I’m a bit short on words when I see leaders in the cattle industry, the same ones who told me to sit down when I spoke up about respect and inclusion as they championed Trump’s divisiveness in 2020, are suddenly upset that someone they’ve supported for years has turned on them.
It’s not like there weren’t signs. People tried to warn us.
Last week, President Trump said he would “fix” beef prices by pushing for more imports and doubled down on taking credit for historically high prices, which came across as a slap in the face to U.S. cattle producers. Ranchers and national organizations are lit up with outrage. The same people who cheered him on through trade wars, immigration crackdowns, and rollbacks of protections for LGBTQ+ people and minorities are suddenly demanding fairness and respect when he wants to interfere more directly with their work.
And I can’t help but think back to a room I stood in five years ago.
It was 2020, I was working for one of these cattlemen’s organizations when the new CEO introduced a new “staff culture” that didn’t sit well with several people in the office. I spoke up and asked why we were being asked to specifically respect conservative, Trump-aligned values that specifically omitted anyone who looked or lived differently from that status quo. Not politics, not policy, just the basic idea that our industry consists of people from many beliefs and backgrounds and should be a place where everyone feels like they can belong.
The CEO’s response? “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”
Obviously, that moment stuck with me, and the experience drove me to speak up even more. His reaction showed exactly how selective outrage can be. When someone else is disrespected (in these examples, an immigrant worker, a queer rancher, a black farmer or rancher), people stay silent. But when the disrespect finally lands on familiar ground, suddenly the calls for civility get louder.
We can’t expect empathy when we’ve spent years ignoring it. We can’t demand respect if we aren’t willing to give it. And we can’t build stronger rural communities if our loyalty extends only to people who look or think like us.
Silence has a cost. We see it firsthand with the people who leave agriculture because they are tired of fighting for space that should have been theirs all along.
Speaking up shouldn’t be reserved for when we feel attacked. It’s about calling for better from the people and institutions we care about, even when it doesn’t directly impact us. When I stood up then, it wasn’t because I wanted to leave the industry. It was because I care deeply about the industry and want to see it live up to its potential for everyone involved.
That’s what I still want today.
So when I see outrage now from those same voices that once dismissed respect and inclusion as “political,” I can’t help but ask: Maybe this is the moment we finally learn the lesson?
If it takes being disrespected to understand how it feels, fine. But let’s not wait until it’s our turn next time. And let’s not forget how this feels next time someone comes to you for help.
Join the conversation