Here’s to the ones who ask “why” openly in meetings because they just can’t tolerate the façade of “doing good.”
Here’s to the ones who ask “why” and are peppered with reactionary questions that reveal the bias of “good enough.”
Here’s to the ones who are learning to ask “why” in classrooms and under trees and in community halls, and those who are encouraging them not to accept “good enough.”
Here’s to the ones that still care about what’s best for people before institutions, whether they’re two months or twenty years into the struggle.
Here’s to the ones who worry they’ll be called arrogant or ignorant or resistant, but speak up anyway.
Their voices may sound repetitive, irritating, critical to some, but they carry this on their hearts: to fundamentally fulfill their duty or to do their job they must speak up even when their voice shakes, and especially when they feel they cannot say the same thing, yet again, one more time.
Love and justice do not require always playing nice. Sometimes one must build a bridge. At other times, burn one down.
Here’s to the ones who cross the line, worried for their job, and the ones who don’t dare utter what they really think or fear or detect or feel. (There is suffering in both.)
The disruptors’ compass is calibrated to where others’ once was, even those who have not faced north for a long while.
They remind us of whom we once were. Even if some can’t bear to look, we need their honesty, their bravery.
The broken records they play may be the mosquito under your net. But to mix in yet one more metaphor, they are the water on the blade of change. Without them, it overheats. Without them, it cannot cut through history’s granite nor today’s styrofoam.
Disruptors, may you be welcomed at more tables and may your questions become so sincere and grounded that they can cut through anything to be deeply understood and acted upon.
May you never be satisfied with “because that’s the way it’s always been done.”
May alternatives and ideas and options flow from you.
May you seek to transform frustration and exasperation into “What if…” and “I wonder…”
May you be able to hear yourself at times, reconnect with your deepest instincts, and know when you are pushing too loud, hard, or fast. May you have the grace to give yourself a break at times, to just listen.
Be a lamp, a lifeboat, or a ladder, says Rumi. Foghorn or bulldozer he did not advise.
May the truths you offer be helpful, necessary, and kind.
May you forge new opportunities for truths to be shared, by everyone.
May you never miss an opportunity for peaceful change. It is a privilege not afforded to all.
May you always find more fuel, even on the days when all seems futile – especially on the days when all seems futile.
Disruptors, may you never shy away from your own integrity.
Sometimes, it is all we have.
