When Big Data Comes to Town

Six months ago, I knew nothing about data center development, energy infrastructure, regulatory agencies, or how large technology companies operate.

I didn’t know what the Public Service Commission did, how environmental oversight worked, or how decisions of this scale were made.

Now I do.

DeForest, Wisconsin. A small, lovely community in northeast Dane County. I chose this place for my family because of the schools, but not for the reasons most people would expect. Not test scores. Not DPI reports. I chose it because of something harder to measure. Kindness. Human decency.

Here’s why.

More than a decade ago, I was a haberdasher. Mostly weddings, but for one short, chaotic season each year, prom. Hundreds of teenage boys would come through my doors, sometimes dragging their mothers, sometimes being dragged by them. And year after year, I saw the same patterns. Dismissiveness. Entitlement. The full “prom mom” experience, adjacent to “bridezilla” and “monster-in-law” for those who know.

Except for one group.

Every year, the DeForest Area School District stood out. The students walked in and spoke for themselves. They were respectful, clear, and grounded. Their moms offered input without taking over. There was conversation, not conflict. No drama. Just… decency.

They were the kind of kids I was trying to raise. The kind of parent I was trying to be.

That’s why I chose DeForest.

In 2016, I moved here. I left briefly from 2019 to 2022, but kept my kids enrolled in DeForest schools, thank you, open enrollment. In 2022, we sold our home in Lodi and moved back to DeForest. Four kids, one village, fully rooted.DeForest cares about the environment, sustainability, and land conservation. There are community events year-round, and in the summer, several each week. What residents care about shows up in the decisions the Village Board makes.

I love this place.

And then, in 2025, the whispers started. A developer. A pig roast at the Vienna Town Hall, just two miles down the road. Something about a data center.

A what?

The neighborhood Facebook page lit up. And it didn’t quiet down:

Hyperscale. 5 gigawatts. Pre-annexation agreement. Annexation. Proposal. DOA. DNR.
1,600 acres?!
Thermally sensitive waters.
Millions, wait, billions of gallons of water?
Comprehensive Plan amendment. Public hearings. Urban Service Area amendment. Village Board meetings.

Oh. The emails, hundreds and hundreds of emails between developers, attorneys, consultants, the Village Board President, and Village staff…

It just kept coming.

You can see why this was so much. A million different issues popping up like whack-a-mole, but the moles were brush fires, and every time you thought you had one under control, two more sparked somewhere else.

The hardest part wasn’t just trying to understand what a data center was or what it might mean. It was realizing that the kind of community I chose, one built on respect, communication, and trust, was being pulled into something that didn’t operate by those same values. Turns out, it wasn’t what I thought.

And as we started connecting with others, it became clear that this wasn’t isolated. Communities just like ours, places built on the same sense of decency and care, were being asked to navigate the same complex, fast-moving decisions, often without the time or information they deserved.

I’m not alone. We are not alone.

Across the country, millions of residents are being forced into the same position. Learning on the fly. Researching everything they can. Documenting what has happened, what is happening, and what could come next. Life is changing at breakneck speed. According to the Pew Research Center, over 143 million Americans live within five miles of an operational or planned data center. Nine out of ten data centers are within five miles of another. If you get one, you will likely get more.

When the hyperscale data center proposal was introduced in Vienna and DeForest, it was presented as an opportunity.

It didn’t feel like one.

It felt like a betrayal.

This was a massive, long-term decision with permanent fiscal, environmental, and social consequences. Yet it was pushed forward at lightning speed, leaving little room for understanding and even less room for meaningful public input. We were dropped into the middle of an electrical storm.

As residents, we were left trying to make sense of complex technical, environmental, and infrastructure issues in real time. Information was limited, difficult to access, or incomplete. What we could find often raised more questions than answers.

But more than anything, it was the process that changed us.

There was a growing sense of being unheard. That community voices were secondary to outside interests. People who had never attended a local meeting before started showing up. Asking questions. Organizing. Speaking out. Not because they wanted to, but because they felt they had to, to protect their homes and their future.

And still, we were told it was a done deal. That nothing we said or did would change the outcome. The result was stress, division, and uncertainty. Trust in the process, and in the institutions meant to represent and protect us, was strained.

But something else became clear:

When it matters, people show up. Party lines started to blur. Neighbors found each other. Communities began fighting with everything they had to protect their children, their homes, and their lives.

We had to. No one else was going to do it for us. We fought because what happens here, and in every community facing a hyperscale data center, cannot be ignored. We are not an isolated community and this was not an isolated proposal. What happened here and what is happening across this country will have forever implications for the rest of country. We cannot stay silent. Protecting ourselves is not optional.

This was never just about a data center. It became about transparency, accountability, and the reality that if residents do not actively engage and advocate for themselves, no one else will.

For those of you just beginning this process, ask questions early. Demand clear answers. Do not assume your concerns will be prioritized without persistence. Your local government has both the authority and the responsibility to protect your community. They may need to be pushed to use it.

What we wish we knew at the beginning:

• These projects move fast, often faster than public understanding. Do not wait to get informed or involved because it might be too late if you wait.

• Early framing matters. If you are not part of the conversation at the start, your concerns can be dismissed later as reactionary.

• Information will not always be handed to you clearly or completely. You will likely have to dig for it. Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests are your friend. File open records requests early. Get in front of it.

• Regulatory processes can feel inaccessible, but they are not untouchable. Learn how they work as quickly as possible and insist on being in the room. You deserve a seat at the table.

• Ask specific questions about energy use, water use, environmental impact, infrastructure strain, and long-term costs, not just short-term benefits. Don’t expect you’ll get complete information or full honestly. Document every answer you get. 

• Do not assume that alignment between developers, utilities, regulators, and local government means your interests are being protected.

• Organizing matters. A single voice can be ignored. A coordinated community is much harder to overlook.

• Document everything. Meetings, statements, timelines. It becomes critical as things progress. Learn the laws about recording conversations and public meetings. Protect yourself.

• Most importantly, trust your instincts. If something feels rushed, unclear, or one-sided, it probably is.

If you feel lost, confused, or alone in this, you are not. There are people who want to help. I am one of them. Please reach out to any of us, especially if you are already feeling overwhelmed. We have been there. Some of us are still there.

At the very least, we still have each other in this fight for Wisconsin and our communities.

Winona Storms

No Data Center DeForest