Why I said yes.

I was born in Flint. My dad and stepmom moved to Grayling in 1987, and I grew up spending summers and vacations here. When my son, Alex, was born in 2004, I moved back for good — I wanted him to grow up the Northern Michigan way, close to grandparents and cousins, with lakes to swim in and woods to build forts in.

Alex is 22 now. My parents still live here. So does one of my four siblings, and most of my ten nieces, nephews, and great-nephews. Two kitties round it out at home: LuLu and KiKi - Lillith and Katniss when they’re in trouble.

For fifteen years, I worked in Healthcare Administration. I took a leap of faith and worked with a small women-owned business, designing learning experiences for Fortune 500 clients. But things started to change in big ways in early 2025, and I began to feel something was off — not just for me, but for everyone. The corporate spaces quickly abandoned their previous commitments to their people, and the threat of AI made what was once rewarding work feel unwelcome. I’ve watched us become disconnected from each other. More scared. Less able to sit at a table with people who see things differently. I saw an opportunity to apply the same learning principles I'd been using for corporate clients to build communities.

In late 2025, I co-founded The Human Development Collective to start building the community I knew we needed — because I figured if I needed it, others did too. My partner, Jill, and I launched The Bad Pancakes Podcast to open the conversation about all the different things we encounter as imperfect humans. We hosted our first Women's Empowerment Summit at Treetops earlier this year, and we're now launching new local events in Grayling: The Craft & Connect Series and The Storytelling Series. All of this work is built on the same conviction: connection is how we grow as humans. They're all designed to invite people back into in-person interaction, where real connection gets built.

I also run GroundWorks Advisory, a consulting firm that helps growing organizations build the systems they need to grow well. And around town, I'm probably best known for community theatre — I serve as president of the AuSable Community Theatre, which has been one of the greatest joys from my own reentry into my community.

I figured this was the work I'd be doing for years to come.

But, then…

On April 15th, my phone rang. It was Faith Dandois, from the Crawford County Democratic Party. We'd met once, at the No Kings protest in Gaylord last fall. Faith told me no Democrat had stepped up to challenge Ken Borton for the 105th — and for some reason, my name had come to mind. Was I interested in running?

I was surprised, to say the least. I had three businesses, a podcast, a theatre season, and I'd never run for anything. Running for office isn't a small decision — it has real implications for work, time, and family. So I sat with the question for a few days, and talked it through with the people I trust most. What I kept coming back to was this: every piece of work I've been doing — the workshops, the summit, the podcast, community theatre — has been about reconnecting people with each other. Maybe the call wasn't asking me to do something new. Maybe it was asking me to do the same work in a bigger way.

So I said yes.

The 105th has been held by one party for 34 years. I'm not running against that history. I'm running because things are not okay, and together, our seven counties are stronger. People can't afford life anymore, and the squeeze is only intensifying. We have to organize across the district — and together— we can demand better.