Published in the Mount Horeb Mail, this is a version of a speech I gave at Brix Cider's Reimagine Resistance event on March 2, 2025:
Many of you might recognize me from behind the bar here at Brix. I’m Jules, I’ve worked on-and-off at at Brix Cider since 2019 (I’ve known Matt and Marie Raboin for over ten years now!), and though I’ve lived in Madison for nine years, I tend to think Brix as my home-away-from-home. I’m incredibly grateful to Matt, Marie, and the Brix Cider employees for creating a space where community can come together to have conversations that are both explicitly political and deeply personal.
If you do happen to frequent Brix, you haven’t seen me behind the bar for a while because, up until about two weeks ago, I worked full time with the USDA’s Agricultural Research Service (ARS) in Madison at the Dairy Forage Research Center. ARS is relatively small, but it’s the primary research agency that supports the USDA and ensures safe food and agricultural products for the public good. One of the real benefits of ARS is that the research is not driven by profits or commoditization of agricultural products. The research and services are truly in service of our farmers and rural communities.
Like many people in this community, I understand how critical it is to support our farmers and food systems, particularly in such turbulent times. Agriculture has been a part of my awareness for as long as I can remember: I grew up on a farm in Iowa, and my grandparents were farmers in the Midwest, themselves the children of farmers. I actually worked with Brix Cider for the past few years on The Brix Project, which sought creative ways to bridge local producers and community members for a stronger local food system. I have worked for my entire professional career to support both the land and the humans who grow our food.
So I was thrilled to accept a position at the Dairy Forage Research Center. I came on board as Program Coordinator for The Soil Health Alliance for Research and Engagement (SHARE). SHARE is a collaborative effort between the USDA, UW-Madison, and a statewide agricultural nonprofit organization, The Michael Fields Agricultural Institute, to bring together diverse soil health researchers and advocates to improve Wisconsin’s soils and support farmers across the Upper Midwest. SHARE is an entirely unique approach to improving soil health research. As Program Coordinator, I was honored to work with some of the leading researchers in the area and to steward this program in pursuit of long-term environmental and community impacts across the region.
And then, on Thursday, February 13th, I was illegally terminated from my job. I was one of more than 10,000 federal employees terminated from agencies across the country.
People often ask me if I was surprised at the terminations. No, I can’t exactly say I was surprised. Ever since January 6th, there had been what I perceived as intentional and strategic maneuvering from D.C. to evoke an atmosphere of anxiety, unease, and fear within the federal workforce. It got to the point where I would feel nervous any time I opened my email inbox, not knowing what kind of unsigned email directive from OPM I would find. I also knew that as a probationary employee, I had fewer rights than full employees who had served through their probationary period (one year for many, three years for some). I had no sense of stability on increasingly uncertain terrain. So, over the course of those six weeks, I began to mentally prepare for anything to happen.
However, while not surprising, the terminations were remarkably sudden. Just earlier in the week we had a center-wide meeting during which we were told that the USDA was a pretty safe ship in these turbulent waters. I do not believe we were deceived or lied to in that moment - I truly think that was what our leadership believed. And believing that the USDA would be relatively untouched makes sense because our work directly impacts agricultural industries and rural farming communities. But then again, what about the past two months has made much sense?
Just a few days after that meeting, on the afternoon of Thursday, Feb. 13th, rumors began to circulate online that preparations for massive employee terminations were underway. At 4:30 PM I received an Outlook invitation (in all caps) for an emergency all-hands meeting scheduled for the following morning. That was when I knew I would likely lose my job.
I received my termination letter at 11:00 PM that night. It contained the apparently standard language that, due to my performance, it was no longer in the public’s best interest to continue my employment with the USDA. Termination effective immediately. At an emotional all-staff meeting that morning, where we learned that around one-quarter of our entire center was terminated, I turned in my government-owned laptop and my building access card and left the building. On my way home, I felt a terrible sense of loss. There was personal loss for my own job, of course, and the looming disquiet of what the next few days, weeks, and months might bring. More than that, I felt the collective loss of the thousands of people across the country whose lives were overturned with such little warning.
At the same time, I recognize that job loss is not new to Wisconsin communities. Rural areas have experienced the loss of hundreds of jobs over the past few months, as manufacturing plants and other industries have closed doors in the state. That isn’t to say that I’m not allowed to feel pain over losing my own job - and I do. I am also aware of the privilege of my higher education and an extensive support network. Perhaps knowing what it means to lose a job can better connect me to the pain of others across the state.
The greatest sense of loss I felt in that moment was from the message we received from the White House on February 13th: that federal employee efforts to improve soil health, mitigate climate change, protect our forests, and ensure clean drinking water (to name a few) were completely devalued by our representatives. I felt the loss from the fracturing of our collective work, now and in the future, in the face of the profound environmental and socio-economic challenges of today.
The terminations of thousands of employees and the continued turbulence and Reductions in Force in the months to come mean an insurmountable loss for our future. The research disrupted today represents a foundation on which knowledge could have built in years and decades to come. We are not only losing funding, scientists, and practitioners in this moment. We are losing a pool of early career researchers who are being told to go find “more productive” jobs in the corporate world. Many early-career scientists tend to be more interdisciplinary and collaborative - which is desperately needed when the challenges we face are fundamentally complex and require these innovative approaches. I am heartbroken by this reality. In the midst of this storm, it is hard to see what light glimmers on the horizon.
The moments I do feel most hopeful are the moments of connectedness. As I left my office on that Friday in February, I felt the overwhelming unease of isolation and shadow of helplessness, of hopelessness. So it has meant everything to have colleagues from the center reach out in solidarity. To get texts from friends checking in. To get messages from people who have heard my story, and to tell me how they have been impacted as well. To be reminded that there is a collective spirit of refusal to accept this moment, and determination to make change happen.
I hope that this letter helps to reach across the void of isolation and build that greater sense of connection.