STORY AND PHOTOS BY KAREN BOSSICK

Paulette Jordan’s grandfather pointed at her as he told Tribal Council leaders that “This is our future. She’s going to be our next representative.”

True to his words, Jordan became the youngest tribal member of the Couer d’Alene Tribal Council.

Then, she recounted, he encouraged her to run for the Idaho legislature, saying, “When people from outside ask you to run, only you can do it.”

In the legislature, Jordan found herself thrust into a patriarchal culture--one woman among many men in a state legislature where only quarter of the house is female and a third of the senate is female, even though women constitute the majority of the population in Idaho.

There’s good news on that front, if you’re a woman.

The percentage of women running for office is up 380 percent nationwide this year.  Jordan herself is  attracting nationwide attention as she seeks to the first Native American woman  governor of Idaho. And, unless a majority of Idaho voters write in Mickey Mouse, Idaho will elect its first female lieutenant governor in the Nov. 6 election.

Jordan joined Michelle Stennett, the Senate Minority Leader, this past week talking about “Women in Idaho Politics” at the two-day Alturas Institute’s Conservations with Exceptional Women held at Ketchum’s Community Library.

Stennett is serving her fourth term in the Idaho Senate, having taken over for her husband Clint Stennett, who died of a brain tumor after serving for 20 years.

She came to the job, having helped women—and men—obtain clean water and more during projects in Africa, Asia and South America. In Idaho she worked in philanthropy and on conservation issues, even doing a stint with the Animal Shelter of the Wood River Valley.

Stennett said she has heard other female legislators discuss sexist incidents but has not had many personal issues.

“I never came in assuming they were going to look at me like the female in the room. And consequently, they didn’t,” she said.

As a leader she has made firmness her friend. When legislators interrupt women, she lets the women know they will be heard even though they may be a woman in a body that doesn’t want to hear them.

And when someone says something condescending of women, she says, “‘That’s not appropriate. Let’s start again.”

We have 105 legislators and you have to keep calling it out,” she said. “I can tell someone, ‘This is appropriate,’ and turn my back and walk away. Dismissing them shows that the action is not to be tolerated.”

When Jordan started running, she recounted, she handed her card to a farmer in rural North Idaho who looked at it and told her, ‘You look like a beauty queen.”

He flipped the card and said, ‘You’re too educated.”

“I thought, ‘Okay, we have a lot of work to do here.’ I realized then that men will judge you according to your looks and your education. That’s a lot of challenges to overcome.”

Jordan said her tribe does not have a patriarchal culture so she finds it counter to the American spirit to try to put women in their place.

She repeatedly found herself having to stand up to men who interrupted her in the legislature.

“My grandmother taught me that the best thing we can do is raise men to be equal with us, to make sure everyone part of conversation,” she said.

When someone makes an offensive remark, such as “Women can never make up their mind,” she says, one person standing up for the women can change the entire room’s perspective.

“I think until you have a woman leading to show a different kind of culture and lead by example, only then will things change,” she added.

Jordan said she hasn’t suffered some of the indignities that women in the legislature suffer, such as being grabbed by the elbow or small of the back in a domineering way, “because I’m bigger than most of the men.”

“Sometimes, I’ll do the same thing--grab them by shoulder. As I push the same experience on them, it changes.”

In addition to being female, Jordan has had to contend with put-downs because she is Native American. She recounted how the chairman of a House committee tried to shut her up with the comment, “Let’s not get off the reservation.”

That comment came with a lot of history, Jordan said, as Native Americans used to get jailed or shot for leaving the reservation.

“I stood my ground because, if I did not, his kids his grandkids would continue to propagate racism that my kids and grandkids would be exposed to,” she said.

In contrast, Jordan said, her great-grandfather sent her grandfather to be educated by the Jesuits because, he said, “White men with no hair on their head but hair on their faces are coming and we have to learn to work with them.”

Jordan said her grandfather taught her and others in the Coeur d ‘Alene tribe to “sit with the white people who make the rules.”  He had empathy, he wanted peace,” she said.

“Take time to learn about people who are less privileged,” she said. “Having radical empathy to learn about someone else is the best thing you can do.”

Asked what advice she’d give young girls who want to get into politics, Jordan said she would encourage them to take debate, something she’s asked hr 14-year-old son to do. Experiencing something that is uncomfortable early on builds resilience, she said.

“And it’s the best way to learn to defend your ideas.”

Stennett encouraged young to find people who to mentor them.

“If you want to go into politics, talk to a politician,” she said. “Tell them: ‘Help me understand what this looks like.’ ”