Last year, when she ran for Oklahoma state representative, Cyndi Munson kept thinking,Why me? She is a woman, an Asian-American, a Millennial, and a Democrat in a very-red state. Would conservative voters who had never heard of her before really elect this newcomer? At first, the answer was no. She lost to the longtime incumbent. It was a tough blow, but one she says gave her the courage to quit her long-held job as a leading organizer for the Girl Scouts of the USA and focus on helping more women realize opportunities in politics. She founded a political action committee specifically designed to fund female candidates, and she continued to mentor and teach at-risk teens in her community. Five months after her defeat, Munson had another opportunity to run when the seat she lost in the Oklahoma State House of Representatives was open again, after her predecessor passed away. This time, she won.

Munson, now 30, talks about the complexities of campaigning, learning to legislate, and how she plans to use her office to give voice to the women and girls she's worked with her entire life.

My dad raised my sister and me on his own from the time that I was 13. He was in the Army, stationed in Lawton, Oklahoma. My dad made it clear he didn't expect or necessarily want us to take on military service, but he instilled in us to provide some kind of service to our community — to be aware of issues that were going on and think about how I could use my education, my experience, and my work to have a positive impact on others.

Courtney Despain

I wasn't really interested in politics for myself until I was in high school. I was invited to attend Oklahoma Girls State. High school girls going into their senior years are selected by teachers and community leaders to go to a government camp. You learn how state government works, and you get to meet different public officials. It was a weeklong program held at East Central University. We stayed in the dorms, and every floor was a different city. We ran for office, and were taught how to debate and campaign. It really got me excited about the possibility of running for office.

I went to the University of Central Oklahoma, first as a business student, and ultimately changed my major to political science. I received a grant called Oklahoma's Promise. To qualify, you have to fall under a certain income bracket and meet certain curriculum requirements. It pays for your tuition to any public university in the state. On campus I was known to be someone who wanted to make a difference. I was really active in the American Democracy Project, where students worked to get our peers registered to vote, which is harder to do than one would think. I also just talked to people on campus, trying to educate them about the Constitution and why it's important for us to have dialogue around issues that are important to us. I joined a sorority because I wanted to empower young women to take on leadership positions, and to learn and prepare themselves for the future.

One of my sorority sisters and I were in my room, and she kept asking me why I thought women could be leaders. Why was that such a big deal for me? Did I really think a woman would become president some day? I was so shocked that she was asking me these questions. I replied, "Why are you in a sorority and in college if you don't believe women can be leaders? You're here to refine yourself to take on a leadership position in your life, whatever path that is. You're ultimately trying to better yourself. We're all capable of that."

Courtney Despain

What really started to shape my career path was my time spent in Washington, D.C. I had an opportunity to intern at a small day shelter serving homeless women. I helped them prepare for their fundraising events. I learned how to write grants and how to cultivate donors. While I was there, I was able to meet various leaders in the nonprofit world, including the director of the Girl Scouts of the USA. My naive mind didn't know you could work for the Girl Scouts. I, like most people, thought the Girl Scouts are just an organization for cookies and camp, and it's just a bunch of women volunteering to be troop leaders.

I went back to school and reached out to the Girl Scouts Council in Oklahoma City, and I became a volunteer for their outreach program. I was helping run an after-school program at an elementary school on the predominantly Hispanic south side of Oklahoma City. I was then asked to teach [a small group of girls] at an alternative high school. My eyes opened to young women who were teen moms, had been involved in gang violence, and were already dealing with alcohol and drug abuse. I thought, If I can be a part of some kind of work helping women who never thought they could be leaders, or ever thought that they could do anything positive in their lives, that's the kind of work I want to be in.

I decided to go to the University of Nebraska-Lincoln to get a master's in leadership education. I specifically focused on leadership and gender. I continued volunteering for the Girl Scouts in Nebraska, helping with their outreach programs. I was asked to join their staff in Nebraska as an outreach specialist. Essentially I was helping our volunteers in the after-school programs. I was writing my thesis and I had this job. It was a crazy time in my life.

Courtney Despain

I moved back to Oklahoma in 2010. There was an opening for the Girl Scouts Council developing a training program for troop leaders. I transitioned into outreach after a year, which is where my heart was. I became the community programs manager, where I managed all of our outreach programs and grants from the federal, state, and local governments. I did that job for five years. A grant from the Department of Justice helped us work with women who were at risk to enter the juvenile justice system. My eyes were opened to the clear path for these women to be incarcerated. In a week, I would see the cycle of a young girl: She's low-performing at school, comes from a low-income household, she's a parent by her teenage years, and then she's in the justice system. And that's what made me want to run for office. I knew that if we didn't have policy makers in our state that understood the issues around incarceration and education, my job was going to be this ongoing cycle that would never end.

In 2013, someone asked me to run and I said no. I was speaking in a leadership class at UCO. I'm talking about my work with the Girl Scouts and being active in your community. There was this young woman sitting in this classroom and she raises her hand and says, "Would you ever run for office?" And I'm like, "No." She said, "Why not? You're passionate about girls. You want to make a difference. Why not you?" I thought, Maybe one day I'll run for city council or something small like that.

Two weeks later I get a message on Facebook from her boss. I later find out she works for a political consulting firm, Skyfire Media, that specifically recruits minority women, young women, and Democrats to run for office in Oklahoma. He asked me to set up a meeting. I'm thinking we can do a great public policy badge for the Girl Scouts. In that meeting I talked for two hours about the Girl Scouts and they kept asking me about my life and I'm like, Why do they care? There was a woman at the meeting who was the CEO of Sally's List. They recruit women to run for office and train them. She looks at everyone and says, "Does Cyndi know why she's here?" That's when they asked me to run for state representative.

Courtney Despain

I'm thinking, I'm young, I'm single, I'm not married [and don't] have kids, I am Asian-American, I am a Democrat, which is a minority in Oklahoma. Who is going to vote for me? I took a couple weeks to think about it. I just felt this tug in my heart. I had to come to a point where I knew even if I didn't win, I would be changing the conversation, inspiring other people to get involved in the political process. And it gave me a platform to share the things I thought were important for us in Oklahoma.

Skyfire Media ended up being my political consultants. They gave me a budget of $116,000. They taught me to call political donors to raise money, and they showed me how to do fundraisers. I have a pretty good online presence so we raised money through my website and on Facebook. Asking for money was really hard. I would drag my feet to make these calls because of the fear of rejection and trying to figure out a way to convince people that I was someone they should invest in. I have zero political background. I'm basically this random person asking for $500 to run against a longstanding incumbent.

You spend a lot of time knocking on doors. They coached me what to say, how to say it, and how to be myself while keeping my ideas concise so I don't spend too much time at one door. My consulting firm had three staff members constantly working on my campaign. I had about 100 volunteers helping me including family and friends and community members who knew me.

The process started the end of May of 2013, and Election Day was Nov. 4, 2014. I knocked on doors every day from January through November — after work and all day on weekends. Initially some of the conversations were really awkward. I'm not really good about following talking points. I taught myself to be really vulnerable. I would tell people about me, then ask them to share about them. Then I could find places where we could connect.

Courtney Despain

A lot of people were excited, but they were also hesitant. There's a lot of comfort in an incumbent. And not every door is friendly. People have a certain taste in their mouth for politicians. However they feel about politics that day, they take that out on you. Whatever is happening in the national media becomes your issue too. For example, I have to now defend my position and personal opinions on Planned Parenthood, even though it has nothing to do with my campaign. And there's the challenge of those who have no idea what's going on politically.

On Election Day, I was incredibly uncertain. I had this feeling that this wasn't going to be as wonderful as I wanted it to be. When I found out I had lost, I felt fine. My job that night was to go back into the room and remind my supporters that we don't give up. Don't think this is a defeat. Take the energy you have — anger, increased passion — to your own community. Go mentor, go volunteer at a school, vote. I said, "I'm going to run again." But I had no idea when.

I went back to work at the Girl Scouts. My consultants and I started 2020 Oklahoma, a PAC that raises money for Democratic women. Even though I lost, I wanted to use all my momentum from that campaign and the name recognition I had built to go into resources where I saw women were really hurting financially. Women don't have female donors to call. Women don't feel confident in giving to political campaigns. And women don't feel confident calling for money.

Courtney Despain

I left the Girl Scouts at the end of February. I just felt, You can do anything, Cyndi. You started a campaign from ground zero. I just felt this tug that it was time to leave. I was helping to organize the PAC and just taking a rest. In April, I got the call that my opponent, who had won the previous election, had passed away. There was going to be a special election to fill the seat. I felt, This man just lost his life, how awful. But I was excited about running again. Out of respect for his family, I took about a week to announce that I would run again. At the end of April I started making phone calls, went out knocking on doors, and I raised $103,000.

Leaving your job and taking a leap of faith like that is incredibly scary. And it's a huge sacrifice. I was essentially letting go of every security I had — health care, a paycheck, my identity. I had been with the Girl Scouts forever. When I told them I was leaving, they were like, "What the hell are you doing?" But I look back at that decision and look at where I am now, and it was exactly what I was supposed to do. I had to lose so I could gear myself up for something like this.

We started campaigning in April and Election Day was Sept. 8. I did everything like before in a much shorter timeframe. When election night came around this time, I still knocked [on] doors till the polls closed.

I started getting word that we had won the absentee ballot votes. Then [my team] called me into the little war room where they watch the votes come in, and they said, "Cyndi, you won, you did it!" My first reaction was, "Let me see the precinct breakdown." They were like, "Who cares? You won!" Having all these people rooting for you who believe in you, that's what makes me the most emotional and excited.

Courtney Despain

In Oklahoma, our legislative session begins in February and ends at the end of May. So now I'm spending my fall getting back into the district, talking to neighborhood associations and talking to the people I've been talking to for the past two years about issues that are important to them. When session starts, we spend a lot of time in committees and voting, and, of course, I'll be campaigning again in 2016.

One thing I would love women to know is be OK with losing and try again. The first time I heard that, I was so pissed off. I was like, Don't tell me I'm going to lose! We are women, we should be championing each other. But there is something in losing that helped me to reflect on my experience. It gives you an opportunity to become stronger. I have thicker skin now. I know I have a hard election coming up. But I know now that I can do it.

Get That Life is a weekly series that reveals how successful, talented, creative women got to where they are now. Check back each Monday for the latest interview.

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