‘Deliberative’ Boise Rep. Chris Mathias navigates being Idaho’s only Black legislator
As the lowest-ranking member of the minority party, Boise Rep. Chris Mathias doesn’t hold much power in the Idaho Legislature. He didn’t get assigned to the committees he wanted in his first session — education, for one — and he sponsored just one successful House bill, something that’s not unusual for Democrats, who hold only 12 of 70 House seats.
But as debates raged over critical race theory and allegations of “indoctrination” in schools, Mathias had a lot of thoughts.
He remained silent on the floor when they debated the bill that names critical race theory outright. The 43-year-old representative saved those thoughts, instead, for the debate on a bill to approve the higher education budget. The bill cut $2.1 million from universities, including Boise State, Mathias’ alma mater. But it was a compromise from larger cuts that far-right House members wanted.
“Virtually every law and policy that we maintain has a disparate and adverse impact on people of color,” said Mathias, the second Black Idaho legislator in history.
He paused as he trembled.
“Housing, health, education, wealth, income — people of color always come out on the losing end. Always,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “And I don’t think it’s unfair to acknowledge it.”
That 11-minute floor speech on May 3, defending Idaho’s colleges and courses, made waves.
In the three days after his speech, Mathias’ inbox was inundated with hundreds of pages’ worth of emails, according to public records obtained by the Idaho Statesman. One emailer urged Mathias to oppose the higher education bill because critical race theory was “destroying our nation.” Another called Mathias “a stain and embarrassment to Idaho.”
“Teach your own child your warped thoughts and beliefs. Leave OUR children ALONE!” one respondent wrote, with the subject line, “Really??” on May 3. “Not sure where you’re from, but here in Idaho we don’t breed Marxism. We fight against it.”
But even more supporters had emailed him — officials from school districts, nonprofit employees and Idaho residents who were outraged that fears over what Republicans claimed was being taught had spiraled to dominate debates about education funding.
Mathias said that until he spoke to his wife of 15 years, he hadn’t realized his speech had been significant for so many people.
“Which I think is great, but again, it’s unfortunate that it had to be a big deal about something that isn’t a threat to Idahoans — like failed bridges, or traffic congestion, or lack of affordable housing” are threats, Mathias said. “I wish I had an awesome speech about those things.”
Mathias was elected in 2020 with 68% of votes for District 19. But before he was a state legislator, he had a history of working with educators, at Boise State University and as the chief academic officer for the Idaho State Board of Education.
Matt Freeman, executive director of the State Board, said Mathias is “very thoughtful and deliberative in his approach. He is not someone who’s ruled by passion.”
Freeman said he had never seen him display the level of emotion he did that day on the House floor.
“I think that was indicative of just really how important it was to him personally that his colleagues in the House understood the topic and what was being debated,” Freeman told the Statesman.
Working across the aisle is a strength, Rep. Wendy Horman says
Previous co-workers and colleagues describe Mathias as thoughtful, deliberate and reasoned. He does his homework, they said, and approaches policymaking by looking at data and facts.
Mathias, who also served in the U.S. Coast Guard with top-secret clearance, said Idaho residents often lump him into a group with high-profile national Democrats, such as House Speaker Nancy Pelosi or U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. He said it’s up to him to localize the politics — show them that he cares about Idaho, and that “I’m not the devil. I don’t have horns.”
Rep. Wendy Horman, an Idaho Falls Republican who sponsored the critical race theory bill, said she considers Mathias a friend. Horman worked with Mathias on the Complete College Idaho plan, aimed to boost the state’s college completion rates.
She had asked Mathias for his input in the bill on critical race theory, and included mention of ethnicity, not just race, by his suggestion. Mathias ultimately still voted against the bill.
But Horman said the fact that she asked for Mathias’ input on the bill, despite his low ranking in the House, is a testament to how much she respects him.
“Getting the perspective of people who are coming at the issue from a different angle can only improve our law and politics in this state,” Horman told the Statesman.
Horman praised Mathias for his ability to work with those across the aisle. She described him as collaborative, a policymaker focused on the data. She also said he was humble about his credentials — she had discovered that he was a veteran and had a Ph.D. long after she had first gotten to know him.
When Mathias spoke on the higher education budget, he said he had rehearsed the speech and carefully chosen his words — but “not once had emotion ever overtaken me” until the moment he delivered it publicly.
After Rep. Ron Nate, a Rexburg Republican, objected to his speech, House members took a break from the debate. Mathias said that’s when another House member told him, “Chris, if you keep talking, you’re gonna lose votes.”
“At that very moment, I thought to myself, ‘What do I want right now?’” Mathias said. “Do I want to continue to talk and share all of the things that I’ve been thinking about for a month … or do I want this bill to pass? And I knew, I need this bill to pass.”
Mathias said he’s learned this year that sometimes, saying less can get a Democrat better results in the Legislature.
“Restraint is definitely something I had to learn this session,” Mathias said.
Critical race theory, indoctrination task force, debate ‘a big fat nothing-burger’
Republican Lt. Gov. Janice McGeachin in April announced a task force on claims of indoctrination against schools. The fourth and final meeting is scheduled for Aug. 26. Mathias said he hasn’t been watching them.
Educators nationwide right now are discussing the merits of SAT or ACT scores, and whether they’re accurate indicators of readiness for postsecondary education. They’re considering a shift to outcomes-based funding, a model to allocate state money to higher education institutions based on performance — measures like retention or job placement rates.
Mathias pays attention to that.
“Talking about social justice, and critical race theory, and indoctrination — not only is that bad because it’s just a big fat nothing-burger, but there’s also opportunity costs,” Mathias said. “There’s a displacement effect. If we’re talking about these things, it means we’re not talking about these other things.”
Mathias doesn’t anticipate significant changes for higher education in Idaho, but he said there’s a thirst for better K-12 funding.
But for the next legislative session, Mathias said he’s trying to be realistic, and is focused on more than education. For one, he hopes to address a law that prevented the children of National Guard members who died in a Black Hawk crash in February from qualifying for the State Board of Education’s military dependents scholarship because they didn’t die in combat.
A more controversial change for Mathias would be to raise the amount of money or goods that qualifies a crime as “grand theft” in Idaho. It’s currently any theft over $1,000, an amount that hasn’t changed since the 1990s.
“Do we want to send Idahoans to prison on felonies for stealing phones? Maybe. Let’s have a conversation about it,” said Mathias, who majored in criminal justice administration. “It’s a criminal justice issue, but it’s also a good government issue.”
People still see Mathias as an ‘other,’ Cherie Buckner-Webb says
Mathias recalled the first time he thought about racial injustice. It was when a teacher hit him in grade school, he said, and he couldn’t understand why or what he’d done. He was the only Black child in his class, he said.
“There was this look on everyone’s face. We’ve never seen that,” Mathias said. “But you know, I didn’t harp on it. I like him. I’ve moved on. And I learned important lessons about prejudice, and behavior and verbal cues.”
Mathias said the construct of race is difficult to avoid when looking at the realities of society.
“Black people are so few of the population. Why are there so many of us in prison?” Mathias said. “It’s not because we’re predisposed to criminality. It’s because of prejudice.”
Cherie Buckner-Webb, a former representative in Mathias’ district, became the first Black legislator in Idaho after winning election in 2012. She is also Mathias’ neighbor.
Buckner-Webb said the 2021 session was “one of the most tumultuous years I have seen in the Idaho Legislature, where race became such an issue.” She said she’s seen the Republican-dominated Legislature move backward on racial justice issues.
“He had a sense of what was happening, and I probably talked to him really candidly about my experience,” Buckner-Webb told the Statesman. “But when this year came, I don’t think anything I could’ve said prepared him any better than his life experience.”
Mathias said he learned to set egos aside, and work for the team, in the Coast Guard. He once faced a 100-foot wave, he recalled, about 500 miles off the coast of Antarctica. He was humbled by seeing the massive Ross Ice Shelf, which reminded him of how “insignificant” he was.
Despite all of his life experience, “folks will still see him as an ‘other’” in the Legislature, Buckner-Webb said. But a lawmaker, she said, needs to be committed to everyone in Idaho — not just one race, gender, party or district.
“He’s got that in his soul,” Buckner-Webb said.
When legislators aren’t in session, Mathias said he goes camping nearly every weekend with his 6- and 8-year-old children. He said he considers the future he wants for them. He pointed to declining life expectancy in the U.S. and declining wealth compared to older generations. He pointed to the lack of housing, the property tax increases and the other challenges he sees his children potentially facing.
He said he hopes policymakers can turn that around.
“I want my kids to live a longer, healthier life than me. I hope they make more money than me,” Mathias said. “I would just like to have them enjoy more freedom than me. And I want that for all our kids.”
