WASHINGTON ― Back home, her nickname is the “velvet hammer.”
In Congress, she’s been out in front on virtually every priority issue for progressives, particularly abortion rights, climate change and Supreme Court expansion. Social justice advocates and organizers consider her one of their fiercest and most reliable allies in Washington.
“She’s an unsung hero,” as one longtime environmental advocate, Tiernan Sittenfeld of the League of Conservation Voters, put it.
Who is this bold progressive leader? Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez? Elizabeth Warren?
It’s the junior senator from Minnesota, Tina Smith.
Smith doesn’t generate national headlines like other progressive firebrands in Congress. She doesn’t have the star power of former presidential candidates in the Senate, like Warren or Bernie Sanders. She didn’t unseat a prominent Democrat in a primary election, like Ocasio-Cortez. And even though she’s been in the Senate for more than five years, she’s still junior to many colleagues.
Smith also doesn’t give a shit about making national news. She’d certainly use that choice word, too, given the profane salty streak that runs through her otherwise disarming “Minnesota nice” disposition. Smith isn’t looking for a spotlight. She never even planned to be a senator or to hold elected office. She was unceremoniously appointed to her seat in January 2018 after Democratic Sen. Al Franken resigned amid sexual harassment allegations.
There’s a reason she was elevated to a leadership role she wasn’t looking for ― and why it’s happened throughout her career, taking her from community organizer to behind-the-scenes adviser to higher office. The skills she sharpened as an organizer have earned her a reputation as a savvy operator who knows how to build coalitions and get results.
It’s why Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak (D) chose Smith to be his chief of staff in 2006, plucking her from her job as vice president of Planned Parenthood of Minnesota. It’s why she became a top adviser to Gov. Mark Dayton (D) in 2010, when she helped him narrowly win his gubernatorial campaign. It’s why he picked her to be his chief of staff after that, and when he ran for reelection in 2014, he picked her to be his lieutenant governor. They won.
When Franken resigned, Dayton had to scramble to fill the Senate seat with someone competent, who understood the needs of the state and who could handle the demands of the job with no time to prepare. There were certainly higher profile candidates. But for anyone paying attention, Smith was an obvious choice.
“Gov. Dayton, everybody loves him. But there’s no question ― not even a close question ― if you wanted to see something actually go down, Tina was the one to go to,” said Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison (D), who has known Smith for years. “Tina was involved as lieutenant governor as a kind of operator, convener, negotiator…. So people just got used to being like, well, if you really want to make sure things happen, you’d better call Tina.”
Smith’s rise to the Senate is as unusual as the way she approaches her job. She’s done with being compared to her predecessor, and she’s loath to contrast herself to her Senate counterpart, Amy Klobuchar (D), a longtime friend. She simply sees her work through the same lens that she always has: as a progressive organizer. If she is in the mold of anyone from her state, it is the late Sen. Paul Wellstone (D), also a grassroots organizer.
“In the Senate, you have to understand the sources of your power and how you use that power in order to move forward on big, important issues,” Smith told HuffPost in a recent interview. “The source of my power is that I understand how to organize people toward a common goal. I’ve been doing that my whole life.”
Except the difference now is that she’s directly shaping federal policies. A lot of them.
Last year, she worked closely with the climate movement to pull off a major win with passage of the Inflation Reduction Act, which included the largest-ever investment to fight climate change. She’s a go-to senator for abortion rights advocates, taking the lead on legislation to protect access to medication abortion and routinely countering GOP misinformation about abortion. She has fast become a champion for expanding the U.S. Supreme Court, surprising even activists in this sphere with her willingness to step up and become a leading voice on their issue.
Smith is such an unapologetic progressive that it’s hard to find an issue she isn’t using her position to advance. LGBTQ+ rights. Tribal sovereignty. Marijuana legalization. Child care funding. She’s even pushed President Joe Biden to act on issues that aren’t as mainstream, such as freeing the long-imprisoned Indigenous rights activist Leonard Peltier and using the 14th Amendment to go around Congress to raise the national debt limit by himself.
“Her issues all connect to each other,” said Warren, who works closely with Smith on a number of fronts. “Student loan debt. Reproductive freedom. Empowering Indigenous communities. Child care. They’re all about lifting up the voices of people who can’t hire an army of lobbyists but who need a government on their side.”
“That’s when Tina really digs in,” she said.
The Massachusetts Democrat said Smith’s behind-the-scenes work on child care advocacy stands out in particular. It’s been challenging trying to raise awareness on the need for universal child care, Warren said, and it requires constantly shifting the arguments for different groups they’re trying to bring into the fight, from small businesses to parents to teachers to fellow senators. Smith, she said, deftly navigates all of these discussions.
“She doesn’t walk into a conversation threatening to lecture people and break arms. She comes in very politely, always listening, but she knows exactly the point she is driving,” Warren said. “And she does not give up until she has pushed her idea all the way home.”
Spend any time with Smith on Capitol Hill and you’ll notice that she operates with an ease that most senators don’t.
For starters, she prefers that you just call her Tina. That’s what she established early on with this reporter. That’s what her staff calls her, which is practically unheard of in the Senate, where elected officials want their senatorial title to be honored, thank you very much.
“This is our selection of black licorice,” she said, motioning to a bowl of candy sitting on a desk in her Senate office. “I am very fond of black licorice. And also Atomic Fireballs. And Hot Tamales. I eat like a 12-year-old.”
Always ready with a story, Smith said it was candy that powered her through the Senate’s last grueling vote-a-rama, which is when senators go into a session of voting on a limitless number of amendments on budget-related bills. The process is pretty miserable for everyone involved and often drags into the wee hours of the morning.
“This is the great thing about Fireballs; they don’t go bad,” she continued. “I ate a lot of Atomic Fireballs. But at 4 in the morning, they’re not that great anymore.”
“Some senators get alcohol,” chimed in Smith’s press secretary, Shea Necheles. “You had a bowl full of Atomic Fireballs.”
That’s another thing you’ll notice about the Minnesota Democrat: how happy her staff is. She treats them more like colleagues than employees. Many are former Franken staffers she kept on; many have worked in the Senate for years. Her chief of staff was Franken’s chief of staff.
Smith has a clear agenda, and it’s pretty simple. She’s not interested in higher office. She knows that at 65 years of age and with the Senate’s seniority system, she’ll never be a chair or ranking member of a committee, never mind in top leadership. Her mission is to use her role to push forward on as much progressive change as possible ― whether it’s passing bills, building relationships, mobilizing groups or speaking out ― and then call it a day.
It’s liberating, really. She floats freely among her Democratic colleagues, teaming up with them on legislation that she cares about and publicly calling them out when they stand in the way.
“This is bullshit,” Smith tweeted at Sen. Joe Manchin (D-W.Va.) when he announced he wouldn’t support the energy and climate provisions in last year’s Inflation Reduction Act.
Manchin later ended up sitting next to Smith in a Senate dining room. “‘This is bullshit,’ he quietly said to her. ‘Tina, I didn’t know you talked like that.’” It was a lighter moment between the two, and he eventually came around on the bill.
Smith is as comfortable working with Democrats in the Senate as she is with Republicans. She spoke just as fondly of her relationship with Sen. Kyrsten Sinema (I-Ariz.), who is not exactly a favorite among progressives, as she did with Sen. Mike Rounds (R-S.D.), her GOP counterpart atop a Senate Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs subcommittee.
Back home, Smith earned a reputation for being able to work effectively with virtually anyone, too, as lieutenant governor. She built a much higher profile than her predecessors, traveling around the state to advocate for the governor’s policies and getting much more involved in legislative dealmaking. She essentially became the face of Dayton’s administration, with his blessing, as he had health issues and was unable to travel.
“They call her the velvet hammer because she can go into a space and just command the room, but do so in a way where she is humble and thoughtful and people feel heard,” said Minnesota’s current lieutenant governor, Democrat Peggy Flanagan. “But also it’s because she’s not going to take any shit.”
The way Smith redefined the position is what inspired Flanagan to run for the job at all.
“A very good friend of mine said that’s where careers go to die,” Flanagan laughed about her job. “But watching Tina really completely change the role is the only reason, to be very candid, that I even decided that this was an opportunity that I would say yes to.”
If anyone is surprised that Minnesota has delivered one of the Senate’s boldest progressives, look no further than what just happened in its state legislature. Democrats entered this year with control of the executive branch, House and Senate ― a legislative “trifecta” ― and pushed through a generation’s worth of liberal reforms in just four months, launching the state to the forefront of progressive policymaking.
Minnesota now offers 12 weeks of paid family and medical leave, the chance for any resident to buy into Medicaid, free public college tuition for low- and middle-income families, a new child tax credit, free meals for all public school students, driver’s licenses for all residents regardless of immigration status, and stronger protections for unions, for abortion rights and for transgender youth who travel to the state for health care. That’s not even a comprehensive list.
None of these progressive victories happened overnight. They were the product of years, if not decades, of people organizing and building support for them. The key was having these policies ready to go when the time was right. In this case, the time was right the moment that Democrats took control of the government and began churning out legislation.
Smith helped to lay the groundwork for virtually all of those wins, Ellison said.
“Tina has a finger on all of that,” he said. “She shows up at meetings. She drives conversations. She is there. Even now, it doesn’t feel to me like Tina is off in Washington, in some faraway place. She is a Minnesota person, and she knows the state issues as well as anyone.”
National organizers in Washington are certainly glad she’s here, though. On a rainy Thursday morning last month, Smith joined them for a rally on the steps of the Supreme Court, calling for court expansion in the aftermath of Roe v. Wade being struck down. The event was organized by the progressive judicial advocacy group Demand Justice.
“I am here today because I understand the Supreme Court is fundamental for democracy and for the rule of law. And I understand that it is broken,” Smith told the crowd. “When you are a citizen of a great democracy and you realize something is broken, you can’t just turn away. You can’t just wring your hands. You have to be willing to get down and make a commitment to fixing the problem.”
She thanked Sen. Ed Markey (D-Mass.) for introducing legislation to expand the court, from nine seats to 13. But Smith said most of the credit is due to the advocates who have done the work to even get this issue on senators’ radars.
“Mostly, I want to thank the activists and the organizers who are using their power and their voices to lift up this issue and help us come to grips with something that is fundamentally important for us to understand,” she said.
Smith was the second senator to sign on to Markey’s legislation two years ago. It was a shock to Brian Fallon, co-founder of Demand Justice and a longtime Democratic operative, who conceded to HuffPost that she hadn’t been on his radar at that point as someone willing to help lead the court expansion fight.
Fallon first engaged with Smith in September 2021, when he noticed her tweeting about Texas passing the strictest anti-abortion law in the country. Smith vowed to do whatever it took to protect abortion rights, so Fallon tweeted at her that her words were “hollow” unless she supported expanding the court. To his surprise, the senator personally tweeted right back and zinged him.
“Always love when a man has the gall to question my abilities,” Smith tweeted. “I hope @brianefallon didn’t sprain a finger tweeting this from his K Street office. Sincerely, a former Planned Parenthood exec, receiver of death threats for my work, and decades-long fighter for reproductive rights.”
“She clapped back at me,” Fallon said with an embarrassed laugh.
But that exchange led to a dialogue between Smith’s team and Demand Justice. Within two weeks, Smith had joined Markey’s bill. And a few weeks later, Smith showed up to a Demand Justice event outside the Capitol and urged support for court expansion.
“I apologized to her for my tweet. She said, ‘It’s forgotten, great to be working with you on this issue,’” Fallon recalled. “She’s been one of the leaders on this ever since.”
He credits Smith with bringing momentum to the group’s cause ― Markey’s bill now has three co-sponsors in the Senate and 62 in the House ― and particularly credits her with influencing Planned Parenthood’s decision to endorse court expansion, getting one of the biggest forces in Democratic politics on board.
“The main thing about Smith, she’s willing to stick her neck out on things before it is conventional wisdom,” Fallon said. “Usually, the sequence is that advocacy groups coalesce around a proposal and then lawmakers follow. In a complete flip of the script, Smith’s early support for this proposal helped bring the advocacy groups along.”
For all the accolades she gets from colleagues and advocates, Smith doesn’t take herself too seriously. On the walk back to her office from the Supreme Court event, she recognized a familiar face on the street.
“Cokie! Cokie!” Smith called out to a woman passing by under an umbrella. In fact, it was veteran NPR legal affairs correspondent Nina Totenberg, not the veteran NPR journalist Cokie Roberts, who died in 2019.
Both of them had a laugh about the mix-up.
“I’m good, but not that good,” Totenberg told Smith. “I can’t come back from the dead.”
Smith didn’t seem embarrassed as we walked on. “I knew who she was, but it just is what popped out of my mouth. It’s like calling your kid by the wrong name.”
The Minnesota Democrat is often mixed up with other people herself. People regularly think she is Sen. Tammy Baldwin (D-Wis.). A reporter once called Smith’s office asking about Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) tapping her to lead on the Equality Act, a sweeping LGBTQ+ rights bill, when it was Baldwin the reporter needed. In another mix-up, The Hill, a Capitol Hill newspaper, ran a story about Baldwin featuring a photo of Smith.
Sinema actually called out the publication on Twitter, tweeting at the paper, “That is Senator Tina Smith of Minnesota, guys. They don’t even look alike.”
Smith and Baldwin get confused for each other so often that they made a spoof video about it, dressed in the same outfit, acting like the same people. Smith conceded there have been times when she’s even pretended to be the senator from Wisconsin.
She once walked past a group of students outside the Capitol and they shouted, “We love you, Sen. Baldwin!” So Smith shouted back, “Thank you!”
Except the students kept trying to engage, saying how much they appreciated the Wisconsin Democrat’s work. It started to get awkward.
“So I said, ‘Actually, I’m Sen. Smith,’” she said. “They said, ’Oh! We love you, too!”
Smith emphasized that she told Baldwin afterward that she’d briefly pretended to be her. The Wisconsin senator didn’t seem to mind.
“I think Senator Smith and I feel the same way: it’s not the worst thing in the world to be mistaken for a fellow hardworking Midwesterner,” Baldwin told HuffPost in a statement. “As long as folks don’t mistake me for a Vikings fan.”
HuffPost shadowed Smith for a day on Capitol Hill, watching her bounce from meetings with constituents to speaking at the Demand Justice event, to diving into complicated housing policy in a Senate Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs Committee hearing, to speaking at an off-site event about bipartisanship with Sen. Cynthia Lummis (R-Wyo.).
It wasn’t until the end of the day, when Smith was alone in the quiet of her office, that she offered, perhaps unintentionally, a deeper insight into why she operates the way she does.
She was musing about graduating from business school in 1984, the year she took a marketing job at General Mills before going on to enter the political fray. In her class of 135 people, maybe 25 were women, and all the women dressed to look like the men in their class photo. It was a reflection of how women were expected to behave in leadership roles.
“I came up in my life, in the business side and the political side, with a clear understanding that if I wanted to get in the room where it all happened, where there weren’t any women, I was going to have to figure out how to not be too scary to the people who already had the power,” Smith said. “Or they were just going to say, ‘Sorry, this room is full.’”
Women of her generation were taught to smile because people will think you’re mean otherwise, she said, and also taught not to smile too much because then people won’t take you seriously. It’s an almost impossible balance to strike. To Smith, women, including her, are often underestimated as leaders until they start to deliver results.
But it’s a systemic disadvantage that she turned on its head a long time ago. She figured out how to be nice, how to smile just enough and how to street fight until she wins. It means playing the long game. It takes the work of building coalitions. But it is how she wins. It is, after all, why she got her nickname, the velvet hammer.
“Sometimes it’s mistaken, that kindness is mistaken for niceness or softness, but that’s just part of it,” Smith said. “You show somebody that you’re not to be trifled with.”