Customer Advocacy Board

One of the most impactful acts of advocacy I’ve been involved in—and the one that continues to stand out—was running as the first disabled candidate for mayor of Charlotte, NC. That moment wasn’t just about politics; it was about visibility, representation, and breaking barriers for people with disabilities, especially in leadership roles where we are often overlooked or underestimated.

One of my most proud moments of advocacy occurred while a senior at NC State University, where I fought to change the accessible student ticketing policies and parking arrangements for football and basketball.

When I think about my work, one of the things I’m most proud of is the cultural shift we’ve created within emergency management. For too long, the needs of people with disabilities weren’t fully understood, identified, or integrated into disaster planning.

Sometimes advocacy feels like a marathon. The days are long, and the process can be slow. But every now and then, a project comes to life that reminds me why I put in the work.

I didn’t set out to be an advocate at all. It wasn’t anything I ever thought about or wanted to do. I was kind of reserved and didn’t really want to talk about my disability that much.

I’ve done quite a bit of advocacy on behalf of those with disabilities, like my son, over the years, both statewide and nationally and primarily with large advocacy organizations for the purpose of legislative change. My favorite experience advocating, however, was on our own, just my son and me, in New Orleans when the city was building a new airport.

During the Summer of 2004, my life was flipped upside down when a wave slammed me headfirst against the ocean floor. That day I shattered my neck and became a C4-5 Quadriplegic paralyzed below my shoulders and a power wheelchair user. If I could go back in time, I would tell my 18-year-old self as I lay in the critical unit that life can move forward in beautiful ways if you embrace the superpower of community and choice.

Unlike many guys, my midlife crisis did not involve a red corvette, but at age 48, I did opt for a midnight blue power wheelchair, complete with a tilt function to help me breathe easier. You see a fall in my basement injured my C-3, C-4 vertebra.   At least my spinal cord was not severed only bruised.  But because it took 12 hours for friends and coworkers and EMTs to find me, my incomplete cord injury meant I was only going to recover so much function. 

To my younger self I would say; I know right now you’re probably feeling like your world has been turned upside down. It’s overwhelming, terrifying, and you may feel like there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. But trust me, there is. You will find a way to not just survive, but thrive. It won’t be easy, and there will be plenty of challenges, but you’re stronger than you know.

For me, it’s the importance of patience with oneself. Healing, adapting, and learning new ways of navigating life takes time. It’s easy to become frustrated or discouraged, but understanding true strength comes from giving yourself grace. Know that it’s okay to move at your own pace and seek help when needed it’s okay to redefine success on your own terms.