Kelly Brown (Wisconsin's 6th Congressional District)
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Kelly Brown (Democratic Party) is running for election to the U.S. House to represent Wisconsin's 6th Congressional District. Brown declared candidacy for the 2026 election.[source]
Brown completed Ballotpedia's Candidate Connection survey in 2025. Click here to read the survey answers.
Elections
2026
See also: Wisconsin's 6th Congressional District election, 2026
General election
The general election will occur on November 3, 2026.
General election for U.S. House Wisconsin District 6
The following candidates are running in the general election for U.S. House Wisconsin District 6 on November 3, 2026.
Candidate | ||
 | Glenn Grothman (R) | |
Kelly Brown (D)  | ||
 | Michael Heidenreich (D) | |
 | Joey Marschall (D) | |
| Kortney Oldham (D) | ||
| Aaron Wojciechowski (D) | ||
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| = candidate completed the Ballotpedia Candidate Connection survey. | ||||
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Endorsements
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Campaign themes
2026
Ballotpedia survey responses
See also: Ballotpedia's Candidate Connection
Kelly Brown completed Ballotpedia's Candidate Connection survey in 2025. The survey questions appear in bold and are followed by Brown's responses. Candidates are asked three required questions for this survey, but they may answer additional optional questions as well.
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My career includes work in memory care, tech support, veterinary clinics, and the Department of Veterans Affairs. I am also a dog trainer and Reiki practitioner, combining animal science with holistic care. I have volunteered with LGBTQ+ ally groups, disability advocacy efforts, suicide prevention, and mental health mentoring. I currently mentor others through the Eating Disorder Foundation.
I hold a Health Information Technology degree from Moraine Park Technical College and am completing a bachelor’s degree in Leadership and Personalized Studies at UW–Parkside. I plan to continue on to a master’s program. I am a single parent and the child of a disabled vet. I’ve survived long COVID, medical trauma, poverty, and the opioid-related death of my son’s father. These experiences shape my commitment to compassionate, community-rooted policymaking.- I bring firsthand experience with the systems Congress debates and leadership experience working to improve them. I’ve navigated disability, long COVID, housing insecurity, and the opioid crisis as a working parent. These challenges shape my understanding of healthcare, economic justice, and mental health policy. I’ve held leadership roles in 4-H, student government, and service organizations, including Vice President of my college’s student senate and Publications Chair for Circle K. I’ve also advocated for accessibility and equity on campus. I don’t just understand where systems fail. I’ve worked to make them better.
- Rural communities deserve more than survival, they deserve real investment and opportunity. I was raised on a dairy goat farm in rural Wisconsin and still live in a small town today. I’ve seen how underinvestment in healthcare, infrastructure, and housing harms rural families. My platform prioritizes support for family farms, rural healthcare access, reproductive and LGBTQ+ rights, clean energy, childcare availability, and affordable public transit between rural hubs. Strong local economies create stability statewide. Expanding rural broadband ensures no community is left behind.
- Everyone deserves the freedom to live fully, with dignity, safety, and care. My platform is built on the belief that people should be free to work, love, and thrive, as long as they cause no harm to others, to animals, or to the planet. That means protecting civil rights, defending bodily autonomy, investing in community care, and holding systems accountable to the people they serve. From healthcare and environmental protection to labor rights and public safety, I’m focused on policies rooted in responsibility, compassion, and collective well-being.
Today, the person I look up to most is my therapist, Sam. This July marks six years since I decided to give therapy another chance. In that first session, something shifted. Over many sessions, learned that I didn’t have borderline personality disorder. I had complex PTSD. I was also AuDHD. And over the years, I came to understand that I had been living with an eating disorder as well. None of that healing happened overnight, but Sam stayed with me through every step.
She saw me through the darkest part of my life. After surviving the ICU with COVID, I lost my federal health insurance. Sam could not take my Medicaid HMO at the time, but she saw me three times a week due to increase suicidal ideations and never sent a bill. Even now, with private insurance, she still waives co-pays because she knows I cannot afford them. I have never once felt like a burden.
Books that reflect this include:
The Body Is Not an Apology by Sonya Renee Taylor
Untamed by Glennon Doyle
Radical Acceptance by Tara Brach
Hood Feminism by Mikki Kendall
Medical Apartheid by Harriet A. Washington
Fat and Queer edited by Bruce Owen, Miguel M. Morales, and Tiff Joshua TJ Ferentini
You Have the Right to Remain Fat by Virgie Tovar
Fearing the Black Body by Sabrina Strings
Anti-Diet by Christy Harrison
Women Like Us by Erica Abeel
Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown
The Explosive Child by Dr. Ross W. Greene
White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo
I’ve spent my life listening to people who are often overlooked, in food service lines, hospital waiting rooms, homeless shelters, memory care wings, and in barns. I’ve sat beside people in grief, in crisis, and in recovery. I’ve heard the stories that never make it into legislation. That has taught me that compassion is not weakness, it’s the foundation of good governance.
I believe elected officials should understand the systems they’re shaping. Lived experience matters. So does humility. I’ve lived through housing insecurity, disability, medical trauma, and the loss of a loved one to overdose. I’ve also served in student leadership, volunteered through 4-H and community programs, and worked jobs where precision and accountability were non-negotiable. That combination, of showing up in hard times and stepping up when leadership was needed, shaped who I am.
I grew up on a dairy goat farm where I learned responsibility early. By five years old, I was feeding baby goats. By eight, I had started my first business. I have worked in veterinary clinics, memory care, customer service, tech, agriculture, and the VA. I have mucked stalls in subzero weather, managed lab logistics, and sat with grieving families during euthanasia appointments. I have also survived long COVID, medical trauma, poverty, and the loss of my son’s father to the opioid crisis. My strength does not come from theory. It comes from living what others only debate.
I am calm under pressure, deeply pragmatic, and able to find clarity in chaos. Whether serving in student government or organizing in my community, I have learned how to listen to people who disagree, hold space for hard conversations, and make decisions based on care and accountability. I have learned how to advocate, not just for myself, but for people who are rarely given a seat at the table.
It’s not enough to vote the right way. Elected officials should use their position to advocate, educate, and organize. That includes building coalitions, pushing for oversight when systems fail, and lifting up stories from their district that aren’t being heard. It means asking hard questions in committee meetings, drafting legislation that reflects lived experience, and resisting the temptation to perform for cameras while avoiding the actual work.
A representative’s job is also to act as a bridge, between local concerns and federal action, between people and government, and sometimes between conflicting priorities that all need attention. They should fight for resources that benefit their district while upholding the broader responsibilities of national service, justice, and constitutional duty.
As someone who has relied on public services, stood in long lines at underfunded clinics, and helped others navigate systems that were not built for them, I believe one of the most important roles of a representative is to center the experiences of those who are too often left out. Policy should be rooted in real life, not just party lines or polling data. Representatives should meet people where they are, not expect them to come polished and perfect to be worthy of help.
They prevailed.
They lifted others.
Everyone won.
If I could be remembered for anything, I want it to be that I never stopped trying, not when it was hard, not when it hurt, and not when it felt like I was the only one standing. I want to be remembered as someone who refused to give up, who carried others when they were tired, and who never mistook power for purpose.
I want my legacy to be about showing up for people who were told they didn’t belong. Disabled people. Queer people. Poor people. Survivors. People from rural towns who felt forgotten. People who were always told they were too much, too complicated, or not worth the investment.
I want to help build a world where no one has to earn dignity with their suffering. Where compassion is the default, not the exception. Where we choose care, truth, and justice, not just because it is strategic, but because it is right.
If my work makes it easier for the next person to rise, then I have done something worth remembering. I do not need statues or stages. I just want to leave behind systems that hurt fewer people and lift more of us up.
That confusion quickly turned to fear. When I entered my classroom, all eyes were glued to the television. Just moments later, we watched live as the second plane hit the second tower. Everything stopped. All classes were canceled. The entire school sat together, watching and praying. We felt helpless as we watched our country come under attack.
My first official W-2 job was at age fifteen, working as an animal care-taker and veterinary assistant at Columbus Countryside Veterinary Clinic. I stayed there for six years. I helped with kennel cleaning, surgical recovery, inventory, and vet tech support. Over time, I was trusted with more sensitive roles, especially around euthanasia care. I was often asked to be present during euthanasias at the clinic and was honored to be invited along on home visits as well.
I never saw it as a burden. I’ve always felt called to help animals pass as peacefully and comfortably as possible. I tried to be a calm presence for both the animals and their families. It was sacred work to me; the kind of work you carry with you long after the shift ends.
Taylor writes about radical self-love not as a feel-good slogan, but as a deep act of resistance in a world that profits off of our self-hatred. She connects the way we treat ourselves to the systems we participate in, and shows how healing personally and dismantling injustice are part of the same work. That framework changed how I view politics, activism, disability, and even community care.
Luna reminds me that it is okay to be different, to think differently, and to hold space for things that do not always make sense to others. She believes in people. She is kind without being naive, and strong without needing to dominate. That balance, staying soft while still standing firm, is something I strive for in my own life.
Eminem has been a significant part of my life in general. Even the tattoo on my back has a connection to him. I don’t always relate to the words, but the rhythm, pacing, and emotional intensity in his music have helped me stay centered during times when my mind was going a hundred directions at once.
I have lived most of my life navigating complex PTSD, undiagnosed autism, ADHD, and dyscalculia. For years, I internalized the struggle. I thought I was lazy, inconsistent, or too sensitive. I was told to try harder, stop overthinking, or grow up. I believed it. I learned to mask just to survive, but I did not understand why everything felt harder for me than it seemed to be for everyone else.
It took my freshman year in college for my chemistry professor to notice I might have dyscalculia. I got tested, she was right. It was not until I was 30 that I realized I am autistic and have ADHD. Everything started to make sense, the sensory overwhelm, the executive function challenges, the emotional intensity, the way I could hyperfocus one minute and shut down the next.
Once I finally got the right diagnosis and support, I was able to access the medication I needed. I was prescribed ADHD medication and, for the first time, began to reduce my anxiety and depression meds. I started feeling more regulated and less like I was constantly failing at being human.
The hardest part was not the neurodivergence itself. It was the shame that built up over years of being misunderstood. The missed opportunities. The pain of not being believed. Of being labeled too much, too emotional, or too broken. I carried that weight for decades.
Unlike the Senate, which was designed for longer terms and slower deliberation, the House was built for responsiveness. That can be a strength when it means uplifting local concerns, passing timely legislation, and responding to urgent needs. It can also create challenges when short-term political pressure overrides long-term solutions. But at its best, the House is where real people can be heard and where constituent concerns have a direct path to federal policy.
The House holds the power of the purse, meaning it plays a central role in federal budget decisions. Where and how we invest our national resources reflects what we value. That makes the House critical in shaping programs that affect healthcare, education, infrastructure, and public safety.
Because it has more members than any other federal body, the House also has the potential to be the most diverse. It can serve as a space where people from different backgrounds and lived experiences bring forward ideas that would otherwise be left out. As our country continues to grow and change, the House can lead by modeling inclusion, accessibility, and public accountability.
I often think about how different our laws might look if politicians could only earn what the lowest-paid person affected by their votes is paid. In the United States, disabled people can still legally be paid less than minimum wage. There are people working full time who still cannot afford housing, healthcare, or childcare. These are the people most affected by policy, and too often, they are left out of political conversations entirely.
I have experience in service leadership, student government, healthcare, agriculture, animal care, and veterans’ support. I’ve also raised a child as a disabled single parent while navigating housing insecurity and chronic illness. I have worked on the ground in broken systems and seen how decisions made in Washington play out in real life.
There is a common phrase about pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, but the original meaning of that saying was that it is impossible. No one makes it entirely on their own. Every person who has ever succeeded had help, whether from a parent, a teacher, a government program, a union, or a community. The myth of total independence isolates us. The truth is we are all interdependent, and there is strength in that.
We need to reconnect the working class and build solidarity across race, class, gender, geography, and disability. The issues we face — economic inequality, climate change, housing instability, rising healthcare costs, and the mental health and addiction crisis, cannot be solved in isolation or competition. They require collective effort, shared responsibility, and leadership rooted in care.
On the other hand, the constant campaign cycle can make it difficult for representatives to focus on long-term solutions. Too much time is spent fundraising, defending seats, and reacting to political pressure instead of doing the work. The short term can discourage bold policymaking, especially when representatives worry that taking a stand might cost them re-election before they even finish what they started.
I understand the value of accountability. I also understand how exhausting it is to live in survival mode, always looking over your shoulder and unsure if your efforts will be enough. That is how many Americans live every day, especially those facing poverty, illness, or discrimination. It is also how many representatives feel under this structure. The pressure is nonstop.
Rather than changing the term length, I believe we need to change the systems that make short terms so disruptive. That includes campaign finance reform, public financing options, and limiting the influence of corporate donors and lobbyists. When representatives can focus more on their communities and less on fundraising, the two-year cycle becomes less of a burden and more of a tool for public accountability.
The real issue isn’t always how long someone serves. It’s who has access to run and who gets the resources to win. We need to reduce barriers to entry for working-class, disabled, LGBTQ+, and BIPOC candidates. Campaign finance reform, voter protections, and stronger public ethics laws are essential whether or not term limits are in place.
That said, I do support reasonable term limits for certain federal offices if they are paired with policies that ensure continuity and fair representation. No one should treat public office like a personal entitlement. Officials should have to earn continued trust through transparency, accessibility, and results — not just name recognition.
I also support limiting the power of committee chair positions and leadership roles to ensure new voices can be heard and one person doesn't hold too much influence. We should be fostering a culture of mentorship, accountability, and service grounded in the needs of the people — not personal gain.
Sarah McBride’s leadership as the first openly transgender state senator in the country has opened doors for so many of us. She leads with heart, policy knowledge, and a steady moral compass. Jasmine Crockett brings fierce intelligence, a deep understanding of the law, and a quick mind that holds power to account in real time. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez leads from her lived experience as a working-class woman of color, and she shows what it looks like to stay grounded and principled under constant scrutiny.
I also admire people like Barbara Lee, who had the conviction to stand alone when it mattered most, and Ayanna Pressley, who leads with transparency and makes space for conversations around disability, mental health, and systemic inequality. I respect Katie Porter for breaking down complex systems in a way that serves the public, not just political insiders.
He asked for a ride to another restaurant that stayed open 24 hours. The one we were at was closing, and he had nowhere to go. I couldn’t offer a ride. My car was full of medical supplies from picking up my mom after surgery. But I sat with him and listened. He had come to the U.S. from Africa to live with his father. After a fight, his father kicked him out, and he was completely alone.
I spent nearly an hour calling shelters and outreach programs. No one had space. No one answered. He was not a criminal or a threat. He was just someone who needed warmth and safety. I still think about him and hope someone else was able to help him that night.
More than anything, I think about the fact that his story had to exist at all. In a just society, no one should have to earn help by how sad or persuasive their story is. No one should have to justify their need for shelter, food, or dignity. We are told to be moved by stories like his, and we should be. But what we should really be asking is why anyone has to suffer to be seen as worthy of care.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Too often, compromise has meant watering down justice or delaying necessary action. I do not believe we should compromise on civil rights, bodily autonomy, or access to healthcare. But I do believe in working with people who may have different views, as long as the goal remains to improve people’s lives. Finding common ground is possible when we agree that all people deserve to be safe, fed, housed, and heard.
I have seen how policies shaped without lived experience at the table can fail the very people they claim to help. That is why compromise must be paired with representation, transparency, and accountability. If you are not talking to the people affected by a policy, you should not be deciding the terms of their survival.
I would use this power to fight for a fair tax system where corporations and the ultra-wealthy pay their share, and working families are no longer carrying the burden. Closing tax loopholes, taxing extreme wealth, and ending corporate welfare would create the funding we need for real investments in people.
That includes universal healthcare, rural infrastructure, housing, clean energy, public transit, mental health care, and disability services. But it also includes repair. I support Black reparations and land return initiatives led by Indigenous communities. Justice is not radical. It is overdue.
Every revenue bill is a moral decision. I would work to ensure those decisions reflect compassion, equity, and accountability. I want to see more transparency in how those bills are written and more input from people who are often shut out of the conversation.
That includes investigating failures in healthcare access, veterans' services, disability programs, environmental protections, labor conditions, and public spending. These powers should be used to uncover where systems are falling short, not just when they become a crisis. Investigations can lead to reforms that protect lives, ensure funding is used effectively, and strengthen public faith in government.
The House also has a duty to examine how federal resources are distributed. That means asking whether policies and programs are reaching the people they were designed to help, including rural residents, disabled individuals, and low-income or historically marginalized communities. If funding is only helping those with privilege or access, then the system is not working as it should.
I also believe the House must take disinformation, voter suppression, and threats to democratic institutions seriously. When trust in democracy is weakened, oversight becomes one of the few tools left to rebuild it. But it only works if it is used with integrity and purpose.
As someone who lives in a rural farming community and works in agriculture and logistics, the Agriculture Committee would allow me to advocate for family farms, food access, clean water, and rural investment. The Energy and Commerce Committee covers issues that directly affect my life and district, including healthcare policy, broadband access, environmental protection, and disability rights.
The Veterans' Affairs Committee is especially important to me. I come from a multi-generational military family. My father was a disabled Vietnam veteran who struggled to receive care and support through the VA. I have worked within the VA system and understand both its potential and its serious limitations. I want to help ensure that veterans receive real, timely, and accessible care.
I am also passionate about workforce and education policy. That includes expanding vocational training, increasing support for disabled workers, and protecting the rights of working people. Having navigated higher education over many years while working and parenting, I want to make education and training more accessible for nontraditional students, caregivers, and disabled learners.
Accountability also means ensuring elected officials and public agencies are held to the same, or higher, standards as the people they serve. That includes enforcing conflict-of-interest policies, limiting corporate influence, and making sure reporting systems are accessible to the public. No one should be immune from scrutiny just because they have a title or political connections.
I support stronger protections for whistleblowers, publicly available budget breakdowns, and campaign finance reform that reduces the role of dark money in politics. I also believe in building tools and systems that make it easier for everyday people to understand and engage with how decisions are made, especially those who have been historically excluded from the process.
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Campaign finance summary
Note: The finance data shown here comes from the disclosures required of candidates and parties. Depending on the election or state, this may represent only a portion of all the funds spent on their behalf. Satellite spending groups may or may not have expended funds related to the candidate or politician on whose page you are reading this disclaimer. Campaign finance data from elections may be incomplete. For elections to federal offices, complete data can be found at the FEC website. Click here for more on federal campaign finance law and here for more on state campaign finance law.
See also
2026 Elections
External links
Footnotes
