Speaking Up for Others—Even If We Haven’t Walked in Their Shoes

There comes a time in every soul’s journey when we are called to stand up—not just for ourselves, but for others. Sometimes that calling arrives as a whisper in the heart, and other times, it’s delivered through the stories of others—gifts of truth that come when we’re ready to hear them.

Over the years, I’ve been blessed—and humbled—to receive many such gifts.

There was the woman who once shared with me how exhausting it was to always feel she had to prove her worth because of the color of her skin. Her story was raw and honest, and though I hadn’t experienced what she had, I felt her pain in my heart as if it were my own. I listened in silence, letting the words move through me. That day changed me. It opened something in me that could never close again.

Some time later, I met a man who spoke quietly, but his words carried deep power. He shared how his family had rejected him for simply loving who he loved. I remember how his voice trembled—but never broke. He wasn’t asking for pity. He was asking to be seen. And in that moment, I realized how many voices had gone unheard because too many of us were waiting to understand before we dared to care.

Then there was a man who had been forced to leave his home country due to conflict and violence. He spoke of starting over in a place where people looked at him with suspicion, where his accent became a barrier, and where he longed simply to be accepted. As he shared what it felt like to leave everything behind and begin again, I felt both heartbreak and awakening. I hadn’t walked in his shoes, but now his story was part of me.

And there have been so many more over the years. People from different cultures, religions, races, gender identities, and life experiences—all carrying stories of resilience, pain, hope, and deep humanity. Each one a reminder that even though our paths may be different, we are all part of something greater. We belong to each other.

These conversations didn’t all happen in one room or even in one season of my life. They came over time—each one a divine appointment. A chance to see through someone else’s eyes. A chance to remember the truth of who we are.

And what I’ve come to understand is this: we don’t need to live someone else’s story to honor it. We don’t need to experience their pain to stand up against it. What we need is empathy. An open heart. The willingness to say, “I may not have lived this—but I’m here, and I’m listening.”

Sometimes people hold back from speaking up because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing. But silence often speaks louder. Silence says, This isn’t my problem. But it is. Because at the deepest level, there is no “them”—there is only “us.”

When we use our voices to lift someone else—not out of obligation, but out of love—we become vessels of healing. When we show up even when we don’t have to, we are living as instruments of peace.

Love expands when we let it move through us—especially in defense of someone else’s dignity. It becomes sacred action. Spiritual activism. And it sends out ripples into the world that reach far beyond what we can see.

You don’t need to walk the same path to offer someone your hand. You just need a heart that’s open. A spirit that remembers we are one. And the courage to speak when your soul says, Now is the time.

Because in the end, love isn’t just something we feel. It’s something we do.