Responder Abandons Reality, Empathy, and the Point
Hi, my name is Nick Ducharme. Me and my husband David Roberts are the Advocacy co-chairs for DeLand Pride and the Advocacy Co-Directors for Volusia Pride.
This statement requires some background context, but I promise to keep it brief. In February, The West Volusia Beacon published a letter to the editor that I wrote about my experiences as a first-time advocate in Tallahassee. Later that same month, The Beacon published someone’s (rather incendiary) reply to me. So, in early March, I submitted a response that refuted that person’s harmful rhetoric. Long story short, time passed and my response had not yet been published, so I decided to accept Volusia Pride’s offer to publish it here instead.
My hope is that my response can be of use to someone. If it helps even one person, then I think it was worth the effort. Maybe that person is you. Either way, thanks in advance for reading.
Responder Abandons Reality, Empathy, and the Point
Content warning: mentions of hate crimes and self-harm, particularly regarding minors.
Recently, I wrote a letter to the editor titled “Advocacy at the Capitol: Finding purpose when hope is elusive.” It described my experiences and personal journey with advocating for human rights at the state level for the first time. A responder named Steven Mesibov wrote a rather baffling reply titled “Essayist makes mistake in calling his opposition the enemy.”
Steven’s letter took me out of context and overall resorted to personal attacks against me rather than meaningful, substantive arguments. He implied that I was not raised well by my parents or taught well in elementary school. He scorned what I felt shortly after my experience in Tallahassee by calling it “sad.” He spoke with unqualified certitude regarding how I should feel about my experience, without living that experience himself. He obsessed over my one mention of speaking with a therapist as if that was somehow central to his argument. He even concluded with a—frankly—bizarre extended analogy between open-heart surgery and my supposed need for additional therapy.
When you skim off the fat, the only decipherable point in Steven’s response seems to be that we should never refer to our fellow Americans as “enemies,” all because human rights abuses are not as bad (overall) in the USA as in Russia, China, or Iran. It’s a sentiment shared by many Americans who don’t have to endure their federal, state, and local officials frequently passing laws that restrict/revoke their rights and the rights of their loved ones.
Yet, the harsh reality is that children in schools (such as in the recent tragedy with Nex Benedict in Oklahoma) are being bullied and murdered and/or pushed to suicide because of the kinds of draconian laws that states like Florida are putting into effect. To quote the Trevor Project’s 2023 U.S. National Survey on the Mental Health of LGBTQ Young People, “41% of LGBTQ+ young people seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year, including roughly half of transgender and nonbinary youth.” In addition, “The Trevor Project’s research has found that LGBTQ+ young people who found their school and home to be LGBTQ+-affirming reported lower rates of attempting suicide.” Why, then, have our governor and GOP-supermajority state legislature rammed through harmful laws such as the “Don’t Say Gay” law and its expansion (HB 1557 and HB 1069) and the anti-transgender bathroom bill (HB 1521)? Let alone the dozens of other anti-LGBTQ+ bills that either recently passed or are currently being processed? Do the literal lives of children mean nothing to them? It often feels that way.
The truth is, this cruelty is the point. Far-right lawmakers and media moguls have centered LGBTQ+ and particularly transgender individuals as scapegoats in their manufactured culture war, stirring up frothing hatred in their supporters for the purpose of gaining and retaining power. They don’t care if we die as a result, and many actively want us dead. Even by Steven’s own narrow definition, these abhorrent individuals qualify as enemies. They absolutely are “trying to kill [us], or totally destroy our possessions, steal our freedoms of speech, freedom to assemble and protest.” The attempted pride flag ban for government buildings (HB 901/SB 1120), restrictions on freedom of assembly (HB 1), book bans in schools and even public libraries including from our own Volusia County School Board—it adds up. Not to mention SCOTUS Justice Clarence Thomas’ statement that he’s just itching to overturn marriage equality (and even the right to same-sex intimacy) at the first available opportunity.
Steven erroneously interpreted my group’s meeting with a Florida lawmaker as “a privilege” and “an opportunity to have a civil exchange of ideas.” We certainly hoped it would be. But by telling a transgender man to his face that his basic personal identity was false, and by implying that he was “harming” himself just by being himself, the lawmaker did not engage in civil conduct. Instead, he attempted to dehumanize us with remarks like “I don’t care what you do in your bedrooms” as though that had anything to do with the bills that concerned us. It didn’t.
Steven also mentioned that I didn’t meet with the representative from our district while in Tallahassee. Fun fact: our district’s legislator is Webster Barnaby, who in 2023 referred to transgender people as “mutants” and “demons” during a legislative hearing. There is not enough common ground to be found with someone who doesn’t even think of transgender people as human. So no, we did not meet with Webster Barnaby. And yes, marginalized people do in fact have a right to their anger and other negative feelings in response to the anger and hatred that they are receiving on a daily basis. The key is to turn those feelings into action that advances human rights.
My original letter was not intended for people who think like Steven. People who either ignore or condone the erasure of LGBTQ+ folks and people of color were never my primary audience. Instead, I sought to turn my negative emotions into a positive outcome. My letter was designed to provide realistic comfort and advice to my fellow marginalized people and to those who advocate for our rights during a particularly dark time in our state’s history. To those who do, I want you to know that your efforts are truly appreciated and that they do make a difference, even if you’ll never personally see it. At its worst, advocacy can be a thankless and soul-crushing task. But at its best, well, let’s just say that my “heart” is stronger than ever.