The privilege of silence
We stand at the forefront of a pandemic. A certain virus has been infiltrating our communities, leaving us tight-lipped and numb to the terrors (and truths) of society. We have become detached and disinterested with most things that are controversial in nature, feeling as if what we have to contribute is inconsequential. Like zombies who tread over the troubles of our country with lifeless ardor, we have now become apolitical.
We are apolitical when we don’t care who the president is, or what he does or doesn’t do. We are apolitical when we don’t give second thoughts on social issues, much less take a stand with any of the involved parties. We are apolitical when we tune out devastating events that headline our news channels every single day.
With a global warming crisis, poverty, corruption, discrimination, and countless of other catastrophes, how can we be so privileged to willfully choose to opt-out of the discussion? Are we too lazy to participate in the democracy we live in? Are our lives comfortable enough that the grievances of our countrymen are simply just nuisances?
The thing is, we always have a choice. We can mope around sneezing and complaining about the weather or our political climate—with little to zero chances of making a change in the world—or we can get up and think, “This isn’t right…”
But it doesn’t end there. Acknowledging that our circumstances aren’t the most ideal and that we actually have the right to be alleviated from these plights is only the first step. The next and most crucial step then is to do something about it.
We are so passively contented to accept the world for what it is that we fail to see what the world could be. Merely watching and complaining about the states of our government and country contributes nothing. We are quick to dismiss our importance—our relevance. What we say matters, and if we ourselves don’t believe that, it only means that the people we put in charge aren’t listening. And that’s what we have to do:
Make them listen.C