When Criticism Becomes a Campaign— a Devoted Mother Is Watching (Op-ed)
By Jette Porrazzo, SSR4GC Editor-in-Chief
There is a difference between criticism and cruelty.
I lead a coalition. I do so publicly, intentionally, and as a matter of conscience. I understand disagreement, debate, and scrutiny. Those come with leadership, and they are part of civic life.
What I did not anticipate—and what deserves to be named—is what happens when disagreement curdles into a campaign of harassment, misinformation, and personal attack, and when the collateral damage is not just the leader being targeted, but a loving, devoted mother who is watching it all unfold.
This is not abstract. It is specific. And it has a human cost.
A Pattern That Began With the Petition
Since the launch of the Change.org petition, a small but persistent group of individuals has used the Nextdoor platform to spread false statements about me, question my motives, and dispute the identity of my mother when she defended me. These actions did not remain confined to online commentary. They escalated into early-morning harassing emails sent through our official coalition email address, an address used solely for lawful civic and nonprofit activity.
False reports were also submitted to Gmail, resulting in our official Gmail account being temporarily locked. That account was used for legal and formal coalition correspondence, including communications related to civic advocacy and pending matters. I appealed the action and restored access.
Interfering with an email account used for legal correspondence is not a trivial inconvenience. When reporting systems are misused to disrupt lawful communications, that conduct may constitute interference with protected civic activity, not moderation. These events have been documented, and the Washoe County Sheriff’s Office is aware of the situation.
To protect continuity and transparency, I secured a separate, paid email domain for official coalition communications—one not subject to the same vulnerabilities.
During this same period, there were two separate attempts to access the coalition’s Change.org account. On both occasions, I received automated emails indicating password resets or account changes had been initiated—actions I did not take. Access was not gained. The attempts were unsuccessful, but they were documented.
There were also false copyright infringement claims filed—claims alleging misuse of a stock image that was, in fact, properly licensed. These are not harmless mistakes. They are tactics designed to silence speech and disrupt operations.
Then came the body-shaming. The mockery. The childish insults dressed up as “jokes.”
I am very comfortable in my own skin. I understand satire. I understand criticism. And I understand the law. There is a clear difference between protected expression and harassment, defamation, and coordinated abuse—even when the target is a public figure.
What Actually Happened at the Meeting
I also want to address something that should never have been questioned in the first place.
When I arrived at the public planning meeting that evening, I arrived early—at 4:34 p.m. Before the meeting even began, I spoke with multiple community members who had already signed my petition. At least nine people—aside from my mother—can independently verify that I was present, engaged, and participating well before public comment began.
I remained there until after 10:00 p.m.—nearly six continuous hours.
Earlier that same day, I had already attended a four-hour meeting downtown. I had eaten two croissants and nothing more. I am diabetic, and as the meeting stretched late into the night, my service dog began repeatedly alerting to dangerously low blood sugar—alerts that are not symbolic or optional, but medical warnings.
Before leaving, I did exactly what a responsible, good-faith participant should do.
I personally informed a county staff member working in the back computer bay that I was not feeling well, that my service dog was actively alerting, and that I needed to leave for medical reasons. I told him I was genuinely sad to go, that I wished I could stay longer, and that if my name were called after I left, it was because I had no choice but to step away.
That is notice. That is transparency. That is responsibility.
What followed was not concern. It was exploitation.
Responsibility, Not Failure
I did not fail anyone that night. I made a decision that prevented a medical emergency.
Had I stayed and pushed myself to speak while my blood sugar was dangerously low, I would not have been brave—I would have been reckless. I would have risked collapse, a diabetic coma, and headlines for all the wrong reasons.
That is not leadership.
After leaving the meeting, my mother and I landed at Jimboy’s Tacos, just around the corner; shared a six-pack of ground beef tacos with ketchup.
“You’re just like your father with the ketchup,” Mama said in one of her silly voices.
I chuckled. “So true.”
We ate. I stabilized. I began to come back into my body as the low-sugar, throbbing headache started to subside. Just sitting in the car, eating tacos with my favorite person in the world — my ride or die — was the perfect nightcap to a very long day.
Then, thirty napkins later, we went home to the Valley we love so much — a huge upgrade from over-crowded and dirty Reno, which has outgrown its britches.
Despite exhaustion, I fulfilled what I believe leaders owe the people who trust them. I wrote a clear, factual, and respectful article summarizing the meeting and its implications. I shared it directly with supporters through an official Change.org update and published it on our official website, because accurate information matters—and because I felt a responsibility to reach the people who rely on me.
That is not disengagement. That is follow-through.
A Mother Who Is Always Watching
What has been hardest about all of this is not what has been said about me.
It is what it has done to my mother.
My mother is 76 years old. She is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist who still works with children—work that requires patience, emotional clarity, and rest. She needs her sleep to do that work safely and well.
For over two months, she stayed silent while lies about her daughter circulated online. She watched strangers rewrite my character. She watched mob mentality take hold. And she lost sleep over it.
This is winter. The roads are icy. And there is something deeply wrong about creating so much stress and fear through reckless misinformation that a woman of her age—who gives her life to helping children—could be driving home exhausted and heartbroken because of cruelty she did not ask for.
She finally spoke—not to attack anyone, but to defend her child; to se
And instead of pausing, people questioned her identity, warned her to stay quiet because she is “respected,” and suggested that protecting her daughter was somehow inappropriate.
That is not respect. That is coercion.
I come from the same stock as my mother. We are close. I was raised with values—faith, integrity, responsibility. I was raised well and right.
Delivery, Delays, and the Sheep Grazing Initiative
I also want to address a claim that has been repeated online—that I “promise and don’t deliver,” specifically in reference to the sheep grazing initiative, which was the coalition’s first campaign.
That claim is inaccurate.
The sheep grazing initiative has never been abandoned. It remains active and publicly documented on the coalition’s website, where community members can sign up to volunteer, register interest, or be placed on the list for wildfire fuel-reduction and grazing support.
What did occur was a delay—one caused by medical necessity.
On October 8, I underwent emergency surgery. I spent four days in the hospital and was medically down for approximately ten days afterward.
Emergency surgery is not “dropping the ball.” It is reality.
Leadership does not require pretending to be invulnerable. It requires honesty, recovery, and continuation of the work—which is exactly what happened.
I am not perfect—and I have never claimed to be. Neither are you. Human perfection is a myth we project onto one another when we forget that leadership is carried out by people, not ideals. I am accountable for my actions and transparent about my limits. Perfection belongs to God Almighty alone.
If you believe you can do this work better, by all means, lead the way in your actions. Leadership is proven through service, follow-through, and accountability—not commentary.
I am confident in who I am. I may not be the leader everyone wants—but I am the leader this moment requires.
I am used to praise online. This level of hostility is new territory for me. But it has not shaken my values or my resolve.
More than 800 supporters have chosen to engage constructively, to see the vision clearly, and to stand together in good faith. Others have chosen harassment and distortion. Those choices have consequences.
Nashville, Reputation, and Reality
I want to address a claim suggesting that “no one in Nashville knows who I am.” That statement is untrue and reflects a misunderstanding of how the music industry actually works.
I have never claimed to be a major-label artist. I have always been clear—and proud—that I am an independent country artist, including a charting Top 10 artist with my song New Girl 2022-2023.
My biography, music, videos, and career highlights are publicly accessible to anyone willing to look. You can also listen to radio interviews directly on my artist website www.jetteporrazzo.com under the Milestones blog, as well as on my other artist social media accounts. Several of these interviews are syndicated, including one that airs across approximately 5,000 country radio stations worldwide. In addition, four songs from my Training Wheels album have been spun in heavy rotation on the global radio stage, reflecting sustained international airplay. That reach was built primarily through recording, songwriting, and radio rather than large-scale touring. Touring has not yet been the primary engine of my career—but it remains very much part of my future.
Nashville is a cell-phone town, not a public directory. Serious professionals do not post their phone numbers online for strangers to call. Real contacts live in private address books, built through trust and years of work. I have those relationships in my personal cell phone, where they belong.
What people on the outside often don’t understand is that most recording artists work full-time or part-time jobs outside the music industry simply to survive. Music no longer pays the way it once did unless you are among a very small handful of breakout artists. For years, I drove Uber to finance my own music and paid for two records that way.
At the time, I had already worked my way off a disability and was under review by Social Security Disability because I was consistently working and reporting my earnings. Then I was hit by a drunk driver. I narrowly survived. It took four years to complete the surgeries required to recover. I recorded much of my Training Wheels album while healing from a shattered collarbone and first rib.
This is what independence actually looks like.
You truly know Nashville only by living it. I have. I am a veteran of that world, with decades of experience, relationships, and lessons earned the hard way. Those years shaped me. They strengthened me. They made me the woman standing here today.
I am clear about who I am, where I’ve been, and what I’ve built. My memories and my resolve stand on their own. What belongs to others belongs to them. Their circus. Their animals.
I don’t have time for manufactured drama on neighborhood platforms. I wasn’t intimidated, silenced, or pushed off of anything. I made a conscious decision about where my time and energy belong. I chose to lead rather than get pulled into cycles of provocation and childish games that distract from real work.
Leadership requires focus. It requires discernment. And it requires knowing when engagement serves the mission—and when it does not.