I am launching a vigorous and progressive effort to flip NC-10. I’m running to try to protect our neighbors from being kidnapped, defend the Constitution, and fight for a better quality of life for all residents of the district.

I’ve been organizing since I was 17: with unions, farmworkers, tenants, LGBTQ movements, here and abroad. I’ve lived in Winston-Salem since 2013. I’m a tenured professor of Latin American, Jewish, and gender and sexuality history. In this city, I’ve organized tenants, helped implement anti-discrimination protections, and volunteered in every election cycle. I have been standing up to bullies my entire life. As a queer and trans man, who transitioned over two decades ago, I have always been out and proud to defend myself and the lives of my friends. I am not afraid of what they have to throw at us. Just as I have done at my workplace and in other communities, I make it my regular practice when I see others cave in to bullies to encourage everyone to stand with a larger group and say no, enough is enough.

This candidacy was born on November 20, 2025, on the corner of Sprague and Old Lexington in Waughtown—Winston-Salem’s Little Mexico—as Operation Charlotte’s Web spread across the region. Terrified immigrant families and allies held that intersection for twelve hours. People brought food, whistles, and supplies. ICE didn’t take our neighborhood that day. It turned into a party—music, burnouts, laughter. Joy. The kind of joy that comes when people stop hiding, when kids are no longer trying to protect their parents, when fear loosens its grip.

Over the following days, we kept organizing. We handed out vests so community members could recognize allies, trained people to use whistles, shared real-time information online, danced with a T-rex, and built trust. We started calling ourselves Fuerza Triad—Triad Strong. We got shirts.

Elected officials showed up for selfies. So we asked them for action. Could the Sheriff stop using unmarked vehicles that were spreading panic? Could Thanksgiving speed traps be reconsidered? I spoke directly with the local Sheriff. He told me he couldn’t fight the feds—they have a bigger badge. His advice to undocumented people? Stay home.

So we organized instead. We gathered 400 signatures in days, presented a petition, distributed food, diapers, coats—everything disappeared within minutes. We trained businesses, created bilingual materials, debunked ICE rumors, and partnered with other community organizations to verify hundreds of reports. Nonprofits wanted to help but were trapped in red tape. Politicians mostly stayed silent.

One incumbent told us plainly: you should run yourselves. The paramilitary violence continued to terrify immigrant communities across the state. So we decided to try.

These are tough times, and getting tougher. But we don’t have to just let things get worse. People across NC-10 and around the country are stepping up to take bold action. 

Together, we can meet this moment.