Get to know Daniel Steven Kleinman

We live in an age of easy courage. It takes no real bravery to join a mob online, to raise a torch in a crowd, to drape yourself in a flag and shout into the night. These gestures are cheap. The real cost comes later, when the smoke clears and we realize that we haven’t moved one step closer to a better world—only deeper into our own divisions.

The truth is, the torches we carry burn brightest when they illuminate our own failings. The flags we wave most proudly lose all meaning when they become weapons, sharpened edges of identity meant to wound rather than bind. What would genuine courage look like in this moment? Not more shouting, not more fighting. It would be the harder act of setting the torch down, of keeping the flag raised high but vowing never again to use it to harm.

That kind of bravery requires us to pick a side, yes—but to understand that the side we must truly battle is not the stranger across the line. It is the stranger in the mirror. The adversary is not the neighbor who votes differently, worships differently, or looks differently. The adversary is our own refusal to grow. The adversary is our addiction to anger, to certainty, to the easy out of blame.

We contain the key to this locked door. It is us, not them, who must unlock it. That is the paradox of bravery in our time: the fight is within, and the battlefield is patience, empathy, and humility. To win is not to conquer but to change, and to change not alone but together.

Even a small step matters. Even a little growth makes space for peace. Real bravery is not in taking up arms, or hashtags, or angry slogans. Real bravery is in the quiet work of unlearning hatred, of refusing to dehumanize, of daring to hope that our collective future can be brighter than our fractured present.

We can still wave our flags, but let them be signals of unity rather than war banners. We can still gather in the streets, but let it be to build rather than to burn. That is what courage would mean right now—not the courage to fight each other, but the courage to change ourselves.

*trigger* There was a sui***de down the block.  It impacted me in an unexpected way.  Sometimes the fight can be just too hard for a fellow warrior.  Sometimes they get tiered.  Sometimes, the fight just ends.  We all know it.  I cheer for all of our individual progress.  Let’s please keep it going. You are strong enough and equipped well enough to move forward.

I was told to write my thoughts:

I’m proud to be someone living with a mental health disorder. That may sound strange at first, but it’s not about celebrating the struggle—it’s about owning the truth. Too many people keep their disorders hidden in the shadows, silenced by shame or fear of judgment. But the reality is, when we speak up, we create space for others to step forward too. My statement here is simple: if you’re living with a mental health disorder, you are not alone, and your life is not defined by a diagnosis.

Wounds from battle can cut deep. The symptoms don’t arrive politely, they crash in—the way they can shake your foundation. They are devastating, no question about it. And yet, We’re still here. That matters. Survival, in itself, is a great act of defiance. It means that despite the storms, despite the weight pressing down, we continue to exist, to move, to try. Sometimes, that is the victory we need.

The risks are real. Suicide rates among certain groups are painfully high. This isn’t an abstract statistic—it’s a reflection of lives lost, of struggles that felt unbearable.   Each case carries its own unique shape and its own battles. No two people wear a disorder the same way, but the dangers remain ever-present, and awareness is part of that survival.

But let’s be clear: I call myself a member of the Mental Health Community . We have dreams, we set goals, and we stretch toward them with all the hope and effort we can muster. Sometimes those goals slip out of reach. That’s human life. Every person knows the sting of aiming high and falling short.

We are still here, still trying, still crafting ourselves, still not giving up.  Still in the fight.

And no matter where in the struggle you lie, being human is the most you can ask for, for that is all any of us truly are.

Labor Day is more than a holiday marked by backyard barbecues and end-of-summer sales. In Chicago, it carries the weight of history—the kind written in blood, sacrifice, and victory. Our city is where workers fought on the frontlines of the labor movement, demanding the eight-hour workday and dignity for every man and woman who labored in the factories, rail yards, and stockyards. Chicago has always been a labor town, and Labor Day is a reminder of how hard those fights were—and how much we owe to those who came before.

Some paid the ultimate price for what they believed in. The Haymarket Affair of 1886 showed the world that Chicago workers would not back down, even in the face of police bullets and public scorn. Union leaders and ordinary people stood shoulder to shoulder, believing that their lives were worth more than endless hours of toil. For many, those days ended in imprisonment or death. But the spark they lit could not be extinguished—it spread across the nation and into law, forever changing what it means to work in America.

Out of that sacrifice came victories that we now take for granted. The eight-hour day. The weekend. Workplace protections. The right to organize and to bargain collectively. Chicago’s labor struggles built the framework for modern American life, where a job is not supposed to be a life sentence but a path toward stability, fairness, and opportunity. That is the true inheritance of Labor Day, a legacy written not in textbooks, but in the lives of working families.

Today, every benefit we enjoy—from overtime pay to safety regulations—stands on the shoulders of those who would not be silenced. Their voices echo in the chants of striking teachers, hospital workers, and service employees today. Labor Day is not only about honoring the past—it’s about carrying that spirit into the fights of the present, knowing that the gains of one generation must be defended by the next.

Chicago is a labor town. It always has been. And when we step into the streets to march, we’re not just honoring history—we are writing the next chapter of it.

Dear Friends,

I fought for nearly a decade for our school board to become elected so that stakeholders and community members could be on it.

I worked with an amazing grass roots team to collect more than 2,100 signatures for my campaign for that office. 

Ultimately, our grassroots effort cannot keep up with my opponents’ challenges. 

The hearings, already stretching into their second month,  have sapped out my campaign’s time and money and we no longer have the resources needed to respond to all of the objections remaining. 

The Tribune asked me, “Did you challenge anyone?”

No. I did not Challenge any one because I believe in ballot access.

I am proud of the work that we did, and deep down, I am fully confident that we had the support to win it.  We had a winning message.  One that was city wide but LSC based.   Voters were responding. 

But it became a battle of lawyers, not voters, and we simply could not financially keep up. 

I know we would have made a difference on the Board.  My experience on Local School Councils, my experience growing up a student with a mental health disability, and my commitment to public education as organizer and lobbyist in Springfield where I helped win early funding for the Grow Your Own teachers program, would have contributed a great deal.

Ultimately, our grassroots organization  no longer has the resources to keep up with the objectors.  

I am therefore suspending my campaign for Chicago’s School Board 2024.

This is not the end. This is not a good bye.  This is a, we will never stop fighting, because we will never forget why:

We need to save Chicago.

Over the next few years, I will remain dedicated to continue my advocacy for Chicago Public Schools at the local level and for to participate in the block clubs of my neighborhood.

You have all meant so much to me. 

Thank you.  Thank you all sincerely.

And I continue to be Looking Forward. 

Daniel

Daniel Steven Kleinman

https://www.votefordanielkleinman.com

Amazing. I cannot thank you enough. 

Because of you, our people powered campaign pushed through the barriers of Chicago politics. 

Dear Friend,

I want to give you a complete campaign update.

First, I am feverishly pursuing institutional and grassroots endorsements.

For example, we have earned the strong support of Congressional Committeeperson Carol Ronen.  We are planning a joint effort to send emails to recruit volunteers.  I am extremely excited.

People are made excited when we talk.

Volunteering for a political campaign that advocates for a more just public education system offers a unique opportunity to make a tangible impact on your community's future. All students, regardless of zip code, deserves an exemplary education:

Volunteering for a political campaign that advocates for a more just public education system offers a unique opportunity to make a tangible impact on your community's future. As a volunteer, you can engage in a variety of activities.  You can even use our campaign outreach app so you can help from home. Reach out in neighborhoods and help organize events and managing social media outreach.

You can even use our campaign outreach app so you can help from home.

https://app.letsactivate.us

These tasks are vital in spreading the campaign's message and rallying support. By contributing your time and energy, you not only help to inform and mobilize voters but also promote policies that aim to enhance educational resources, improve school facilities, and provide better opportunities for students and teachers 

https://app.letsactivate.us

My Dear Neighbors,

Thank you.  My campaign for Chicago’s first Elected School Board has already been an amazing ride and it is all because of you.

My friends, I am really trying!  I need you!  Please walk with me!  Or donate so I can provide refreshments for my volunteers (https://www.votefordanielchicago.com/donate).  They need to be appreciated!

https://www.votefordanielchicago.com/donate