We are a city adrift. Our mayor is paralyzed. Our Council is divided between the corrupt and the complicit. Our media has trouble keeping up with the parade of scandals. Meanwhile, corporate money pours into the political system unabated, and the new ethics legislation is weak and toothless.

But, this is not a letter about our ethics crisis. In all of this great commotion, we have lost sight of the true problems facing the District. While we fiddle with the composition of a new ethics board and technical changes to the municipal code, DC burns with 30% child poverty and 50% youth unemployment rates. The latest national assessments show that DC has the highest black-white achievement gap in the country. A long line of reports catalogue the grinding challenges we face in our communities, and our elected officials do nothing.

But, this is not a letter about statistics either. Instead, this is a letter about leadership. I want to propose something different. Rather than surrender our civic power to unworthy politicians, we should fight to solve our own problems. Here's how:

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Check out this new video posted by the filmakers behind Grassroots.

Grandma’s hands clapped in church on Sunday morning.  It’s a line from an old Bill Withers song, and it always reminded me of Grandma Maggie.  She had the roughest hands, burned from cooking, calloused from working the hospital night shift, worn from raising her kids and then her grandkids.  But, they were loving hands too, proud hands, and tender.  I learned a lot about life from Grandma Maggie as I worked with her two granddaughters over the course of many years.  Despite having earned her rest, Grandma Maggie was struggling to be a mother again after the violent death of her daughter.  She had an old story, one of migration from the South and a new life in the city.  Her hands built the District, as did the hands of my mother-in-law Thurma.  Her hands wrote papers at McKinley Tech, aced exams at Howard Medical, and held stethoscopes to the chests of DC children.  Her circle of friends, the Village as they called themselves, joined with thousands of other Washingtonians and built schools, parks, courthouses, and communities.  And, 47 years ago today, they all voted in a presidential election for the first time.  It was a small spark in the darkness of our denied self-rule.  

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After just three weeks on the campaign trail, the Max Skolnik campaign for Ward 4 is off to a fast start. We have raised $26,236. Thank you to everyone who helped make this happen. You have served notice that the status quo needs to change in the District. 

Our campaign is only just getting started. Together, we’re going to work to improve education – both in school and out. We’re going to support local businesses that provide good jobs and make our neighborhoods thrive. And we’re going to hold our elected leaders to a higher standard and finally pass real ethics reform in DC.

Last week, DC Public Schools Chancellor Kaya Henderson revealed some startling statistics about our youngest citizens. We learned that 10% of current eighth graders have attempted suicide. You can feel the despair behind that number. That is a hopelessness that cries out for more than just narrow "school reform." That is a public health crisis, a moral calamity.

Over the past ten years, my youth organization has worked with hundreds of young people all over the District of Columbia. From Congress Heights to Crestwood, I've had the honor of serving some incredibly inspirational students and families. Each day is a revelation. Each student is a spark of wisdom and creativity. I have seen hardened young people reignite their joy of play, as they rolled out cookies, spread paint on canvas, pulled carrots out of dirt. I have seen them give so much of themselves in service to the city, cleaning up its parks, wiping away the tears of its seniors, and bringing comfort to the dying in its hospitals.

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I have some great neighbors, but the four kids across the street are pretty awesome.  They play soccer in the alley.  They hunt for bugs.  They draw pictures on the sidewalk with chalk.  One of the girls is a former Kid Power student, and they all love to play with Julian.  I’ve promised them 15 pumpkins for Halloween.  Erica says that I over-commit. 

Tonight, as I was returning from canvassing many blocks, I ran into them outside their apartment building.  They wanted to help pass out brochures.  We counted out enough for all the units inside.  They were going to promise lots of candy and the end of homework in exchange for a vote.  An hour later, they rang my bell.  They had only 2 brochures left, and they were super excited.  We talked some more about Halloween.  The littlest one, a 2^nd grader, had his heart set on being the Green Lantern.  We plotted out where we would put our 15 pumpkins.  Man, I’m going to have to clean out 15 pumpkins.

Over the weekend, while canvassing through Petworth, I came across a hidden treasure. Behind a normal row of houses, tucked away in the back alley, was a giant community garden. It was maybe 50 yards by 50 yards in size and was filled with all manner of vegetables and fruits. I saw black-eyed peas, cucumbers, greens, peppers, and tomatoes. There was even a mini-orchard of peach trees. In the middle of the garden, tending to some beans, was an old man.

I approached slowly, careful not to step on the vegetables poking up from the ground. Here I was, all dressed up and holding a clipboard. I must have looked like a census taker, but he was kind and patient with me. I asked him about the history of the place, and he told me that it had existed since the 1960's. Along with 18 other neighbors, he tended this farm and shared its contents freely. When I spoke of my own poor attempts at gardening and my interest in making hot sauce, a twinkle came to his eye. He hopped up his back steps and returned with a jar of homemade pepper relish. He gave it to me without reservation, expecting nothing in return.

Then, he said that the farm was in danger. The out-of-state owner was looking to sell the land and tear up the crops. He had written a letter that warned residents not to waste their efforts on land that could be put to "better use."

It was straight out of the Old West. It reminded me of the story of Canyon de Chelly, the stronghold of the Navajo. Deep in the heart of the intricate canyon system was a vast and sacred peach orchard. It was hidden to all but those who tended the trees. During the Navajo Wars, the US Army drove the tribe out of Canyon de Chelly, chopped down the orchard, and burned the trees.

We need to safeguard the sacred, the special, and the home-grown. That hidden farm may be a crude metaphor for the dangers of gentrification, but I think we should fight like hell to keep it whole. Whether you're Black or White, young or old, new resident or 5th generation, some things are more important than "progress."

My name is Max Skolnik, and I'm Erica’s husband and Julian’s father.  I am an educator for hundreds of young people. I am a proud Democrat and resident of Petworth.  And, I am a candidate for the Ward 4 DC Council Seat.  I'm running for the young people who are yearning for hope and opportunity.  I'm running for the seniors who have built this great city and deserve better from our leadership.  I'm running for the small businesses that are generating jobs and opportunities.  I'm running for the hard-working families that need safe neighborhoods and great schools.  I'm running to renew an honest compact between our city’s government and its citizens.  And, I'm running for my one-year old son Julian, so that he can grow up to be a proud citizen of the District.  I'm asking for your trust, your support, and your vote.  Let’s get to work and change this city.