Holding Two Truths: Injustice and Gratitude in the Same Breath:


The Need for Balance

Holding Two Truths: Injustice and Gratitude in the Same Breath:

We live in a time

where complaint travels faster than kindness,

where outrage gets a microphone

and gratitude gets whispered—

if it gets spoken at all.

Every scroll

another reason to be angry.

Every headline

another reminder of what’s broken.

And yes—

things are broken.

Deeply.

Historically.

Systemically.

But somewhere along the way

we forgot how to hold two truths

in the same breath.

We forgot how to say:

This hurts.

And—

This still matters.

We forgot how to say:

There is injustice.

And—

There is also goodness happening quietly

while nobody is filming.

See, protest has a sacred history.

It was born from love for life,

not addiction to rage.

Our ancestors didn’t march

because they hated existence.

They marched because they believed

existence could be better.

Somewhere along the line

we started feeding the fire

but starving the flame.

Fire destroys.

Flame illuminates.

We’ve mastered destruction.

We are rusty at illumination.

Gratitude is not weakness.

It is not submission.

It is not pretending everything is okay.

Gratitude is saying:

I see the cracks—

and I still see the cathedral.

I see the wounds—

and I still see the heartbeat.

I see the chaos—

and I still see the hands

passing water,

passing food,

passing love,

passing hope

without hashtags.

Gratitude is remembering

that teachers still teach.

Nurses still show up.

Grandmothers still pray.

Neighbors still knock.

Strangers still help strangers

when cameras are gone.

Gratitude is resistance

against becoming hollow.

Because outrage alone

will burn you into ash.

But gratitude mixed with truth

turns into fuel.

Not the kind that explodes—

the kind that carries.

Carries movements.

Carries families.

Carries generations.

We don’t need less awareness.

We don’t need less protest.

We don’t need less truth.

We need more balance.

We need to relearn the ancient skill

of holding grief in one hand

and appreciation in the other

without dropping either.

Because if we only see what’s wrong,

we forget what we’re fighting for.

And when you forget what you’re fighting for,

the fight becomes about ego,

about spectacle,

about noise.

But when you remember what’s precious,

your voice changes.

It softens.

It sharpens.

It steadies.

You stop trying to burn the house down.

You start trying to rebuild it.

Brick by brick.

Breath by breath.

Heart by heart.

So yes—

call out injustice.

Name it.

Expose it.

Challenge it.

And also—

name what is beautiful.

Protect what is working.

Celebrate what is human.

Because a society that only knows how to scream

will eventually lose its ability to sing.

And we need the song.

We need the song of gratitude.

Not because everything is perfect—

but because life is still here.

And as long as life is still here,

there is still something worth loving.


Sincerely,


(Adjoa) Linda Dabo



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