“Let’s not make this political.” It’s a line I’ve heard in classrooms, in meetings, in community spaces, on social media and in response to real harm. Most of the people who say it believe they are doing so with good intentions in an effort to keep things calm, focused, and “professional.” But, more often than not, it ends important conversations that desperately need to be had in order for us to understand more about ourselves and each other.
Because here’s the thing: when someone says, “let’s not make this political,” it often means don’t make me uncomfortable. What’s labeled “political” is often a matter of safety for Black and Brown students, dignity for LGBTQ+ youth, equity for women navigating workplaces not built with them in mind, or visibility for communities that have long been silenced.
In the same way, what gets framed as “neutral,” isn’t neutral at all. It’s a decision, and one with consequences. What’s deemed “neutral” is often a strategic way to preserve the status quo –keeping things safe and still for those already in power. Neutrality is almost never actually neutral.
For example, a curriculum that avoids race might be framed as “neutral,” but it erases lived experiences. A news story that quotes “both sides” may initially appear balanced, but it leaves injustice unchallenged. And, a workplace that shuts down conversations in the name of “professionalism” may appear fair, but it often protects comfort, not equity.
To opt for neutrality in critical conversations is not just an isolated choice. Instead, insisting on neutrality creates or reflects a pattern: neutrality used to deflect, to delay, to deny. And when neutrality is used that way, it isn’t neutral at all.
Neutrality, in practice, becomes a mask for power. It doesn’t challenge inequity — it quietly reinforces it. It doesn’t level the playing field — it locks in the current lines.
Neutrality isn’t passive — it’s positional (and political). It signals where you stand, even when you claim not to. Because in conversations about justice, equity, and humanity, refusing to take a side is taking one.
So, in this space, and in the spaces I’m a part of, I won’t aim for neutrality. I’ll aim for honesty, for context, for care, for language that’s specific and purposeful, for a voice that may be passionate, imperfect, or evolving, but never neutral.
The conversations that matter most don’t sit in the neutral middle. They happen in discomfort, in truth-telling, in the tension we often try to avoid…because that’s where empathy grows and transformation begins.
