Complain or Listen?

I have to get this off my chest. Lately, it seems like certain people in my life - men for the most part - are so quick to vent their frustration over the supposed state of “softness” in society. They feel like they’re constantly being forced to make compromises and adapt to everyone else’s needs, as though their rights are being trampled on to accommodate people wanting to have “their voice heard”. They paint this picture where suddenly everyone wants to be a victim or have some big platform. And while, yes, there are people who exploit this victim narrative, I truly believe they are in the minority.

But here’s the question I can’t stop asking myself: what changes have they actually had to make? Have they truly encountered so much of this - whatever “this” is - that it’s had a genuine impact on their life? Have they ever been bluntly told to check their privilege, be it white or male? How often have they truly been called out for offending someone?

It feels like we’re being fed this divisive narrative. Extreme stories about feminists, LGBTQIA+ individuals, people of different races or religions - they’re all being packaged as examples of why society has lost its backbone. But how often do we truly encounter these extreme cases? And more importantly, is crying about their cries really making anything better?

Instead of focusing on the negative, what if we tried empathy and compassion? What if, instead of walling ourselves off or tuning others out, we chose to listen - really listen - and engage in genuine, respectful conversation? If someone responds with anger or aggression, let’s acknowledge that it’s about them, not us. It’s a reflection of where they are in their journey, and perhaps they need time to grow, to see the world through a wider lens.

I think back on my own experiences in these conversations. And yes, I’ve had moments of tension, but more often than not, those interactions were surprisingly positive in the end. Most people, at their core, want to be seen and heard - just like we do. The louder, angrier voices don’t speak for the majority, but they seem to be the ones we’re giving the most power.

It’s easy to get caught up in the negativity and feel attacked or defensive. But let’s take a step back. How often are these interactions really happening? How often are they actually hostile? What we pay attention to grows - so if we focus on the anger, that’s all we’ll see. But if we focus on understanding, maybe we can see something bigger: that most people are just trying to find a way to coexist in this ever-evolving world.

I’m not claiming to have all the answers, but I do know one thing - more walls, more anger, more complaints are not the solution. Let’s meet each other with empathy and an open heart, and see where that can take us.

This recent US election should be a wake-up call for everyone in this continent. A reminder of how fragile certain freedoms and rights really are. And yet, it feels like a lot of people, especially men, aren’t as worried or outraged as I am. While they’re caught up in debates about the economy, or taxes, which I’m not saying aren’t important, I’m watching actual people in our own communities - their rights, their safety, their dignity - under attack.

How can that disconnection exist? How can you look at what’s happening to women, girls, LGBTQ+ individuals, people or color, and people of different nationalities, cultures, or religions, and not feel something shift inside of you? How can you laugh? Because this isn’t just policy; it’s humanity. And what scares me most is that the only reason I can think of this lack of urgency from men is that it doesn’t affect them. Because they have the privilege of looking at these issues from the outside, while for others, it’s a part of their everyday reality.

I need the men in my life to understand that this isn’t just a “women's issue” or an “LGBTQ+ issue” or a “people of color” issue - this is a human rights issue. And it’s happening in our own backyard. I’m tired of watching people casually shrug off what should be making us furious. It’s as if they’re saying “It’s not my fight.” But if one person’s rights are under attack, it’s everyone's fight. When one group of people is treated unjustly, we all carry a piece of that injustice. We all lose a part of our humanity.

This isn’t about politics, it’s about respect and decency. It’s about recognizing that every person deserves a life of safety, freedom, and dignity. And I want the men in my life to understand that this isn’t just my battle to carry - it’s theirs too. Because when you stay silent, you’re standing by while others are made to feel smaller, less worthy, and less safe in a world that should belong to all of us.

So please, stop compartmentalizing these issues as things that don’t affect you. This is about actual people. And if that doesn’t light a fire in you, I don’t know what will.

An angry and chaotic mind serves no one well

It’s like the anger about our immigration, with people claiming that letting more immigrants into North America is somehow ruining our way of life. But here’s the thing: immigrants aren’t here to dismantle anything. They’re here for the same reason most of our ancestors came - to seek a better life. It’s not their fault that we make North America sound like a beacon of hope and freedom, while simultaneously blaming them when they show up to seek it.

So yes, I understand that many of the people upset about immigration argue that we need to “fix our country” first before letting others in. On some level, I agree. But if that’s the case, why don’t we start by focusing on human rights here at home? Because it’s not immigrants who threaten our values - it’s our failure to uphold them.

Immigration isn’t just about numbers and policies; it’s about creating a process that respects our values and ensures we’re bringing people in who want to build a stronger, safer, and more inclusive community. Being smart about how we welcome people into our country - ensuring that they are prepared to contribute positively and respect these values - is crucial. By setting a standard that emphasizes integrity and respect for human dignity, we strengthen the foundation of our society and ensure that everyone, new arrivals and long-standing citizens alike, can thrive together in a way that’s sustainable.

If we’re serious about protecting the way of life, shouldn’t we be equally as passionate about the rights of women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and people of every color, nationality, and culture within our borders? What’s happening to these groups right now is more of a threat to our shared values than any immigration policy. I want to see that same intensity of anger and concern directed toward protecting the people who are already here, fighting every day for their own humanity to be respected. We seem to have the energy for anger, but it’s being channeled toward the wrong people.

At the end of the day, most immigrants are just looking for what any of us want in their shoes - a chance at safety, at stability, at a decent life. If we want to live up to the values we say we cherish, we should be the ones to set the standard. Let’s demand a country where we fiercely protect the rights of every person. Not just those who we think ‘look like us’, think like us, or love like us.

So I’ll ask again - who’s actually threatening our way of life? The people who want a better life, or our own apathy toward human rights here at home? If we really want to preserve what’s best about our country, let’s focus on protecting and uplifting everyone who lives here, including those who come seeking hope.

We’re living in a world where an actual pogrom - an attack meant to terrorize, to drive people out or destroy them - just happened in Amsterdam. At a football game, no less. And here I am, hearing people complain about how hard it is to navigate today’s so-called “sensitive” society. How they’re fed up with having to worry about offending someone or accidentally hurting their feelings. Let me be blunt: if this is your biggest grievance right now, shut the hell up.

If you’ve had the privilege of living in a world where you’ve always felt safe, seen, and accepted, then maybe it’s time to take a step back and consider the other side. Maybe it’s time to understand where someone else might be coming from. When someone speaks up for their right to choose, for their identity, or for a safe place to call home, they’re not asking for more than you’ve had your whole life - they’re asking for the same.

People have the right to exist freely, to live well, to feel safe and worthy. That’s not a privilege, it’s a basic human right. And the reality is, if you’re complaining about how hard it is to navigate these conversations without stepping on toes, maybe it’s because you haven’t had to think about anyone’s experience outside your own.

Here’s the thing: if people being hunted down and murdered for their identity showed up on my doorstep - whether Jewish, Muslim, LGBTQ+, black, Asian, or anyone else - I’d open my door and let them in. I wouldn’t care about my comfort zone or whether their needs made my life more complicated. They’re not asking for my comfort; they’re fighting for their humanity.

It’s easy to look away, to pretend these are isolated incidents. But history is littered with moments like these, where people who could have done something didn’t. Where people too caught up in their own worries about change, discomfort, or “offense” let their voices fall silent while others were trampled on.

So stop worrying about your inconvenience, and start standing for something bigger. Stand up for the people who are reaching out for a fair shot, for dignity, for their place in this world. You don’t have to agree with everyone’s choices or perspectives, but you do need to recognize their humanity. If you’re really committed to making this country, the world a better place, then speak up for the people who can’t. Fight for their right to live freely, just as you do. Because that’s what it means to truly stand for something.

I don’t hate men. I never have. Despite the fact that, as a woman, I’ve lived in a world that often treats me as lesser, as though my voice is somehow less important. I’m also a survivor - of sexual assault, of abusive relationships - and even through all of this, I don’t hold hatred for men. I don’t blame them for feeling defensive or even afraid about the world changing, for feeling like they're somehow losing ground. But here’s what I need them to understand: you’re not losing anything.

If anything, you’re gaining more than you realize. You’re gaining friends, allies, a deeper understanding of the people around you. You’re gaining the chance to connect with women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and people from different backgrounds in ways you may never have before. This shift is giving you an opportunity to grow in empathy, to build communities rooted in respect, and to break free of the outdated stereotypes that have limited us all for so long.

You’re not being pushed aside or silenced; you’re being invited into a world where everyone’s voice is valued. You’re being welcomed into spaces where kindness, respect, and openness are the new markers of strength. And if you can see past the fear of change, you’ll find that you’re gaining new perspectives, insights, and relationships that will enrich your life in ways you may not yet imagine.

All I ask is that you wake up to this. Recognize the opportunity to become part of something greater, to expand your understanding, and to care about the world beyond your own experience. I’m here to talk, to listen, and to find common ground. Because in the end, we’re all stronger together, and none of us have to lose anything to build that strength.

Ⓒ November 2024. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.