Courtesy Placitas Community Library
Talk to former state Sen. Dede Feldman for a few minutes, and you’ll know she’s not your usual politician. A 16-year Democratic representative for Albuquerque’s North Valley from 1996-2012, her post-legislative career has been aimed at teaching New Mexicans the ins and outs of political life with all its faults and virtues, and her new political memoir, Ten More Doors: Politics and the Path to Change, is available at Collected Works Bookstore and Coffeehouse and Garcia Street Books now. Feldman chatted with SFR about her campaigning days and inspirations before her talk and book signing at the Placitas Community Library this Saturday (2 pm Saturday, March 26. Free. 453 Hwy 165, Placitas, (505) 867-3355).
You write about the feelings of empathy for everyday people in your district you gained from your days campaigning. How much have the lives of your former constituents shaped you into the person you are today?
It was such a privilege—and a struggle—to knock and ask people what their concerns were, and I got an earful. I got to see inside their homes. When they open the door, you get a picture of their lives behind that door. That was transformational for me. I want to convey that to other people who are running for office or trying to make change, whether it be journalism or teaching or a small agricultural enterprise. If you don’t ask, if you don’t knock on doors, people can’t say yes or open that door. That was a lesson for me.
The ethnic nature of my district is more like Santa Fe, including traditional Hispanic families and Anglos. This area has been solidly Democratic for years, with a very high voter turnout level and civic engagement. I used to talk to my fellow senators, many who’d never hear a peep from their constituents, but mine were very knowledgeable about what was going on. They called because they needed things, like behavioral health services or drug addiction help. That’s what this book is about. My neighborhood is a working class neighborhood, where I settled in 1976. It crafted me both into the public servant and person I am. I learned to be a steward of the land, to be tolerant of different viewpoints and cultures and different income levels. If it wasn’t for the beauty of the land, I don’t know if I would’ve entered public service.
You still go door to door even now to help campaigns. What are some of the big changes you’ve seen since campaigning in the ‘90s and today—outside of obvious tech considerations?
I’m a believer in retail politics, like former Gov. Bruce King. It happens on a person-to-person basis, and less so over the email and the internet. To a certain degree, campaigns have become dominated by email blasts and online fundraising, and so the message changes to fit the medium. A short blurb can make it more divisive—face-to-face talks bring out much more. Today, conflict is magnified. That’s a big change. As a campaigner, you could see trends developing over a 20-year period, like the ceding of [campaign control] to outside experts and consultants. There are so many consultants wanting to be hired or hired for you by the party organizations to craft a message based off what sells; a smart marketing approach, but it diminishes the kind of campaign I love and I wrote about in this book. Campaigns were community creations with a sense of spontaneity and synchronicity when groups of people worked together in a contest against opposition. I was going out and looking for votes, and in turn I found this community out there.
Your memoir chronicles your life and career. In your time in office, what did you learn about your community, and New Mexico as a whole, that you didn’t entirely know before?
I learned so much there, it was like getting thrust into graduate level courses in state history, fears, assets and people. Learning about different sectional concerns was a great gift for me. The main thing I learned was that change takes a long time, especially when you’re in a Western conservative state, in terms of the Legislature still being dominated by rural interests. That makes change more difficult, particularly when you’re operating in a structure set up in 1912 to ensure change comes slowly. Rural interests were threatened by long sessions, so they made them short. That was their time when they didn’t have to be out in the fields. It was embedded in the constitution our Legislature would be a citizen legislature, the idea being the butcher and baker coming together and not being paid. Truth is, that’s a formula for conflict-of-interest and unprofessional, inefficient lawmaking, but since it’s embedded in the constitution, it needs to be taken to the people for change. We can’t deal with our problems in 30- or 60-day sessions, and there’s a growing traction for a modernized Legislature these days.
