The Quiet Resistance
It has been a soul-starving two months of developing thoughts for Project Prohairesis as my energy has been drained by what seems to be a crisis in humanism. The world changed in a matter of hours, and humanity seems to celebrate the atrocities far more than showing benevolence for humankind. None of it has felt real. Most days passed like a vacuum in time—reality warped beyond recognition. Life has been distorted at an inconceivable pace, making this world feel bleak and silenced. It has led me to tell my darkest truths and, in doing so, has sewn discomfort and a divide in my most personal relationships. Where bravery should have triumphed, it seems to have fallen short of praise and has been dismissed by dissonance. Yet, I carry no regrets—today, I am happier than I have been in the past. These thoughts have been rifling through my mind since these words were uttered to me: Love might not be as loud as gunshots, but there’s more of it. That personal reckoning has opened my eyes to a much larger truth—this is not just about me.
As I write this, millions of people may feel unsafe and unable to voice their emotions due to fear of being persecuted for simply wanting to live. Voicing an opinion no longer holds meaning. Not when it challenges the hollow logic of self-proclaimed righteousness. In the dying breath of Democracy, those who aim to live freely and spread the gospel of basic human decency are now handcuffed and coerced to leave those views behind. These feelings have overwhelmingly put myself and others in a disposition of defeat. The basic tenets of moral constructs have been tamped into dust and replaced by moral turpitude, but kindness passes quietly between strangers, and courage stirs in silence: Love might not be as loud as gunshots, but there’s more of it.
Who will show up to protect any semblance of human decency that still exists? I have pondered this thought relentlessly as it has kept me awake through the witching hours, and from that question, a truth emerged: “If not me, then who?” Fear survives in stillness; it fades the moment we dare to move. We all possess the ability to assume new roles, and when we do, fear begins to die, power begins to falter, and humanism begins to prevail because the truth is, we are not powerless. It may be uncomfortable at first, but the duties of free will have never been comfortable. We stand at the threshold of a Magnum Opus—we are each faced with a choice: to shape it or to be shaped by it. For the millions of people who may feel unsafe and unable to voice their emotions, I ask, “If not you, then who? If not now, then when?” We may have lost hope, but the truth remains that love might not be as loud as gunshots, but there’s more of it.
