The Weight of the Trifecta: Service, Justice, and the Silence That Kills
Like many of you, I am shocked, stunned, and saddened by the events of the past several months—in the United States, in Venezuela, and now in Iran.
If you’re here for expert advice or a roadmap on how to "fix" the world, I suggest you close this page and look for someone more sage and wise than me. But, if you're here for community and some shared, complicated thoughts and feelings, keep reading.
Roots of Service
To understand why I feel this weight so heavily, you have to understand where I come from. I am the daughter of a career U.S. military officer and a teacher. I grew up on and near military bases. From my parents, I learned that service isn't just a job; it's a way of being. I learned that when we are given the right resources and support, humans are capable of almost anything.
That foundation led me to the Peace Corps. For two years, I served as a special education volunteer in Tunisia. Living there dismantled stereotypes I had. I learned that no single culture is "right." I learned that people are people first—regardless of religion or geography. Culture impacts how we see the world, but it does not determine a person's value.
People have dignity, value, and worth simply by being people.
The Social Work Struggle
After the Peace Corps, I became a social worker—a profession built on the values of service, social justice, the importance of human relationships, integrity and competence.
But I’ll be honest with you: I am far from perfect. Some days, these values are a struggle to live out.
When I see someone hurting another, how do I still see the perpetrator’s dignity?
When I’m overwhelmed by the oppression I witness, do I always find the strength to protest?
I wish I could say yes. But there are days when all I can do is sit on my couch to refill my tank so I can get back out there the next day. Sometimes, I am selfish. Sometimes, I put my own needs first.
A March of Contradictions
The past few weeks have left me feeling angry and powerless. It’s a strange irony because March is my personal "trifecta":
Peace Corps Birthday
Social Work Month
Women’s History Month
Usually, this is a month of celebration. Instead, I am stunned. I am mad. People are dying, people are being terrorized, and people are being subjugated. And the very people who have the power to stop it are sitting idly by.
A Call to the Silent
To the U.S. member of Congress watching this unfold: Get up. Do something. Do your job. Many of you are acting as cowards. Whether you are afraid of pushback from leadership or threats to your families, your silence is what allowed this to happen. Your silence is what continues it.
Your silence is not going unnoticed.
You swore an oath to protect the U.S. Constitution. Right now, you are failing. It is time to grow a backbone and remember that service requires more than just holding a seat—it requires courage.
A Call to My Peers
To those of you feeling the same weight I am, I leave you with this:
Find Community: Today, at a local peace vigil, I was surrounded by a diverse cross-section of our community. There is a specific kind of strength that only comes from standing shoulder-to-shoulder with others. Don't carry this alone.
Stay Active: Speak up where you can. Go to the protests, attend the vigils, and have the hard conversations with your family and friends. We must remember that silence = complacency.
Find Your Peace: Take the time to refill your tank. Even in the midst of chaos, pain, and sorrow, we must allow ourselves to experience moments of joy, awe, and wonder. These small moments aren't a distraction—they are vital for maintaining the peace we need to keep fighting.
