My Story
Hi, I’m Charles.
I grew up in Maine. I live in Portland. I pay my rent each month. I’m 32, I’m gay, and I use he/him pronouns. I teach people about negotiation. In 2020, I worked with Mainers across the state on the campaign to elect President Biden. Then I stepped up as Chair of the Portland Democrats. Now I’m running for State Representative. Here’s my story:
Chapter One: Service
I grew up in Freeport, where I learned the value of service from the example of those around me.
I learned about service from people like my grandmother, who left her home in Bath to serve as an Army Nurse in Fiji during the Second World War. Or from my parents, who served in their churches and chose careers—like healthcare and education—that involved helping others.
I learned about service from organizations like the Boy Scouts that emphasized volunteering in the community, and that commissioned us every week to “help other people at all times.”
I learned about service from opportunities like public school, where my teachers and coaches went above and beyond to create an environment of critical thinking, personal development, and civic engagement.
These acts of service from my family, community members, and educators launched me off to college and beyond—and continue to shape the person I am today.
Chapter Two: Justice
After graduating from Tufts University, I decided the best way I could start serving others was through ministry. So I stayed at Tufts as a college minister for five years, helping students figure out questions of life, faith, and justice.
While there, my own worldview was confronted with three big questions of justice.
First, I encountered a question of racial justice. It started with joining my friends to advocate for greater diversity and inclusion on campus. As a white ally, supporting this movement meant learning to believe people of color when they said there was a problem. It meant recognizing that when one of us experiences injustice, we all do. And it meant doing something to help, like collecting signatures, writing op-eds, and joining demonstrations. Since then, I’ve continued to learn about the history of racism in our society and about the importance of holding our government accountable to the standard of equality for all.
Second, I encountered a question of economic justice. As a college minister, I regularly studied scripture with students and was struck by the many verses that show concern for the poor and oppressed. So at a time in our country when the financial crisis had wiped out people’s savings, when bankruptcies and evictions were on the rise, and when income inequality was growing higher than ever, I was challenged by my faith to think about how economic justice should be shaping our society.
Third, I encountered a question of LGBTQ+ justice. One year, the religious organization I worked with at Tufts faced criticism over its beliefs and policies toward LGBTQ+ inclusion. My initial response was to hide. Instead of using the challenge as an opportunity for dialogue and growth, I looked for ways to lessen the tension and avoid the conflict. I failed to listen to LGBTQ+ community members who deserved more support from people of faith, I failed to defend LGBTQ+ students in our own organization who deserved to feel welcome, and I failed to accept myself—as someone who was discovering my own queer identity as a gay man.
Thankfully, I had LGBTQ+ family to help lift me out. People like my brother, who paved the way with my parents and made home a safer place to come out. Or friends from high school, who never gave up on me and transformed my own understanding of what real love could look like. And LGBTQ+ heroes, like those here in Maine, who worked tirelessly to change our country so that all of us can live our fullest lives without fear and without discrimination.
I’m not ever going to fail that test again. I’m not hiding anymore.