Wickelgren Mikelson

I’m Maya Wickelgren Mikelson. My brother is Justin Mikelson Wickelgren.

You read that right; our names follow a family tradition of being the same—but different. To preserve equality, I’m named after my mom, and my brother has my dad’s name. Sometimes people mistakenly call my dad Mr. Mikelson, which I find funny. My multicultural family prizes equality. Growing up with a biracial mother and white father has made me attuned to racial differences, even if others can’t tell I’m part Black. Something else has been passed down in my family: math. My grandfather spent hours teaching my dad math outside of school, and my dad did the same for me. As a kid, I resented spending so much time on math, but now I realize it’s useful for almost everything, from science to politics, even art. My family’s heritage is rooted in equality and education, and I’m a proud Wickelgren Mikelson.

But that’s not all I am.

I’m also a debater. Like my grandfather, aunt, and dad, I appreciate debate because of its lessons on research and time management. I’ve tackled topics ranging from arm sales and relations with China, to domestic surveillance and education reform. I’ve learned that however powerful I think my argument is, my opponent could be just as convinced of theirs. That’s why research is important; it helps me anticipate my opponent’s position. I love the intellectual challenge of debate—so much that I’ve spent about 4,880 hours over six years (yes, I counted). Because of debate, I appreciate different viewpoints, and enjoy learning from them.

I’m also a data analyzer. I like to dig deep into polls to examine voting patterns. From 2016-2018, I read every FiveThirtyEight article, until it started publishing more frequently. Now, I read about every other article. My job at Decision Desk Headquarters, verifying the accuracy of inputed data, allows me to dig into county-level election returns so I can evaluate the effect candidates can have on split-ticket voting. I’m committed to using statistical analyses to help the public interpret data about politics and elections.

I’m also a politics nerd (as you can probably tell). I stopped listening to music after 8th grade and switched to politics podcasts, listening to them at 3x normal speed so I could (and can) fit more in my day. I joined Election Twitter, where I’ve met people from different backgrounds, from the Maine Democratic Party’s data director, to the editor of an election handicapping website, to kids my age who are just as excited about politics as I am. We’ve had some long discussions over the election maps I make with QGIS. I am both a consumer and producer of political viewpoints.

I’m also an advocate. When the pandemic hit, I gathered donated books and distributed them at summer free-lunch sites for kids aged 4-17. With libraries closed, I hoped to mitigate the summer academic slide many children would likely experience. I’m also committed to raising awareness about the harm of gendered language. I’ve seen firsthand its impact on my friend, who prefers “they” over “he” or “she.” Using gendered language like “guys” can make non-cis men feel marginalized. When I play online board games, people assume I’m male, referring to me as “he,” even though I go by DebateGirl. When I gently correct them, it makes the community more inclusive, and they often apologize. I’m going to continue to stand up for equality.

I am many things. I’m part of a family of math nerds. I’m a debater who learns through arguing about domestic and foreign policy. I’m a consumer of data in communicating ideas. I’m obsessed with elections and politics. These aren’t a random collection of quirky traits; they’re tools that have prepared me for my dream job: working for FiveThirtyEight, where I can raise awareness about the importance of rigorous data analysis in deciphering the complexities of election politics.