Make A Statement.

In June of 2020, in the wake of the George Floyd protests and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, a group of my running friends and I felt compelled to do something—to make a statement of our own.

Each year, we run the Civil Rights Trail in Birmingham, an experience that is sobering in the truest sense of the word. That year, we decided to open the run to anyone who wanted to join us. Our friend Antuan created a Facebook invite, and within an hour more than 50 people had RSVP’d. This was still during the height of the COVID pandemic, so it’s impossible to know how many more might have shown up otherwise.

We met at Railroad Park, and nearly 75 people were there. Some came to run, some to walk, others to do a little of both. Black and white. Men and women. Some of us were raw and angry. Others wanted to help but didn’t quite know how. What united us was a shared desire to learn, to grow, and to honor the leaders who fought for meaningful change in our communities.

As we made our way up and over Dynamite Hill—a street that once served as a dividing line between the “Black side” and the “White side” of Birmingham—a woman stepped outside to ask what such a large group was doing walking up her hill. She called across the street to her neighbor, Mr. Drew, and asked him to come share the history of the area with us.

What followed was unforgettable.

Mr. Drew told us that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth often stayed in his home when they were in Birmingham. Many Civil Rights strategy meetings took place right in their kitchen. He referred to Dr. King as “Uncle Mike” and spoke about how the movement was organized—how everyone had a role, how there was a shared vision, and how there was an end game: equal rights.

We stood there, quietly absorbing every word. I get chills just thinking about it.

One moment, in particular, has stayed with me. Mr. Drew shared his disappointment with where our country was at that time. He spoke of the lack of a clear end game, the absence of organization and focus. He said the dividing line between Black and white felt wider than ever. But then he told us something else: seeing us there that day gave him hope that change was still possible.

I often wonder what he thinks about the state of our country today.

You don’t have to be a world leader, elected official, social media influencer, Hollywood icon, or Fortune 500 CEO to make a statement. In fact, it often feels like the so-called “power brokers” of our country are the very ones failing us. When leaders resort to cruelty, division, or dehumanization, it becomes even clearer that change does not trickle down—it rises up.

The country I long to live in is one where we respect and celebrate our differences. A country where we show up for one another when it matters. Where we help our neighbors in need. This isn’t “woke.” It isn’t a “liberal agenda.” It’s basic human decency.

So I would like to challenge you this week.

Get to know someone who is “different” from you. Start a conversation with a stranger. Learn the name of the homeless person you pass regularly on the street (some of my most meaningful conversations have happened this way). If you feel uncomfortable around someone with a disability, lean into that discomfort and let it change you.

Leave a comment below and share what you learn!