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Editor’s note: At Civil Beat we are always on the lookout for unique voices who have the spunk and stamina to contribute to the public conversation. It’s safe to say there are few who fit that bill better than Beth Fukumoto who brings an insider perspective to Hawaii’s political and legislative scene while being able to also view it from the distance of experience with other places and systems. We’re delighted Beth has agreed to become one of our regular Civil Beat columnists and, as she gets up and running in the weeks to come, we hope you find her commentary insightful and motivating.

When my legislative term ended in 2018, I was eager to spend time out of the spotlight and explore new paths. I had worked at the Capitol since 2009 as a part-time file clerk, a policy analyst, an office manager, a research director, the House Republican Leader, and a Democratic representative.

It was the only real workplace I’d ever had. And I’d never planned to be in politics.

In my first job interview at the Capitol more than a decade ago, I rambled on about my background in ethnic studies until my interviewer stopped me to clarify that I was applying for the Republican (Minority) Research Office. Apparently, I was not applying to study ethnic minority populations in Hawaii. But, for $13 an hour, I would study just about anything.

The more I learned about politics, the more I grew to love it.

Politics, at its core, is simply the way we organize ourselves and our shared resources. A politician’s job is to manage that process in the face of conflicting needs and interests by bringing diverse people together to solve our collective problems as fairly as possible.

On the days that description matched my reality, I believed I had the best, most-rewarding job in the world. In truth, I also enjoyed the less noble parts of the job — strategy sessions, sparring with colleagues, and the thrill of campaigning.

But, after nearly 10 years, I lost sight of the good and started to feel only the bad – particularly after . There were days when my office got so many negative e-mails that we had to take turns checking them because a dark mood would overcome anyone browsing the Inbox.

However, my most vivid memory remains a voicemail I received while waiting for a flight in Raleigh, North Carolina. “We know where you live, we know what you drive, we know who you are,” the deep, chilling voice warned, “You’re going to get it. Just wait. We can’t wait. Comin’. Good luck, C***.” I sat trembling in the airport coffee shop until I got on my flight.

It wasn’t until I was sitting in a Harvard classroom, a long way from my life in Hawaii, that I began to process those experiences. After I left office, I attended the Kennedy School to get a new degree in public administration and learn leadership strategies that I’d haphazardly stumbled through at the age of 25, when I first got involved in politics. I saw what I could have done differently — professionally and personally — to be more resilient and more effective.

With that knowledge, I’ve found a lot of joy in helping others, particularly women, navigate politics better than I did. In the last five years, I’ve had opportunities to coach candidates and activists in states across the U.S. and public leaders from 26 countries. I’ve campaigned in Belfast with their Green Party’s leader, critiqued U.S.-French relations from a Paris newsroom, and immersed myself in learning the ins and outs of British politics.

Yet, as every local kid who’s left Hawaii knows, Hawaii never leaves you. I saw everything through my experience in Hawaii politics and how we compare to other democratic governments.

We’re surprisingly more transparent than many legislatures that don’t post their testimony or legislation on-line before they vote. We’re stricter with donation limits than states like Iowa and Indiana who allow unlimited contributions, and our candidates can be more flexible when adopting their party’s platform.

There are also changes we could consider. Britain has banned broadcasting political ads and limits their campaign period to eight weeks. France runs their presidential elections like our city council races –allowing a wider range of political parties. Domestically, Maine and Alaska implemented a ranked-choice voting system that gives voters a greater diversity of ideas to choose from.

Regardless of my travels, my heart and home were always here. Like everyone else, I’ve watched as our crept toward $1 million, as our population continues to decline, and as the pandemic exposed dangerous gaps in our .

I’ve sat alone on Laniakea Beach watching dozens of turtles take advantage of tourism restrictions and imagined a Hawaii where our land, wildlife and residents could occasionally gain some respite from endless visitor traffic. I’ve wondered if our decision-makers will find the political will to make the bold changes we need to reverse all of our downward trends.

That brings me to why I was excited to join Civil Beat as a columnist. I know there are other ways to contribute to change besides being elected, and since leaving office, I’ve only become more passionate about civic engagement, the power of good policy, and the impact of strong leadership.

In this column, I’m planning to use my previous experiences in the Legislature, the privilege I’ve had to explore other places, and the academic perspectives I’ve gained to offer political analysis and policy suggestions to help us make the change we need.