As New Jersey heads toward one of its most consequential elections in recent memory, gubernatorial candidate Mikie Sherrill is stepping into the spotlight with a message of determination, empathy, and resilience. A Navy veteran, former federal prosecutor, and current member of Congress, Sherrill is now seeking to become the next governor. For many voters, and particularly LGBTQ New Jerseyans, the stakes could not be higher.
We reached out to both campaigns for this story. The Ciattarelli campaign, despite multiple attempts, did not respond.
When we spoke, Sherrill greeted me with her trademark warmth and self-deprecating humor. “I’m really good at staying calm when it comes to governing,” she said with a laugh, “but not when it comes to my teenagers leaving laundry on the kitchen table.” That balance of seriousness about the mission but humanity in its delivery is a hallmark of her political style.
From the cockpit to the campaign Trail
Sherrill, 53, credits her time in the Navy with preparing her for political life. She attended the U.S. Naval Academy, served nearly 10 years as a helicopter pilot, and later worked as a prosecutor in the U.S. Attorney’s Office before entering politics.
“I was constantly having to do things I was afraid to do,” she recalled of her training. “Jumping from a 10-meter platform, being strapped blindfolded into a helicopter dunker flipped into water, parachute drills — it all trained me to compartmentalize and focus on the mission. And that’s exactly what campaigning feels like now. There’s so much chaos, so much to be worried about nationally, but my focus has to be on New Jersey, on what I can actually do to protect families here.”
That sense of mission drives her candidacy: protecting rights, addressing affordability, and defending New Jerseyans from political extremism. “Nobody wants to leave New Jersey,” she said. “We love it here. And especially in the LGBTQ+ community, there aren’t a lot of places where people feel safe. That makes it even more important to make this a state where people can afford to stay, raise families, and build community.”
Defending LGBTQ youth in schools
Education has become one of the fiercest battlegrounds in state politics, with LGBTQ-inclusive curricula and student protections under attack from conservative groups. Sherrill is unequivocal about where she stands.
“There is a loud minority of people who seem to want to attack vulnerable kids,” she said. “If a society does nothing else but protect its children, then it’s doing OK. But if it’s attacking young, vulnerable people, then there’s something really wrong — some moral decay at the heart of what’s going on.”
She specifically called out groups like Moms for Liberty, which have fought to restrict LGBTQ-inclusive education and roll back student protections. Sherrill views schools not just as centers of learning, but as safe havens. “We are in the middle of a youth mental health crisis,” she explained. “The last thing we should do is prevent kids from talking to trusted adults like teachers. If kids can’t talk to teachers, they’ll turn to the internet — and the hate and bullying they encounter there is the last thing any parent would want.”
For Sherrill, the defense of inclusive education is about more than policy. It’s about giving kids dignity and hope. “We need to create environments where all kids feel safe, supported, and included,” she said. “That’s not only good for LGBTQ students — it strengthens our whole community.”
Responding to the politics of division
Republican strategists have made transgender rights a wedge issue, leaning heavily on rhetoric around bathrooms, sports, and medical care. Sherrill is candid about the political calculus behind these attacks and about why she refuses to play along.
“They poll-tested this stuff,” she explained. “They found bathrooms, sports, and underage surgery were the issues that divided people most. And so, they just keep repeating them. But when you really talk to people, they have empathy. They understand these are kids, these are families, and they deserve our support.”
Sherrill points out the absurdity of the so-called “bathroom issue” with a dose of humor: “In the House gym, there’s one bathroom and anyone can use it. Somehow, everyone seems to be OK with that. It’s only in public that people create a problem.”
She draws inspiration from Congresswoman Sarah McBride of Delaware, the first openly trans U.S. representative. “Sarah handles this so well,” Sherrill said. “When Republicans tried to bait her on trans issues, she just said, ‘I don’t see how this is lowering costs for anyone in Delaware.’ She brings it back to real issues that affect families. That’s what we should be doing.”
Her approach is rooted in empathy and solidarity. “We’re all worried about our kids,” she said. “Whether they’re trans or not, we worry about their safety, their online experiences, their ability to thrive. Our job as parents, as leaders, as communities, is to protect them and support them. That’s what healthy societies do.”
Pride, history, and community
Though she has been a fixture at Pride events across the state, she was thrilled to hear that her interview would be coming out in October, LGBTQ History Month. “Now you’ve given me more to talk about,” she said with a smile. “The community has been such an important part of my support from the very beginning. Even before Congress, I was doing outreach after the Pulse nightclub shooting to make sure LGBTQ people felt safe. That work has stayed with me.”
For Sherrill, LGBTQ rights are not a side issue but central to the fight for democracy and dignity. Her opponent, she warns, would move the state in the opposite direction. “He’s very scary,” she said plainly. “He’s aligned himself with Moms for Liberty, he voted against marriage equality, and that’s just the beginning.
“It goes far beyond LGBTQ rights — reproductive rights, voting rights, all of it. We can’t afford to go backwards.”
A call to action
So, what can New Jerseyans do? Sherrill’s answer is as practical as it is passionate: organize.
“Yes, donations are important,” she acknowledged. “But the best thing you can do is get involved. Knock on doors. Phone bank. Show up at rallies. If you’ve been doomscrolling and feeling afraid, come out and be part of the community. You’ll see hundreds of people who want to make sure you are OK. That’s what gives me hope every day.”
Sherrill frames the choice in stark terms: a future of fear and division, or one of safety, empathy, and inclusion.
Sherrill’s optimism is hard-won, forged from both military discipline and political battles. But it’s also deeply personal. “I know, after talking to thousands of New Jerseyans, where we are as a state,” she said. “People care about each other. People want to build safe, inclusive communities. That’s what I’m fighting for as governor.”
As Election Day approaches, Sherrill frames the choice in stark terms: a future of fear and division, or one of safety, empathy, and inclusion. For LGBTQ New Jerseyans — and for anyone who believes in equality — the stakes could not be clearer.
