“My quietness right now is not inaction,” a friend of color posted on Facebook a few days ago.
She had been working behind the scenes, she stated, grace and beauty flowing from her simple words. No specifics to gain applause, no details to garner praise.
This woman is tireless in her work in the inner city, storming the streets for change and the gates of heaven for transformed hearts. Knowing how it feels to carry racial wounds, the entirety of her job is to fight for equity and reform.
Had someone called my friend to account for her silence on social media? Anger burned in my throat. This woman was working too hard to stop and publish her good deeds online. How could anyone demand an accounting of her time?
I think of another friend—a white one this time—with a similar story. Her job is in social work in North Minneapolis, acting as a voice for the voiceless, always moving for the equality and promotion of the unprivileged. Because she is quiet on social media, does she also encounter pressure to post the good she’s doing? How could anyone exact a list of her activities?
Do we post online for approval? From whom? For justification of what we do? For what reason?
But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Neither woman is new on the scene, freshly moved to action because of the tragedy of George Floyd’s death. No, for decades they have traveled the depth of heartache with others and toiled for them with few words online to showcase their sacrifices off.
Another friend of color posted this on Instagram yesterday, and of course she would; her grace is boundless:
“Some are posting on social media. Some are protesting in the streets. Some are donating silently. Some are educating themselves. Some are having tough conversations with friends and family.
A revolution has many lanes—be kind to yourself and to others who are traveling in the same direction.
Just keep your foot on the gas.”
Words online or lack thereof, I promise to keep my foot on the gas.
You too?
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.