Why I Took Action
Anybody who knows me will tell you that I experience my fair share of moral indignation. I can be rigid about what is right and what is wrong. It’s hard for me to walk away from that person who refuses to wear headphones while listening to music on the subway, won’t give up a seat to an elderly person, or, maybe above all else, tries to get in the doors before letting the other people off. There’s something in me that nags at me. It’s whispering, all the time, “This is wrong. Someone needs to say something. This needs to be fixed. If you walk away, it’ll just continue to happen.”
I am not telling you that you should go around yelling at people on the subway. Not at all. The people in my life have made clear that that is not always something they would prefer I do. But what I have realized is that moral indignation I feel, that personal drive to fix what is wrong, can be very useful if used for a greater good. It could be directed towards positive change. Instead of, you know, just pushing me towards being that person yelling on the subway.
I never considered myself an especially political person. I see people on Twitter getting heavily criticized for calling themselves “nonpolitical” and the like. That was me not that long ago. I was registered as an Independent, in protest of the idea that I should be voting with a party, as opposed to with my beliefs. I always voted with a liberal agenda, but it’s the principle. Even now, I still don’t like the idea of a two-party system, though I’ve finally registered as a Democrat.
I had opinions, I voted, I knew what I thought was right. But, like many others, I just didn’t feel any particular responsibility to do more than that. Because, I thought, with our political system, no matter the results of the election, the scales never tipped very far one direction or another. There’s too many voices. Checks and balances are everywhere. The people I voted to elect, if they won, would move the bar as far as they could, and when Republicans inevitably took power again, they would try to move the bar right back. On and on. History suggests that over time we lean towards what is right, and what is good, so I felt that, in time, things would play out for the best.
(Sidebar: EVERYONE SHOULD VOTE. Only 58 percent of eligible voters are estimated to have cast their ballot in the 2016 election. That’s the lowest turnout in 20 years. Our vote is the single most powerful thing we have at our disposal as citizens. If you don’t vote, for any reason, you’re tacitly accepting the inevitable result as amenable to you. Yes, I know, we need massive reform when it comes to voter suppression. It is coming. But it will come slower if the good people of this country do not vote.)
After Trump was elected, everything changed for me. It changed for thousands of people. I finally saw that even if the arc of the moral universe bends towards justice, it won’t do it alone. Everywhere I turn during this administration, there is something that gets that nagging voice inside me talking again, not whispering anymore, but shouting. “DO SOMETHING. THIS IS WRONG.” I realized that makes me a political person. That feeling. Anytime I see rhetoric denouncing an entire ethnic group, for example, and I get mad, that makes me a political person. I used to think being political meant being argumentative, or semantic. To be political means you’re willing to take a stand for what you believe is right. I am proud to be political. The stunning lack of compassion from some of the people who are supposed to represent us and our best interests demands it of me.
Seeing what is wrong, and wanting it to be right, on any scale, is political. Act on those convictions. The bar for being a political person is low. There’s no minimum amount of knowledge or education or prior experience required to be political. We are all political people. We need to be. People’s lives are at stake.
We, as a nation, have separated children from their parents. We are refusing to welcome people in need. We are telling women what they should do with their bodies. We are making healthcare so inaccessible that people are dying of medical conditions that are easily curable. We are allowing journalists to be shot at work, parents to be shot in front of their children, children to be shot at school. We are turning our backs on the most vulnerable among us. All the time. Is that wrong? Then we need to act. I should’ve seen it before. This administration has made me see it. The only way anyone could not see it now is if they don’t want to.
I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t immediately go out and start protesting publicly. It wasn’t in my vocabulary. I started reading articles my friends posted online. I got educated. I started sharing those articles. Ideas are important. But that didn’t make me into an activist, by any means. There was a part of me that said, “Change what you can change. You’re one person.” But that didn’t feel like enough. And it didn’t calm that feeling in my chest, that desperate feeling that I couldn’t shake, telling me that something needed to be different. I just didn’t know how to make any of that change happen. I didn’t know where that energy should be directed.
There are some very inspiring people in my life who were doing more. Protesting. Donating their time, and effort, and money. Using the skills they had. One friend volunteered at a legal center for refugees. Another sold homemade necklaces and donated the proceeds to organizations threatened by the Trump administration. Whole groups of people donated their birthdays on Facebook to charitable causes. And everyone marched. They showed up. Did whatever they could do. Together they started to effect change. Even if all they did was just inspire me. That’s a difference. They woke me up. They opened my eyes to what one person could accomplish, at least when aligned with many, many other people. I started reaching out, asking what I could do, how I could get involved. People reached back. They recommended volunteering for local campaigns, canvassing, fundraising. Signing up for mailing lists to know about actions being taken, working in phone banks, even just calling your senators.
If you don’t know how to make a difference, ask. People will answer. If you see people hurting, help. Be a giver. I didn’t know it would be so easy. It’s lifted my spirits in every way. If you can donate money, that’s great. But act your conscience. Listen to that voice nagging at you. There are always people out there who need you. I said earlier that over time, good wins out. Well, I believe that. But we’re fortunate here if we’re able to wait out that clock. Other people aren’t so lucky. They need us now. They needed us yesterday. It is not too late to act, ever. And you will feel better as you begin to take action.
I wasn’t a political person before, but I am now. You can be too. It’s time to embrace it. We have all felt that feeling I kept feeling on the subway, that moral responsibility, that need to act out against the thing that is wrong. But this isn’t the subway. This is way bigger. Let’s direct that feeling of moral indignation towards this administration. Let’s do whatever we can, whatever it takes. Vote. March. Donate. Act. Be relentless. We are all political people, together, which makes us a force to be reckoned with.
