The noise surrounding all of us these days is technicolor and, often, terrifying. We’re bombarded with offers to improve our lives through consumption, we’re told the sky is falling by both major political parties, and we’re offered escape through mindless entertainment (mostly) made for children. Look up the top grossing films of the last 20 years to fact check that.
Notice I said “look up,” not “research.” Access to a search engine and opposable thumbs doesn’t mean you are a researcher. Let’s all get that language right, and let’s do so in the spirit of remember words matter, especially when we want a seat at the table.
This week a decision was made that I disagreed with, so I sent an email about it. I had a conversation because, again, words matter. Who says them, who hears them—it’s the rhetorical situation I teach writ large on our day to day lives.
The conversation didn’t change my mind or my feeling about the decision, but it did allow me to sit across from someone who answered my questions and respected my position. I don’t know how else to exist in this world. Cowering in corners and taking to the far recesses of the internet isn’t productive, and it never makes me feel better. It baffles me that so many people see that absolute retreat as a form of engagement.
Several people praised my choice to reach out and initiate the conversation. One even called me brave. It isn’t brave to ask questions, or at least it shouldn’t be, but the response made me realize how fearful so many of us have become.
There’s good reason, of course, as the country slips further away from the great democratic experiment into something both unbelievable and hauntingly familiar. But, as the Washington Post slogan states, “democracy dies in darkness.” I’d add that alongside democracy, agency dies, too.
We cannot allow ourselves to be swept away by fear. We cannot sit back and hope things will be better. We cannot wait for cooler heads to prevail—they don’t seem to be in the room most days—and we cannot pray for someone to save us. We have to be active participants in our own salvation and revolution.
I did take a chance this year; it was not sending that email. I set my sights on a goal I’ve had for a long time, but it didn’t happen. I want to believe it will some day, but it isn’t up to me. So much of life isn’t. What I can control, though, is how and when I use my voice to ask questions and to take a seat at the table that no one else is taking.
Please, friends: speak up.
Take a seat.
Be seen and heard and fierce in your convictions.
Now is not the time to passively observe from the shadows.
I believe in you.
Shannon Carriger 