October 13, 2026
We Owe People More Than a Performance
Reflections on public service, personal responsibility, and the courage to stand.
By: Glenneda Zuiderveld
When did someone else’s pain become our entertainment?
From shows like Maury Povich to the endless theater of social media, we have grown comfortable watching people stumble and turning their private struggles into public spectacles. We spend hours discussing someone’s downfall and barely a moment examining our own hearts.
Are we helping people face what is wrong, or simply enjoying the show?
When people ask me what serving as a State Senator is like, I tell them there are days it feels like high school on steroids.
You have your seniors and freshmen, team captains, jocks, attention seekers, nerds, and bullies. The halls are filled with legislators, lobbyists, agency representatives, lawyers, and advisers. There are secrets, gossip, and closed-door meetings.
Some days, it seems like everyone is wearing a mask, and you wonder where the performance ends and the honest conversation begins.
In that environment, we have a choice. Do we follow the crowd and repeat whatever gets attention, or educate ourselves and think for ourselves?
When we hear “right-wing extremist” or “left-wing extremist,” do we examine the beliefs and evidence behind the accusation, or simply accept the label?
Why are we so quick to label and so slow to have a conversation?
Those of us in positions of influence have a responsibility to question accusations, including those from our own side, and speak truth with conviction and respect. The decisions being made affect real lives.
We owe people more than a performance.
We have more information at our fingertips and on our screens than ever before. But what good is knowledge without wisdom and a moral foundation?
Knowing what is happening carries a responsibility to consider what we should do about it. Too often, we hope someone else will sacrifice their time, resources, and reputation so we can continue with life as usual.
What does freedom really mean to you? What are you willing to sacrifice for it?
Are you willing to put in the long hours, do the work, and stand firm so your children can experience freedom and liberty? Have we become so focused on our own comfort that we fail to consider what we are leaving the next generation?
Freedom isn’t the absence of responsibility. Responsibility is what preserves freedom.
These questions have been on my heart as I approach the end of my elected service to you all.
What comes next? How can I use my experience and knowledge to continue serving, educating, and encouraging others?
I don’t know about you, but I am troubled by many of the decisions being made. My time in the trenches has deepened my distrust of our government because I have watched decisions unfold that will affect our children and grandchildren.
I also want to stand up to the bullies who sought to destroy my sacred honor and my livelihood. I will not pretend those attacks did not hurt.
Having experienced that pain, I know how much it matters to challenge wrongdoing without treating someone’s suffering as entertainment. I want what comes next to be guided by conviction, faith, and purpose, and I have hard-earned knowledge to share.
My elected service may be coming to an end, but my commitment to you and the next generation continues.
I have no regrets.
I have learned how to face betrayal and navigate difficult situations. I have also met people who have shown me loyalty and true friendship.
Through it all, I have learned not only how our state government works, but how I work: what I believe, where I need to grow, and what it takes to stand firm when standing comes at a cost.
I am so glad I said, “Here I am, God. Send me.”
And I am glad I went.
In Liberty, Love and Freedom
Glenneda
