When Humility is Quiet

Lessons on Allyship from Pride and Juneteenth

There was a time I wouldn’t say a word about racism—not because I didn’t care, but because I was afraid I’d say the wrong thing. And maybe, if I’m honest, because I didn’t want to be told I had said the wrong thing.

In the past few years, though, I’ve started to understand humility as something that doesn’t just soften my rough edges—it sometimes asks me to step aside altogether.

I grew up in a small rural town. No diversity to speak of. Black history was barely mentioned beyond MLK Day. I didn’t hear about Juneteenth until adulthood, and when I did, I remember thinking, How did I not know this? The instinct was to fix that gap immediately—to read, to learn, to say something meaningful. But what I’ve learned instead is this: my silence isn’t always cowardice. Sometimes, it’s respect.

Not long ago, I read “Black AF History” and “Anti-Racism as Daily Practice”—and instead of coming away with a sense of accomplishment, I came away quieter. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I realized it wasn’t my turn to speak.

Similarly, during Pride Month, I sometimes feel like a guest at my own party. I came out late. I don’t have the shared history or the scars that so many of my LGBTQ+ friends carry. And that makes me hesitant to speak up sometimes. But maybe that’s not a flaw. Maybe that’s part of humility—learning when your role is to show up, not to take the mic.

This isn’t about staying silent forever. It’s about understanding context. About asking, Is my voice helping, or is it just filling space because I’m uncomfortable with quiet?

I still wrestle with the urge to narrate my own growth in these moments. “Look at how far I’ve come,” I want to say. But maybe the deeper practice is asking, “Who am I standing in front of when I do that?”

So this week, I’m reflecting on what it means to be present without being performative. To listen without waiting to talk. To use what privilege I have to hold doors open without walking through them first.

Reflection Questions:

• When have you felt like an outsider in a community you’re trying to support?

• How do you discern when to speak up and when to step back?

• Where might humility look like quiet support rather than vocal advocacy?

Let’s practice that kind of humility together.

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