As Pittsburgh’s mayoral race heats up, a growing divide is surfacing — not just between candidates, but between neighbors, friends and even longtime community collaborators. We’re witnessing respected leaders fall out, meaningful partnerships dissolve and years of trust unravel over political affiliation.
This isn’t new. We’ve seen it before — during presidential elections and national policy debates. The stakes are high, emotions are charged, and people understandably feel compelled to take sides.
But here’s what I want us to remember: It’s OK if we’re not all on the same page politically. What matters more is that we stay in the same book — committed to the shared goal of building a better Pittsburgh.
In this season of political tension and division, I’ve been reflecting deeply on what leadership truly means, not just in title or position, but in spirit, in action and in intention. What troubles me most isn’t just the polarization that often comes with politics, but the deeper fractures it’s causing in our relationships, among friends, colleagues, neighbors and even families.
It saddens me to see so many impactful leaders — people I admire, people who have dedicated their lives to this city — fall out over who they support in an election. The truth is, people vote the way they do for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s personal experience. Sometimes it’s policy. Sometimes it’s proximity, or hope. And sometimes, it’s simply the belief that a certain candidate is the best vehicle to bring about the change they want to see. None of those reasons should disqualify someone from being respected, valued, or loved in our community.
I understand the frustration. I’ve felt it too. We all want progress. We all want justice. We all want a city where our kids are safe, our neighborhoods are invested in and our voices are heard. And ideally, yes, we’d all be on the same page, backing the same leaders, chanting in unison for the same vision. But life doesn’t work like that. And movements don’t either.
What I’ve learned — both through my personal journey of healing and through the work of building bridges between communities and police, between survivors and systems — is that there are many roads to the same destination. Just because someone isn’t walking the same path as you doesn’t mean they’re heading in the wrong direction.
Our political differences should never eclipse our collective power. The moment we start burning bridges with those who don’t share our political affiliations, we risk isolating ourselves from the very people who could help us build a better future.
Real leadership isn’t about convincing everyone to think the same — it’s about cultivating a space where people feel safe enough to think differently and still belong.
We’ve seen these divisions before—during presidential elections, national uprisings and local referendums. And yes, sometimes those divisions are rooted in painful truths that can’t be ignored. Sometimes, differences in belief reveal differences in values that deserve serious dialogue. But even then, I believe we can engage those tensions with grace, with empathy and with the ultimate goal of transformation — not separation.
In Pittsburgh, we are blessed with passionate changemakers. But passion without unity can become noise. We must be careful not to let politics distract us from purpose. The work doesn’t begin or end with a mayor. It lives in the everyday actions of community members, educators, entrepreneurs, artists, activists and elders. It lives in how we show up for one another. In how we hold each other accountable. In how we stay in relationships, even when it’s hard.
So to my fellow leaders, I offer this: Let us not forget that we are bigger than any election. Let us not allow our egos, our disappointments,or even our righteous convictions prevent us from collaborating for the greater good. We don’t all have to vote the same, but we all have a responsibility to lead with love, with respect and with the understanding that this city — our city — needs all of us.
The future of Pittsburgh isn’t in the hands of a single elected official. It’s in the hands of those willing to serve, to listen, to build and to unite, even when the signs in the yard don’t match.
Let’s lead with vision, not division. Let’s choose people over politics. Let’s fight for the city we believe in — together.
Leon Ford is a Pittsburgh activist and author. In 2012, when he was 19, he was shot by police in a case of mistaken identity, which left him paralyzed from the waist down.