Lynnwood councilwoman faces backlash after calling pride flag 'more relatable' than the American flag
A Washington state councilwoman told a public gathering that a pride flag means more to her than the American flag, and suggested a local park's 27 U.S. flags could be swapped out for something more inclusive. The remarks, made weeks before Memorial Day in the year the nation marks its 250th birthday, drew swift condemnation online and forced an apology.
Lynnwood council member Isabel Mata made the comments on Monday, Fox News Digital reported, telling those present that as a queer woman who was not born in the United States, she sees the pride flag as a symbol she can relate to, and the American flag as one she would not display at her own home.
The councilwoman's target was Wilcox Park, known locally as "Flag Park," where 27 flagpoles fly various historical versions of the American flag. Mata questioned why the park devotes that much space to a single national symbol and floated the idea of replacing some of the flags with commemorative ones that better reflect Lynnwood's diversity.
What Mata said, in her own words
Mata's remarks, as quoted by Fox News Digital, left little room for ambiguity:
"To me, a pride flag is way more relatable than an American flag. I would not raise an American flag at my house because I wouldn't. I wasn't even born here. But I would raise a pride flag. As the most diverse city in all of Snohomish County, I don't think that I'm the only one."
She went further, casting the park's display as a reminder of historical wrongs rather than a celebration of the nation's founding and evolution. Mata said Lynnwood is "filled with so many beautiful cultures and diverse backgrounds and all of these things," yet the park presents "27 iterations of the same flag, some representing parts of American history that, frankly, are not great."
That framing, treating the Stars and Stripes as an obstacle to inclusion rather than the banner under which inclusion became possible, is a familiar move from the progressive playbook. It treats the flag not as a shared symbol but as a contested one, and it assumes the country's failures define the symbol more than its promises do.
The backlash was immediate
Clips of Mata's remarks spread across social media this week. The popular conservative account Libs of TikTok posted them on X, writing that Mata "says the LGBTQ flag is more relatable than the American Flag and she would never fly an American Flag."
Fox News contributor and New York Post columnist Miranda Devine responded pointedly, quoting Mata's admission that she was not born in the country and writing on X: "'I wasn't even born here.' Then shut up."
Other users piled on. One account, ConservBrief, posed the question many were thinking: "If you hate America that much, then why are you still here?" Commentator Jason Rantz noted the timing, the remarks landing just weeks before Memorial Day, a day set aside to honor the men and women who died under the very flag Mata dismissed.
The pattern here is worth noting. Elected officials who treat American symbols as divisive rather than unifying tend to discover that most voters, including immigrants who came here lawfully and chose this country on purpose, see it differently. The flag at Wilcox Park does not belong to one party, one race, or one era. It belongs to everyone who lives under it, including the veterans buried in every county cemetery from Snohomish to the Gulf Coast.
The walk-back
After Fox News Digital asked Mata about her comments, the councilwoman reversed course. She issued a statement that read more like damage control than a change of heart.
"I apologize for the way I expressed myself, and I mean that sincerely. The American flag represents the sacrifices of veterans and military families, and the promise that drew immigrants like me to this country. I should have honored that more carefully in my remarks, and I did not. I have deep respect for everyone who has served under that flag."
Mata insisted her comments "were not a formal policy proposal" and described them as raising "a broader question about how Lynnwood, the most diverse city in Snohomish County, might find additional ways to reflect its community." She added that any changes to public spaces would go through a public process with community input.
The contradiction between Monday's remarks and the apology is hard to miss. On Monday, Mata said she would not raise an American flag at her house and called 27 versions of it excessive. Days later, she praised the flag as a symbol of sacrifice and promise. Both statements cannot be equally sincere. The apology arrived only after the clips went viral and a national outlet came calling.
Elected officials are free to hold whatever private views they like about national symbols. But when a sitting council member publicly suggests that the American flag is less "relatable" than a pride flag, and floats removing U.S. flags from a public park, voters are entitled to take her at her first word, not her second.
A broader pattern on the left
Mata's remarks did not emerge in a vacuum. Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer introduced legislation in February that would designate the pride flag as a congressionally authorized flag, giving it protections similar to those afforded to the U.S. flag, military flags, and other flags recognized by Congress. The push to elevate alternative symbols to near-parity with the national banner has become a recurring theme in progressive politics.
None of this means pride flags should be banned or that communities cannot celebrate their diversity. The question is whether elected officials should treat the American flag as a problem to be managed, something to be diluted, contextualized, or replaced in the name of inclusion. For most Americans, the answer is obvious.
The broader tensions around national identity and patriotism among Democratic officeholders are not new. From congressional disputes over loyalty to the country's founding principles to local fights over symbols in parks and schools, the progressive wing of the party has repeatedly found itself on the wrong side of public sentiment when it comes to basic expressions of national pride.
Lynnwood is a city of roughly 40,000 people in Snohomish County, north of Seattle. Mata described it as the most diverse city in the county. Diversity, of course, is no argument against the flag. Immigrants who chose to come to this country, legally, through the process the nation provides, overwhelmingly did so because of what the flag represents, not in spite of it.
The 27 flags at Wilcox Park trace the evolution of the American flag from its earliest iterations to the present. That is not a display of exclusion. It is a display of history, the full arc of a nation that expanded its promises over time, often at great cost. To look at those flags and see only "parts of American history that, frankly, are not great" requires a selective reading that ignores the abolition of slavery, the expansion of suffrage, the civil rights movement, and every other chapter in which the country bent toward its own ideals.
Mata's initial remarks also raise a question about the incentives in local progressive politics. When an elected official's first instinct is to signal that the national flag is less meaningful than a group-identity flag, it suggests a political environment in which performative solidarity with subgroups is rewarded more than solidarity with the nation as a whole. That is a problem, not because group identity is illegitimate, but because a country that cannot rally around a shared symbol has a hard time holding together on anything else.
The recurring pattern of progressive figures treating American symbols and institutions with ambivalence is a pattern voters notice, even when the media moves on.
What comes next in Lynnwood
Mata said any formal changes to Wilcox Park would require a public process. Whether she or anyone else on the Lynnwood council pursues such a proposal remains to be seen. The fact pack leaves that question open, no formal measure has been filed, and Mata herself said her comments were not a policy proposal.
But the damage is done in a different sense. Residents of Lynnwood now know what their council member thinks of the flag that flies over their park, their post office, and the graves of their neighbors who served. An apology drafted after a national spotlight hit does not erase that.
The broader debates over defense, patriotism, and national symbols will continue in Washington and in communities across the country. So will the question of whether elected officials who treat the American flag as a burden rather than a privilege deserve the trust of the people who salute it.
Memorial Day is weeks away. The flags at Wilcox Park will still be there. And the voters of Lynnwood will remember who wanted to take them down, and who only changed her mind when the cameras turned on.




