Through every campaign, I’ve met passionate, thoughtful citizens who care deeply about their community. I’ve also silently witnessed my mom being misrepresented, judged unfairly, and dehumanized by people who do not know her.

It’s painful. And it makes me wonder: Can we do political campaigns differently? Can they better bring people together rather than tearing them apart?

A mayor, after all, is not just a politician, but our neighbor.

So in that spirit, I want to introduce my mom — not the candidate, but the human. These are things you won’t find on a mailer or in a debate, but they matter to me. And they say something essential about the kind of person she is and why she is running yet another campaign.

My mom is an amazing musician. She plays the piano and flute expertly and has accompanied community choirs since I can remember. As a young mom, she played Scott Joplin’s “Ragtime” while my six siblings and I raced to brush our teeth and get into bed before she pounded that last exciting chord. She still plays with her family gathered around the piano, singing together.

My mom loves people. We’ve adjusted countless holiday dinners to include strangers she found at the store, the school, the library, etc., who didn’t have a family to celebrate with. Many mornings as a child, I woke up to find neighbors on our living room floor who had come over in the middle of the night, needing a safe place to sleep. And she’s taken in foreign exchange students and given them not just a home, but a family.

My mom still hosts family dinners every Sunday. Not only do we all love food, but we also love gathering together where debates echo off the walls. Sixteen adults, thirteen grandchildren, four dogs, and rotating visitors create a cacophony of chaos where my mom thrives and makes sure everyone feels heard.

My mom, without any formal training, cuts hair. All four of my kids have their hair cut by Maymay every month. She cuts my hair, my grandparents’ hair, my siblings’ hair, my in-laws’ hair, and my aunts’ hair. She cuts the neighbors’ hair and her own hair. She fixes professional haircuts gone wrong and cuts styles found on Instagram. She’s been cutting hair since she was a teen. All for free.

My mom is an amazing seamstress. She sewed her own wedding dress, designed and sewed my and my sisters’ high school dance dresses, and made basic quilts for all her grandbabies. She collects fabric and sews the most unusual pajama pants for all of her grandkids every Christmas.

My mom loves books. Growing up, she always handed me books to read. Our house felt like a library, bookshelves lining even the walls of her dining room. She loves her Little Free Library on her front lawn and keeps it stocked with books she finds at the D.I.

My mom still genuinely loves politics. Not the divisive, dishonest behavior often portrayed, but the human-centered policy making and infrastructure designing wrestle that she learned about in her political science degree and still believes in.

And whether or not she becomes mayor, she will still be your neighbor. So I ask again: Can political campaigns be more than a race to tear each other down? Can we make them a way to build communities up? I believe we can. But it starts with seeing each other as human.

Natasha Rogers is a resident of Springville.