That facebook comment isn’t going to change the world (but here’s what will)

If you would've asked me two years ago if I considered myself a political person, my response would have been reflexive: No, definitely not. Following that response was usually a 30-second meandering explanation of my stance on war and abortion (pacifist, against), bookended with a wordy reflection about how “we live in a fallen world, ya know?”, and how even though I don’t like said things, bad stuff like violence and death are an inescapable part of life on planet Earth.

And then I would have changed the subject.

If you’re reading this now and we know one other, you’re probably shaking your head - maybe even hoping to return to a day when that kind of answer was my norm. Nowadays, people literally cross the street to avoid talking to me about things like war, abortion, refugees, education reform, capitalism, and whatever else is currently trending in the news media - the unluckiest of whom occasionally find themselves seated next to me on a plane or in a restaurant, with less room to dodge.

When I came back from the World Race in July 2016, everything about my previous worldview had changed. Somewhere between cradling blue-lipped refugee babies and teaching English to HIV-positive African third graders, my take on the political system transformed. I could no longer afford to hold onto the comforting thought patterns of my middle-class American upbringing, where every homeless man I passed on the street “just wasn’t trying hard enough to hold a job” and every Muslim in line at TSA was considered a national security threat. Almost immediately upon returning back to the midwestern United States, I mistakenly began to see my working class neighbours as the enemy.

I swung the pendulum so far to the other side of the spectrum that for a period of time, I genuinely believed that bringing justice to the poverty and governmental oppression I witnessed overseas could be rectified by shaming and exposing the half-baked capitalist beliefs of any middle-age white guy not totally in line with the bloodlines of my meandering, bleeding heart liberalism.

Politics go deep with people. Don’t believe me? Click or tap through any form of social media for longer than 60 seconds. There is no corner of the internet left that’s safe from politics; you can’t even get on Tumblr anymore without scrolling past a meme of President 45 photoshopped into a French fry.

But here’s something I’ve noticed - noticed about you, and noticed about me.

Red, blue, green, independent, well-traveled or well-pinned, we think that having a well-formed opinion on something happening in the world is all we need to begin recruiting other people into our political belief system. Feeling something, and having something to say, is the stick that draws the line in the sand: on one side, there’s you; and on the other (right) side, there’s me.

For probably 97% of the population, this political crusade begins and ends in the Facebook comment section. But the number-one problem with every person having an opinion and wanting to argue it, is that most of us never actually end up doing anything about it at all.

We stop at knowing. We stop at the statistic, the time stamp, the news alert lighting up our lockscreen. If I had a dollar for every time I took a screenshot of a CNN news alert or composed a tweet based on something an hour fresh on Vox.com, I could buy my sorry ass a stock share in both companies and retire to Barbados by 35.

Knowing means nothing. Being aware means nothing. Having an opinion and knowing how to debate it, means nothing.

What you do with that information, means everything.

I’ll pause here, because there’s something you should know about me to help the rest of these words make sense: I love appearing smart. I hate not having an answer. Pride is my number-one Seven Deadly Sin, and when I walk into a room, underneath all the pleasantries and hand shakes, I’m immediately trying to find the smartest available person so I can befriend them and avoid being made to look stupid by them. In all things, knowing what is happening and having an opinion protects me from my greatest fear: being without an identity, and by default, being unworthy.

But it is not necessary to comment on everything you notice.

There’s this sense in which I can feel incredibly self-important for having what I think is a good amount of knowledge about something, but at the end of the day, all the knowledge in the world is bullshit unless we act on it in some way.

Knowing that children are dying in Aleppo and doing nothing about it sits on your consciousness like water sits on metal. Eventually, if there’s no movement, it corrodes. The same thing happens with our minds, hearts, and even our spirits. The more we are aware of and the less we do about what we know, the quicker we are killing of our God-given compassion.

The heart is a tender thing, and given too much emotional weight to bear, it begins to form calluses to protect itself. No one can live in perpetual anger all the time.

Well, I mean - okay, you can. But think PETA. Think Donald Trump.

Think about a person on a mission (good or bad, doesn’t make a difference), and then think about how they’re creating change. Their voices are loud, but their words are shallow. Their compassion has left, and anger has set in. They shout and rant and push because they are in pain. People seldom follow them, because these leaders have missed the gentle pull of the current as it passed; now, they are paddling upstream.

You can always tell the difference between someone inspiring a change out of love, or inciting change using fear and anger. And turning opinion into change is hard as hell, man. But the risk of doing nothing is far worse - eventually, you will wake up one Saturday morning with a fully functioning body, but a dead and rusted heart.

So, what should we do?

Ask yourself what pisses you off. What do you see on the news that you absolutely cannot stand? What turns your neck and ears red when a stranger comments about it on an elevator? What news alert did you get this month where you caught yourself holding your breath as you read it?

Start small. This is the hardest part - you want the towering oak tree, but the seed has to come first. Plant an action in good faith that it will be the building block for all your future endeavours, and then do the next right thing.

Lastly, feel the feelings. Let what stirs you agitate that smouldering inner ember into a bonfire. Feel sorrow, anger, desperation, and pain. And then, instead of stuffing it, act on it.

Take your opinions and past experiences off the comment thread and into the local battered women’s shelter. Take your frustration at materialism to the Salvation Army and donate half your wardrobe. Use your distaste for the shallow nature of social media and use your platforms to fundraise for a mission trip. 

Do what you can with what you have.

Your Facebook friends, the stranger next to you on the overnight flight, your God-given compassion, and the world your heart is broken for, will thank you.

To read more from Kay, check out her website To Be Truth