Join Me in Being Civil and Caring for Others Who Suffer Because of Others’ Actions

By a Voice That Can’t Look Away
April 3, 2025

I can’t unfeel it. The news hits like a fist—wars tearing families apart, floods drowning towns, tent cities stretching longer every week. I see a kid in Gaza with no home, a farmer in Iowa losing his market, a mom in Ohio counting pennies for groceries. It’s not a choice to care; it’s who I am. And I know I’m not alone. There are others out there—maybe you—who feel it too, who can’t sleep when the world’s breaking because of what some choose to do.

Right now, in April 2025, we’re watching decisions ripple out—policies, greed, apathy—hurting people who didn’t ask for it. Tariffs kicked off this week, and sure, some cheer “America First,” but the cost is real: prices spiking, jobs at risk, nations retaliating, and the poorest hit hardest. Beyond that, climate’s collapsing—floods in the South, droughts in Africa—while the rich hoard and shrug. Wars grind on, fueled by power plays, leaving bodies and grief. It’s not random; it’s choices—governments, corporations, individuals—pushing suffering onto others.

I scroll X and see it:

@JessieM1987

writes, “Can’t watch the news without tearing up—wars, kids with no food, people losing everything.”

@MikeT_ohio

says, “Drove past a tent city today, then saw some rich asshole on TV bragging. It’s all wrong, and it eats at me.” These aren’t polished activists—they’re people like me, like maybe you, who feel the cracks and can’t pretend it’s fine. We’re not the loudest—maybe 1 in 6 or 7—but we’re here.

There’s another crowd, the ones who don’t flinch. They’re calm, happy even, as the fallout spreads. “Good!” they say when others hurt, or “Whatever” when the pain’s pointed out. They’re not broken—they’re just wired different, loyal to their slice of the world, blind to the rest. I don’t hate them; I just can’t be them. Their chill isn’t strength—it’s a wall. Ours? It’s a fire that won’t go out.

Here’s my ask: join me. Be civil—not just polite, but human. Care for those who suffer because of what others do. It’s not about guilt or politics; it’s about seeing. That homeless guy on your corner? His story’s tied to someone’s profit. The family fleeing a war zone? Someone’s bombs sent them running. The worker laid off this week? A trade fight or a CEO’s bonus did that. It’s not “their problem”—it’s ours, because we’re still here, still feeling.

We’ve got power, you and I. Not in numbers—yet—but in what we can’t lose. They can tempt the indifferent with wins or numb them with noise, but us? We don’t bend.

@SaraNoFilter92

writes, “Floods wiping out towns, people dying, and half my feed’s memes. I feel it all and can’t laugh it off.”

@DaveRunsFar

adds, “World’s hurting, and it sticks with me. Can’t pretend it’s not my problem.” That’s us—uncorrupted, awake. If we grow, if we pull the ones who coast into this, we shift things. Not overnight, but steady, like water carving stone.

Start where you stand. Look at the suffering—really look. Feel it, even if it stings. Talk about it—on X, at work, over coffee. Call out the actions behind it, not to yell but to wake. I’m not asking you to fix it all; I’m asking you to join me in not looking away. We’re rare, maybe, but we’re real. The world’s messy, loud, and hurting—let’s be the ones who care anyway.