How Democrats in rural Northern California, deep in MAGA country, are growing stronger

Siskiyou Dems have garnered consequential wins by organizing at the grassroots level.

In Siskiyou County, identifying as a Democrat, according to Alice Rogers, felt a little “like coming out.”

On a warm June afternoon, she stood under a canopy of tall trees in Weed’s Carrick Park with about 100 other local Democrats at the county party’s annual fundraising dinner.

Rogers, the chair of the Democratic Central Committee of Siskiyou County, and Robin Richards, the committee’s treasurer, were called to action after Donald Trump’s election in 2016, as they watched their Republican neighbors ride the MAGA wave further to the right.

“I didn’t know there were other Democrats in Siskiyou County,” Rogers, a lifelong Democrat, said. But, as she and Richards realized there were more Democrats than they had anticipated — 35% of the county voted for Hillary Clinton — they began to plan.

“We were so angry,” Rogers said. “And we were both retired, so we had the time for it.”

Democrats in rural northern California have long recognized that the real action for their party is in Los Angeles, the Bay Area, and Sacramento. Even though the region north of Sacramento is vast geographically, its population and wealth are insufficient to influence state politics.


Rural Democrats, particularly in Siskiyou County, now feel surrounded by increasingly powerful conspiracy theorists, separatists, and extremists. They believe that grassroots organizing is more important now than ever before.

“We want to avoid turning out like Shasta County,” said Katherine Shelton, secretary of the Siskiyou central committee.

Three far-right members of Siskiyou County’s sister county’s Board of Supervisors voted in January to end the county’s contract with Dominion Voting Systems. Trump supporters believe the company and its machines sabotaged his re-election campaign in 2020. (For perpetuating this lie, Fox News owes Dominion $787.5 million.)

Board meetings have become increasingly heated in the months since. When a white regular attendee used the N-word to describe a Black activist, the activist was removed. Doni Chamberlain, a 67-year-old Redding resident, is taking a break from her online news source, A News Cafe, after far-right community members and Proud Boys confronted her at a July meeting. A man grabbed a phone from a strap around her neck, causing it to snap forward. Patrick Jones, a far-right member of the Board, told an SFGate reporter to “drop dead.”

Despite its smaller population, Siskiyou County is slightly more blue; approximately 28% of voters are registered Democrats, while approximately 44% are Republicans. In Shasta County, Republicans outnumber Democrats by 50% to 22%. Mount Shasta (population 3,200) is primarily responsible for Siskiyou’s blue streak, but neighboring towns Weed and Dunsmuir also lean blue. However, Democratic organizers in the county see the neighboring county as a cautionary tale.

Richards applied for a grant from NextGen, the progressive advocacy non-profit founded by former Democratic presidential candidate and hedge fund manager Tom Steyer. He sent them $35,000 to help with local organizing.

They spent the money on canvassing, organizing, and running for local office in the region, as well as hosting retreats for Democrats and anti-Trump moderates.They believe that this is the only way to avoid Shasta’s fate, regardless of whether the state party is willing to support them.

It clearly states that it is.

CADEM did not respond to an interview request, but chairman Rusty Hicks did send the following statement:

“The California Democratic Party is steadfast in our mission to defend democracy — in every corner of the state and across the country.” We are investing in on-the-ground organizing efforts to support our candidates, fight for democratic values, and build communities that work for all of us at a time in our history when conservative extremism is on the rise in communities across the North State.”

Democrats in Siskiyou County, such as Shelton and Rogers, will take whatever they can get. They say the party has helped them train candidates and stay informed about rural issues.

But Carrick Park in Weed is 230 miles away from what’s going on in Sacramento, and it’s surrounded on all sides by red. According to organizers, the distance is palpable.

“It’s not perfect,” Rogers admitted.

Getting ready for local elections

The Siskiyou Democrats have won some seemingly minor but significant victories by organizing at the grassroots level for local candidates.

As Republicans-funded school board candidates ran “pro-parent” campaigns in California and across the country, resulting in book bans and curriculum changes, Siskiyou Democrats worked to keep seats out of their hands.

“We heard rumblings during COVID that (parents and community members) were confronting board members at school board meetings at the high school and elementary school,” Rogers recalled. “It was bad — people were crying as they went home.” We knew it was going to be a heated (election).”


That it was. Candidates for three seats in the Siskiyou Union High School District were among the most outspoken opponents of masks and stay-at-home orders.

Paul Chapman, Kevin Charter, and Scott Dolf “I didn’t realize they were running in specific districts,” Rogers explained. “So they had no idea how to campaign… They were aware they were in Siskiyou County, but they were unconcerned about local demographics.”

Rogers and her team knew that affiliating with the state party was not the way to go when organizing for small, historically non-partisan races. Face-to-face appeals to voters were.

“We didn’t go (canvassing) as Siskiyou Dems,” Rogers explained. “As Friends of Siskiyou Education, we canvassed and worked with the candidates.” We did not pay for any of their materials, but we did assist in canvassing and organizing.”

They went to every house in the school districts they could find. Many voters said they didn’t care about school board races because they don’t have children or have never paid attention to them.

Knowing how to canvass, according to Rogers, includes being able to explain what’s at stake.

“We approached it as our local schools against right-wing extremists, not Democrats against Republicans,” said Shelton, secretary of the central committee.

“I really felt like we needed to win that race strongly,” Rogers explained. “It couldn’t possibly be close. It had to make a statement.”

That it was. Dolf and Chapman each lost by eight points (nearly 1,000 votes), while Charter fell by seven points (450 votes).

“Having that victory was important,” Shelton said.

They are now considering running for a seat on the Siskiyou County Board of Supervisors.

Angelina Cook is running for the Board for the second time. In 2020, she jumped into the previous election at the last minute.

“I literally could not watch Brandon Criss run for his third term unopposed,” she said.


According to Cook, Criss has been in office during droughts and wildfires, and “our supervisors are just business as usual, concerned with their own interests,” rather than climate change and the economically disadvantaged, under the guise of “industry.” Criss, for example, voted against making Siskiyou County a “sanctuary jurisdiction” for immigrants in 2017, but has been an outspoken supporter of mining and other extractive industries.

“I waited until the second to last day to file, hoping that someone else would file so I wouldn’t have to,” she laughed. “But nobody else did.”

“I had no idea what I was getting myself into.” I had no intention of entering politics.”

Cook’s point of view, according to Criss, is simply incorrect.

“All one has to do is look at the agendas for all of our Board of Supervisors meetings, committee assignments, and work to see that we deal with much more than just our own interests,” he told The Sacramento Bee. “I’ve been a volunteer ambulance driver and firefighter for about 18 years.” We all care about Siskiyou County, including my Board colleagues.”

Criss will not run for re-election in 2024, but Cook plans to challenge Colleen Crebbin Alvarez, a rancher from the unincorporated community of Little Shasta.

Cook is the McCloud Watershed Council’s director, and she previously worked at the Mount Shasta Bioregional Ecology Center. She attended the Monterey Institute of International Studies and moved to Siskiyou County when Nestle proposed a bottling plant in McCloud in 2008.

“I thought that was a horrible idea,” she admitted. She prioritizes protecting local community water rights, opposing “inappropriate corporate development,” and increasing ecoliteracy in her county.

Cook is more confident in this election cycle.

“It’s a completely different chapter because I realized halfway through my 2020 campaign that I would actually be good at this,” she explained. “I was motivated when I received 25% of the vote (in 2020).” I’ve had three years to prepare my mind for doing it again, but this time properly.”

Cook is one of several women running for local office who have received backing from grassroots activists and the state party. CADEM arranged her airfare and hotel stay for candidate training at the state convention in May, facilitated by EMERGE California, the state arm of a national organization that recruits and trains Democratic women to run for office.

EMERGE California has assisted in the election of 210 women to public office, including Lt. Gov. Eleni Kounalakis (also a candidate for governor in 2026), State Controller Malia Cohen, and a slew of state senators, assemblymembers, and local officials.

Investing in candidates like Cook, according to Rogers, is where the state party can be most effective.

“That’s something we can give credit to CADEM for,” Rogers said. “They’re doing it. It’s difficult for us to find candidates, but when we do, they put money behind it. They don’t have unlimited funds, but they’ll give us some.”

LaMalfa needle movement

Local Democratic campaigns in conservative rural areas are difficult to fund, but not impossible. The county Democratic party committee raised more than $5,000 at the June fundraiser alone.

Financing congressional races is a different beast, especially in District 1, which spans almost the entire North State from Klamath National Forest in the northwest to Modoc National Forest in the northeast, and Sutter County north to the Oregon border. Republican Rep. Doug LaMalfa’s 10-year dominance makes a Democratic takeover appear impossible.

After a decade in the state assembly, LaMalfa, an ag businessman with a family rice farm in his district, won the seat in 2012. He was once a typical Republican, advocating for low taxes, limited government, and social conservatism. However, his many Democratic constituents have seen him “deteriorate.” They see a Trump-supporting “MAGA guy” delving deeper into the culture wars over trans rights, election denial, and school curricula.


In April, he attended a Chico school board meeting to discuss gender identity in public schools after a parent sued the Chico Unified School District for failing to notify them when their child transitioned.

“Schools have really overstepped their bounds, overstepped their responsibilities when they’re doing this,” LaMalfa says.

He has been outspoken in his opposition to mask and vaccine mandates, and he was one of 147 House Republicans who voted against certifying the results of the 2020 presidential election.

But LaMalfa’s politics aren’t the only thing keeping him in power in CA-01. Dislodging any incumbent in Congress is a long shot, with 93% of them re-elected since 1964.

Finding the right candidate to unseat him has been difficult for Democrats.

Democrats came close in 2018 and 2020 with Audrey Denney, a Central Valley ag development consultant who lives in Chico. Denney admitted that she knew it would take more than one attempt to depose LaMalfa. The post-2016 blue wave aided her in obtaining major endorsements from organizations such as EMILY’s List. She lost in 2018 as expected, but she was confident she’d win in 2020 after outraising LaMalfa by $1 million.

Despite her money — and the adoration of organizers like the Siskiyou Dems, who still light up when her name is mentioned — she lost by 14 points.

Rogers attributes much of this to attempting to flip a seat during the peak of the pandemic, when canvassing and in-person events were prohibited, and when public health measures to combat COVID’s spread, such as mask mandates and business and school closures, radicalized people.

“Audrey’s strength was meeting people, talking to them, and getting her voice out,” Rogers said.

“It was all Zoom meetings during COVID, and she was talking to the choir, to people who already liked her.” She didn’t have the opportunity to meet new people… We canvassed heavily for her in 2018, and the second campaign built on the knowledge gained in the first. It was such a letdown to see how it turned out.”

“We loved Audrey,” Rogers said. “Loved her.”

If someone as popular — and as good at fundraising — as LaMalfa couldn’t dethrone him, Democratic organizers wondered who could.

Max Steiner aspired to be that person in 2022.

Steiner, a former Foreign Affairs officer and Army Reserves sergeant, ran as a “pro-gun, pro-choice” moderate, anti-Trump veteran, and staunch supporter of the Second Amendment. Steiner, a Chico native like Denney, appeared to be the type of candidate that anti-Trump Republicans could rally behind.

He didn’t.

Steiner did not raise nearly as much as Denney did, nor did he receive nearly as many votes as she did. LaMalfa outscored him by 25 points.

“Not even a white, male veteran who loves guns could beat LaMalfa,” Madeleine DeAndreis, a retired Siskiyou County teacher, said at the fundraising event. “It makes you wonder if anyone else can.”

That appears to be an ongoing battle for DeAndreis and Democrats throughout the region.

“It takes a long time to make change,” said Robin Richards, treasurer of the Siskiyou Dems and a candidate for Yreka City Council in 2022. She finished fourth, just 100 votes short of a council seat.

She is inspired by women like Stacey Abrams and her New Georgia Project, which has changed the landscape of Georgia politics over the last decade.

“We’ve done a lot in six years,” Richards said.

“We’ve made some inroads… People in Siskiyou County are afraid to speak out. It also takes a lot of effort. But we’re hoping that more people will move in and join us.”

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