The archangel slays a dragon: political novice Ysabel Jurado

Ysabel Jurado, lower right, poses for a selfie with Los Angeles city council members.

Nov. 6, 2024 1:54 PM PT

Ysabel Jurado marched into the Highland Park hipster bar Block Party on election night dressed to impress her cheering supporters.

Hot pink power suit and heels. Fuschia satin blouse. Hoop earrings. Hair tied back with a clip. A smile as wide as the double-digit lead she had over the incumbent, Los Angeles City Councilmember Kevin de León, in early returns.

My eyes went to Jurado’s neck. In an Instagram video the day before, she had worn a red and silver pendant of the archangel Michael, his wings spread out in triumph, a shield in one hand and a sword in another. She had it on again.

In the Book of Revelations, Michael and his army of angels cast Satan and his minions out of heaven. I couldn’t think of a better metaphor for the battle over District 14 that was ending that night.

For a year and a half, De León — “that old serpent,” as Revelations 12:9 would have called him — had stymied opponents who demanded that he resign from his Eastside seat for his role in a secretly recorded, racist conversation that scandalized the city in 2022.

Then came Jurado, a Highland Park native and first-time candidate who stunned L.A.’s political establishment by placing first in the March primary ahead of De León and two Eastside Latino assemblymembers. If Tuesday’s results hold, she will be the city’s first Filipino American council member, besting a Latino politician who has served as an assemblymember and leader of the state senate.

De León’s camp dismissed the primary win as an anomaly and Jurado as a not-ready-for-prime-time joke. In tense debates, the incumbent repeatedly called his challenger a liar and a complainer and openly theorized that she had faked a COVID diagnosis to have a debate rescheduled. His supporters spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on negative mailers and ads casting Jurado as everything from a puppet of outside interests to a usurper who would end nearly 40 years of Latino representation in the district.

Kevin de Leon speaks to supporters as election results are seen on a screen during an election watch party in Los Angeles.

In the last two weeks of the campaign, the Los Angeles Police Protective League contributed $445,000 to De León’s side after Jurado quoted a song with the lyric “F— the police” in response to a question by a student, who turned out to also be a De León aide, about defunding law enforcement.

The Archangel Michael is the patron saint of police officers, so I wanted to ask Jurado if her pendant was a sly dig at her antagonists.

I had no chance: the Block Party crowd swarmed her.

The 34-year-old single mother hugged everyone in the narrow bar area as she walked toward the patio, where the applause grew even louder. A volunteer presented her with a bouquet of white orchids — her campaign’s official flower — and red roses, the emblem of the Democratic Socialists of America, which supported her campaign.

“More people!” she proclaimed in happy disbelief.

One of those people was Nithya Raman, a member of the council’s progressive bloc that will grow to four if Jurado maintains her lead.

“You did it!” Raman told Jurado. “Incredible. Now, the real work begins.”

Next up was former Councilmember Mike Bonin. He and his young son, who is Black, were the subjects of some of the nastiest attacks on the leaked audio.

“My God,” Bonin exclaimed, “you’re the only bright spot in my evening.” At that point, Donald Trump already had a commanding lead over Kamala Harris.

L.A. Unified board member Rocio Rivas was there, along with Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez and City Controller Kenneth Mejia, who wore a warmup jacket done up like the flag of the Philippines.

Nearby was Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martínez, Jurado’s fellow DSA-LA member. I asked him how he felt, with District 14 residents doubling down on progressive politicians on a night when Trump was on the verge of the presidency and Republicans were taking the Senate.

Ysabel Jurado gives an upbeat speech to supporters at her election night party in Highland Park.

“It goes to show that L.A. has to take the lead on how to win with a multiracial coalition on issues that matter, and fight like hell,” Soto-Martínez replied. “She was able to speak to issues that Latinos care about, like housing and wages. And folks were looking for hope. She was able to give that.”

For every elected official present, there were far more regular folks, like Rose Hills residents Naida Serak and Roxanna Stroska. They showed me photos of shattered sidewalks in their neighborhood and senior citizens forced to use wheelchairs in bike lanes. The two said they invited De León and Jurado to a neighborhood meeting, and only Jurado showed up.

“I felt if Ysabel could do something, she would, even though she wasn’t even in office,” the 38-year-old Serak said.

“Kevin did nothing in his time to address our problems,” added Stroska, 53. She mentioned the food giveaways that De León ramped up across District 14 after the audio leak. “Instead, he played into the needs of constituents to survive.”

Axel Orozco said he knocked on doors across his native Boyle Heights and asked residents what they wanted from a council member. When most cited safety, he organized a meet-and-greet with Jurado and other local mothers at the Wabash Recreation Center.

“They liked her so much that a lot of them said, ‘Even if I can’t vote, I’ll tell my sisters or daughters who can to vote for her,” said Orozco, 24. “We did so much of this. Our legs may be tired, but those muscles came in clutch!”

Ysabel Jurado poses for a selfie with other Los Angeles City Councilmembers.

Lincoln Heights resident and business owner Memphis Perez didn’t vote in the primary. About three months ago, he reached out to Jurado’s campaign after the rent on his corner store rose dramatically. He said they connected him with the Legal Aid Foundation of Los Angeles, along with applications for business grants.

“Dude, that’s what made everything for me,” said the 44-year-old. “If Ysabel can do that for me with no power, imagine what she can do for any tiendita when she’s at City Hall.”

Jurado tried to make her way to a podium to address the jubilant crowd, but well-wishers kept pulling her aside for selfies or just to stand in her presence. When she finally got there, chants of “Ysabel!” drowned out her voice, inspiring Jurado to do a quick, in-place happy dance.

“My dad dropped me off,” she began, “and he said, ‘Watch your language.’”

The audience laughed. Then she got serious.

Speaking without a microphone in a soft but direct voice, Jurado said in a prepared speech that what motivated her to run was the audio leak.

“Once again, my community had been betrayed by our leadership,” she said — a reference to the parade of District 14 council members who have brought scandal to the Eastside over the decades.

“They ridiculed us and belittled us,” she said of her opponents, adding that they called her “every depraved slur in the book.”

Jurado cited the oft-repeated axiom of the Left: They tried to bury us but didn’t know we were seeds.

“And here we are,” she exclaimed, to roars of approval. “Unbroken, unyielding, unapologetically unyielding and present and blooming.

“They’re going to say that it was just luck or it was a fluke,” she continued. “I say we earned every step of our journey.”

She credited her team with knocking on 170,000 doors, shouting, “Put respect on my team’s name!”

“We are the orchids that grew from the concrete,” she concluded. “And no matter how much they stomp on us, we’ll rise more brilliant than ever before. Here’s to all of us, so let’s f— party!”

I pulled Jurado aside for a quick interview and immediately asked about the archangel Michael pendant.

“My dad gave it to me a few weeks ago,” she responded, adding that it’s the patron saint of his hometown in the Philippines. “Him and his friend said the St. Michael prayer every night so that I could be unscathed and brave. Things got tough in the end.”

How did she come out ahead of De León? I asked.

“It’s like an extension of the family parties we used to throw every week” growing up in Highland Park, she said, gesturing around us.

People ate from a buffet from The Park’s Finest, the delicious Filipino barbecue spot run by a friend of hers. A DJ spun remixes that spanned the eras, from “Stayin’ Alive” to reggaetón.

“That’s why we have the music and the food,” she said. “All these people are characters from my life, where we know each other and help each other. We’re just bigger now.”

Is she done citing song lyrics as a response to policy questions?

“No! Music is a different language and a way to access. Yeah! I don’t think I’ll ever quit.”

She then recited Nicki Minaj’s “Moment 4 Life” in her trademark dorky-but-charming mom way:

Clap for the heavyweight champ, me/ But I couldn’t do it all alone, we ...

Then, the Eastside’s aspiring archangel flew off to her night.