Patricia Torres Ray's incredible journey
By Jennifer Vinas-Forcade , La Prensa de Minnesota
When she takes the oath of office on January 3, Patricia Torres Ray can look back on a 20-year, 3,000-mile journey that brought her from a small city in Colombia to the Minnesota Capitol - and ahead to a new challenge as the first Latina state senator.
Born and raised in Pasto, a regional capital about 75 miles from the Ecuador border, Torres Ray was the seventh of eight children in a middle-class Catholic family. Her father was a mechanical engineer and her mother a traditional, stay-at-home mom.
Although Pasto then had a population of about 250,000, "my world as I was growing up was a very small place," Torres Ray said. "It was a very sheltered life. I didn't know anything about what was happening in the outside world."
It was a life ruled by traditional family values. "My mother was so conservative, so afraid, she never wanted to take any risks; she wanted to do things the way she was taught. My father was exactly the opposite; he was very adventurous, always taking risks, inventing, making things. I don't know how they stayed together," Torres Ray said.
Education was a core value in the Torres family, and Torres Ray spent most of her days, from early morning to late afternoon, at a girls-only school. She had numerous friends among the boys and girls in her neighborhood, and in the "very safe community" of Pasto they enjoyed "the privilege of being outside until late in the evening without [our] parents having to worry." Friendships were very close, she said. "We considered each other family."
"I really wanted to go to college," Torres Ray recalled. "I wanted to work on social issues. ... I had a vision of being an attorney and changing things." Later, as a law student at the university in Pasto, she joined classmates and professors on social projects, traveling in rural areas and working mainly with peasants and women. It was through these projects that Patricia met her husband, Jack Ray, a native Minnesotan.
Jack was an exchange student at a university in Bogota, the Colombian capital. He wanted to do fieldwork with peasants, and Torres Ray's older brother, Guillermo, invited him to work with Fundación Social in Pasto.
Jack lived with the Torres family for a year, and Torres Ray joined Guillermo and Jack in the work of Fundación Social. After some months, she and Jack began dating, and at the end of the year, "he asked me to marry him because he had to go back" to Minnesota, she said, "I thought it was a wonderful thing."
When Jack's parents heard of the wedding plans, they got in touch with the Torres family, sending information and pictures. "My parents knew Jack well, they accepted him and loved him," said Torres Ray. "My family felt his family was good and strong, [that] I was going to be OK." The two families met in Pasto for the wedding and, soon after, the couple moved to Minnesota.
"I didn't have a plan," Torres Ray remembered. "When you're young and in love, life is an adventure." The reality wasn't quite so romantic. Arriving in the U.S. unable to speak English and with no knowledge of the community was "very hard" for her, she recalled. "I arrived in November, this place was so lonely, there was nobody in the streets, it seemed like no one talked to me."
Torres Ray first studied English at an institute for refugees, where she advanced fast. She also learned about diversity and multiculturalism. Because U.S. universities wouldn't give her credit for her law studies in Colombia, she "wasted time" on random liberal arts courses - until advisor Paula Pentel told her the U of M would accept two years worth of credits toward an urban studies major. Torres Ray jumped at the chance, eventually earning a bachelor's degree in urban studies and a master's degree in public policy at the university.
Education competed for time with work. A year after arriving in Minnesota, Torres Ray started working in a factory. The job paid a decent wage and she "could work without speaking." Working the second shift allowed her to continue English courses and also to attend a Hennepin Country training program to become a guardian ad litem (the person who advocates a child's welfare in court). After working as a volunteer guardian in Hennepin County, in 1992 Torres Ray was hired part-time by the state's Office of Ombudsperson for Families.
It was about this time that Torres Ray and her husband felt they had achieved economic stability. They both had "real" jobs and started thinking about children. Two years later they had Tomas, now 12. Patrick, 9, followed.
In 1998, Torres Ray became a program administrator in the state's Department of Human Services, a position she held until campaign pressures required her full-time commitment.
Torres Ray's interest in politics grew out of her job as an ombudsperson. She delivered her office's budget request to the legislature, and realized there wasn't a lot of diversity there (in the early 1990s). Legislators asked about her experience as an immigrant and her language struggles. She was getting more and more frustrated by budget cuts in programs she cared about, and she began thinking that as a legislator she could have "a chance to work from the outside, from a position of influence."
Although Torres Ray thought about running for the state senate twice before, the first time Martin Sabo's daughter, Julie, announced she would run and Torres Ray didn't think she could compete "with that name." Then, when Sabo moved on after two terms, the DFL nominated current Sen. Wes Skoglund. And "when [Skoglund] announced he was retiring, I thought, ‘Who's going to run now?' But Jack told me, ‘It doesn't matter, you should run.' So I ran, and I'm glad I did."
Torres Ray remembers the beginning of her campaign, especially fundraising, as a great challenge. "I needed about $60,000, [and had] five months to get it together. I had to raise $2,500 a week! It seemed like an impossible thing" she said.
Asking for help, meeting with experienced fundraisers, calling everyone she knew from work and school, and even calling people she didn't know, were some of Torres Ray's tasks. Volunteers, her campaign manager and campaign chair among them, also played a role. Some volunteers approached her after appearances at community forums, others just showed up at her door.
But despite the hard work of loyal volunteers, Torres Ray said, "in the end, you're the candidate; you're the one who has to bring everyone together."
During the hectic final weeks of the campaign, Torres Ray knocked on doors throughout her district. Some residents looked surprised when they opened the door to a woman, who greeted them with a big smile and introduced herself:
"My name is Patricia Torres Ray and I'm running for state office. I'm here to ask for your support. ... Here's some information on how to vote and my phone number. If you have any questions, I'd love it if you called me. ... Take care, see you later."
Torres Ray's home phone number and address were included in the literature. In fact, she ran the campaign from her home. It was also at her house that friends, family and volunteers gathered on election night for a celebration of her victory. "We are here, and I think I'm the new senator for District 62," she said that night, concluding a bilingual acceptance speech in which she thanked everyone for their help and support.
Although she recognizes that her primary responsibility is to the voters of District 62, Torres Ray also is acutely aware that she has become a prominent member of Minnesota's Latino community. She realizes that she'll have to balance the two "small universes" to which she belongs. And she wants to continue her efforts on behalf of children.
For Sen.-elect Patricia Torres Ray, once a girl who couldn't imagine a world beyond Pasto, it's been an incredible journey-and it's far from over.
