When History Speaks, We Should Listen

I’m no Miss Cleo. This did not require fortune telling. It required paying attention to history, understanding voter behavior, and respecting the math.

Back on March 7, I publicly warned what could happen in the District 7 race if history repeated itself. Unfortunately, it did. The warning was not based on emotion, personalities, or political favoritism. It was based on numbers. Elections are often decided long before Election Day when communities fail to study patterns from previous races.

The 2022 District 7 election already gave us the blueprint. In that race, Joanne Cogle defeated Laketha Ashe in a runoff by only 81 votes — 454 to 373. But the real story was hidden inside the primary election. Only 1,764 people voted in the entire district.

Cogle led Ashe by just 16 votes in the first round — 492 to 476 — proving from the very beginning that District 7 was deeply divided and highly competitive.

But the most revealing part of that election was how the vote split almost perfectly along geographic and political lines. Two candidates, Cogle and John Etamadi, largely drew support from Uptown and the historic district. Combined, they received 882 votes. On the other side, Ashe and Juanita Taylor largely split support from Black voters in the district. Combined, they also received 882 votes.

A virtual tie.

That division created the pathway for the runoff and ultimately helped determine who represented District 7. Yet somehow, despite having the evidence sitting directly in front of us, many refused to learn from it.

The political reality in 2026 was not difficult to predict. I warned that if turnout resembled 2022 levels again, and if the Black vote remained divided between multiple candidates, a candidate like "Becca" Zajac — whose strongest support appeared concentrated in Uptown and the historic district — could potentially win outright by surpassing 50 percent before a runoff could even happen.

The actual numbers from May 19, 2026, tell the story clearly: Becca Zajac — 1,135 votes; Laketha Ashe — 946 votes, Chiara Richardson — 429 votes.

The math speaks for itself. Had Ashe and Richardson united behind one candidate; the outcome likely would have been dramatically different. Combined, their totals would have reached 1,375 votes — enough to surpass Zajac outright. That is not speculation. That is arithmetic.

But politics often struggles where pride, ego, mistrust, and lack of communication exist. There was no meaningful coalition-building. No serious effort to consolidate support. No difficult but necessary conversation about electability, strategy, or shared political goals. And those decisions carry consequences.

Ashe also declined opportunities to build broader relationships within portions of the faith-based community, including engaging with the Interdenominational Ministerial Alliance — relationships that historically matter in local elections where turnout is low and every vote becomes critical.

Now District 7 finds itself once again heading toward a runoff, facing circumstances remarkably similar to 2022. And history has a way of repeating itself when people ignore its lessons.

This conversation is not about race alone. It is about political organization, strategic thinking, coalition-building, voter turnout, and understanding how elections are actually won. Communities that organize usually win. Communities that divide themselves often watch opportunities slip away — sometimes by only a handful of votes.

The painful reality is that representation is not guaranteed simply because a community has numbers. Representation requires strategy, unity, participation, and discipline. Politics is rarely just about passion. It is about preparation.

And once again, District 7 may soon discover what happens when history gives a warning — and nobody listens.