Stop Standing By and Start Taking a Stand
There’s a specific, uncomfortable silence that fills the air when you witness something unjust but feel powerless to act. It’s heavy, laced with fear, hesitation, and doubt. I’ve felt it before. Perhaps you have too—a moment where doing nothing seemed safer, easier, even justifiable. Yet, over time, I’ve come to understand that silence, even well-intentioned, is its own form of complicity.
Transitioning from standing by to standing up isn’t just about courage in the moment. It’s a deliberate, ongoing journey. It requires self-awareness, the development of tools, and the willingness to take risks. While it isn’t easy, it’s profoundly empowering—for others and for yourself.
The Weight of Inaction
There’s an ache that lingers when you don’t act—when you see harm and convince yourself it’s not your place to intervene. I’ve carried that ache before, replaying the moment in my head, wondering if my silence made things worse. Why didn’t I say something? What would have happened if I had?
That hesitation often comes from fear—fear of confrontation, of standing out, or even of doing the wrong thing. Yet, inaction itself has a cost. The sting of guilt, the frustration with your own passivity, the knowledge that someone needed help and you didn’t provide it—those feelings can be far heavier than the risks of speaking up.
I’ve come to see these moments of hesitation as an invitation. They’re not just reminders of what I could have done differently but opportunities to prepare for the future. It’s in the discomfort of inaction that the seeds of change are often planted.
Breaking the Barriers to Action
What keeps us from stepping in when we see someone being hurt, marginalized, or mistreated? For many, it’s the fear of doing the wrong thing or making things worse. The “bystander effect” occurs when people hesitate to help, assuming someone else will step in. This paralysis often leaves no one acting at all.
Sometimes, the barrier is cultural: the deeply ingrained norm to “mind your own business.” Other times, it’s personal. For me, fear of misjudgment has been a recurring obstacle. What if I misunderstand what’s happening? What if my intervention causes unintended harm?
But I’ve also realized this: the fear of doing nothing can be just as powerful. And when someone has stood up for you, it becomes harder to ignore the call to do the same.
The Day Someone Stood for Me
It happened in an alleyway in my hometown. I’d just stepped out of a local store when I felt hands grabbing me. Before I could react, I was slammed against a cold, damp brick wall.
The men weren’t rowdy teenagers or drunken troublemakers. They were older, stocky, dressed in cheap trousers and short-sleeved polyester shirts that strained at the seams. “Plainclothes police officers,” they said, though nothing about their behavior felt official. Calmly, almost casually, they pressed me harder against the wall and accused me of causing a disturbance in the store I’d just left.
I tried to protest, to explain they had it wrong, but they weren’t listening. Their mirrored aviator sunglasses hid their eyes, but their intentions were all too clear. They weren’t here to question me—they were here to intimidate, to humiliate. Fear rose sharp in my throat as the realization sank in: they could do anything to me, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my friend’s older brother. I didn’t know him well at the time, but something must have told him that something was wrong. He paused, standing just long enough to assess the situation before stepping forward.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.
The men turned on him instantly. “Leave. This is a police matter,” one snarled, their tone sharpened with authority. “It’s none of your business.”
But he didn’t leave. “I know him, and I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
That was it. He didn’t yell or threaten them. He just stood there—unshakable—his calm presence slicing through the tension. He planted his feet and stayed.
The officers realized they couldn’t intimidate me with him watching. After one final shove, they let me go. They cautioned me, warned me they’d “be watching,” and disappeared into the Saturday crowd.
I stayed where I was, leaning into the wall for support as the adrenaline drained from my body. My friend’s brother didn’t say much afterward. He didn’t need to. His presence had been enough to stop them.
What he did wasn’t loud or dramatic, but it was everything. In a moment when I felt powerless, he gave me back a shred of my agency. That quiet act of courage changed me.
Moving from Witness to Ally
Becoming an upstander doesn’t require grand, heroic gestures. It starts with small, intentional actions that anyone can take:
Direct Intervention: Addressing the situation head-on with calm but firm words like, “That’s not okay.”
Distraction: Diverting attention to de-escalate a tense moment—asking for directions or starting an unrelated conversation.
Delegation: Seeking help from someone better equipped, like an authority figure or colleague.
Delay: If stepping in isn’t possible, checking in with the person affected afterward to offer support.
Practicing these tools has shown me that courage is built, not innate. Even small steps matter, and with each action, standing up feels less daunting.
Years later, I found myself in a moment that reminded me of that alleyway. I noticed a police officer berating a young Black man dressed in women’s clothing. His tone felt invasive, his presence intimidating.
At first, I hesitated. But then I crossed the street, choosing to stand nearby as a silent witness. The officer told me to leave; I respectfully declined. When backup arrived, the young man took his chance and walked away.
That day, I thought of the friend who had stood in that alleyway for me. His quiet strength shaped how I wanted to show up in the world.
The Ripple Effect of Taking a Stand
Standing up doesn’t just change the situation—it changes you. Each time you act, you strengthen your sense of agency and align your actions with your values. You begin to see yourself as someone who doesn’t just observe the world but shapes it.
I’ve also seen how standing up creates a ripple effect. When one person takes a stand, others are encouraged to follow. A culture of accountability begins to form, one that challenges harm and reduces tolerance for injustice.
When individuals stand up, they challenge not only the immediate harm but also the systems that allow harm to persist. Every small act of courage contributes to something larger, showing us that change is possible, even if it starts with one person.
Start Your Journey Today
We live in a world that often rewards silence, where the safer choice is to look away. But every moment of inaction is an opportunity missed—not just to help someone else but to grow into the person you want to be.
So, I ask you: What small act of bravery could you take today to make a difference? Whether it’s standing beside someone who feels alone, challenging a harmful comment, or simply learning more about how to intervene, each step forward strengthens the bridge from standing by to standing up.
I still think about that young man sometimes and wonder if he remembers the day someone chose not to walk away. And I think about the day in the alleyway—the day a friend planted their feet for me.
In the end, standing up isn’t about perfection or heroics. It’s about showing up—with your voice, your presence, and your courage. Even the smallest actions, done with empathy, can create a more just and compassionate world.