Pride.

We're back! After a brief hiatus (life has been busy, and I'll get into that soon), I'm excited to return with something that is deeply personal. Yes, yes I know there’s been a lot going on in Midway lately, and I’m excited to catch you up at a later date, but today isn’t about potholes, planning meetings, or my love for the farmers market, it’s June 1st—the start of Pride Month—and I couldn’t let the day pass without saying something. 

As the youngest openly LGBTQ+ elected official in Kentucky—and, quite possibly, the country—I know how rare it is to be in this position. I’m also the only openly LGBTQ+ elected official in Woodford County, which, if you know anything about Central Kentucky politics, is a little bit like being the only vegan at a barbecue. You stand out. This Pride Month has been a little different for me. It's not just a celebration, it's personal now. It's now a reminder of what it means to be seen, represented, and to lead with your whole self. I get to reflect and understand the magnitude of being in my position. 

I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: I didn’t run for office to make history. I didn’t file my paperwork thinking, “Time to break barriers and make headlines!” I ran because I love this town I call home. I saw ways we could do better—invest in our community, preserve our charm, and plan smartly for the future—and I wanted to be part of those conversations. I ran because I knew I had something different to offer and that there needed to be someone like me in the government, making decisions for my, and others, future. Voters didn’t care about my identity as much as they cared about what I was going to do for them—how I’d show up, listen, and fight for them. My identity wasn’t the reason I ran. But it’s part of the story—and after the election, I realized it was part of other people’s stories, too.

My win meant something to people far beyond Midway. I started hearing from folks across the state—young people, parents, rural LGBTQ+ Kentuckians—who said my story gave them hope. Let me repeat that again, they weren’t Midway voters. But these folks saw themselves in my campaign. They saw a place for someone like them in government. And that's when it hit me: visibility matters at all levels. Representation matters. That’s what Pride Month is all about, really—showing up, standing tall, and reminding people that our country is made up of so many different folks from so many different walks of life. Pride matters more than ever.

Why pride is important

You see a little bit of why Pride is important. Why it is important to me. Pride Month isn’t just about rainbow flags, themed merch, or a post on social media. At its core, Pride is about visibility, truth-telling, and survival. It’s about honoring the people who came before us—the ones who fought, marched, and demanded more—and continuing their work in our own way, right where we are. If it weren't for the folks that came before me, I would never have been able to live an open life and to become an openly LGBTQ+ elected official. 

For me, Pride matters because I know what it feels like to grow up in a place you love, while quietly wondering if there’s room for all of who you are. Midway is a town full of heart, history, and hospitality—but like a lot of small towns, it hasn’t always been a place where LGBTQ+ folks have felt seen or safe. In 2015, when the Fairness Ordinance was being debated, it was hard to see the anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment. Honestly, it got ugly. It's not about putting anyone above anyone else, it's about ensuring everyone is treated equally. Whether you believe in the "Golden Rule" or are religious, it's important to love thy neighbor. In the 10 years since that time, we've seen change, and I'm proud to be part of that change and to combat any stereotypes. 

Pride matters because it reminds people — especially young people — that they’re not alone. That they can live here, be who they are, and even lead here. It matters because representation in government, in schools, in churches, in parades—it all sends a message: you belong. Not just in big cities. Not just in safe spaces. But in every part of public life. Isn't that what everybody wants?

I often hear people ask, “Do we really still need Pride?” The answer is absolutely yes. Because even in 2025, LGBTQ+ people face violence, discrimination, and efforts to erase history. LGBTQ+ Kentuckians face discrimination, bullying, bad policy, and the weight of being told to “tone it down” or “wait their turn.” But Pride refuses to wait. Pride shows up. Pride says: we’re here, and we deserve to live full, joyful, meaningful lives. This isn’t performative. This is deeply personal. Pride Month is a chance to reflect, celebrate, and recommit to building a community where everyone can be themselves without fear or apology.

An Open Letter

All-

I know not everyone expects to see a blog post about Pride Month from their City Councilmember. And trust me, I didn’t run for office to write about myself. But I do believe that when you’re in public life, you have a responsibility to speak up—especially when it matters. And Pride Month matters.

I’m sharing this because being openly LGBTQ+ and in elected office is still rare. Not just in Kentucky, but across the country. And visibility matters. Not because it’s about me, but because it reminds people—especially young people—that they can live here, be who they are, and lead. It tells them they’re not alone. It shows them there’s a place for them at the table, even in small towns, even in politics. I'm doing this because it's something I wish I had when I was growing up. 

I'm here to remind folks that even in 2025, LGBTQ+ folks are still being threated. In the Kentucky Legislature, they repealed Governor Beshear's ban on Conversion Therapy. In Idaho, the government is calling on the Supreme Court to overturn gay marriage, something that was legalized 10 years ago. And there are still folks who are threatening violence to those who are simply living their authentic lives. These policies are creating fear where there should be understanding. It builds walls when we need bridges. And it distracts from the real work of building strong, safe, thriving communities for all.

The truth is, LGBTQ+ people aren’t a threat. We’re your neighbors. We’re the teacher who stays late to help your kid. We’re the EMT who shows up when you call 911. We’re the small business owner on Main Street. We’re the person who volunteers to coach your kid’s team, or run for city council, or serve on the PTA. We’re part of the fabric of this community—not some outside force to be feared or politicized. We're the same people you knew when we were growing up. We just happen to live a little differently than expected.

I’m proud of who I am. I’m proud to live in Midway. And I’m proud to serve—not in spite of my identity, but because of it. Because my perspective makes me better at listening. My experiences make me more empathetic. And my story, like so many others, is part of what makes this town stronger. I'm proud to work with the Fairness Campaign or the LGBTQ+ Victory Institute to show folks who we are and to work for a better future, for all. 

So this Pride Month, I’m asking all of us—whether you’re LGBTQ+ or an ally—to show up. Speak up. Celebrate the progress we’ve made, and commit to the work that’s still ahead. Because when one of us is treated with dignity, we all move forward. And to the folks that are reading that have reservations, that support the attacks on LGBTQ+ rights, that believe differently, let's talk. Not to argue, not to change your mind, but to show you and to explain that LGBTQ+ folks aren't a threat or a distant concept. We're your neighbors. We're part of the community. We're all humans who just happen to love or live differently than you. You don’t have to fully understand someone’s experience to treat them with dignity. You don’t have to agree with every part of someone’s life to recognize their humanity. 

To everyone who's read this far along, thank you all for reading. Thank you for caring. Thank you for making the world a better place. I'll leave you all with this: Pride is an ongoing fight for equality. Pride is year-round. We're here before June and we will be here after June. Happy Pride, y’all. 

Y'all means All.