Breaking Barriers: Choua Eve Lee and the Path to the St. Paul School Board
In the early 1990s, at a corner table in Patrick McGovern’s Pub in Saint Paul, a conversation began that would change the face of local representation in Minnesota. Choua Eve Lee (then Cua Yaj), a 28-year-old advocate and expectant mother, sat down with Senator Randy Kelly and campaign veteran Pat Lindgren. They weren't just there for a meal; they were there to ask Lee to make history.
Choua Eve Lee’s journey into politics was never planned. Lee spent her youth as a fierce advocate for the Hmong community. By age 16, she was already lobbying in Washington D.C. with the PAGE program, fighting for the rights of Hmong refugees to resettle in the United States.
In 1991, Lee was the interim director of the Women’s Association of Hmong and Lao (WAHL). Her work focused on the challenges of first and second generation Hmong students in the Saint Paul Public Schools, addressing issues of truancy, gang involvement, and the lack of accessible resources for non-English speaking parents. It was this expertise that caught the eye of city leaders.
"I asked them, 'Why me?'" Lee recalls. "There were plenty of qualified Hmong lawyers and doctors. But they wanted someone with direct connections to the families, someone who could diversify the pool in terms of gender and age."
The transition from advocate to candidate was daunting. Lee was entering a race for two city-wide seats on the Saint Paul School Board against three other candidates, including incumbent Greg Filice.
"I told them I was too young and about to start my teaching license," Lee says. "But Pat Lindgren said something that stayed with me: 'Choua, in history, there is always going to be a first... The first one is always the hardest. Without the first, there is no progress. Do you want to be a part of that first?'”
After three days of deliberation and a two-hour phone call with DFL supporter Gladys Morten, who told Lee her "reputation preceded her," Lee decided to take the plunge.
The campaign was an uphill battle. Lee entered the race late, after the February caucuses had already passed. She was also pregnant, navigating a "sun-up to sun-down" schedule of parades, fundraisers, and "boo-yah" community events while carrying her child.
The challenges weren't just physical, they were cultural and systemic. Some of the strongest initial opposition came from within the Hmong community. "Gender and age became a topic of doubt," Lee explains. It took time for prominent leaders like Song Kong, Vaj Xab, and Foung Hawj to publicly lend their support.
The campaign raised roughly $43,000, a significant sum at the time, relying on a mix of DFL backing, the Women’s Consortium, and grassroots donations from a community that had very little wealth.
Lee recalls a striking encounter with a television reporter who asked which of her "weaknesses,” being young, a minority, or a woman, concerned her most. Lee’s response became a defining moment of her campaign: "Being a woman or being a minority is not important. But because I am a Hmong person, that is important. If anyone thinks a Hmong person cannot do the same job as the rest of the community, you are wrong."
Lee’s campaign culminated at the DFL convention at Humboldt High School. Despite the late start and the immense pressure, she secured the DFL endorsement. Her candidacy broke the glass ceiling for Hmong Americans in Minnesota politics, proving that the hurdles of age, gender, and ethnicity could be overcome through relentless advocacy and community connection.
Today, living in Lake Elmo, Lee looks back at that meeting at McGovern’s Pub not just as the start of a campaign, but as the moment the Hmong community began to claim its seat at the table in Saint Paul.