As an advocacy consultant, I spend my days helping nonprofits and grassroots organizations use their voices effectively. I guide them in storytelling, strategic messaging, and navigating the policymaking process. But advocacy isn’t just something I teach—it’s something I live.
This week, I had the opportunity to testify before the Iowa House Education Subcommittee against House Study Bill 84, a bill that would prohibit schools from providing information on gender identity and sexual orientation to students in grades 7-12.
As an LGBTQ parent, I knew I needed to speak up—not just as an advocate, but as a parent, as an Iowan, and as someone whose own family is directly impacted by legislation like this.
My testimony wasn’t about abstract policy arguments or political talking points. It was about my family. My partner and I are both small business owners, taxpayers, and engaged members of our community.
But we are also a lesbian mom and a trans dad raising an eighth grader in Iowa. This bill, if passed, would send a clear message to our child—and thousands of other LGBTQ kids—that their families don’t exist, that their identities are not worth acknowledging, that their experiences should be erased from the classroom.
I won’t let that happen without a fight.
When I work with my clients, I emphasize the power of personal stories in advocacy. Facts and data are important, but stories move hearts and change minds. That’s why I share mine whenever I can. I know that visibility matters. I know that the act of standing up and saying,
“I exist. My family exists. We belong here.”
—matters.
Testifying at this hearing wasn’t easy. It was frustrating to once again have to defend our right to be acknowledged, to counter harmful narratives that seek to erase LGBTQ people from public life. But I showed up because I believe advocacy isn’t just a job—it’s a responsibility.
I don’t just tell my clients to speak up. I show them what that looks like.
Advocacy is about persistence. It’s about showing up again and again, even when the odds feel stacked against us. It’s about using every tool we have—our voices, our votes, our stories—to fight for a better future.
That’s what I did this week, and it’s what I’ll keep doing for my family, for my community, and for every LGBTQ Iowan who deserves to be seen, valued, and heard.
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