The Courage To Speak Up Against Injustice

As I sit and observe the world we live in, I cannot help but notice how fear-driven we are. The silence of many is like a ringing bell to an ear.

We stay silent in the presence of injustices because we are too afraid of the consequences to ourselves, our loved ones, our comfort, our status, our reputation and our wellbeing. Of course, if the observed injustice does not directly impact our life in anyway, then it is quite easy to stay silent and go about our business. But for those of us who feel our conscience tingle, the silence gnaws at our peace of mind.

As a child, I remember this particular Black girl in my class who was teased for being very dark-skinned. I laughed at her being mocked and would feel badly when she cried. But I have no memory of ever speaking up for her. As I got older and learned about bullying, I realized that I was complacent in bullying another person based on a trait that she was born with. It was deeply rooted in colorism, a belief that being lighter-skinned was preferable and reinforced by more favorable treatment in society. In fact, when I reflect on my childhood and my culture, being dark-skinned and Black was definitely not associated with beauty or desirability. My first memory of a dark-skinned, Black woman being called beautiful was Wendy Fitzwilliam, a Trinidadian who won Miss Universe in 1998. I remember being in awe of her, I watched pageants rather closely as a child. Seeing her in that context was in strong contradiction to what was normalized around me. It was the beginning of my concept of beauty expanding to include more diversity. However, it would be a longer journey for me to acknowledge my own belief in and practice of colorism.

Fast forward to my teens, in an attempt to undo the guilt I felt at my own complacency in the mistreatment of others, I felt almost compelled to welcome the new kids in my classes or those who seemed friendless. I felt like I needed to be their "friend" even though I really wasn't. I was struggling with being protective of the vulnerable but with the reality of not necessarily wanting to be friends. Does speaking up mean becoming close to the recipient(s) of any injustice or offense?

One boy in my class was teased regularly about his protruding teeth. He had transferred into our class so had no long-standing friendships. It was not until my teacher forced me to be in a group with him rather than with my friends that I came face to face with my own motivations for speaking up when he was teased. I was fine with defending him, but I was not okay with being separated from my friends to work closely with him. I cried my heart out at the unfairness of it all. Yep, it is typical to make everything about ourselves, to become the victim!

I remember my teacher explaining to me why she placed me in his group and it was the first time my self-centered, teenage eyes were opened. He and I became friends after working together on our group project. He was no longer that peer I was saving, so I didn't have to feel badly about myself, but a fellow human who was quite similar to me and deserving of respect. There was definitely a shift in how I saw him and why I spoke up on his behalf.

Growing up in Guyana, domestic violence was very much a spectator sport. Neighbors would come out of their houses and bystanders on the street would stop what they were doing to gawk at the couples, young and old. The degree of physical contact would influence whether anyone stepped in or not. Calling the police was never an option. Child abuse occurred quite regularly, also. Corporal punishment was legal. I grew up watching children being beaten with an assortment of objects and knew that it was physical abuse. There were several respected persons, like pastors, who would step in and speak to the abusing parent or grandparent. It didn't stop the abuse but I remember their interventions. Child sexual abuse also went with little to no intervention. In fact, many families covered it up or blamed the child. A close friend of mine at the time had confided in me that her older male cousin had been having sex with her for years. We weren't even teenagers yet. She gave me strict instructions to tell no one. I so wanted to tell another friend's father who was a police officer, but I had no knowledge about what would happen after telling. After all, her parents knew about it and they were adults.

I had witnessed harm being done, but felt helpless and voiceless to intervene. What was the point? There were no services available to provide protection, reprieve or even justice. What did justice even look like?

During my training as a clinician, I learned about self-reflection and the need to examine my belief systems and their origin; my thought and behavior patterns in my family and relationships; and my reactions to different individuals. But it was my work with victims and perpetrators of domestic violence and sexual assault that brought all of my internalized beliefs and frustrations to the surface. I was dealing with an internal turmoil of how I learned to respond in these situations versus how I was expected to respond as a clinician.

Many times we are silent because we have been socialized to look the other way or believe that our interventions are pointless. Sometimes, we are silent because we believe that the injustice we have witnessed is actually just. In other cases, we do want to speak up or act but our family and friends may give us all the reasons why it is a terrible idea. Whatever the reason, it is time for us to pause and explore the motivations behind our silence. Change happens in discomfort, but only if you are courageous enough to endure it.

As we are faced daily with news reports of the unjust killings of Black people, the long list of economic and health disparities that affect the Black community and the Black Lives Matter Movement. Can we really say that we didn't know about it or we didn't know what to do? The resources abound for wherever you are in your journey.

Here 5 questions to ask yourself as you examine the motivation behind your silence:

1) What did you learn growing up about speaking out against injustices? Have your beliefs changed with age and experience?

2) When you reflect on your life, what were the situations that you felt prompted to speak up on for the wellbeing and protection of another human?

a) If you obeyed the promptings, what was the outcome for you and the affected human(s)?

b) If you ignored the promptings, what was the outcome for you and the affected human(s)?

3) What were the situations that never got your attention, even though the affected groups made it known that an injustice had occurred?

a) Why do you think those particular situations were your blind spots?

b) What did you learn growing up about these groups of people?

c) How do the people of influence in your life feel about these groups of people?

4) What steps have you taken to educate yourself on these issues so that you are making decisions from an informed position?

a) Are your sources of information credible?

b) Do they have the same biases you have, thereby confirming your own beliefs?

c) Are you reading and listening to the lived experiences of the affected group by people from within those groups?

5) Have you interacted with and formed positive connections with persons from these affected groups?

• Note, your experience with just one person from that group is not generalizable to the entire group.

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