It’s been on my mind lately how little we talk about the humanity of government workers. Not as bureaucrats or faceless representatives of “the system,” but as people—people with families, dreams, struggles, and lives that look a lot like ours. Somewhere along the way, it feels like we’ve stopped seeing them as neighbors, community members, or friends. Instead, they’ve become symbols in a polarized world, caught in a storm of political rhetoric and public frustration.
But here’s the thing: most folks who work for the government didn’t sign up to push a political agenda or to be pawns in ideological battles. They chose public service because they believed in something bigger than themselves—a sense of purpose, a desire to contribute to their communities, and yes, maybe even a hope to make things better.
Yet today, many government workers are facing threats and hostility at levels we haven’t seen before. Some have had their personal information leaked online; others have been harassed or even physically endangered simply for doing their jobs. And while these stories occasionally make headlines, they often fade quickly into the background noise of our news cycles.
What we often overlook are the quieter moments—the parent working late at a government agency who still tries to make it to their kid’s soccer game, the neighbor processing permits or fixing potholes to keep our communities running, or the friend in public health who has spent years protecting us during crises like COVID-19. These aren’t just “government workers”; they’re real people with real lives—someone’s mom or dad, sibling or spouse. They’re the person you wave to at the grocery store or chat with at your kid’s school event. And while it’s easy to lump them into an abstract “other” when we’re frustrated with politics or policies, it’s worth remembering that they’re navigating this messy world just like the rest of us—trying to do good work while keeping their heads above water.
I’m not ignoring the political dynamics here—those are real too. There are valid debates to be had about how our government operates and where it can improve. But when we reduce people to symbols of our frustrations with “the system,” we lose sight of their humanity. We forget that behind every policy decision or government action is a person who likely didn’t write the rule but is tasked with carrying it out, often under immense pressure and scrutiny.
So maybe this is a call for us all to pause and reflect for a moment. To look past the labels and see the humans behind them—their intentions, their sacrifices, their contributions. Because whether we agree with the policies they enforce or not, these folks are part of the fabric of our communities. They’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder with us in grocery store lines, cheering from the bleachers at Little League games, and walking their dogs down our streets.
In times like these, when division feels so pervasive, perhaps one small step toward healing is recognizing that our shared humanity matters more than our differences. Government workers aren’t just “them.” They’re us—part of this messy, interconnected world we all share—and they deserve to be seen as such.
