When I was in my early teens, my father took on the union at his place of employment during a long, drawn out postal strike. He felt that the union wasn't listening to the wants and needs of the employees and was strong-arming people into compliance. I remember helping him cut small pieces of paper into ballots, making a cardboard ballot box and collecting pencils so that he could try to take an impromptu vote at the next union meeting. Needless to say, he and his ballot box ended up on the curb, ousted from the meeting by some union reps. The local news media came to the house to interview him. It was his fifteen minutes of fame.
I don't really remember the outcome now, but I still have the article tucked away in my treasure box. I don't remember if I ever told him, but I don't think I was ever so proud of my Dad as I was that night. He stood up for what he believed in; no matter what people thought or what the consequences might be.
The other day I got an email from a woman who would like to stand up to her community's regressive shelter director but is lacking the confidence to do it. She has been intimidated by those that want to maintain the status quo. Her email states that even her kids have asked her to stop because they are embarrassed and getting harassed at school.
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I wish I had the magic pill for her and for all the others that want to speak out and are afraid. I don't. I do know it gets easier with time. I know that it makes you sleep better at night. I know that you will inspire others to join you. Please remember the story of my Dad and the lesson he taught me about speaking up for what is right. Even if your voice shakes.
