I remember a post on Instagram by Jodi Ann Burney that when you are seen as a disrupter, your inaction is seen as mean. And she pushed back on this notion. This post prompted this week’s blog post and made me ponder why those of us seen as disruptors are expected to speak ALL the time. It is messed up! The burden of being a disrupter is not only in the constant need to challenge the status quo but also in recognizing when silence can be more strategic than speaking up. I learned this the hard way, realizing that not every battle needs to be fought aloud and that sometimes, the most profound disruptions occur quietly, behind the scenes.
The pressure to always voice my dissent was immense, often leaving me drained and vulnerable to being misunderstood. There were moments when I felt the weight of expectations, both self-imposed and from those who looked to me as a beacon of change, pressing down on me. I discovered that true disruption also involves knowing when to conserve energy, picking battles wisely, and working stealthily within the system to effect change. And recently, I began to understand the power of opting out of the system altogether, but that is another blog post. The burden was balancing the urge to speak with the wisdom of silence, understanding that impactful disruption sometimes meant biding my time, gathering strength, and striking when the moment was right. This nuanced approach allowed me to sustain my efforts, maintaining my resolve while navigating the complex landscape of advocacy and change.
As a librarian, I’ve understood the profound importance of being a disrupter. In a field traditionally viewed as quiet and orderly, I’ve embraced the role of challenging the status quo to foster inclusivity, equity, and social justice. My journey began when I noticed how systemic biases could subtly influence access to information and resources, perpetuating inequalities. By advocating for diverse collections, promoting literacy, and creating safe spaces for marginalized voices, I’ve worked to dismantle these barriers. It’s not always easy; pushing against entrenched norms often invites resistance. But each small victory, whether introducing anti-racist materials or facilitating community dialogues, reaffirms my commitment. Being a disrupter in librarianship isn’t about chaos; it’s about courageously forging paths toward a more equitable world, one book, program, and conversation at a time.
Embracing disruption meant stepping into a role I hadn’t anticipated but one I grew into with determination and intentionality. As disruptors, we are catalysts for change, breaking free from the constraints of conformity and challenging the norms perpetuating injustice. True progress often requires stepping outside our comfort zones, pushing boundaries, and questioning established structures. This path is far from easy, usually fraught with discomfort and resistance, but it is in this very discomfort that the seeds of genuine change are sown. Disruption propels societies towards a more just and inclusive existence, and it demands a relentless commitment to challenge ingrained biases and stand up against injustice, even when it feels inconvenient.
While engaging in diversity, inclusion, and social justice work, I ran into something that took me by surprise—the rise of what my friend calls “respectability ringleaders” (shoutout to them for the term). These folks are out here claiming they’re down for the cause, but only if it stays nice, neat, and within the lines society’s set for them. They seem progressive, but when you dig a little deeper, they’re more about looking good for those in power than getting to the root of the problem.
Respectability ringleaders care more about looking “acceptable” than pushing for real change. They’re out here seeking approval from the very people holding the power, unintentionally or intentionally propping up the same systems they say they want to dismantle. In trying to be “respectable,” they are more about staying in line than shaking things up, which just waters down the message. Real progress gets stuck when we focus more on politeness than making things right.
Being a disrupter is not an easy path; it’s messy and hard, and it’s a constant push to get to the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it gets. And let’s be real: you’ll meet those respectability folks who’ll try to tame you, who want you to play nice so that you won’t scare those in power. But staying true to what disruption is all about means you don’t let the need for their approval get in your way.
It is important to note that people will start to rely on you always to speak up and push back against every injustice. But it’s okay to remind them that they, too, have a voice and that they can step up. This journey isn’t meant to be walked alone and isn’t smooth, but there is beauty in doing the work in the community to disrupt some things. In addition, there may be times when silence is your best weapon. In the words of Kaetrena Davis Kendrick, “I am all for self-preservation.” The journey is yours, and it’s real. When we realize the value of this work, real change happens; that’s when the world starts shifting toward justice.
Below are some questions that I would love for you to consider, as diversity, equity, inclusion, and social justice(DEIJ) are not popular trends in many spaces. The defamation of DEIJ is part of the “anti-woke” agenda. My existence and that of my family depend on us not giving up, and I know that is not the case for everyone; however, I have hope that some people with privileges still care.
What motivates you to disrupt for justice, even when it’s uncomfortable? How do you stay true to your values under pressure to conform?
Have you ever experienced moments where others expected you to speak up for justice, even though they stayed silent? How do you handle situations where you’re seen as the “go-to disrupter”?
I look forward to reading your thoughts in the comment section.
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