The people are singing

A reminder that public officials are actually public servants

Today’s accompanying tune: “Do You Hear the People Sing?” by the cast of Les Miserables

The law enforcement presence was excessive, to say the least. When this fact was pointed out to two officers milling about in the parking lot, they smirked.

“We’re just here to keep you safe,” he replied, turning away and chuckling to his partner. As if men in bulletproof vests carrying loaded weapons were the ones enforcing the safety of the crowd, comprised primarily of parents, elderly and disabled folks, and people of all walks of life who had come to speak to their representative.

“I get the feeling here that many of you did not vote for me,” Republican Rep. Jay Obernolte noted towards the end of the meeting, which had been marked by boos, chants of “do your job,” and outbursts from the crowd. He seemed to have forgotten that, even if that was the case, his job was still to serve the people within his district, regardless of whether or not they voted for him. The crowd had a point.

Obernolte was not the only congressperson facing the music at home this week. As Congress took a recess, representatives and senators across the country entered rooms full of seething constituents, stumbling over stock responses to questions about Elon Musk’s takeover of the federal government’s budget, the targeting and harassment of LGBTQ+ people, the gutting of major essential services, the illegal firings of federal employees, and President Trump’s assertion that he is “king.” A representative in Georgia challenged a constituent who asked about his support for a bill that could be used to strip married women who took their spouses’ last names of the right to vote, falsely claiming the number she cited was a vast exaggeration of the number of people affected.

On Saturday, Obernolte attempted the same, attempting to discredit his questioners — his own constituents — by claiming their facts and figures were wrong, or that he didn’t have a specific statistic handed to him for rebuttal. Like his contemporaries across the country, he flailed when pressed and grew defensive. He spoke to the success of tax rates in the 1950s, then pedaled it back when confronted with a question about restoring the 1950s tax rate for billionaires, instead pointing back to issues with the 1990s tax rates. He refused follow-on or clarifying questions. He belittled a constituent who cited his doctorate as evidence that he surely should understand how the government works, saying that she must have read his dissertation if she understood it so well. He lied, he intentionally misled, and he cowered. As one constituent put it in response to Obernolte attempting to evade another question regarding the loss of jobs for veterans in the community: “We will not be gaslit.”

Now, I am no constitutional scholar, and I do not hold a doctorate in public administration from the California Baptist University. I do not hold elected office, and I never have. I do not enjoy politics, but I believe in the responsibility of all people to participate in forms of government to ensure a true representative democracy. I believe in the responsibility to vote, to show up to community meetings and local government proceedings. I believe in using public services like the library and I believe in paying my fair share of taxes. I believe that my representatives are my employees since my taxes pay their salaries. They answer to us and are elected to govern on our behalf.

In much of the country, that is no longer the case. Representatives serve a party, not a people. They vote on culture war legislation that pays lip service to an administration intent on dismantling democracy without making any meaningful effort to work in the best interest of their constituents. They sneer at a room full of people they are paid to represent, dismissing their concerns because, they believe, they aren’t their supporters anyway. They are escorted out of the room by an army of armed law enforcement and shuttled into a Range Rover to speed out of the parking lot minutes after the meeting concluded. They are scared. They are weak. They cannot withstand dissent, disagreement, discussion. They do not have answers to our questions and they don’t intend to. They care only for power, and will cling to its veneer of protection with every scrape of their fingernails instead of recognizing their roles as public servants. They attack the people they are required to serve and belittle those they do not deem worthy of their attention. They believe they are better than us, smarter than us, more clever, and more worthy. Their disdain for their own jobs, their communities, is palpable. They do not deserve to hold public office. They do not deserve to represent communities full of diversity, full of love, full of natural resources, full of the force of life.

Community is messy. We come from different places, hold different beliefs, occupy different economic brackets, work different jobs, enjoy different hobbies. But on Saturday, our community met our representative’s disdain for us with anger and outrage. With handmade signs and exceptionally well-researched, well-articulated questions. With profanity and quiet reserve. We are not an monolith, here in the desert or anywhere else. But we share commonality, we share place. We share the Joshua trees and the roadrunners and the coyotes. We share the blistering heat, the rushing monsoons. We may be isolated at times, and writing a piece like this can often feel like screaming into a void. But on Saturday, I felt so deeply of this place as I searched for overflow parking and watched tens of people streaming into the community center. I felt the sand in my shoes and the sun on my head as I followed waves of folks into the crammed space. Here, we were not screaming into the void. We were screaming as a united front against the onslaught of indignity at a man who only seeks to further strip us of unalienable rights. We participated in the process of a functioning democracy. We made him listen even as his staff took microphones away and ushered people off stage. We shone a spotlight on his disdain, clear for all to see. We saw his tactics for what they were — an attempt to delay, deny, deflect. His lust for power at all costs and his unwavering support for the fall of democracy, in that order. His inability to withstand criticism or disagreement.

We saw it with our own eyes. We recorded it on our phones. We will not unsee any of it. We will not unhear the chants of “no king.” We will not forget the promises he made that he does not intend to keep. We will retain this vestige of democratic norms. Maybe, just maybe, we will use this information moving forward. We will vote for a representative that understands the second half of the title “public servant” a bit more than our current folks. We will act collectively for the betterment of our community instead of infighting.

We will sing.

Here’s to fighting every good fight.

- Megan