I know you think the world you live in is ordered as it should be. That some people are born to serve, while others are born to command. That men are meant to lead, while women are meant to follow. But let me ask you this: when you laugh with your child, or listen to music, or dream about what you might become, do you believe those joys belong only to you?
The people you call “lesser” dream in the same colors as you. They love, they hope, they fear loss just as sharply. You already know this you see it when your daughter asks “why not me?” after being told she cannot learn, or when a slave sings a song that moves you, though you pretend not to notice. You look away not because you don’t see their humanity, but because admitting it would force you to question everything.
But here’s the truth: history is already listening. The future will not remember your comfort, only your choices. Imagine your grandchildren asking, “Where were you when people were suffering?” What would you want to say? That you turned your head because everyone else did? Or that you found the courage to see what was always in front of you that no one is born to be a tool, or property, or shadow.
You don’t need new evidence, only the courage to follow the empathy you already feel. You know that chains are not natural, that silence is not consent, that difference is not deficiency. What makes life precious for you, makes it precious for them. If you cannot yet see them as equals, start with this: they are not things. They are not yours. They are you.
With hope from a future where this truth is clear,
My friend,
I know you think the world you live in is ordered as it should be. That some people are born to serve, while others are born to command. That men are meant to lead, while women are meant to follow. But let me ask you this: when you laugh with your child, or listen to music, or dream about what you might become, do you believe those joys belong only to you?
The people you call “lesser” dream in the same colors as you. They love, they hope, they fear loss just as sharply. You already know this you see it when your daughter asks “why not me?” after being told she cannot learn, or when a slave sings a song that moves you, though you pretend not to notice. You look away not because you don’t see their humanity, but because admitting it would force you to question everything.
But here’s the truth: history is already listening. The future will not remember your comfort, only your choices. Imagine your grandchildren asking, “Where were you when people were suffering?” What would you want to say? That you turned your head because everyone else did? Or that you found the courage to see what was always in front of you that no one is born to be a tool, or property, or shadow.
You don’t need new evidence, only the courage to follow the empathy you already feel. You know that chains are not natural, that silence is not consent, that difference is not deficiency. What makes life precious for you, makes it precious for them. If you cannot yet see them as equals, start with this: they are not things. They are not yours. They are you.
With hope from a future where this truth is clear,
Eunice