Part of the problem

There is a peculiar kind of defensiveness

That comes when someone suggests that you are a part of the problem.

A sense of disbelief that anyone would think that lowly of you

And would even hint at the fact

That you are somehow participating in unsavory things like

Systemic racism, inequality and sexism.

Its a sort of unwanted stigma

That threatens the idea we have of ourselves

As decent human beings.

We compare ourselves to blatant bigots and misogynists

And we argue for our own innocence

Claiming that had we been alive when such terrible acts were being committed

We would have spoken up.

Alright. Maybe.

So who, then, is responsible for the current disparities?

If we all claim to no longer hold these discriminatory ideas

Why are we not living in an equal society?

Someone isn’t owning up to their part of the problem.

And the key lies in that statement right there.

No one entity can be responsible for such widely held disparities

And so the argument is not intended to lay all the blame on anyone

But rather it is point out that we are so resistant to

Acknowledging ourselves as being just a part of the problem.

Injustice needs silent players to thrive,

People who abstain from the critical conversation or

Who say nothing for or against what is going on

But rather actively fold their arms, turn their eyes aside

And come up with smart ideas about what’s going on

Yet never engaging themselves in the process of change.

Yet we claim our innocence.

The poverty, inequality, racism and sexism of our generation is on us.

We are not absolved from our part in it,

Our hands are not clean

And if we are honest, our consciences are just bleached over

And not really clean,

Because as long as we shrug our shoulders

And point fingers

We are not only denying being a part of the problem

But ironically we are are an essential part of it.

 

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