The Most Dangerous Lie in Local Politics

By Daisy Thomas Candidate for Mayor, New Port Richey daisyfornpr.com

Every time I hear someone in my community say, “I’m just a peon,” something in me snaps.

It’s not just frustration. It’s fury. Not at them, at the systems that made them believe it. Because underneath that sentence is a deep, deliberate erosion of agency. And I’ve never been able to tolerate that erosion. Not in others. Not in myself.

I’ve never understood why people were so quick to surrender their stake in the places they live. As a kid, I thought maybe I just didn’t get it. That maybe I was naïve for thinking regular people could shape anything, much less policy or power.

But over time, I realized it wasn’t naivety. It was clarity.

I saw what others had stopped seeing: that we are the city. That government isn’t some far-off priesthood with special knowledge and divine right. It’s supposed to be a mirror, reflecting the will, wisdom, and weight of the people it serves.

When someone says, “I’m just a peon,” they’re not being humble. They’re rehearsing the lie they’ve been taught:
That power lives somewhere else.
That their voice doesn’t count.
That decisions happen to them, not with them.

And I can’t abide that lie. Because it’s not just wrong — it’s dangerous.

When people believe they’re too small to matter, it becomes easier to silence them. To skip them in the process. To write checks in their name without consent, build projects that don’t serve them, pass policies that don’t protect them. And by the time the harm shows up, they’re too disillusioned to fight back.

That’s not apathy. That’s the aftermath of disenfranchisement dressed up as common sense.

But here’s what I know in my bones:

• No one is born a peon.

• Civic dignity is not optional.

• The moment you stop believing you have a right to shape your city, you’ve already lost it.

We have to stop reinforcing the idea that governance is something we observe from a distance, like a game we’re not allowed to play. Because that’s how the bad actors win. They rely on good people thinking they’re not important enough to matter.

Well, I do matter. And so do you.

And I will never stop saying it: This is our city.
Every ordinance. Every budget. Every appointment. Every public hearing.
We don’t show up out of politeness — we show up because we belong there.

So no, I don’t take it lightly when someone calls themselves a peon.
I take it personally.

Because I’ve spent my life watching power hoarders make that lie feel normal. And I’ve spent just as long refusing to believe it.

Call it idealism if you want. I call it memory.
A memory of how it’s supposed to work.
A memory we’re allowed to reclaim.

And we can’t stop until that memory becomes real again.

Originally published on Medium, July 1, 2025.