Denzel McCampbell is not shying away from the greys that have overtaken his beard he’s been wearing at full length for a few years now. Men that grow out their facial hair know how deceptive a salt-and-pepper beard can be; the greys do tend to age people prematurely, with people incorrectly assuming said beard wearers to be older than they are. McCampbell jokes that he can actually use that to his advantage.
“They” – “they,” being constituents, voters, other Detroit residents, whatever applies in the moment – “are probably like, ‘instead of 34, oh, maybe you’re a little bit older,’” the freshman Detroit City Councilman tells the Chronicle over smoothies at a coffee shop in his district. And maybe while trading on those assumptions, McCampbell can maybe help get his messages across easier.
Detroit has always had elected officials in their 30s; a prime example lies in 39-year-old Mary Sheffield, who spent all her 30-something years on City Council before ascending to the mayor’s seat last fall. But at 34, the younger-millennial McCampbell and his peers represent a rising generation of Detroiters that are moving differently than the ones before them, pushing the city in a new direction as they go.
McCampbell’s age group and younger did not grow up realizing the impact of electing Coleman Young as Detroit’s first Black mayor and keeping him in office for 20 years; any tangible changes in the city were felt when Mike Duggan, the first white mayor in more than 50 years, sat for 12. Having not been directly exposed to worst of the crack epidemic that gripped the city throughout much of the 1980s, they missed out onanti-drug campaigns of the following decade but were just in time for relaxed attitudes on marijuana use and legislation. And if you ask this demographic about floods, they’ll likely describe the effects of climate change taking its toll on the city almost every summer lately before they’ll talk about the spot for OGs downtown.
At 34, McCampbell voluntarily represents the OGs and YNs alike. He’s at an age where he can empathize with teenagers since his own teen years aren’t that far back, but is just old enough to be taken seriously by folks double his age. District 7, the western portion of Detroit that borders parts of Dearborn, Dearborn Heights and Redford, is especially populated with the older half. Where McCampbell connects is by meeting in the middle.
“I’m 34, so when I was younger, you had malls to go to, you had a skating rink to go to, you had places where I can just hang out with my friends and waste time being a teenager or whatever,” McCampbell says. “And what I see with the teen takeover is what I’ve said before: We’ve said that downtown is the destination for adults to go, so why would we not expect for teens to be downtown as well? There is no age limit on any part of the city.”
“We have a lot of seniors who bought their home – they don’t have a mortgage,” he adds. “And while we do have a lot of folks that maybe have been here for 50, 60 years, those folks have grandkids and great-grandkids that they’re taking care of. Having the leaders in position to expand the conversation [across age range]…I think I bring that to the table.”
Look across District 7, and you’ll find a few things in McCampbell’s purview exemplary of the generational divide in Detroit. The councilman isn’t old enough to have seen a Gremlin or a Pacer brand new at an AMC dealership, but must contend with environmental concerns of the site on Plymouth Road that once held the automaker’s headquarters. As summer approaches, there are heightened fears that Rouge River flowing through Rouge Park, which takes up 1,100 acres in McCampbell’s district, could flood – compared to a generation ago when the biggest fear about going to Rouge Park was, well, going to Rouge Park.
It’s why McCampbell campaigned on and continues to emphasize environmental justice policy, which doesn’t get much attention in Detroit on a citywide scale. “I really zoom in on the ‘justice’ part of it – it really is intertwined with everything,” McCampbell says.
District 7 is disproportionately affected by flooding more than some other districts so it may seem like a District 7 problem, but McCampbell cautions that the long-term effects could spread beyond his constituency. “If folks don’t have the resources to clean out their basements from the floods and mold is going into other things, that creates a whole, long-term type of public health aspect. We know that these 100-year floods will now be two-year or one-year floods, and that overall affects the air quality. There’s no wall that dirty air stops – it’s not like, ‘oh, that’s District 7, it’s not gonna go past there.’”
And if it’s not dirty air, it’s dirty dirt – whether from sites festering for decades with chemical runoff like the old AMC headquarters, or an increasingly alarming concern around contaminated dirt from the mass demolition of vacant homes in the city, raising questions about the previous mayoral administration’s handling of the waste.
“We’re thinking about the lack of fresh food in the district, right?” McCampbell says. “And one way that we can help confront that is to grow more local food, right? But also, we need to have clean soil, right? So how do we make sure that we have clean soil to grow fresh, quality food from?”
At his first budget roundtable with his eight Council colleagues at the mayor earlier this year, McCampbell was able to secure funding for additional environmental studies in the district. A more tangible budget win came directly from a chief complaint from D7 residents before and after his election: The absence of a recreational center.
McCampbell was able to land $4.5 million in public funds toward a new recreation center in the district, as well as an additional $20 million from the Detroit Pistons toward recreational efforts. “You cannot go into a meeting in District 7 or hear residents from District 7 at a city council meeting without hearing about the lack of a recreational center,” McCampbell says.
The city’s budget was approved just before Mayor Sheffield was on hand to announce Move Detroit, a new coalition of civic and business interests formed to attract new residents to the city and retain existing ones, something McCampbell supports but admittedly has affinity for the latter.
“I’m of the mindset that if we’re taking care for the folks who are already here and providing a well-resourced, thriving city for those folks, then people will come, right? Because they will see, ‘oh, that’s what’s going on in Detroit. That’s what I want to be a part of.’”
The city McCampbell describes sounds close to what he’s heard secondhand from his parents, who grew up in the city when Young was mayor. “And it was not only Coleman Young, but really the Black political structure that was taking place in the city as they were coming of age and raising a family. It was a feeling that everyone was being lifted up by the changes that they saw in the city.”
After attending Michigan State University, McCampbell returned to Detroit after he graduated in 2013, the year that Detroit filed for bankruptcy and Duggan launched a successful write-in campaign to become mayor. There have been improvements in the 13 years since, he said. “I don’t think anyone would say there has not been improvements in the city.
“What has been a missing factor for me is in those improvements, I have not seen everyone be a part of it,” he adds. The feeling of being “lifted up,” he says – “I felt that was lacking in what I saw.”
If McCampbell seems adamant on shifting more focus to constituents than the representative of it, and not the other way around, it’s with intention. It’s easy to forget that amid all the activity of that year, 2013 was also when former Detroit City Councilman Charles Pugh, then under fire for growing allegations of grooming and sexual assault, resigned as president after having been a no-show for several months, abruptly ending the tenure of Detroit’s first openly Black gay elected official.
Upon his election, McCampbell became the second – and, in real time, moved to the front of the fastest-moving generational shift yet to be seen in this city.
“What I’ll tell you is that it may have been on some folks’ minds,” McCampbell says about being gay, “but when I’m talking to the aunties and grandmas on the block, most of the time they were like, ‘oh, your name’s Denzel? Like Washington?’”
One could say that for once, name recognition isn’t a bad thing with helping a Detroit candidate get elected. The more meaningful takeaway is that the Detroit McCampbell knows, and is now helping to further shape, is one that’s far more accepting, understanding and forgiving than the one before.
An elder gay with more salt than pepper in the beard might scoff at McCampbell’s coming out story. He came out in high school to a supportive family and found even more queer friends hanging out at the Ruth Ellis Center and Affirmations after school. There’s no mention of sleepless nights trying to pray the gay away or threats of being disowned from the family, not even so much as some improperly quoted scripture. His first heartbreak wasn’t because of rejection from a straight crush, but when The Woodward Bar & Grille burned down in 2022 – “that was heartbreaking!” After returning to Detroit from East Lansing and getting into community organizing, McCampbell says he was surrounded by more folks, queer or otherwise, who created an environment of support and safety, and helped him understand intersectionality.
That’s not to say that there weren’t a few potholes in the yellow brick road. McCampbell’s campaign to join the council was dogged with the kind of salacious innuendo all queer people in the public eye face at some point. “One thing that I took to make sure was that people know who I am, which is why we did so much door-knocking,” he said. “Because I’ll tell you, there were whisper campaigns and folks trying to say, ‘oh, you can’t vote for him because he’s X, Y and Z.’ That did happen.”
McCampbell didn’t name the names of those specific detractors in this conversation. Two truths to consider in context, however: One, that McCampbell’s sole opponent to represent District 7 in last year’s race was State Rep. Karen Whitsett, who recently announced she would not seek another term in Lansing. Two, the Democrat-in-name-only Whitsett’s social platforms contain volumes of lengthy, conservative screeds – some of which strongly condemn homosexuality.
He’s seen some of Whitsett’s homophobic posts – none of which, to be clear, call him or anyone out by name — and has a diplomatic response reflective of a generation who grew up knowing anything they post on the internet could be used against them in the future. “I would just hope if there is someone who is wanting to be in public office and serve the public understands that you are running to represent folks from various backgrounds, sexual orientations, gender identities, income levels, race and religion. We have to ensure that those folks have a government that is ensuring their safety, their prosperity and their well-being – and for me, that is what public service is all about.”
McCampbell’s short term in office has been buoyed by outward support from his colleagues, particularly District 6’s Gabriela Santiago-Romero, who is also queer and marks the first time two out officials have served in Detroit concurrently. A notable moment came when Santiago-Romero introduced a resolution for the City to recognize Trans Day of Visibility, prompting support from D4’s Latisha Johnson and D6’s James Tate, who shared personal stories of trans relatives.
“It shows you don’t have to be homophobic or transphobic to get what we need in this city,” he says.
It’s not necessarily McCampbell’s call to answer, but a frequent request from Detroit’s queer residents is to address the need for more queer spaces. Since the fire that destroyed the Woodward, a true successor – that is, a gay bar that primarily caters to Black patrons but doesn’t exclude anyone who isn’t — hasn’t risen from the ashes. The Woodward’s clientele has migrated elsewhere to places in town like Menjo’s and in the suburbs like Soho in Ferndale.
McCampbell’s among them – and also senses that need for more as a resident. There are two gay bars, Gigi’s and Halo – the latter formerly known as Hayloft, yet another generational shift – in McCampbell’s district, but while he’s partial to them by default, he prefers Spot Lite on the east side, which is not explicitly a gay bar but has built a queer following. (“A little two-step, a little hustle – I love hustling,” he says.) And then there’s Easy Peasy downtown and Northern Lights in New Center. Those two aren’t gay either.
“[The Woodward and Gigi’s] were very important to me growing up, coming of age and being queer in Detroit in my 20s. I would love to see more of that,” he says. He then gestures back to the Ruth Ellis Center of his youth. “Not only clubs and bars, but restaurants and community centers, because it was impactful for me to have that, and I think it would be more impactful for more folks to have it.”
It wouldn’t be wrong to say that McCampbell is currently the most visible Black gay man in Detroit, and by default one of the most prominent gay men in Michigan politics period, taking residence on a short list that includes Oakland County Executive Dave Coulter and State Reps. Jeremy Moss and Jason Hoskins, among others. Much as McCampbell will continue to make it his mission to center public service, folks inevitably will be curious about his personal life.
He knows this, which is why when he’s out in public there’s a self-guided directive to “demystify and destigmatize being queer.” Yeah, you might see him in the streets, but you’ll never not see him on the block.
“What I’m trying to show folks is that yes, this is a part of my identity, but also a key part of my identity is serving you in public office,” McCampbell says. “Being queer, being in public office, being a young person…it’s, ‘oh, look at the grey in your beard,’ but also – ‘what are you going to do to get these street lights on?’”
