Social Justice for the Tenderhearted
by Dorcas Cheng-Tozun
In the summer of 2020, my heart felt extraordinarily heavy.
The pandemic and the ensuing shutdowns had just begun. Dozens of social inequities were being exposed by COVID—in public health, digital access, transportation, and more. An alarming rise in anti-Asian hate caused many Asian Americans to feel vulnerable and fearful. George Floyd had just been murdered and his death at the hands of police, along with the deaths of dozens of other Black men and women, were fueling the Black Lives Matter movement.
Clearly, much was wrong with the world. I wanted to do something to help make our communities more equitable, inclusive, and safe in meaningful ways. But I felt stuck.
This wasn’t a new feeling for me. I had worked for nonprofits and social enterprises for nearly two decades. And though I loved the causes and the people I worked with, I never seemed to fit the mold. I was too sensitive, too empathic, too easily burdened and discouraged. I didn’t like conflict or confrontation. I had burned out over and over again, sometimes laid low for months at a time by severe anxiety and depression.
Injustice and the Toll on Highly Sensitive People
As much as 20 percent of the population is sensitive like me. Psychologist Elaine Aron, who has dedicated her career to studying this personality trait, calls us highly sensitive people (HSPs).
HSPs are deep feelers and deep thinkers, prone to experiencing the world through our senses and emotions more intensely than the rest of the population. Because of this, HSPs tend to be empathic and conscientious. They notice when people are being treated unfairly or marginalized. This awareness affects them deeply and makes them want to step in.
But in most professional circles, including justice work and ministry, characteristics that HSPs don’t usually have are more celebrated. According to Susan Cain, author of Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Won’t Stop Talking, many believe that “the ideal self is gregarious, alpha, and comfortable in the spotlight.” In Western societies in particular, we tend to respect people who prefer “action to contemplation, risk-taking to heed-taking, certainty to doubt”.
Among social justice groups and organizations, this ideal is taken a few steps further. Social science researchers have consistently found a culture of martyrdom and self-sacrifice among social activists. Heart-and-soul commitment is the minimum expectation and any consideration of rest or self-care is derided.
This was the playbook I had tried to follow for years. I loved contributing toward social good and was confident that this was God’s calling upon my life. But even as I engaged in meaningful, impactful work, I also experienced severe damage to my emotional, physical, and spiritual health.
The Quiet World-Changers
As I sat with the heaviness of the world’s brokenness in the summer of 2020, I thought, There must be another way for sensitive souls like me. Surely God’s promises of peace, joy, and an abundant life were for sensitive social activists as well. We could not all be Martin Luther King or Mother Teresa, but we could still contribute to God’s upside-down kingdom in meaningful and sustainable ways.
Over the next couple of years, I scoured history books and biographies, research papers and websites, looking for participants in social movements who served outside of the spotlight or behind the scenes. I discovered that, for every Martin Luther King, there have been thousands of faithful workers who brought their particular skills and personalities to a just cause. They have been administrators and businesspeople, artists and researchers, engineers and librarians, teachers and mentors—all creating more equity and kindness in their spheres of influence. Their efforts, while often overlooked, are essential. They create the scaffolding upon which leaders like Dr. King can stand—amplifying and strengthening the prophetic call to recognize the imago Dei in all human beings.
To truly engage in the work of justice does not necessarily require being front and center—protesting, marching, or shouting through a bullhorn. The work of justice happens in laboratories and offices, in spreadsheets and blogs, on canvases and drafting tables. The work of justice can happen in any space or vocation we feel called to, no matter what they are. God created us each to be uniquely beautiful so we could contribute to the good of the world in a uniquely beautiful way.
Theologian Howard Thurman, who served as a spiritual adviser to Dr. King, once said, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
I’ve now accepted the fact that I don’t feel particularly invigorated when shouting protest slogans or engaging in social media debates, but something in my soul sings when I write, when I have one-on-one conversations with others, when I can provide some inspiration for those seeking their way. This, too, is the work of social change.
The sensitive soul, like anyone else, can flourish in the work of social justice when we pursue this calling in a way that is authentic to who God created us to be. And our cumulative effort–across a range of sectors, industries, and communities–all contribute to the mosaic scaffolding of the kingdom that is to come.
DORCAS CHENG-TOZUN
Dorcas Cheng-Tozun is an award-winning writer, editor, and communications consultant. She is the editorial director of PAX and the author of three books, including Social Justice for the Sensitive Soul: How to Change the World in Quiet Ways. Connect with her at chengtozun.com or on social media @chengtozun.
