Under the lofty ceilings of the Andrew W. Goodwin House, with its neoclassical façade and lingering echo of early 20th-century grandeur, Dorian Palmer stood behind the podium to talk about his run for a seat on the Democratic National Committee.

Palmer was kicking off a run for YDA (Young Democrats of America) representative, and North Carolina State Senator Sidney Batch, North Carolina Representative Robert Reives, and Secretary of State Elaine Marshall showed up to deliver not just support for Palmer, but support for North Carolina’s Young Democrats.

The stately Raleigh mansion, built in 1903 for a prominent physician, now houses the North Carolina Democratic Party’s headquarters as a monument of Southern political architecture. Few of its original peers remain, and its portico still suggests temple-like authority.

But for Palmer, a Black Appalachian man, public servant, and father, this room was never meant for him. Yet here he stands.

“My name is Dorian Palmer. I’m a damn proud Appalachia man from black Appalachia. I’m a father. I’m a husband. I’m a committed servant, and I’m from the hills and hollers of Burke County, North Carolina.”

In those opening lines, Palmer carried a reverence for his roots, introducing himself not by titles, but by the hills and the hum of the hollers.

“Rooms like this one in this house wasn't made for somebody like me and mine, which is why I believe that the American dream is possible.”

Palmer holds that irony with unwavering conviction. His heritage, shaped by his father’s incarceration and his mother’s reliance on assistance, forms the bedrock of why he believes in lifting communities up.

In his words: "My father was incarcerated during my whole childhood and my mama did her part just to make ends meet. We relied on those social safety nets like SNAP benefits and Medicaid that Republicans, a block and a half away, are now choosing to cut relentlessly."

Before this moment, Palmer’s life was one of reaching back as much as he reached forward. He served as vice president of philanthropy for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Western North Carolina and worked as a correctional officer during the depths of the COVID pandemic.

Now, he wears another mantle: Director of Coalitions and Community Engagement at the N.C. Democratic Party, all from within halls that once overlooked a different world. It’s a role that feels earned, not bestowed.

Dr. Goodwin was born in Wake County in 1863. He started practicing in Raleigh at the age of 24. "Goodwin supported the medical clinics for blacks by teaching at Leonard Medical School" at the historically black Shaw University.

"I'm running because I recognize that in order for Democrats to win...we have to talk to folks like they're folks. I'm running because better is what lies ahead and not what's behind us. And I'm running because Black Appalachian folks deserve a voice and a seat at the table within the Democratic National Committee to talk about why my once blue, ocean‑blue community is now ruby red, and why it's gonna take a generation to overcome."

It is not just a campaign for him. It's a clarion call for inclusion and for storytelling. “Most folks in this room trust me enough to know that if I say it, I’ll move mountains to affect it,” he says, the air heavy with promise.

When elected twice as president of the North Carolina Young Democrats, he didn’t just lead, he transformed. “In the year that I was president, we raised $90,000. We built relationships that we hadn't had before… for years before. We called out bad faith legislators, and we took out, I'm gonna say it, Michael Wray.” 

Palmer has never been shy about rattling the rafters of the party when the moment demanded it. Believe it. He ain't scared. For him, pushing for change isn’t an act of rebellion. It’s an act of loyalty to the people he represents. That's the Burke County reckoning in him.  

A December 2023 article in the Raleigh News and Observer titled, "Group of young NC Democrats endorses challengers against members of their own party," stated that the "Young Democrats of North Carolina had endorsed two candidates in Democratic primary elections and that they were seeking to unseat longtime state House members who broke ranks to support some Republican legislation this year."

According to the article, Rep. Michael Wray of Northampton County and Rep. Cecil Brockman of Guilford County would face "YDNC-backed opponents in the March primary after they drew the ire of fellow Democrats" that year.

“This organization made a commitment to hold folks accountable and to help elect Democrats who won’t sell out the people they represent," Palmer was quoted as saying.

“This organization made a commitment to hold folks accountable and to help elect Democrats who won’t sell out the people they represent," Palmer was quoted as saying.

But in the Goodwin House on this particular day, in his speech for the Young Democrats DNC seat, Palmer closes with a nod to generational change and solidarity: “This race isn't just about me and them. It’s about the folks I have the opportunity to run alongside in a quest to strengthen an organization that was founded right here in 1928.”

Palmer’s trajectory, from the Appalachians to the capitol city, mirrors larger questions about rural representation in urban corridors of influence. Born in Burke County, he served on the Burke County United Way board, the Juvenile Crime Prevention Council, and worked to expand reliable internet and invest in youth and first responders.

He has worn many hats: foster parent, regional leader of Young Democrats, board chair for Big Brothers Big Sisters, each role bending the arc toward community building.

In the Goodwin House, the polished wood and columns speak of heritage and also of exclusion. Dr. Andrew Goodwin, its original owner, was chief physician at St. Agnes Hospital, once the largest hospital serving Black patients in the South. 

But in those moments and on that day when Palmer spoke from behind that podium, that space belonged to a Black Appalachian man who knew every of the room's mythic weight and history.

Even with all that being said about him, Palmer’s presence was more than political; it was also symbolic. He stood where opportunity once skipped over his kind, and he knew it.

Dorian Palmer didn’t step into that room in Goodwin House by chance. He earned it. His Appalachian grit, his life of service, and his fight to amplify voices once unseen converged in this moment.

Be on the lookout for Part 2: DNC Here I Am.

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