Choosing Humanity in a World That Forgets It

It is hard to take in the news lately without feeling our shoulders tighten and our hearts sink. Violence and suffering seem to be everywhere. Whether it is a woman shot while going about her day in the United States or families living under constant fear in Palestine, Venezuela, or Iran, it can begin to feel as though cruelty is gaining ground.

The headlines are loud, and fear moves quickly. The human nervous system was never designed to hold this much collective pain from this many places all at once.

When we hear about people living under oppression, displacement, or daily uncertainty in other parts of the world, it is easy to feel helpless. The distance feels too far and the weight too heavy to carry. Yet, humanity does not begin at the level of governments or borders; it begins person to person, moment to moment, choice by choice.

Humanity often shows up in places we overlook, in moments where people of different ages, beliefs, politics, and lives converge without trying to prove anything at all.

Flying through LAX at the best of times with two small dogs can feel daunting. Yet last week, as I made my way through TSA, people were unexpectedly kind and attentive. One young man helped with my bags while an older woman placed the bins on the conveyor belt since my arms were full of dogs. As the line moved quickly, I was struck by how aware everyone was of one another, quietly working together to make the process as seamless as possible, especially on a holiday.

I felt that same sense of connection at a lacrosse game in Buffalo the other night. As hundreds of us crowded onto an outdoor subway train in twenty degree weather, we stood chatting with total strangers, laughing, making eye contact, and forming brief but genuine connections.

The same thing happens in stadiums and arenas, where thousands of people who share little in common on paper sit shoulder to shoulder. They rise together at a goal, groan together at a missed shot, and cheer in unison without needing to agree on anything else.

For a few hours, no one is reduced to a headline. No one is cast as an enemy. Everyone is simply part of something shared.

These moments may not trend or shock, but they matter far more than we realize.

I still see strangers holding doors for one another and allowing others to merge in traffic without a sigh or a glare. Small gestures, yes, but deeply human ones.

Choosing humanity does not mean ignoring what is broken. It means refusing to let brokenness be the entire story. We are each captains of our own ships, shaping the kind of world we experience and the presence we offer to others.

We also need to remember that behind every headline from Palestine, Venezuela, or Iran are ordinary people who love, worry, hope, and try to make it through their days just like we do. Lives that cannot be summarized by conflict alone. Compassion does not require that we personally carry the impossible burden of fixing everything.

Humanity lives in the pause before reacting, in the decision to stay soft without becoming naive, in the willingness to remain open even when the world gives us plenty of reasons to harden. Belonging does not come from certainty or guarantees of safety. It comes from recognition and compassion.

When the world feels overwhelming, we do not need louder opinions or faster judgments. We need steadier hearts and greater awareness. We need to remember that goodness may not be flashy, but it is persistent. It continues to move through everyday people in ordinary moments, even in places the cameras have long since moved on from.

And maybe that is the truth worth holding right now.

As Anne Frank wrote, “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”