My Opinion Isn't Important
Recently, I tweeted this:
Sometimes it feels like the world is running out of people who have the ability to say, “My opinion on this subject isn’t important.”
That tweet got 10 likes, which is nearly half of my followers. So, I’m expanding on this idea here. And by expanding, I mean that’s it. That’s the whole thought. Sometimes your opinion (my opinion) isn’t important.
This puts me in a bind because I’m a writer. Writing isn’t just what I do, it’s how I think. And I want to have opinions, not just for the sake of opinions, but because I want to listen and learn from other people who know more than I do. And then I want to process those thoughts and ideas and in turn, extrapolate and create my own thoughts and ideas. Or else, as one of my favorite modern philosophers once said, I’ll end up “only knowing my ideas of other people’s ideas.”
So, these are my ideas and opinions on current events. I decided to combine them all into one essay because frankly they barely deserve even that much space, let alone their own posts. Plus, if I can help you read two fewer op-eds today because I combine three into one, that may be the nicest thing I can do for you.
Even still, I would encourage you to stop reading right now. What you’re about to find next isn’t important. And if you read something you disagree with, stop reading. You’re probably right, and I’m probably wrong.
Anyway, my opinion isn’t important. So, here it is.
Social Media Won’t Bring Us Social Justice
#BlackLivesMatter
#MeToo
#StopKony2012
It’s okay. I also forgot about the third one. To be honest, my memory of the #StopKony2012 campaign is vague at best. I was on Twitter, sure, but all I remember is that he was an African warlord of some kind? And did we stop him?
I honestly don’t know. A quick google search says, kind of. But I include him on this list because of what these three hashtags have in common: namely, I support their mission.
I understand there’s nuance behind each of these (more on that later), but let me state upfront that I’m against murder, rape, and injustice. You can quote me on that.
But the other similarity between these three hashtags is just that—they’re hashtags. They are trending topics. Literally. Here one moment, gone the next.
And truthfully, that’s my biggest fear. Equality for women and minorities is so so so important. To put those issues alongside #UnlikelyPasswordReminderClues (that’s a real trending topic today) is a tragedy. The average shelf-life for a trending top on Twitter is 11 minutes.
11 Minutes. These conversations deserve more.
Yes, these hashtags are starting conversations and raising awareness, and that’s great. But if we put our hope for real and lasting change in our newsfeeds, they’ll leave us disappointed. Hashtags can’t carry the weight we want them to.
The conversation has to move offline. Real people have to talk to real people. Because tweeting Isn’t activism. And tweets and posts won’t change minds and hearts.
More Why, Less How
When Colin Kaepernick took a knee during the anthem before NFL games, he received a reaction that I didn’t anticipate. People were furious about his disrespect for the military.
Which wasn’t even kind of the point.
So, the question is this: who bears the responsibility for determining the perception of a protest? Is it the party protesting, or the party witnessing the protest?
In this case, should Colin Kaepernick have tried a different protest strategy in order to bring attention to the real issue he was trying to address and off of the one that had been inadvertently created? Should he have tried to steer the conversation back where he wanted it?
Or is that the whole point of a protest?
Because the answer to those two questions about Kaepernick, in my mind, is “maybe.” He could’ve changed his approach, but once you start a protest (of any kind) it’s not exactly easy to walk it back. Or, as Trevor Noah pointed out, there is no “right way” to protest.
So, I would argue that the responsibility falls on the person outside of the protest—the person who may not initially understand what’s happening—to ask why. Why are you protesting?
That’s it. That’s my entire thought.
Person A protests. Person B asks why. Person A explains. Person B chooses to agree or disagree with these reasons. Person A continues to protest (or, upon being listened to, no longer has a need to protest). That’s how it should work.
Instead, we focus almost exclusively on the method of the protests—on how people protest instead of why. And that, to me, is because not enough people are asking why. That doesn’t mean all hows are justified and that we shouldn’t care how people protest—there are certainly violent and harmful ways to do so.
But the means of protest shouldn’t detract from the reason behind them—an idea that if both parties put into action would completely change the tone of the national dialog. As of now, however, our society has decided that if we don’t like the how, we don’t have to care about the why. And that is not helpful.
We Don’t All Need Megaphones
I saw a video the other day of a protest where three people had megaphones. They were all shouting different things—one leading a call and response chant, one giving directions to a group of people about where to stand/walk, and another person just shouting and ranting. It was overwhelming.
It was also a microcosm for social media.
I know, two of these three ideas are anti-social media, but the reason I’m so strongly against the downsides of this technology is that I’m so aware of the upsides. Ideas can travel around the world in a second. Friends can keep up with friends. Organizations can share ways for people to get involved. Anyone can contact Elon Musk. It’s great.
But it has also put a megaphone in everyone’s hands. And we haven’t always handled that well, in two primary ways. One, everyone has to speak louder to be heard. In raising communal voices, we’ve forced the individual to now speak even louder.
And two, as a result of that, we’ve made it really difficult to listen. Most Twitter users follow 350 people. That means they have 350 people walking around with them in their pocket at all times, vying for their attention. What a nightmare.
There’s something beautiful about the potential for having a diversity of thought so easily accessible. But in practice, we scroll quickly through 350 people’s tweets, getting a rough gist of each (if that), and moving on. In doing so, we’ve killed our ability to decipher and discern what people are trying to say.
Nuance is dead. Moving from 140 to 280 characters couldn’t even bring it back.
In that video of three people shouting in megaphones, I could barely pull one voice out above the others, and I certainly couldn’t understand exactly what they were saying.
Which means this: listening is the new precious resource. It’s a talent that belongs on a resume. And the only way we can practice it is by turning down the noise and giving our undivided attention to the people who deserve it.