Oklahoma mastered gerrymandering before it was cool

With all the national talk about redistricting and gerrymandering, it's worth remembering: Oklahoma was ahead of the curve.

Back in 2018, something unexpected happened. Oklahoma’s 5th Congressional District flipped blue after 40-plus years.

Before we get to the upset, let's go back to the wonder years, well, not the ‘60s and ‘70s wonder years of the TV show. My childhood wonder years — I’m talking about the 1990s.

Back when summer meant Super Soakers, long car rides with CD players that skipped if you even looked at them the wrong way. And the internet technically existed, but only if you had the patience to listen to it scream through a dial-up connection for five minutes just to hear “You’ve  Got Mail.”

Democrats once held a firm grip on Oklahoma politics, but that began to change in the early 1990s when the state started its slow shift toward the Republican Party. By 2005, Republicans had taken control of the state House. The Senate followed in 2009. By 2011, the governor's office was firmly Republican — and we haven't gone back since.

At the federal level, seats had changed hands over the years. But once one party locks down the state government, holding onto federal seats becomes the next priority.

That brings us back to 2018.

Oklahoma's 5th District had been reliably Republican since 1975. For more than four decades, it stayed red — even when Democrats still held power statewide. It was the kind of seat that people go, "yeah, I don’t need to vote" kind of seat. Until suddenly, you do need to vote.

In a surprise upset, Republican incumbent Steve Russell lost to Democrat Kendra Horn. Her campaign capitalized on changing demographics in Oklahoma City and ran an aggressive ground game in suburban areas long considered Republican strongholds.

The district also had a growing Hispanic population, a voting bloc that leaned increasingly Democratic.

Horn won by less than 1.5 percentage points. In political terms, that’s razor-thin.

The response came swiftly.

Following the 2020 Census, state officials redrew district lines. The goal was clear: break up the Democratic-leaning voting blocs that made Horn's victory possible. Those voters were split across multiple districts, diluting their influence.

The result? Republicans effectively secured control of Oklahoma's congressional delegation for the foreseeable future.

Some call it a victory; personally, I call it sad.

Democrats make up roughly 25% of registered voters in Oklahoma, yet they hold zero federal seats. At the state level, they account for less than 15% of the House and about 20% of the Senate.

Meanwhile, the number of registered Democrats continues to shrink in Oklahoma, while independent voters are on the rise.

On paper, it might look like one party is simply winning. But that doesn't necessarily mean opinions are changing at the same rate. 

It may reflect something else entirely: a loss of faith in the system.

In the 1990s, Oklahoma's voter turnout hovered around 60%, roughly middle of the pack nationally. That number hasn't changed much — but other states have improved. Oklahoma hasn't kept up.

By 2024, the state ranked dead last in voter turnout.

That drop-off mirrors declines in other areas.

Oklahoma has fallen from 32nd to 49th in health care rankings. Life expectancy continues to lag behind the national average. Since the 1980s, men in Oklahoma have gained about 4 years of life expectancy, compared with nearly 7 years nationally. Women have seen even smaller gains.

Education ranks at the bottom. Poverty rates remain among the highest in the country, with child poverty at 19.5% — well above the national average of 13.7%. The state also has one of the highest suicide rates in the nation.

Put simply: If it's bad, Oklahoma tends to rank in the top 10. If it's good, we rank in the bottom 10.

Some argue these outcomes stem from one-party dominance — that a Republican supermajority has too much control.

That may be part of the story.

But there's another possibility: when a significant portion of the population feels shut out of the political process, engagement drops. Fewer perspectives make it into the conversation. Leaders hear from fewer dissenting voices. Over time, decision-making narrows.

This year, with a winner-take-all approach, Democrats at the Oklahoma Capitol said they've been shut out entirely. While they represented a quarter of the state, they were allowed zero input during the state's 2027 budget negotiations.

And nationally, that trend seems to be accelerating. States aren't just competing over policy — they’re competing over who gets a seat at the table.

So as redistricting battles play out across the country, Oklahoma's experience offers a preview. 

Not necessarily of what works — but of what happens next.

Maybe the Sooner state will climb back toward the middle of the pack someday. Not because we changed course, but because others followed our same path.