this, she never felt any shame about her sexual orientation. Her parents were more understanding. “I really felt the love from them,” she said.
After she and her girlfriend broke up, she was in another relationship for almost 20 years. She is now happily engaged to Stepanie Denson. They live in the Bay Area with her 4-year-old son. They are looking forward to being married in the spring of 2025.
Altamirano held many jobs through the years, from working at a café and being a bank teller. In 2010, she started working for the City of San José as an Office Specialist in the Membership Department at Happy Hollow Park and Zoo. Her numerous skills became evident to City Hall managers as she climbed the career ladder as a senior office specialist, then secured a job as an administrative assistant for Jennifer McGuire, then the budget director and now the city manager. This allowed to know other top administrators and politicians in the city, including then-mayor Sam Liccardo.
Next, Altamirano worked as an analyst in the budget office, managing accounts for the San Jose Fire Department, Human Resources, Finance Department, and City Attorney’s office. “I was in charge of a budget portfolio of about $550 million, and when I tell you there was no work-life balance, I mean it,” she laughed. Today, she is the budget analyst for the San Jose Fire Department.
Although she could have never foreseen it, her City Hall jobs and connections were just what Silicon Valley Pride needed to expand at a critical time. In return, Pride fulfilled her desire to give back to the community in a more substantial way.
Involvement in Silicon Valley Pride
Her involvement with Pride came about when she attended the first Women’s March in 2016. “I remember showing up thinking it was going to be another little tiny rally in San Jose, but there were 20,000 people there.”
After listening to the keynote speaker, Shay Franco-Clausen, Altamirano felt compelled to get more involved but didn’t know how. “It was an amazing experience,” she said. “I knew I needed to do something. It was burning a hole in my spirit.”
Fate intervened one rainy night later that year when she met Thaddeus Campbell in front of the Billy DeFrank LGBTQ+ Community Center and her life was forever changed. Altamirano’s brother Timothy Marshall, who was active in the gay community, was friends with Campbell and connected them when he learned the organization was looking for new board members.
Altamirano told Campbell of her desire to be involved and make a difference.
After an in-depth conversation, Campbell suggested Altamirano take on the role of chief operations officer for Silicon Valley Pride. “I remember thinking that I didn’t know what I was doing and was flying by the seat of my pants.”
In addition to Altamirano and Campbell, the two other board members were CFO Robert Peabody and Chief Marketing Officer Saldy Suriban. They worked well as a team, taking Pride’s finances from $40,000 in debt in 2017 to an operating budget of $500,000.
Following Campbell’s death in 2019, Altamirano became interim CEO and, in 2021, CEO. “Thaddeus is an irreplaceable leader, and I miss him dearly,” Altamirano said.
To preserve his memory, she established the Thaddeus Orlando Campbell Scholarship Fund for queer students ages 18+. In addition, Altamirano is determined to have a Ferris wheel dedicated in his name at Pride next year, something that Campbell always wanted.
“I’m just proud to keep his legacy going and his dream alive,” she said.
To learn more about the Thaddeus Orlando Campbell scholarship, go to www.svpride.com/scholarship
This year’s theme
The first gay rights rally in San Jose was in 1975. In 1976, the community celebrated its first San Jose Pride Festival and in 1977, its first Pride parade. In 2014, San Jose Pride became Silicon Valley to include neighboring cities and encourage unity. Next year, 2025, will be a milestone as Silicon Valley celebrates its 50th anniversary.
This year’s Pride theme is “Get Loud.”
“Get loud and protest,” Altamirano said with a big smile. “Get loud and speak up. If you see somebody being mistreated, speak up. If you see bigotry, homophobia, or transphobia, speak up and get loud. We still have a long way to go. We can’t tire.”
“It’s dismantling those bigoted roots,” she said. “It’s building a new future where we are all equal, and we all have the same rights.”
The festival will be held on August 24 and 25 at Cesar Chavez Park with a parade down Market Street on August 25. To learn more about where all the festivals and parades have been held in San Jose, go to QueerSiliconValley.org/pride.
LEAD Filipino works to increase representation of FilAms in political, cultural and educational programming and fights for the community’s civil rights, social justice and economic empowerment. Issues such as culturally responsive education, community health, grassroots leadership and community action are at its core. Its name says it all, as LEAD stands for Leadership, Education, Activism and Dialogue.
Dr. Angelica “Gel” Cortez (pictured)
Dr. Angelica “Gel” Cortez, founder and executive director of LEAD Filipino, is a leading voice in the Filipina/x/o American power building movement and has initiated multiple statewide and national civic campaigns. Cortez brings almost a decade of experience with local government and advocacy work to LEAD Filipino and is the first Senior Vice President of Justice, Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion for Pacific Clinics.
Partnering with the Filipinx Igniting Engagement for Reimagining Collective Empowerment (FIERCE) Coalition, LEAD Filipino curates conversations around ethnic studies, housing, mental health and public safety. The organizations advocate together in Sacramento for legislation affecting its communities.
LEAD Filipino also hosts two annual summits: Queer Lakbay Summit and the Fly Pinays Leadership Summit. It also hosts an educational civic engagement program, Awareness in Action.
Now in its fourth year, the Queer Lakbay Summit takes place from 9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. on Saturday, June 22, at Evergreen Valley College in San Jose. The theme for this year’s summit is shared responsibility and collective action.
The program will include speakers, workshops, and panel discussions that will spotlight education, health equity, law, government, and the arts. It will also include a “fireside chat” focused on careers and professionalism.
The summit’s name–CAMP LAKBAY: Tayo Na, Bes–comes from Lakbay being the Tagalog word for Journey and Bakla being the Filipino word for gay. Queermittee Director Paula Mirando said the idea of the summit’s theme is to gather around a campfire to share stories of queer ancestors and pave the way for the future. A Queermittee is a volunteer team who helps plan the annual Queer Lakbay Summit.
Attendees of Camp Lakbay (photo credits to E Aaclan)
“In this American culture, there’s an emphasis on independence, but in Filipino culture, there is an importance of interdependence,” she said, “It’s the idea of shared responsibility in taking collective action to make sure we all have what we need. What’s important about these different summits is we’re prioritizing talking to each other, and hopefully respectfully understand each other’s perspectives and then take action.”
The summit promotes awareness of community resources, such as Filipino Advocates for Justice and Q Corner. The workshops provide a safe space to discuss difficult topics like faith and queerness and balancing independence with a sense of indebtedness to parents.
“I hope attendees take away a sense of community,” Mirando said. “Everyone I’ve met through the summit has felt so grateful to be able to meet people with these shared identities. It’s nice to have a day where we can be together and be ourselves. I feel equipped with knowledge I now can apply to my life, whether that’s setting boundaries or having a hard conversation with family. I feel activated to do more for my community.”
This year will include a “fireside chat” focused on being a queer Filipinx pursuing a career.
Other LEAD Filipino Activities
The Fly Pinays Leadership Summit, held in March during Women’s History Month, engages Filipina women and girls in sisterhood, mentorship, and leadership. Since 2017, it has drawn nearly 200 women, girls, professionals, educators, creatives, and scholars together to reflect on values related to Fil Am identity, culture, sisterhood and mentorship.
Awareness in Action is a 10-week summer Filipino American Studies and civic engagement course. In the summer of 2024, it will offer virtual classes as well as field trips. Through workshops, community tours, guest speakers and group projects, Awareness in Action aims to impart Filipina/x/o leaders with an understanding of the importance of coalition building, community solidarity, political participation and civic engagement. It strives to develop students’ social identities while educating them about public issues, helping them to grow into the next generation of leaders.
LEAD Filipino has three teams focused on education, health equity, and civic engagement. The latter works on a Get Out the Filipino Vote program.
“We want our voices to be heard, especially as a community that has historically been kept out,” Mirando said. “Our data has not been counted or disaggregated from the rest of the populations. How do specifically Filipino Americans vote versus the larger Asian American population? Why are we voting the way we vote? Getting that information, we can better organize for our collective futures.”
Mirando said the mental health of LGBTQ+ youth is at stake in the coming election.
“We’re seeing how all these different onerous policies have an impact on youth,” she said. “When more restrictive policies get passed, it creates this internal sense of hopelessness or not belonging and internalizes homophobia. As time goes on, we see these increasingly restrictive policies.”
Mirando said some states don’t allow queer children to access gender-affirming care or out queer students to their parents.
“Even in California schools, with these policies coming up, it’s important to stay active and not just be complacent,” she said. “We have a shared responsibility to each other… to speak up, especially for those of us in our community who don’t necessarily have the ability to vote.”
Mirando said queer Filipinos need to tell their own stories and make their voices heard. She said others hearing those voices and stories is powerful validation.
“We definitely want to broaden our reach,” she said. “We want people to know we’re here and to build connections with other organizations so we can uplift each other.”
LEAD Filipino is located at 38 S. 2nd St., San Jose. For more information, please call (408) 614-8734 or see: https://leadfilipino.org/core-areas.
Morgan Hill Councilmember Rene Spring didn’t set out to be an elected official or a spokesperson for the LGBTQ+ community, but he became both.
Spring became involved in civic duty through participating in Leadership Morgan Hill, an organization that educates and inspires residents for community leadership and volunteering. He served on the board, eventually becoming its president, and did likewise with Morgan Hill Community Foundation, a philanthropic organization.
Spring, 60, entered politics as a Morgan Hill Planning Commissioner passionate about open space. Although he often found himself on the losing end of land use battles, people took notice and suggested he run for city council. In 2015, he threw his hat in the ring, even though there wasn’t an open seat available because two incumbents ran for reelection.
Morgan Hill Councilmember Rene Spring pursues his passions. Photo by Lorraine Gabbert.
“Everyone told me you’re crazy,” he said. “There’s no way they’re going to elect a gay person in Morgan Hill. It’s too conservative.”
But Spring put his heart and soul into it, creating billboards and commercials and knocking on doors every day. He was elected in 2016 by a landslide.
“People were looking for fresh ideas,” he said, “for someone who was different.”
As the first elected councilmember in South County who was openly gay, he found himself approached by parents, grandparents and LGBTQ+ community members who appreciated the representation. Once elected, he championed raising the pride flag in the city.
“They were afraid of the backlash. I wasn’t afraid,” he said. “If I didn’t ask for it, who would?”
The pride flag first flew in Morgan Hill in June 2017, and now proudly waves at City Hall, the community center and recreation center throughout the month of June each year, and a pride event is held at City Hall annually.
“The pride flag sends out a signal this is a welcoming city,” Spring said. “It’s ok to be who you are. It’s important people feel safe… especially if you’re a minority.”
Realizing services for the LGBTQ+ community were lacking in South County, Spring reached out to the Santa Clara County Board of Supervisors demanding safe spaces for youth and health services. Although some were provided, more are needed, he said.
“LGBTQ youth have the highest suicide rates,” he said. “They have nowhere to go. There are a lot of conservative people, a lot of very religious Christian people. They make it tough on their own kids. I went to the funerals of young people who took their lives because their parents did not support them. That is so heartbreaking when you see a young life end just because their parents don’t accept them. That needs to change.”
Spring worked to bring people hope, especially youth, modeling a joyful, successful life as an openly gay man in a relationship with someone he loves.
“They’re still going through rough times,” he said. “Trans kids, it’s awful what they have to endure, but at least they know I don’t need to hide. There’s someone out there in our city government who knows how it feels to be bullied, to be ignored.”
He and his husband, artist Mark Hoffmann, have lived in Morgan Hill for 20 years and have been together for almost 26 years.
(l to r): Mark Hoffmann and Morgan Hill Councilmember Rene work well together. Signs illustrated by Hoffmann dotted lawns throughout Morgan Hill during the COVID-19 pandemic. Photo by Lorraine Gabbert.
“We’re still living a very happy life,” Spring said. “It’s great that people see that. Just by being out there and being who we are and showing you can live a happy life, that by itself is a huge accomplishment and meaningful to many people.”
But challenges still arise. One time at a community event, a woman being introduced by Spring to his husband, turned on her heels and walked away without a word. Sometimes they don’t get invited to events at all.
Another incident occurred when there was a move to end drag shows in Morgan Hill. Spring wasn’t about to let it happen without a fight. Working behind the scenes, he was able to stop any ban from being passed by the council. “That was hard, but it was the right thing to do,” Spring said. “I made a lot of friends and lost some.”
Spring said in his two terms as councilmember that Morgan Hill has come a long way and is a wonderful community to live in. He created “It’s Ours. Our Morgan Hill,” a Facebook page promoting the area’s natural beauty. He enjoys strolling through town, meeting with friends, dining out, and hiking.
“Especially for someone like me who works in tech, the agricultural area is beautiful and relaxing,” he said.
Spring enjoys art, theater, traveling, and animals, including his Maine Coon cats. He pushed the city to renew its contract with the local animal shelter and worked to preserve open space.
When Spring ran again in 2020, he secured about 70% of the votes. He promoted fiscally sustainable community growth and additional small businesses over large distribution centers to increase revenue following the COVID-19 pandemic. His term ends in December 2024 and he’s considering whether to run again. Morgan Hill doesn’t currently have term limits for City Council members or the Mayor. Whether to change that will be put before voters in November.
Spring works as Director of Program Management for Cadence and leads its Global LGBTQ+ Inclusion Group. In August, a Cadence team sponsored and participated in the Silicon Valley Pride Parade. Not everyone feels comfortable identifying as being gay in the corporate world, Spring said.
“You’re a happier employee if you can come in and be who you are instead of hiding,” he said. “It takes away that pressure. At Cadence, I am the trailblazer. If I don’t speak up and ask for change, then who will?”
A rough start
Raised in his early childhood years in Switzerland by a single mother, Spring ended up in a small orphanage run by Protestant nuns, along with his sister.
“If a mom had to work, the state would take over, take kids from the mom, and put them in foster care,” he said, adding that his brother lived with foster parents and struggled.
When Spring was seven, his mother remarried, and the children were returned to her. But on his first day home, Spring’s stepfather slapped his face, he said, and for years physically and mentally abused him.
In the 80s, when he was in his 20s, AIDS struck, Spring attended more funerals than parties, he said.
“It was devastating. It took away the joy of being an openly gay, fun person,” he said. “We became outsiders. As a young person, that’s hard. My friends didn’t want to go out with me anymore. That was rough, those years.”
In Bern, Switzerland, gay clubs were hidden downstairs without signage, Spring said, and police would raid them and note patrons’ names. This list was kept by the city and checked by potential employers.
“It was horrible,” he said. “You couldn’t get a job.”
A new beginning
Spring moved to the United States in 1998, when he was in his early 30s, to work as a tech consultant in San Francisco. There, he met Hoffmann and started a new life. He became a U.S. citizen in 2006. After living in South San Jose, they moved to Morgan Hill together and became part of its vibrant community.
“I hope many others will have the same wonderful life down the road,” he said. “I’m happy.”
Stones by his front door say it all, “Wish it. Dream it. Do it.” He keeps his Swiss culture alive through baking and egg decorating and enjoys celebrating special occasions with Hoffmann’s extended family. They share children from Hoffman’s former family: Jamie, Jeffrey, and Lindsay. Jeffrey and his wife Melissa made them proud grandparents of three grandchildren who call Hoffmann Papa and Spring Opa. They teach their grandchildren that they can marry anyone they love.
“It’s beautiful,” Spring said. “They grow up knowing a couple like us and it’s part of their normal life.” Hoffmann said Spring gives everything his all.
“I’m extremely proud of him,” he said. “He’s always had that passion for change. He’s always been so outspoken about being gay. Because of him, Morgan Hill has opened its arms to us.”
When Alysa Cisneros won election to the Sunnyvale City Council in November 2020, at age 33, she became the first openly queer woman to serve on a city council in Santa Clara County since Jamie McLeod sat on the City of Santa Clara council from 2004 -2012. When her council colleagues voted for her as vice-mayor in 2022, she became the first queer woman in the county to ever hold that title.
Besides creating a career in politics, Cisneros is a role model for the LGBTQ+ community and students at her alma mater, De Anza College. She credits the school with instilling her with the confidence to pursue her passion.
Things might have gone differently. Cisneros had a baby girl at age 19, and is a prior recipient of food stamps, but her determination and resiliency led to her success.
Cisneros was raised in Sunnyvale. Her mother was a medical assistant at O’Connor Hospital and her father worked as a janitor and machine shop worker at Hewlett Packard. Her father rose through the ranks during his 30 years with the company, eventually becoming a global manager. With her parent’s combined incomes, Cisneros’ family was able to rent a home in the Bay Area, something that feels out of reach for many today.
Cisneros said affordable housing is desperately needed as people are commuting 2 1/2 hours a day, each way from areas like the Central Valley where they can own a home. In addition to creating affordable housing, her policy goals include completing the redevelopment of downtown Sunnyvale, improving public transportation, and supporting small businesses.
A reckoning
In 2006, Cisneros’ life changed with the birth of her daughter and the realization that working class people have the odds stacked against them. Reading “Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America,” by Barbara Ehrenreich brought home to her how difficult the lives are of working-class people, who even while holding several minimum wage jobs, struggle to get ahead. This revelation galvanized her to reassess the challenges she faced and work to make a difference for others.
“It occurred to me that the reasons why my life was hard was not because of me, or anything that I’m doing wrong,” she said, “but because of how society is structured to benefit some people. It’s a lot easier to achieve the same things based on privilege.”
Experiencing severe ADHD lends her a unique lens and makes her extremely focused on certain issues. She’s learned to appreciate it, turning a difficulty into an asset. Being a young, bisexual city councilmember also sets her apart.
Cisneros believes diverse representation across demographics is essential for ensuring policies are insightful and effective. For example, being a renter brings a deeper understanding of the value of rent control.
“Ideally, you’d want to have all of those voices coming from those different experiences,” she said. “The council’s the most diverse it’s ever been, and it enriches us because we have different career backgrounds, different ages, and different life experiences.”
But it wasn’t always this way. When Cisneros joined the Sunnyvale City Council, she was the only woman of color and the only queer person until Richard Mehlinger, a bisexual man, joined the council in 2023.
Cisneros made it her personal mission to make access, equity, and inclusion part of city policy but was met with resistance from other councilmembers, she said.
In addition, she championed a human relations commission, made up of residents, which addresses equity.
“It was a big ask to get it,” she said, adding she won the other councilmembers over by repeatedly speaking about its importance and gaining their empathy.
While campaigning for office, Cisneros faced disagreement with one of her consultants about revealing she’s bisexual. He told her lesbians who didn’t consider it a thing would be intolerant and advised her not to mention it.
“I was not expecting it,” she said, “I just hadn’t come across any pushback on my identity. That was not an acceptable answer to me.”
Otherwise, her sexuality came up in positive ways, she said, with people saying she’d increase that representation as an openly queer person serving on the city council.
“That was not always a safe thing to do,” she said. “I feel very lucky to live in a time where it was.”
In fact, running against two opponents, Cisneros captured almost 54% of the votes. She said the city moving to district elections encouraged her to run, as citywide elections can cost $60,000 to $100,000.
School years
Although Cisneros struggled academically in high school because of not being diagnosed with ADHD, she resolved to attend college and pursue a career in politics. She worked in politics following high school, advocating for tenants’ rights and increasing the minimum wage. Without a college degree and a baby, she felt limited and decided to enroll at De Anza College, following in her father’s footsteps. It helped that professors and staff were supportive. Empowered by knowledge and opportunities, she excelled in political science and government.
Cisneros credits a De Anza professor with encouraging her to pursue graduate school. The professor wrote in one of her papers, “Have you considered going to grad school? I think that you’d do really well.” Cisneros hadn’t even considered the possibility until that moment. As a person of color, she also knew she needed twice as much credibility to be hired for a job as someone who was white or male, she said.
“So, I went for it,” she said. “I might not have if my professor hadn’t done that. De Anza offers those experiences and accessibility to college to people who would not have it otherwise.”
Cisneros transferred to Mills College, where she graduated Magna Cum Laude with a bachelor’s degree in political, legal, and economic analysis and received a master’s degree in public policy. Following college, she worked as a community organizer and public policy analyst. She is proud of helping to pass state legislation that allowed foster youth and homeless students to access financial aid until they were 26 years old.
De Anza reached out to Cisneros following college to offer her a job teaching American Government and Grassroots Democracy. She was also invited to be the keynote speaker at the school’s Lavender Graduation ceremony honoring the resilience and the accomplishments of its LGBTQ+ graduates.
“It’s been an incredible opportunity to give some of what I received to students,” she said, “and hopefully propel them forward.”
