I first began to think about running for office after the 2016 presidential election. Like many, I felt a sense of urgency to do something.

At the time, I was in my first year of Chapman’s education doctorate program, focusing on leadership studies. Although I was engrossed in my studies, I kept feeling a pull to run for local office.

This pull led me to research positions on water boards, school boards, the mayor, city council and trustees, among others. But I never saw myself in any of those positions. I began asking for advice from anyone I could find who was in office or knew what running was like, and trying to connect with different people in Orange to see if other people could see me in a government role.

The first piece of advice I received was to speak to the “queen maker,” someone a friend referred me to. I had never heard this term before, but I was told if she supported me, I would win.

I wondered why Orange’s city council was structured in such a way that one person or group could predict the outcome of an election with such accuracy. Then, I started on what I now call the “orange brick road,” to see the Wizard of Oz (but of Orange), just like Dorothy in L. Frank Baum’s, “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”

During this time, I wondered if I was qualified enough for a city council position: I questioned my intelligence, just like the Scarecrow; my courage, like the Lion, and my heart, like the Tin Man, to give all there was to give to my city and see this through.

These questions followed me as I walked this orange brick road, hoping the Wizard would help me find my place and encourage me to run. I finally had the meeting with the “queen maker,” and it was productive. I listened as this person told me that I was a strong candidate, had the desire to serve, and would make a great addition to the city council, but then the conversation turned.

Like Dorothy, I was told I should return later. In my case, I was told I should wait until 2020 because no one knew me and so I would lose. I was encouraged to seek out boards to “sit” on or help a current candidate, even if I did not agree with his or her political philosophy. I walked away thinking it was not my turn — until April 10.

On that day, the Orange City Council voted not to comply with sections of California’s sanctuary state bill. In a resolution, the city council issued a statement in support of the President Donald Trump administration’s stand against the sanctuary city law.

During the April 10 council meeting, which lasted for six hours, residents, students and supporters endured hateful speech from outsiders voicing their support of the resolution. Throughout the night, anti-immigrant rhetoric filled the room. At 11:30 p.m., I decided to run despite the advice I was given, because I was tired of feeling unheard and like political agendas took priority over people. I would challenge the Wizard of Oz. I pulled out my red tennis shoes.

I soon realized that while walking this orange brick road was one part of my journey, pulling back the orange curtain was the other. Just like how Dorothy discovers that behind the curtain, instead of a powerful man, was a scared man sitting with a microphone that amplified his voice, I realized, like Dorothy, the purpose of the Wizard of Oz was to keep Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Lion and the Scarecrow from realizing they were enough.

I realized I was enough, so here I am – running for Orange City Council with my red shoes. I am enough, and it is my time. I am home.