For nearly 25 years, Durham’s mayoral leadership has been entirely Democratic.

Today, fewer than 10 percent of Durham County’s 241,828 voters are registered Republicans, while just over half are registered Democrats. But both parties, however, have been losing ground as their shares of the electorate steadily decline.

Yet despite the city’s long-standing Democratic leadership and lopsided registration numbers, a small but steady group of Republican voters remains. Through navigating a political landscape where their views are often in the minority, the Republicans of Durham press on.

Their stories reveal what it means to be a conservative in one of North Carolina’s more reliably progressive cities, and why some choose to stay politically engaged despite the odds.

To understand Durham’s current political landscape, it helps to understand its complex history. Durham’s is a past shaped by industrial growth, African American economic and civil leadership and sustained grassroots activism.

Durham began as a small railroad settlement in the mid-19^th century and grew rapidly after the Civil War, driven by tobacco manufacturing and banking industries that drew workers and investment to the area. This early prosperity laid the groundwork for a diverse, urban community rather than a rural one, setting it apart from many Southern cities and fostering a civic culture that engaged residents in local governance and public life.

In the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, Durham became nationally known for Black Wall Street – an economic hub of Black-owned businesses centered on Parrish Street. Entrepreneurs such as John Merrick, Charles Spalding and Dr. Aaron Moore built institutions like N.C. Mutual Life Insurance Company and Mechanics and Farmers Bank, helping make Durham a rare center of Black economic success in the Jim Crow South. This commercial strength not only boosted local wealth but also fueled civic engagement and political empowerment within Durham’s African American community.

That economic and civic foundation translated into political action. Organizations like the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People – originally founded in 1935 to promote voter registration, economic opportunity and political representation – played a critical role in expanding Black voices in local politics. The committee helped mobilize voters and advocates for social and economic rights long before much of the rest of the South did.

Durham was also a significant site in the civil rights movement. Local activists staged early lunch-counter sit-ins and protests against segregation in the late 1950s and early 1960s, drawing participation from students and religious leaders. These campaigns presaged larger civil rights actions that would sweep across the region and reflected a local willingness to challenge discriminatory policies.

Over time, this legacy of civic participation and coalition-building helped shape Durham’s modern political landscape. African American voters – buoyed by a long history of organization and turnout – became a core constituency for Democratic candidates. In elections stretching back decades, Durham County has consistently supported Democratic nominees at the national, state and local levels, reflecting the city’s alignment with progressive policies and community activism.

Today, progressive organizations such as the Durham People’s Alliance continue to influence local policy, advocating for affordable housing, economic development and inclusionary governance – extensions of Durham’s long tradition of community organizing and political engagement.

Amid this political landscape stands Sky Sanchez, a lifelong Durham resident and student at the University of Chapel Hill, whose political identity places her at the far edges of the local norm. A young, mixed-race Republican who traces her roots to both Black Durham and Mexican immigration, Sanchez sits at the intersection of several communities often presumed to vote Democratic. But her experiences, faith and family history have led her in a different direction.

For Sanchez, being a Republican in Durham is less a political stance than a lived identity shaped by her faith. She has voted in every election since she turned 18 – local, state and federal – and has even worked behind the scenes of campaigns, knocking on doors, tabling during presidential cycles and phone-banking for statewide candidates. Recently, Sanchez served as a precinct judge in Durham’s recent municipal election, helping set up voting machines before dawn and announcing the official close of the polls at the end of the day.

Her political concerns are rooted close to home. Sanchez worries about the direction of the Durham Public Schools, particularly the Board of Education plan that would relocate Durham School of the Arts – a building she sees as historically significant to Black Durham – to make way for administrative offices and development. She is frustrated by rising taxes and bond proposals that she feels lack transparency.

“There’s so much money we’re giving in taxes to Durham,” Sanchez said, pointing to projects she believes few residents asked for. Affordability, she fears, is slipping out of reach for families like hers.

Living as a young conservative in a progressive city, Sanchez said, often means keeping her views quiet outside her family. She has been yelled at while tabling for Republican groups on the UNC-Chapel Hill’s campus, posted about on YikYak and, in one drama class, felt “ostracized” after questioning a character’s politics.

“Imagine trying to start a conversation with someone and they already have their opinion about you,” Sanchez said.

Still, her beliefs are anchored in personal experience, particularly around immigration. Her father emigrated from Acapulco, Mexico, and several relatives came to the U.S. without legal status. Some have been deported for criminal offenses. That history shapes her support for stricter border policies.

“What’s the point of the law if we’re just going to throw it away?” Sanchez said.

She worries about trafficking, exploitation and the dangers faced by migrants crossing through cartel-controlled regions. At the same time, she stresses that people should be free to practice their faith and live safely within their communities.

Her political identity is also tied to her Christianity. Sanchez was once a liberal in high school before shifting right after encountering conservative speakers who emphasized issues like abortion rates among Black women. She now sees many political disagreements – especially among young people – as rooted in competing moral frameworks. Sanchez said she often feels that many young people approach politics with the kind of intensity and conviction typically reserved for religion, especially among those who aren’t rooted in Christian beliefs.

Navigating Durham’s political landscape, Sanchez admits, can be isolating. But it has also clarified what she wants from local leadership: lower taxes, safer streets and elected officials with long-standing ties to the community. And while she knows she represents a small slice of Durham’s electorate, she hopes young conservatives will help shape the future of the Republican party – not by abandoning their beliefs, but by grounding them more deeply.

“I’d like to see more of us actually being Republicans because of our faith,” Sanchez said.

Durham’s political expectations also intersect with Sanchez’s racial identity. As someone with Black and Mexican roots, Sanchez said people often assume she aligns with Democratic positions – an assumption she finds both inaccurate and frustrating. She described moments when classmates questioned whether she should fear deportation, or when others treated her views as incompatible with her background. While she has found acceptance among Republican groups, who she says have welcomed her in part because of shared faith commitments, she remains aware that her presence in those spaces can be perceived as unusual:

“I’m the only person there that looks like me,” Sanchez said.

In this way, Sanchez’s experience reflects the tension between Durham’s history and its present. The same forces that made the city a center for political activism and progressive coalitions have also created an environment where conservative voices – especially young, multiracial ones – can feel isolated. Yet Sanchez continues to participate: voting regularly, working precincts and engaging in debate. Her presence in Durham’s minority-party electorate underscores a quieter, often overlooked part of the city’s political story, one shaped not by historical majorities but by the individuals who remain politically active when they are in the minority.

Not all of Durham’s conservative-leaning residents fit neatly into the traditional Republican mold. Isela Coonley, a young voter raised in Durham, describes her politics as “somewhat in the middle of the two sides.” While she identifies more with the Republican ideology, she said the current representation of the party doesn’t always reflect her own beliefs. What continues to resonate with her are the foundational principles she associates with conservatism: “the emphasis on individual freedom, rights and personal responsibility.”

Coonley’s connection to Durham, however, is shaped more by daily life than by party platforms. She speaks warmly about the city’s growth and diversity, describing it as a place where different communities overlap and interact. Public transportation, something she has used often, has helped her feel integrated into the city and connected to its residents.

Still, the rapid pace of change presents challenges. As Durham’s population continues to rise, Coonley believes the city has struggled to keep its infrastructure aligned with its expansion.

“I think Durham should come up with a better way to adapt its infrastructure to meet the growing population, “ Coonley said.

She also worries that the city’s resources – from transportation programs to community services – often remain unknown to the people who could use them most.

When she looks ahead, Coonley sees young voters as increasingly influential in shaping Durham’s political future. She has watched peers participate in protests, join advocacy groups and serve as youth representatives in local political efforts. Social media, she noted, has amplified those voices even further.

“Young voters seem to be taking more of an interest in political advocacy,” she said, adding that online platforms have become central places where young people develop and express their political identities.

But what concerns Coonley most is the political climate itself. For her, the deeper divide runs not between left and right, but through the way partisan conflict now functions in everyday life.

“To me, an unfortunate truth is the fact that political parties or sides have only ever been divisive in my life,” Coonley said. “It is hard to watch both sides be so polar about their beliefs and clash so severely.”

Where Sanchez grounds her politics in faith, and many other Republicans anchor their long-standing ideology, Coonley’s perspective reflects a growing cohort of young moderates. Their relationship to party labels is complicated, their alliances fluid. Their presence is a reminder that Durham’s conservative minority is more diverse in its internal politics than its small numbers might suggest.

Durham’s political future will almost certainly be defined by its Democratic majority and its expanding unaffiliated population, but the experience of Republican voters complicates any simple narrative about the city’s civic identity. Even as their numbers continue to shrink, local Republicans remain active in the machinery of elections, in neighborhood discussions about public safety and development and in the difficult conversations about when political minorities and majorities coexist.

Their presence highlights broader questions facing the city: How does a deeply progressive community engage with dissenting viewpoints? What does political representation look like in a place where ideological competition is limited? And how do individuals like Sky Sanchez carve out a place for themselves when their views diverge sharply from local expectations?

These dynamics will shape Durham’s politics in ways not captured by registration numbers alone. As the city grows, welcoming new residents from across the state and beyond, political identities are likely to become more layered, even if not more balanced. Republicans may remain a small constituency, but their experiences and continued commitment to civic life offer insight into how minority political communities function in overwhelmingly one-sided environments.

For Sanchez and others like her, staying politically engaged is a choice rooted in conviction, not convenience. Whether working precincts, debating policy in college classrooms or simply choosing to vote, they assert their place in a community that does not always expect – or respect – them. Their stories reveal a quieter side of Durham’s political identity. One defined not by majority power but by the persistence of those who participate even when they stand apart.

Their engagement reminds the city that political participation is not only about winning elections or holding office, but about sustaining dialogue, challenging assumptions and ensuring that even minority voices are heard in shaping Durham’s future.