The Ground I Choose to Stand On
Sometimes the clearest truths come in fragments. These four lines landed in me like sparks. They aren’t slogans for a t-shirt; even though they’re pretty rad, they’re actually reminders. Anchors. Promises to myself. When I write, when I speak, when I show up in the world, this is the ground I’m standing on.
Amplify The Silenced
The world does not lack voices. It lacks microphones. Too often, the people closest to the harm are the furthest from the platform. To amplify is not to speak over. It is to hold up the mic, pass the megaphone, or just shut up and make space. For me, this means writing about the things we are told not to see, not to say. It means remembering that silence is not neutral; it is consent.
Courage, Not Comfort
Comfort is easy. Comfort is scrolling past, shrugging, telling yourself it is not your business. But courage? Courage is costly. It means risking being misunderstood, unliked, or even unsafe. It means saying what needs to be said when your voice shakes. My whole life I have been taught to make myself smaller, quieter, easier. Courage is my rebellion against that training.
Autonomy Before Authority
I have lived enough of my life under other people’s rules to know this: authority is not sacred. Autonomy is. If a rule, law, or leader strips you of your dignity or your agency, it is not worth following. This does not mean chaos for chaos’ sake. It means remembering that your body, your choices, your voice belong to you first. Before the state. Before the boss. Before the church.
Bullshit Deserves To Burn
Politeness is the shield that keeps bullshit safe. We are taught to tolerate lies, corruption, cruelty, all because calling it out might make a scene. I am done with that. If something is harmful, manipulative, or rotten at its core, it does not need polishing. It needs fire. This is where rage becomes holy. Where honesty becomes gasoline. Where bullshit goes up in flames.
These aren’t just words for me. They’re checkpoints. When I lose my footing, I come back to them. When the noise gets loud, they cut through. And when I start doubting myself or wondering if maybe I should soften, settle, or stay quiet, I remind myself: no. This is the ground I’ve chosen, I’ll stand on it even when I’m shaking.
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