Alexandra Chandler with supporters out side a debate at UMass Lowell
Alexandra Chandler with supporters out side a debate at UMass Lowell (COURTESY PHOTO)

For the last nine months, I was a Democrat candidate for Massachusetts' 3rd Congressional District. Wasn't everyone though?

In media shorthand, I was often "the former naval intelligence analyst" or "the transgender candidate."

On Election Day, I received almost 5,000 votes and won two towns outright (Maynard and Stow), but it was nowhere near enough to win.

Accordingly, I've had some time to consider what I learned and what I could reveal about the process of running for Congress -- from the perch of a candidate new to electoral politics who saw the process with fresh eyes.

* People are better than you would hope ...

I spoke with thousands of people -- mostly complete strangers. Whether I approached them at their

front door or a diner, most people were kind. If they didn't want to speak with me, they just said so. America is a nicer place than what you see on TV.

Those people who agreed to talk usually wanted to share their thoughts on one or two issues important to them. I learned that actively listening meant more to them than almost anything I had to say. In an echo of the intelligence world, I encouraged them to share more, which also helped me learn more. Some of those conversations transformed strangers into our most dedicated volunteers.

In person, the real-life people of the 3rd District never saw a problem with me being transgender. When it came up, many people respected that I was someone who had to stand up for myself against prejudice.


If I could stand up for myself, if I had bounced back from other struggles like my father's addictions and early death, I could stand up for them. Online, it was a different story. People tweeted Nazi memes and one death threat at me, and accused my wife and me of child abuse. However, even online, most people were positive.

* ... but the process is even worse than you fear.

Political operatives train congressional candidates to spend up to six hours a day calling only people who can write them a $2,700 check. Truthfully, this is good preparation for serving as a member of Congress, as they spend hours a day doing the same. Because I was born middle-class, served in the Intelligence Community, and was running on a detailed platform to put the working and middle class first, most of this donor class cold calling went badly for me.

I leave you to consider if success in what amounts to telemarketing to the ultra-wealthy should be the primary driver of how we decide who are "viable" candidates for Congress.

* Even the good guys aren't really the good guys.

Any large organization working on any issue that you care about likely has a Political Action Committee that endorses and financially supports candidates. I hate to break it to you, but at the congressional level they mostly have only one real question for candidates: How much money did you raise last quarter? Everything else is more ... negotiable.

* Don't get mad, get populist.

Our campaign had some success (clearly not enough) in applying political jujitsu to our money problem. Since the ultra-wealthy mostly wouldn't donate to our campaign because of our "viability", pre-existing relationships, or our policy platform, I ran against Big Money politics even more than I already had. I signed a contract committing to resign from Congress if I didn't try to overturn Citizens United. We fund-raised more and more through house parties and videos that encouraged smaller donations. Soon, the fact that we had the lowest median donation in the race became a story in and of itself and an attraction to voters from progressives to conservatives. This insurgent playbook has worked elsewhere and I believe will in the future.

* On a lighter note, people make interesting assumptions.

At the state Democratic Convention, some people assumed I was Sen. Harriette Chandler's daughter (I'm not, and am possibly only distantly related to her husband). Some people were convinced I was a Republican because I had worked for the military -- even when I talked about single-payer health care and the rest of my progressive platform. On the flip side, that initial assumption allowed me to convince some registered Republicans -- including some Trump supporters -- to un-enroll and vote for me in this primary. 

Sometimes, the race never ends. Seriously, it has been nearly two weeks since primary Election Day, and I just would like to know who I am supposed to concede to. Please?