“I am bound to do good to my fellow-creatures and bear with them.” – Marcus Aurelius
“Never regret being a good person, to the wrong people. Your behavior says everything about you and their behavior says enough about them.” – Bruce Lee
I’ve been wrestling with a personal and moral dilemma: Whether or not to attend a professional conference in Florida early next year. On one hand, I work in nonprofit community action. Community action is a field built on advocacy, compassion, and justice. We are part of a network that depends on one another. Showing up, learning, and sharing ideas isn’t just about professional growth. It’s about strengthening the movement that empowers families and fights poverty every day.
But on the other hand, it’s Florida.
Florida has become a flashpoint for so many of the things I stand against. It’s a state where cruelty has too often become a political strategy. In Florida, laws and policies actively harm the very people we’re trying to lift up, and it’s impossible to ignore the damage done under Governor Ron DeSantis and the current administration.
Here are just a few examples of the policies that make my heart ache:
- Anti-LGBTQ+ legislation: The so-called “Don’t Say Gay” law restricts classroom discussions about sexual orientation and gender identity, creating fear and erasure for LGBTQ+ youth.
- Attacks on transgender rights: Bans on gender-affirming care for minors, restrictions on pronoun use in schools, and hostility toward trans adults’ healthcare access.
- Erosion of racial justice: The elimination of AP African American Studies in schools, the whitewashing of history curricula, and attacks on DEI programs at colleges and universities.
- Anti-immigrant laws: Harsh policies targeting undocumented workers, harming both Hispanic and immigrant communities who are the backbone of Florida’s economy.
- Book bans and censorship: Thousands of books have been removed from school libraries, often those by Black, LGBTQ+, or marginalized authors.
- Reproductive rights rollbacks: A six-week abortion ban and aggressive efforts to limit access to reproductive healthcare.
- Voter suppression and attacks on democracy: Laws that disproportionately disenfranchise Black and brown voters.
- A culture of fear: Educators, librarians, and public servants silenced or punished for standing up for truth and inclusion.
It’s infuriating to even list these things, but this is America in 1950… I mean, 2025. It feels incredibly wrong to spend a dollar in a state that stands so firmly against the values of equity, inclusion, and justice that define my work and my life.
Let me be clear, as well, that I don’t blame conference organizers. They often book these things far in advance. But in addition, I feel they were on to something. Long story short, I ultimately decided to attend.
Here’s why.
I turned to two amazing friends who helped me see this differently.
Kim Bozeman is a good friend. An accomplished HR pro in California, Kim reminded me that even in places where hate and division seem strongest, there are still good people who need love, kindness, and encouragement. “If we don’t go to the places that we know are filled with hate,” she says, “what happens to those that are there that are not filled with hate?” Her words reminded me to bring compassion, support, and even economic impact to uplift those who need it most. “They need our love, they need our support, they need our dollars, and they need our tips.”
Tiffany Toussaint, one of my favorite people, builds on Kim’s sentiment with a pragmatic yet hopeful approach, emphasizing that while we should share our mission and purpose with those in Florida, we can do so responsibly. I can limit my spending, bringing my own resources, and sharing accommodations when possible. Her message reinforces that our presence can be both purposeful and conscientious, rooted in community, connection, and the drive to create positive change. She reminded me to focus “on the mission and purpose of [the] work. I’m in favor of networking, growing, and supporting community!!”
Their advice helped me realize that attending isn’t a betrayal of my values—it’s a living expression of them.
Living My Values: Even in Hard Places
If we believe in people, we can’t abandon them. There are communities, advocates, and everyday Floridians who are fighting back, including teachers, nonprofit workers, social workers, and activists who need our solidarity. Our absence doesn’t starve the system; it starves the movement. And that makes sense. Ignoring the evil doesn’t make it go away. Ignoring the evil undercuts the cause of equality and justice.
Professionals and people of all backgrounds know that progress doesn’t happen from the sidelines. It happens when we show up, even in uncomfortable spaces, and use our presence to plant seeds of change. This is especially true of Community Action!
So, how will I be brining my work to places that need it the most, and at the same time, not support the systems that cause my needing to be in those places? Following Kim’s and Tiffany’s advice, I plan on living my values while engaging in the following ways, not just in Florida, but anywhere injustice exists. Because if we’re being honest, injustice exists in blue states, as well. So, what will I be doing? For starters:
- Spend mindfully. Support local Black-owned, Hispanic-owned, LGBTQ+-owned, and small independent businesses.
- Amplify local activists. Attend local events or connect with grassroots organizations working for justice in the area.
- Educate and advocate. Use every opportunity to speak truth and share knowledge, especially in professional spaces.
- Donate strategically. Contribute to organizations in Florida that protect vulnerable communities.
- Vote with your wallet and your presence. Your actions—how and where you engage—can send a stronger message than your absence.
Our Work Is Bigger Than Politics
This isn’t about a trip to Florida. Florida just gave me the space and opportunity to reflect deeper. This entire exercise is about purpose. It’s about remembering why I do what I do. In HR, and in community action, the mission begins and ends with people. To value people means standing with them, even when it’s difficult, uncomfortable.
Thich Nhat Hanh once said, “Our life is our message.” That’s the heart of it for me. Every choice we make communicates something about who we are and what we believe. For me, this trip will be a message of solidarity, courage, and hope. That even in dark places, we can still carry the light of compassion and justice.
People in places like Florida, West Virginia, Kentucky, and so many other so-called “red states” need our services the most. Poverty doesn’t stop at political borders. Families in these communities are struggling, often so under governments that have forgotten or ignored them. Or worse, they suffer under governments who use them for their own political gain. As Lyndon B. Johnson, the president who founded Community Action, said:
“If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best black man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he’ll empty his pockets for you.”
Stoicism teaches us to do good not because it’s easy or popular, but because it’s right. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “What is not good for the beehive cannot be good for the bee.” We’re all connected, and when our neighbors suffer, we suffer too. Our duty in community action isn’t to judge who’s deserving. It’s to serve where the need is greatest. Even when the systems around people fail them, we cannot. We must show up, with compassion and courage, because that’s what justice demands.
That’s ultimately why I chose to attend. If I truly believe in the mission of community action—of helping people, changing lives—then I can’t pick and choose where that commitment applies. I can’t let politics or geography dictate compassion. As Stoicism has taught me, I know that virtue isn’t about comfort; it’s about courage and duty. To withdraw would be easier, but doing the right thing rarely is. By showing up, I hope to honor those who keep fighting in difficult places, and to live the message I teach: That our work is not just policy or programs, it’s people. And when we value people, we must be willing to go where they are, to stand beside them, and to remind them they are not forgotten. Because in the end, as Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us, our life is our message.
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