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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 1, 1995)
10 ▼ d m m b t r 1. 1 0 0 5 ▼ Jus« out Changing of the guard Seattle bids adieu to one lesbian council member while welcoming another l)i lni»a Sorensen Role model to ring in New Year on new path hange, some advertisers will tell you, is good. There are times, however, when change simply is not a matter of choice. C “The first thing we’re going to do is pack up the grandkids and head to Disney World for a week. After that, who knows?” says 39-ycar-old Sherry Harris, with a shrug in her voice. Next month she steps down from her posi tion on the Seattle City Council, a job she has held the past four years. Gay men and lesbians throughout the nation herald Harris as a leader and role model. After all, she is the country’s first openly lesbian African American publicly elected official. That promi nence, however, was not enough to place her back on the council for a second term. In last month’s election she lost her re-election bid by 3 percent. “I have to admit that I was shocked. You don’t run for public office thinking you’re going to lose. It took me a full three days to comprehend that this had really happened,” says Harris, adding can didly, “It hurt.” Like so many of this region’s dwellers, Harris was lured to the Pacific Northwest by its sheer beauty and promise of opportunity. “ I remember looking at a brochure which fea tured the most spectacular picture of Mount Rainier and thinking to myself, that’s for me,” recounts Harris, who was born and raised in a single-parent home in Newark, N.J., a tattered and tough urban enclave that held limited prospects for those who stayed. “ I thought this was the most beautiful place, and Seattle the most wonderful city,” says Harris, who embarked on a 3,(KX)-mile, cast-to-west trek to take an engineering job with Boeing. That was back in 1978. Jimmy Carter was president. Steinem-esque feminism was in vogue. Harris, in fact, came out thanks to one of those tried-and-true consciousness-raising groups (re member those?), a chatty catalyst for many an emerging lesbian. It was a pre-Starbucks era (re member that?), a time when most people in the United States probably couldn’t find Seattle on the map. When Harris arrived, opportunity abounded. “I got my first real job, my first real pay- check,” she says. And she fell in love. “1 went to a poetry reading where I listened to this woman who was so good. 1 went up to her afterward and told her how much I enjoyed the reading. About a month later I got a call from her asking me out for c o ffe e,” Harris laughs. That was that. Fif teen years and four grandchildren later, Harris and her partner, Judith Scalise, a poet/ retail outlet manager, are still together. In ad dition to the grandchil Sherry Harris dren, all of whom live in Seattle (theirages range from 1 to 13), Harris last year brought her 64-year-old mother out from the Northeast to live in the Emerald City. The duo share time with the grandchildren, and attend services together at the New Hope Baptist Church. “When I first came here my mother thought it was just a place with lumbcijacks and log trucks,” says Harris. “When she first visited she was kind of surprised to see that there was actually a big city here.... She likes Seattle, but she’s still working on meeting people. It’s hard when you leave your friends behind.” What was hard for Harris was losing her re- election bid to Seattle Police Sgt. John Manning. It was also painful, she admits, being tagged as an ineffective city councilor by a survey of political insiders and civic activists. “When I look back, I think I would have done things differently. I didn ’ t conduct a nega- tive campaign. I didn’t want to, but I probably should have focused more on my opponent’s back ground,” Harris says, adding that she be lieves she had the full support of Seattle ’ s gay and lesbian commu nity. “They were great. It would have been ter rible to be in [failed San Francisco mayoral candidate] Roberta Achtenberg’s shoes. I believe that much of the gay community in San Francisco did not support her.” While being an out lesbian may have been an asset in some ways, Harris wonders whether it made the difference in the race. “We did a poll asking people if they knew that a candidate was gay whether they would be less likely to vote for them,” she says. “About 30 percent said they would indeed by less likely.” Despite her loss, Harris says she is proud of her list of accomplishments, including securing city funds for Lambert House, which caters to sexual minority youth, pushing for city domestic partner ship registration, and amending workplace harass ment policies to include sexual orientation, among other things. During her tenure, she traveled to 40 cities talking about gay and lesbian rights issues and speaking out against anti-gay initiatives, particu larly in neighboring Oregon. She says she was the first candidate endorsed by the Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund back in 1991, and she pushed for the formation of a National League of Cities gay and lesbian caucus. “The organization already had an African American caucus, a Hispanic caucus, a women’s caucus. I felt it was important there be a gay caucus, a move which was met with some resistance,” says Harris. “I just kept pushing until I got it.” As for whether she feels her time away from Seattle promoting gay rights in other parts of the nation hurt her re-election bid, Harris says: “I don’t think so. This is an issue that affects all of us. And I did a lot of things locally.” Harris says she’s not ruling out another run for public office. Or maybe she’ll publish a book. “I think I have a story to tell,” she says. Until then, Harris will spend time with her family. “That’s how I relax. There’s something in credible about watching the children grow,” she says. “First you roll the ball to them, then you’re playing catch. The next thing you know, they’re out there playing baseball. To see them grow is a gift.” Even rich dykes need a little support e have this group called Babes she now needs. with Bucks. It’s a bunch of “My partner’s expecting a baby tomorrow,” women who get together for she told us in a matter-of-fact tone. politicks. It gives us an oppor That’s right, a baby. And it’s not coming via tunity to speak freely about Federal Express, either. It money—about the stigma attached to being having birthed it. was (thanks We also share ideas about philanthropic possibili to donor insemination) by ties," says Tina Podlodowski, who will begin serv her partner of four years, ing her first term on the Seattle City Council as Chelle Mileur, who also Harris steps down. comes out of the high-tech Ten years ago, when she was just 25, industry. Podltxlowski headed west from her native Con “We know it’s a girl, necticut to begin her career in computer engineer but we don’t know what ing. Call it awesome instincts, good luck or sheer we’re going to name her brains, this daughter of blue-collar Polish immi yet,” says Podlodowski. grants took a cut in pay to join 6(X) other employees "We were attempting to working for a little-known company called get some consensus among Microsoft. our families about what “ I liked what I saw, so I took a $ 10.000 pay cut relative to name her after, to take that job. In return I was given this thing but I think we’re going to called stock options,” laughs Podlodowski. “At the forgo that and not name time, I didn’t know whether I’d ever make up for her after anyone.” Tina Podlodowski that pay cut." If becoming a new par Today she is a millionaire. ent isn’t enough change, next month Podlodowski “So it means we’ll buy a new car every six years will officially begin her job as a member of the instead of every eight years,” says Podlodowski. Seattle City Council, where she expects to put in who most recently purchased a Volvo 850, which “60. 70, 80 hours a week.” she describes as “the ultimate baby car.” a vehicle “My partner and I are used to seven-day work W weeks,” she says, adding that Mileur will be a full time, stay-at-home mom. “But we’ll make sure we have plenty of quality family time.” Kids have always been important to this couple. They met while volunteer ing for a program that as sists children directly af fected by HIV and AIDS. The two also provide sub stantial financial support to the Seattle Children’s Museum, as well as a host of other causes, most no tably the Pride Founda tion. The two dedicate 20 percent of their annual in com es to charitable causes. "We felt it was impor tant that there be a very visible lesbian couple— with a baby—who were involved in the museum. People need to see gay and lesbian parents. It goes a long way in breaking down those negative stereo types.” As a city councilor, Podlodowski will have a rich opportunity to do just that. (She got off to a healthy beginning by defeating her opponent with 64 percent of the vote.) “Why did I run? Because I feel that I have something to contribute, and it’s really vital that good people run for public o ffice,” says Podlodowski. Her immigrant parents instilled in her a work horse attitude toward school, job and community service, she says. Both are in their 70s and live on the East Coast. “My mom’s kind of a tough cookie, but I know that they’re both proud of me.” Podlodowski says the campaign held few sur prises for her, thanks in part to a Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund training that provided helpful hints. During the months heading up to the election, she attended 90 house parties and says, “People didn’t care about my sexual orientation. They had ques tions about potholes, the city budget and how to get results.” And that’s what voters expect her to do during the next four years—get results. To relax, Podlodowski says she reads (most recent books: China Wakes and The Alienist), goes to movies (she gives Home fo r the Holidays a big thumbs down) and cooks. Her prize dish? A mush room, scallop and shrimp risotto. Move over, Martha Stewart.