Last week I was with acquaintances who were heckling another by making the apparently horrid accusation that one of their daughters was dating a black athlete. I asked “Jeezus! Exactly what century are we in?” Unfortunately everyone had been drinking, were all talking loudly, and few heard me. The one or two who did just winked and gave me the shrug…the shrug that says, “It’s all harmless…You know how it is…You know how they are…Come on, you’re one of us, you should be laughing too.”
I’m not trying to pat myself on the back here by illustrating how I spoke up. What’s more important is how many times I haven’t. I really should have just gone home at that point. I’ve been in this situation many times over the years, and often my response was to shake my head and keep quiet, or just mutter my discontent under my breath. Why? Because I was afraid of being rude to someone who is my professional or social superior. Because I was afraid of rocking the boat. Of looking like a bleeding heart. Of sounding like a bitch. Holier Than Thou. What’s really important is that I’m not the one who made the slur, right? My silence…that I’m not laughing too proves my disapproval, right?
Dr. King died for speaking out loud about the world around him. He didn’t mutter under his breath, he led a movement. He spoke out making sure people could hear him, and he led thousands in marches…both in spirit and in person. The consequences for him were a completely different universe from any perceived minuscule consequence I may bear.
I’m not promising I’m going to stand up in the lunch room the next time someone makes an off-color joke and start reciting the “I Have A Dream” speech. But I’ll make sure to say, “WTF?” or just plain march right on out of there. And perhaps that will make them feel like they’re rude…sounding like a bitch…ignorant.
http://www.usconstitution.net/dream.html
xo
en