Dear Governor Ferguson,

My name is Delta Rotter, and I am a lot of things. I’m a single mother to a Nonbinary child. I’m a domestic violence survivor and a state government employee. I’m a Queer person with a Queer partner and Queer friends, who was raised in a conservative, rural town here in Washington and forced to hide essential parts of me away, even from myself. I’m a registered voter in our state, and this past November I filled in the box next to your name on the ballot I cast for our governor.

When I first heard you were running for governor, I was cautiously optimistic. As a public servant in a cabinet-level state agency, I knew people who knew you. One of my colleagues spoke highly of you, and I’d heard plenty of tales of how tough you were as our state’s attorney general.

My child was born just weeks before the 2016 election. I sobbed as I watched the results come in, terrified of the world I had just brought them into. You were one of the brave ones who was actually going to do something about it. You filed lawsuit after lawsuit, and you won. You were a man of action, and I thought, “Who could possibly be better to have as the leader of our state as we stare down the barrel of Project 2025?”

On June 4, 2025, I found out I was wrong about you.

I was present for the raising of the Progress Pride flag on the Capitol grounds this year. This was my first year attending, and I felt so lucky and free to be walking in holding the hand of the person young, closeted me could have never imagined getting to love. We held hands and smiled as Commissioner Upthegrove spoke about marrying his husband. When he said, “We need to speak up and be visible,” I sat up a little straighter. My partner and I both leaned in when Kaity Cazares began to talk about their experience as a Nonbinary person.

Then a procession of 50 Washington State Patrol graduates marched through our ceremony, and you did nothing.

As I watched the cadets march toward the crowd, I thought, “This can’t be real.” Fifty uniformed, armed officers were marching toward a group of visibly Queer people. They didn’t slow down as they approached. Most people quickly moved out of the way, fearing being trampled. Queer folk have long known what happens when they get in the way of law enforcement. One woman refused to move. The officers didn’t hesitate. A few stepped slightly to the side, brushing her outstretched arms as they passed. Many of them didn’t even bother with that. None of them dared to look her in the eye.

When they had all passed and the crowd had settled, Kaity resumed their speech. Then you approached the podium. You referenced the attack on Queer people from “the other Washington” as if you hadn’t witnessed an attack on us in your Washington just moments before. You were a perfect politician, slinging blame on the other party while failing to take accountability for or even acknowledging the event that had just unfolded as you stood to the side and watched.
When I spoke to you after the event, you interrupted me to say, “I didn’t know. Nobody knew.” As if that were an acceptable excuse to sit idly by as your constituents were threatened with state force. Of course, we now know that “somebody” did in fact know, thanks to the statement released by the WSP that you were so quick to praise.

I’m disappointed in you, Bob.

But it’s okay — we all make mistakes. There’s still time to make a better choice. Issue a statement. Apologize to your Queer constituents. Hold the WSP accountable for what was clearly not an accident (because c’mon, 50 officers don’t accidentally march into a ceremony, Queer or not). Be the man of action you promised you would be. Do better.


Delta Rotter