Debbie Wasserman Schultz has been having a bad run. She has become the butt of jokes on Saturday Night Live and the target of anger among Bernie Sanders supporters for her perceived favoritism of Hillary Clinton.

Now the longtime Democratic U.S. representative from Weston faces challenges — and challengers — as never before as she tries to hold onto her position as chairwoman of the Democratic National Committee and her Congressional seat.

"I've got pretty thick skin," Wasserman Schultz said at a campaign kickoff event last week. "You just have to tune out the noise."

But the cacophony is coming from all corners. On the homefront, she's facing her first primary opponent ever in Tim Canova, a Nova Southeastern University law professor and political neophyte who has raised more than $1.5 million in small donations, mostly from Sanders supporters. On the national scene, Wasserman Schultz has faced criticism for a presidential season that has left the Democratic party more splintered and wounded at the end than the beginning.

Republicans have started to rally around presumptive nominee Donald Trump, even while holding their noses.

But Clinton and Sanders are still battling as they head to California on Tuesday, with Sanders' self-described "revolution" getting more strident in recent weeks. The Washington, D.C. media was abuzz last month with talk that some Democrats want Wasserman Schultz out as party chair to placate Sanders, who has viewed her as skewed toward Clinton. The Hill, an outlet that covers Congress, published a blind quote from "a pro-Clinton Democratic senator" saying, "There have been a lot of meetings over the past 48 hours about what color plate do we deliver Debbie Wasserman Schultz's head on."

Wasserman Schultz said she intends to serve out the rest of her DNC term through the November election, and that she doesn't need to step down for the sake of party unity or to tend to her suddenly contentious local race.

"I can walk and chew gum at the same time," Wasserman Schultz told me.

Wasserman Schultz has risen far in her 24-year political career, going from the Florida House to the state Senate to the U.S. House in 2004. Her ascent has been relatively smooth in a district that's been safely Democratic. She remains popular with constituents, especially older Jewish condo residents who have been the backbone of her support. Wasserman Schultz has never slipped below 60 percent in a general election.

She turns 50 in September, and she has been through a lot in her dozen years in Congress. She survived breast cancer. Her colleague and friend Gabby Giffords was nearly killed in an Arizona shooting rampage, and Wasserman Schultz watched and helped as Giffords recovered from severe brain injuries.

Wasserman Schultz says she's ready to roll up her sleeves and work hard to beat Canova.

She has long been a punching bag for the right, but it must be disorienting for her to get attacked from the left, with Canova painting her as an establishment corporate politician. She insists she's still the same "grassroots" campaigner and public servant as when she started, but so far the optics feed into her opponent's narrative. Wasserman Schultz held a $500 bagel breakfast fundraiser in Fort Lauderdale on Tuesday, then held a closed event for supporters, but not the general public, at her new Davie campaign headquaters.

On the same day, Canova gave out free bagels to anyone who wanted to attend at a restaurant in Cooper City.

"She has a tin ear," said Canova, 56, of Hollywood. "I don't think she realizes how much of an insider she has become."

At her kickoff news conference, Wasserman Schultz was introduced by out-of-town and slightly out-of-touch surrogate Barney Frank, the former Congressman from Massachusetts. He flubbed by praising her work on the "Debbie Schiavo" forced-feeding debate a decade ago.

"That's Terri Schiavo," Wasserman Schultz corrected.

Wasserman Schultz then disparaged Canova as someone who has "never been involved in this community" and done "absolutely nothing."

Canova criticized her dig as showing a "lack of respect for the contributions of teachers to our communities." In an emailed statement, he wrote, "Apparently, Wasserman Schultz considers a career in teaching young minds and influencing policy to be 'absolutely nothing.' ... If [she] took the time to actually look at my record, she would see a lifetime of civic engagement, and academic and political courage."

The gloves are off. It looks like a long year ahead for Wasserman Schultz.

mmayo@sunsentinel.com, 954-356-4508.