Part I — Then and Now
In 2020 the assignment was pretty clear; go to the protest, wear the shirt, say their names, post the black square, delete the black square because it was actually counterproductive, read the books, and call out the performative anti-racists. Done. Doesn’t it feel good to stand on the right side of history?
I stood there and it felt great. It felt righteous. I took dramatic photos and wrote impassioned articles that got a lot of attention and praise. Even better, I had a handful of racist idiots popping up on social media and got to shut them down so hard that they deleted their own comment threads in tantrums of frustration.
And look at all the things we accomplished! All the corporations put out DEI statements so everyone knew they were definitely not racists. That’s meaningful, right? Commercials during the Super Bowl had more Black people than ever before. Representation matters, right? In 2021, Juneteenth became an official National Holiday. We made history, right? We made an indelible mark on the world and there was no going back… right?
Five years later, the situation feels very different. The climate of anti-racism has changed, or at least my perception of it has. Of course I still believe that Black lives matter and I have no problem saying so, but the ease with which all those changes were rolled back or totally undone is disheartening. And my own disappointment and disillusionment underscores the performative nature of a lot of the things I did five years ago.
I meant everything I said but I think it felt a lot more pivotal than it actually was. The stuff that really mattered was quiet. The decisions I made that actually changed the way I lived my life and ran this magazine were much more subtle and became more of an ongoing effort than a defineable accomplishment. It didn’t fit well in an Instagram caption and there were no dramatic photo ops.
And now, as I sit here mulling over these thoughts in 2025, with the stakes feeling even higher, I find myself awkwardly unsure of how to be a good ally. Understanding more about the struggles faced by marginalized people in our city/country/world has not made any of it simpler and it certainly hasn’t made any problems easier to solve. The job description of a “good ally” in 2025 is not as clear as it felt back then.
Part II — Why I Didn’t Speak Up
I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t have anything new to add to the conversation. Yea, I vented some frustrations and I made my general political beliefs more or less clear but there was a lot I didn’t get into.
When things started happening, I sought the advice of people who were better informed or had a more personal investment. I thought about where my beliefs came from and what prejudices I still held. I changed my opinions as I learned new facts and as I came to all these new realizations, I often felt like everyone else had already gotten there ahead of me. And so I didn’t say anything.
I also felt like my convictions were not as solid as everyone else’s. If there was a line drawn in the sand and I had to pick a side, I knew which side I would be on. But I wasn’t 100%. I still had some, “OK, but…” thoughts in the back of my mind. I sometimes felt uncomfortable with the binary options presented on social media and offering up some complexity or nuance to the situation didn’t seem helpful at all. When I thought it through, my points sounded very centrist. And when you’re dealing with extremism, centrism (like neutrality) generally benefits the oppressor. And so I didn’t say anything.
That discomfort wasn’t overwhelming, though, and I could’ve gotten over it for the sake of “doing the right thing” or “being on the right side of history.” But repeating everything that had already been said just felt like jumping on a bandwagon. It felt like repackaging someone else’s bold ideas as if they were my own. I understand the value of solidarity but when I sat down to write up a statement and I asked myself “why are you doing this?” I felt hollow or even a little dishonest. And so I didn’t say anything.
I overthought everything, over and over and over, and by the time I had settled on a decision of what I should do, it felt too late to do anything about it. And five minutes later, some other catastrophe was unfolding and it started me on the whole process all over again.
One of the major obstacles that I kept coming up against was that I didn’t see anyone’s mind being changed. The whole point of social media, the fiber of its being and the foundation it was built on, is confirmation bias. If you like something, it’ll show you a thousand other people who like it too. If you believe something, it’ll suggest a thousand other accounts that support that belief. If you hate something, everything you see on the platform will give you another reason to hate it. And anything you see to the contrary is just an example of how wrong the other side is.
So whatever statement I might’ve made—no matter how well thought out—would’ve gotten applause and a bunch of new followers from one side, and a few grumpy comments and unfollows from the other side. The lines become that much clearer, the divide that much wider, everyone’s biases confirmed, and the platform continues to operate as it was intended.
And finally, with all those thoughts ricocheting around in my head and the overwhelming feelings that came with them, the whole situation became easy to just set aside. I didn’t entirely ignore it but without any clear path forward, it fell lower and lower on my priority list. I don’t feel good about that but it’s the truth.
I care because I want to, not because I have to. Most of the terrible things happening in the world right now do not affect me directly—yet. And those things that do are not existential threats. No one’s dropping bombs on my house, no one’s targeting me because of how I look or act, and you’d have to go back three generations to figure out where I might be deported to.
Part III — Get to the Point
OK, so I still haven’t actually spoken up about anything. I haven’t called anyone out or clarified my stance on any important topics. This is intentional. You wouldn’t have read this far if you didn’t have a strong opinion about something happening in the world right now and I didn’t want to pin my statements on one specific topic.
I’m hoping that my uncertainty and resulting lack of action might sound familiar to someone else reading this and that by talking through it, it will help them find their way through it. Nevertheless, I want to be clear about a few things:
- What’s happening in Gaza right now is a genocide. This isn’t an opinion. This is an objective fact supported by the UN Convention on Genocide—which Israel is a signatory to. The United States government is not only allowing it to continue but is actively supporting the goal of ethnically cleansing Gaza.
- If you’re a non-Indigenous person living in the United States right now, you’re either an immigrant or a descendant of an immigrant. Insisting that you have more of a right to live here than someone who more recently crossed an imaginary line in the middle of the desert out of desperation for a better life is hypocritical and cruel.
- Even if someone crossed the border and committed terrible crimes here, EVERYONE has the right to due process as defined by our constitution. If we allow the rights of non-citizens to be overlooked, we erode the foundation of our own.
- “Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble.” When you see protestors beaten and gassed for refusing to disburse, when you see non-violent individuals singled out and assaulted by police, when you see journalists attacked and arrested, you are watching the degradation of your constitutionally protected rights.
- Access to vaccines, abortions, gender-affirming healthcare, and affordable medication should be protected for all Americans, not just the ones in blue states.
All that said, I still don’t feel like my clarity or conviction on those or any other topics will make a significant impact on anyone’s lives. If I say, “Free Palestine” or “I stand with immigrants” or trans people, or Black people, or democracy, or science, does it really make a difference? Is anyone in Gaza going to feel encouraged by the support of some local magazine on the other side of the globe? Is anyone sitting in the Northwest Detention Center right now wondering what Grit City Magazine is saying about them? Not likely. But that’s not the point of this article. I’ll get to that in a bit.
Part III — Why Now?
So what’s changed? Honestly, not much. It’s still horrible, it’s still stressful, people’s lives are still being threatened every day simply for living the best way they know how. There wasn’t any one event that pushed me over the line. This part, ironically, is the hardest for me to write. It still feels like too little too late and I still don’t feel super confident about it.
There is one important point that I realized a while ago, though: No one is coming for me. I’m a straight white English-speaking male veteran born and raised in the USA. Of course this is obvious and isn’t a game changer on its own. But the further down you go on the social ladder, the more susceptible each individual becomes to intimidation, harassment, and violence.
My demographics shouldn’t determine my level of comfort in any situation but when people started getting arrested and deported just for exercising their right to free speech, the difference in our levels of privilege became more apparent than ever. And as anyone who’s ever dealt with law enforcement can tell you—just because you’re not breaking any laws doesn’t mean they can’t make your life difficult. If you don’t believe me, that only means you’ve never experienced it.
The people who have the most important things to say are being threatened and silenced. The people with a personal vested interest, the people with family who are directly impacted, the people who stand to have their entire lives uprooted—these are the ones being made an example of. And of course that’s how it’s going. Because they’re the easiest targets. They’ve already been demonized by conservative media and their absence will be the least impactful.
So instead of focusing on some big statement of support (like I did back in 2020) I started thinking about what I could actually do about it. And like I slowly realized over the last few years, the things that are most likely to make a lasting difference are not the dramatic Insta-worthy moments but the quiet ones that seem entirely too subtle to make any difference at all.
Part IV — Suggestions for the Well Meaning Ally
I can’t keep any bombs from dropping on anyone’s houses and I can’t make the government respect the institution of due process. But I can get to know my neighbors better. I can make sure they all have my phone number in case they need it. I can go out of my way to build a relationship with them beyond waving and smiling every once in a while. I can make sure they know that if the shit hits the fan, my house is a safe place and I have no problem confronting authority figures who are used to operating free of scrutiny and resistance.
ICE raids are happening in Tacoma just like they are in Los Angeles and other cities all around the country. Some of my neighbors oppose mass deportation, some support it. Others could become targets of it. I may not be able to get involved in broader organized efforts of city-wide patrols and resistance but I can keep an eye on my block. And if the people who care enough are all watching together, the people being targeted stand a much better chance of being supported if the need arises. I heard someone recently talking about the brutal crackdowns on protesters in LA. He said, “No more allies, only accomplices.” Interpret that how you will.
The other thing I can do, beyond my immediate neighborhood, is listen to people. Not just people who are being victimized, or other well hopeful allies, but the perpetrators and their supporters.
“Why would you waste your time talking to a [fill in your chosen bad guy]?” you might be asking yourself. Mostly because I’m curious how people in the same city, with so many other things in common, can wind up with such wildly different viewpoints. I’ve also found that despite what social media would have you believe, people are never as simple as they appear to be.
Every conversation I’ve had with a conservative voter in the last few months has shown me some surprising aspect of their lives or personalities that I never would’ve known had I not had a real conversation with them. It doesn’t change everything but it builds a connection where there wasn’t one before and it goes both ways.
Part V — Suggestions for the Haters
If you still support Israel but you don’t like what’s happening in Gaza or Iran, let’s talk about it.
If you support mass deportations and you don’t understand why everyone is so upset, let’s talk about it.
If you don’t understand why Juneteenth is a federal holiday, let’s talk about it.
If you don’t get the importance of Pride Month, let’s talk about it.
If the words “libtard” or “democrap” have ever come out of your mouth, I REALLY want to talk about it.
If you still think Donald Trump is Making America Great Again, let’s talk about it.
If you disagree with me, if something I said made you angry, if you think you’re smarter than me or more well informed, tell me why. But do me one favor and tell me in person.
I’m not going to shout you down. I won’t belittle your opinions because you believe something different than me. If I think your views are reprehensible, I’ll tell you. But I’ll explain why and I’ll listen to your response. Because I’m not an expert in any of this. And because I don’t hold any of these beliefs so tightly that I can’t see or hear anything outside of them. None of it is simple to me and personally, I don’t think it’s helpful to see it as such.
So where do we start?
Option 1: You can leave a saucy comment and make me look foolish and maybe I’ll reply to it and we can decide who wins by how many stupid little hearts we each get on our corresponding comments.
Option 2: We can take an hour out of our day and remember what it’s like to be human beings and actually learn something from each other over a pint of beer or a cup of coffee. You choose the place and I’ll buy the first round.
Option 3: You can leave a shitty comment and rile everyone up. Then someone will ask if you took me up on my offer to meet in person and you’ll realize you’re actually just afraid because you know your dickhead personality will never survive outside of the anonymity of social media.
Part VI — Resources for Those in Need
If you or someone you care about is lacking resources, if you’re afraid, if you’re unsure of your rights, or your safety net is thin, hit us up. If we can’t help, we’ll find someone who can. We absolutely will not share any information that you don’t give us permission to. If you’re not under any specific threat but you just want someone to talk to, hit us up. We’re good listeners and we have a decent selection of snacks at our office downtown.
Also, if you’re part of an organization that’s already doing the work supporting these people and you could use some extra hands or some greater exposure, hit us up and we’ll gladly amplify your message. There are a lot of helpful folks in Tacoma and it’s often just a matter of connecting the resources to the needs.
