Running for ALA President was one of the most meaningful experiences of my professional life. I didn’t win. I lost—and I gained more than I ever imagined.
From the beginning, I knew my odds. Dr. Maria McCauley and Dr. Andrea Jamison are both formidable librarians, advocates, and scholars They do the work very differently than I do, and I have the utmost respect for them both. I never assumed I would win. I did my best—and it’s okay that what I had to offer wasn’t what the majority of voters wanted. What matters most is that library workers had meaningful and varied choices, and I got to do it my way. That’s a lot to be glad about.
The possibility of losing is what makes stepping into the arena meaningful. If there’s no risk, there’s no growth. To be vulnerable is, by definition, to be at risk. That’s how we learn what we’re capable of and grow our capacity—and how we make space for others to try, too.
So let me say this clearly: losing is not the worst thing that can happen. It’s not something to fear or avoid. Losing doesn’t feel good, but it would feel far worse to me if someone saw this outcome and thought, “See? That’s why I won’t run. That’s why I won’t speak up.” Please don’t. Put yourself out there anyway. Do it louder. Do it different. You’re not alone, and it’s worth it. I want to see your vision.
I’ve always understood my place in libraries as that of an influential outsider—someone who doesn’t fit the mold and isn’t interested in pretending to. I lead with my whole self: bold, creative, a little glittery, very loud, and deeply principled. I know that’s not for everyone. I like to think of it the way Dita Von Teese put it, “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches. “
And I know that when you look or sound different from the norm, people make assumptions based on appearance, job title, and all kinds of implicit bias. We all contend with symbolic identities. But it’s never stopped me from showing up and it never will. 🤷♀️ Because I also know this: my voice reflects the energy, frustration, and fire of many library workers who want more from our profession—and deserve better from our institutions. I ran for us and I ran for me. I ran because I believe—fiercely and fully—in libraries and in the people who make them possible. And I believe the American Library Association can—and must—be a more responsive, courageous, and imaginative advocate for library workers everywhere.
I also ran to model a different kind of leadership. Leadership that makes room and acknowledges that no problem worth solving is solved by one person alone. That says, we belong here too. Leadership that loves a meme and a Moo Deng meme even more. That lets care, collaboration, and sparkle live in the same space as strategy and policy. They go together better than most people think.
With help, I built the kind of campaign I’d always wanted to see: open-hearted, joyful, substantive, and high femme. This was the intent and design of the campaign playlist, illustrated graphics, bright colors, and heartfelt conversations. It was rooted in the vibrant spirit of New Orleans, shaped by art, culture, and community. I didn’t run to impress—I ran to connect. The joy I felt on the dance floor at LibLearnX is something I will carry in my heart the rest of my career. I showed that leadership can be strong and soft, playful and principled. That it doesn’t have to be detached or hierarchical to be effective. It can have a sense of humor. And that maybe—just maybe—it can be fun and cute. Actually, scratch that maybe, because it can. I effing did it.
Along the way, I had the privilege of meeting with library workers across the country and around the world. I met with more than half of ALA’s state chapters. I collaborated with international colleagues. I wrote one of the most-read articles in Katina Magazine history. And more than anything, I listened—to concerns about wages, burnout, censorship, safety, memory, and what it means to show up even when it’s hard.
This wasn’t a solo act. My campaign team—Ashley Jester, Jamia Williams, Rachel Fleming, Violet Fox, Carolyn Carpan, Elizabeth Fedden, Alyssa Key, MLIS, and TJ Lamana—made everything possible. Your clarity, style, compassion, and humor turned a campaign into an opportunity for affirmation and transformation. I’m forever grateful. Leadership is never a solo act—and with you, it never had to be.
And yes—even with all that brilliance and momentum—I lost. And it stings. That’s the truth of it. You don’t pour yourself into something this fully and not feel it. But what I feel even more is deep self-awareness, vast gratitude, and confidence in my strength.
Because losing doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. In fact, losing made it even more real. It reminded me that the point isn’t the win—it’s the work. And goddamnit I did the work and I’m really proud of it.
I don’t regret a thing. I ran the way I lead—with courage and creativity, at full volume and high speed— for this profession and the people in it. I hope this campaign showed that leadership doesn’t have to look or sound like what we’ve always been told it should. It can be different. It should be different. It can wear pink and still pack a punch. It can laugh, cry, listen, dance, and still get things done.
To everyone who voted, asked questions, sent encouragement, or even just followed along—thank you. You gave this campaign its meaning.
And to Dr. Maria McCauley—my warmest congratulations. She ran a strong, focused campaign and brings thoughtful, principled leadership to ALA. I know she’ll serve the Association well.
If you’re thinking about stepping forward—do it. If you’re nervous—that’s normal. If you don’t win—you’ll still walk away with something that matters. Because the truth is: you don’t have to win to make a difference. You just have to try. Because if you never try, you’ll never change anything. And you’ll never have a chance to win.
Taking risks is how we grow. Losing is part of life. But that beauty, meaning, and joy we build together when we’re brave enough to show up? It’s the whole point. It’s the best stuff of life.
And here’s one more playlist, because while this campaign definitely changed me for the better, nothing will shake my belief that there’s a good soundtrack for every phase of life and career. Pump up the jams! Happy Friday!
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