March again. “March Madness,” right? I read Andrew Taban’s (March 17) column, and I’ll be honest — what stood out wasn’t the argument. It was the attitude. The kind that pats this community on the head while pretending to understand it.
Let me be very clear. What you call “madness,” many of us call showing up — and we’ve been doing it long before it was convenient to write about. I’ve been in those rooms. Not once. Not twice. Over and over. I’ve watched parents stand in line for hours just to speak for two minutes about their own children. I’ve seen working people walk in after long days, sit quietly, and wait their turn like it matters — because it does.
That is not “madness.” That is accountability in action.
But here’s the part that keeps getting left out. While local families were waiting to be heard, those same meetings were being packed with people who do not live here — organized, coordinated, and loud enough to take over the room. The tone shifted, the balance disappeared, and suddenly the people who actually live in this valley were treated like outsiders in their own community.
That didn’t happen on paper. It happened in real time, and many of us saw it with our own eyes.
And still — despite the frustration, despite the tension — this community chose to remain civil. We greeted people. We listened. We treated others with a level of respect that, frankly, was not always returned. That is not weakness. That is character.
So, it is more than a little frustrating to now be lectured about law, about process, and about how civic engagement is supposed to work. Those principles matter — but they only matter if they are applied consistently. Respect for process cannot appear only when it is convenient, and it cannot disappear when local voices are the ones being pushed aside.
You don’t get to ignore a community in the moment and then explain it afterward. That is where the frustration comes from, and it is not going away.
This is no longer just about meetings. People in this valley are paying attention to what is happening beyond those rooms. They are watching decisions come out of Sacramento and feeling the impact in their daily lives — at the grocery store, at the gas pump, and in their children’s schools. These are not abstract policy debates. These are real consequences, and they are being felt by real people.
And when those people speak up, they are too often dismissed, labeled, or reduced to something they are not. You don’t get to rewrite that. That approach is not just dismissive — it is ineffective. It shuts down the very conversations that need to happen.
And here’s the part that might be uncomfortable: this isn’t about one party being right and the other being wrong. People are tired of both sides playing games while real issues keep piling up. They want accountability. Not selective outrage. Not convenient silence. Accountability across the board.
Because when the rules seem to apply differently depending on who you are, people notice. When concerns are brushed off instead of addressed, people remember. When communities are talked about instead of talked with, people push back.
That’s exactly what you’re seeing now.
This is not about party lines anymore. It is about trust. And right now, that trust is thin.
So instead of another column explaining this community to itself, here is a straightforward suggestion: listen. Not selectively. Not when it is convenient. Actually listen. Because the people you are writing about are not confused, and they are not misinformed. They are engaged, they are paying attention, and they are no longer willing to be dismissed.
That is not “madness.”
That is a community drawing a line.
The Santa Clarita Valley is awake — and done being talked down to.
Glenda Roybal
Canyon Country
