My early experiences in Pensacola, Florida, shaped me. They taught me that communities can simultaneously hold tradition and progress, that one place can represent both challenge and possibility. But I also felt the weight of navigating my identity in spaces where not everyone could appreciate the full spectrum of who I was. The April 1st special election reverberated far beyond our city limits, sending Jimmy Patronis (R-FL) to Congress, where he will firmly stand alongside the wave of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation sweeping through Florida and beyond. 

This election had a price. 

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In recent years, we’ve seen Florida devolve into ground zero for legislation targeting LGBTQ+ individuals. According to AP News coverage of Monday night’s election, the margins are growing in favor of progressive candidates, and Republican support is thinning as compared to 2024. But this is splitting hairs. The results just aren’t enough for our current fight for freedom.

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While former Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-FL) is no longer in this district’s seat, books are still being banned from school libraries. Teachers are still forbidden from acknowledging the existence of families like mine. Healthcare decisions are still being wrestled from the hands of American people and their doctors. Each new law sends a devastating message to LGBTQ+ youth: You are not welcome here.

For me, this struggle is deeply personal. As a Black and queer person, I have seen firsthand how oppression doesn’t operate in isolation. My grandparents attended segregated schools in this very city, and their fight for civil rights echoes in today’s battle for LGBTQ+ equality. The same forces that once sought to deny their humanity now seek to erase mine. 

Faith, too, has been a battleground. Growing up in the church, I was taught about a love so great it knew no bounds, yet I also witnessed how that love was withheld from those who did not conform. I know what it feels like to sit in a pew and pray to a God I was told did not love me as I am. I know what it is to be asked to shrink, to be made to feel that embracing my full self meant turning away from my faith. And yet, I still believe in a love that is bigger than fear, bigger than exclusion, bigger than hate.

My experience in Pensacola is not just my own. 

Black and queer people of faith live at the crossroads of history, carrying forward the struggles of those who came before us. Our fight is not just about one law or one election; it is about ensuring that no child has to choose between faith and identity, that no family has to fear for their safety in their own home, that no one is denied their humanity because of who they are or whom they love.

While many of these battles unfold at the state level, the representative you send to Congress has a critical voice in federal protections — or lack thereof. 

When I visit family in Pensacola now, I see a city caught between Florida’s political reality and its own potential. For me, this isn’t about partisan politics; it’s about whether the promise of America extends to everyone. 

This is about whether a young Black and queer person in Pensacola questioning their identity can look to Washington and see someone fighting for their right to exist. It’s about whether parents of LGBTQ+ children feel secure raising their families under the protection of federal law when state protections are being dismantled. It’s about ensuring that the hard-won victories of previous generations — those who fought to desegregate schools, to secure voting rights, to demand dignity — are not undone by those who fear a more inclusive future.

I’ve grown a lot since my days running around the city’s Cobb Center and Cordova Mall. I’ve performed on Broadway and the West End, starred in and produced film and television, and I’ve earned incredible honors along the way. The Pensacola of my youth undoubtedly shaped me, but would it celebrate and make space for the proud Black queer man writing these words today?

We may have lost this election, but Pensacola is still the place that helped me become who I am. With the power of my vote, I will continue to help decide what America becomes. I hope my fellow District 1 constituents will join me in a commitment to keeping the LGBTQ+ vote alive there. I dedicate my words to all of you, those who understand that America’s greatest strength lies in its diversity, those who will fight for equity and federal protections, and whose vision for our shared future is inclusive of everyone — without exception. 

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