Silence Is Not Violence*
*Not always, at least.
Sometimes silence is the sound of someone learning. The sound of someone refraining from speaking impulsively and under pressure. The sound of someone observing, listening, watching.
You cannot listen if you are speaking.
This seems to be lost in the world of social media. On social media, you are expected to post, share, retweet, regram, like, and comment on every issue that crosses our feeds. Especially if it falls under the category of social justice. Climate change, animal rights, and humanitarian crises have their fair amount of pressure for people to “be an advocate” for. But to my observation, nothing puts more pressure on us than issues we are demanded to “be an ally” of.
Allyship does not always mean sharing in public. It does not always mean voicing our own under-informed opinions. It does not always mean emotionally vomiting for likes and story shares to prove that we are on the right side of history. The rightness of history will be judged in retrospect by generations to come, who, evidence more than suggests, will have very different values and ideas of right-ness than we hold today.
We forget this. We bulldoze ourselves and each other into taking meme-worthy stances on issues of literal life and death, often prematurely and often from fear. If I don’t post, my morality is in question, we may think. If I don’t share the hashtag, people will make assumptions. If I dare to disagree, or even just ask for more information, I might get canceled.
We are canceling ourselves when we succumb to peer pressure by posting under- and misinformed ignorance. We cancel ourselves when we do not post from places of personal truth, but from places of threat and impulse.
Now feels like an appropriate time to acknowledge that, of course, not everyone is posting about social justice issues from places of fear and ignorance. Many are sharing from their personal experiences. I respect this. I deeply admire the courage it takes to tell a story that risks misunderstanding and vilification. I hold in the greatest admiration those who tell their truths with bravery and actionable suggestions others can take if they feel so inclined.
What I object to is the assumption of complicity in those who do not appear to be taking a stand or choosing a side. I reject, vehemently, the assumption that if issues of social justice are not posted about or commented on, that it means either one doesn’t care or, worse, is on the side of the perceived oppressor. I have the audacity to disagree with anti-apartheid activist Desmond Tutu who said that, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”
Silence is not always neutrality. Inaction is not always choosing a side. Observation is not always abetment. [Click to Tweet]
Do you want informed peers or bullied minions? Reactive rebels or measured thinkers? Loud detractors or silent supporters? Do not assume that those you urge to speak will say what you want them to. Do not rush education. True growth takes time. So stop vilifying the silent.
You may think this blog post is about #BlackLivesMatter. Maybe you think I’m referring to the Taliban takeover of Afghanistan, or the bombing of Palestine and Israel, or the 7.2 earthquake in Haiti, or the COVID-19 pandemic and the responses it’s provoked. Maybe you think this blog post is referencing issues more personal or niche, such as the current debate in the ex-evangelical community over a certain discontinued course, and the web of reactions and reactions to reactions surrounding it. Perhaps you assume I’m talking about you. Your posts, your comments, your Instagram stories.
All of the above assumptions would likely be correct. Your possible assumptions about my silence or lack of commentary—or too much commentary—may even be correct. But what would be grossly incorrect is to presume that I either a) do not care about these issues and many more; or b) that I am not on your side. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m somewhere in the middle. Maybe I’m still learning, still reading, watching, listening, and pondering.
This is what silence sounds like.
Maybe I’ve made peace with what was in my heart all along: To avoid giving my opinion, support, or condemnation of topics I actually know so very little about. Topics I cannot help but view through the lens of my own life. Topics so weighty, so cruel, so unjust, so grave, that I feel I cannot learn enough about them to take an informed position within my own conscience, never mind share these opinions in a public sphere.
This is what silence sounds like.
I’ve spoken out of line and from places of fear and ignorance. I will do so again. You may think I’m doing so now. Truthfully, though, I don’t think I care. The paradox is that I care deeply, both about what you think and about these very issues I’m defending my silence for. It is because of this care that I am giving myself permission to no longer “be an ally.” I am giving myself permission to define what this means for me, and my own motivations, through my own choices, words, and actions, and lack thereof. I am giving myself permission to feel guiltless over participating not enough, too much, and not at all.
I always knew this permission was mine to take. I waited to take it because, like everything else I’m addressing, I wanted it to be clear in the murkiest corners of my conscience. I wanted it to be well-thought-over, deeply evaluated, and overly considered. This is how I treat myself and other things I care about.
If you’re wondering whether or not I’ll continue sharing my writing—for what is writing if not speaking publicly about something, anything—I am preparing to write even more. As I have always endeavored, I will write from a place as informed as I know how to be, and I will only share what I think will be helpful. Not helpful to everyone, or even most people. Probably not helpful to you a lot of the time. But helpful to someone, because for every controversial perspective I share, I get responses of feeling seen tenfold. For every opinion I’ve thought out enough to voice, I hear from multitudes that they share the same opinion, and have either felt too inarticulate or too afraid to voice it. I know my work makes a difference to some and not all. I am more than okay with that. I am fucking honored.