June is a month that asks us to pay attention.

It includes Pride Month and Juneteenth, two observances with different histories, but with a shared reminder that dignity, freedom, safety, and belonging have not always been experienced equally by everyone in our communities.

I’m grateful that I grew up in a family where inclusion was not treated like a political talking point. It was simply how people were supposed to be treated. My parents taught me to know people for who they are, not what they look like, who they love, or what assumptions others may place on them.

A lot of that came from the way I grew up, including many years around music festivals like the Philadelphia Folk Festival, where I met people from all different backgrounds, families, stories, and walks of life. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to be raised in spaces where difference was not something to fear. It was something to learn from.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also realized that being raised with inclusive values does not mean I automatically understand everyone else’s experience. As a white man from the suburbs of Philadelphia, I know there are struggles I have not personally lived. That means I have a responsibility to keep listening, keep learning, and take seriously what our Black neighbors, LGBTQIA+ neighbors, disabled neighbors, and all community members tell us about what makes a place feel welcoming or not.

To me, this is not about national political noise. It is about how we treat one another right here at home.

Local government should feel local. That means people should feel seen, heard, respected, and included in the place they call home. That is the kind of Hatfield I believe in, one built on dignity, listening, and neighbor-to-neighbor respect.