When I was younger, I wanted to get along. I really did. I wanted to keep the peace, stay out of trouble, and believe that if I worked hard and did the right thing, people would notice. They don\u2019t. Not in school, not at work, and certainly not in life. I thought silence was maturity, that it showed restraint. What I didn\u2019t realize then was that silence looks a lot like consent, and people mistake consent for weakness.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s one of the hardest lessons I\u2019ve ever learned: when you don\u2019t speak up, people assume you agree. And when you stay quiet long enough, you start to disappear.<\/p>\n
In Full Circle, I wrote about the moments that define us, the ones that make you realize no one\u2019s coming to save you, no one\u2019s going to hand you what you deserve. You have to ask. You have to demand. Because waiting politely for fairness is a fool\u2019s errand. Fairness doesn\u2019t show up on its own; you have to drag it to the table.<\/p>\n
I was never handed anything. Anything I truly wanted, a position, a promotion, a fair shake, I had to fight for. Whether it was trying to get a role at a synagogue youth service as a teenager or earning a raise at work, I learned that \u201cdeserving\u201d something and actually getting it are two very different things. Very few people in power reward you just because you worked hard. They reward the people who make noise.<\/p>\n
When I worked as a lawyer for a school board, I noticed that everyone was getting bonuses, everyone but me. A few years earlier, I had earned one, so I knew how the system worked. But this time, nothing. I asked why. I was told some nonsense about \u201cbudget constraints,\u201d even though the same constraints didn\u2019t apply to the others. So I demanded one. And I got it. Not because they suddenly recognized my value, but because I didn\u2019t let it go.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t the money that mattered; it was the principle. You either set the tone for how people treat you, or they\u2019ll set it for you.<\/p>\n
The same thing happened later at my synagogue. A friend of mine, a nice person, but not qualified, was about to be handed a paid position she wasn\u2019t entitled to. Everyone else stayed quiet because it was easier. I didn\u2019t. I spoke up. Because fairness only works when someone enforces it. And more often than not, that \u201csomeone\u201d ends up being me.<\/p>\n
Then came Oceanside. I watched people on the school board destroy what generations had built, not through malice, but through incompetence and self-interest. Positions were handed out like candy to friends and relatives. Contracts were given to cronies. The schools, and the kids, paid the price. So I spoke up again. Not because it was fun. Not because I wanted attention. But because silence was no longer an option.<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s the point I\u2019ve reached in life, I\u2019m fine not getting along if it means standing for something. It\u2019s easy to stay quiet, especially when speaking up makes you the odd one out. But I\u2019ve made my peace with that. I\u2019m not built to look the other way.<\/p>\n
Some people call it being difficult. I call it being awake.<\/p>\n
The older I get, the more I realize how rare that is. Most people convince themselves that keeping quiet is the smart move, that rocking the boat just makes you a target. But you can\u2019t steer the ship from the passenger seat. You either take the wheel or you drift wherever the current takes you.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s why I still believe in being the last Boy Scout, the one who follows the code when everyone else is cutting corners, the one who speaks when everyone else whispers. It\u2019s lonely sometimes, but integrity often is.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t regret the times I spoke up, even when it cost me something. What I regret are the moments I didn\u2019t. Because the truth is, every time you swallow your voice, you give away a little piece of yourself. And if you do that long enough, there\u2019s not much left to defend.<\/p>\n
So no, I don\u2019t go along to get along anymore. I don\u2019t wait for fairness or hope someone notices the work. I ask. I push. I demand. Not because I\u2019m angry, because I\u2019ve seen what happens when you don\u2019t.<\/p>\n
The Boy Scout in me still believes in doing the right thing. The lawyer in me knows you sometimes have to fight for it. And the older, wiser version of me \u2014 the one who\u2019s been around long enough to see how things really work, knows this: getting along is overrated. Standing up is everything.<\/p>\n
Because in the end, I\u2019d rather be remembered for making noise than for staying quiet while everything around me went wrong.<\/p>\n
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