Quiet, Not Silent

One night last week, we watched Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Early in the film, one of the characters shouts, “These are mad times we live in. Mad!” Never has that line felt more true than right now.

The events of this year so far have forced us to question every aspect of how we have been living. We need to ask ourselves how we can change so that we can do better. How we treat the world, what we value, how we treat each other. All of it is worth examining.

There is one question I can’t stop asking myself. What can I do to be better?

I was lucky enough to be born a white girl, to well-off enough parents, living in a safe enough neighborhood. Never have I walked down the street and wondered if the people I pass regard my presence as a threat. I was born privileged, with the blonde hair and blue eyes that would have protected me during other time periods too.

I have worked hard in life for the things I have, but I am not naive enough to believe that we are all born with the same starting line. It’s been obvious at times that the rules of the race are skewed to my advantage. I know I have never had extra hurdles in my path simply because of the neighborhood I grew up in or the way I look.

At 32 years old, I only need a few fingers to count the number of times I have feared for my life because of my appearance. To a certain kind of person, a small enough woman running alone looks like easy prey. I’ve been scared because of my gender, but never because of the color of my skin. And never, not once, has my fear been at the hands of someone who’s job it is to serve and protect.

I was lucky enough to be raised in a family that taught me to be both kind and aware of the world around me. I have parents who showed me that there are many different ways to grow up than the way I did. My parents chose to raise me where I could be around people different from me, every day. They didn’t stop once they had taught me to tolerate and accept others. They kept going, showing me how to lend a hand when I could, one person at a time.

I am grateful for where I come from, for the circumstances I was born into. I’m grateful for the many ways these circumstances have made my life simpler, safer. The way I look, where I’m from, my parents and the many others who have offered me help along the way. I’m also grateful to know that all of these things are a privilege not available to everyone.

For all of my adult life, I have dreamed of creating something that will help others. My dream is to make a difference in the world for people with less lucky circumstances than my own. I want to help create more hope, even if I only ever do so one person at a time. The world we live in today is showing me how important it is to turn my dream into a plan as soon as possible.

I am proud of the people standing up as leaders to say how we’ve been living is no longer okay. That it never really was okay. I am proud to see protesters night after night, shouting loudly so their voices cannot be ignored. I am proud to see the stories of both outrage and support on social media, voices coming together to make a difference. It feels like real change could happen. 

Between the cries of standing together on social media, I also see people shame others who have not spoken up. To whoever needs to hear it, please consider that not posting on a social media feed does not necessarily mean that someone is staying silent. Please consider that someone might not have known how to raise their voice yet, and your indignation may keep them mute. If you want someone to join you, helping them stand up is far more effective than pushing them back down.

For the moment, I am someone who has chosen to remain quiet on social media. It’s not because I don’t believe in this movement asking for change. I do. I am just someone that feels I will learn more right now by listening. Even if you don’t hear my voice, I am not remaining silent. I am someone who is having conversations at home, examining my own life and beliefs, and learning how I can be better. When I do stand up, I want my actions to speak louder than my words ever could.