The politics of human decency
A few nights ago I broke down crying after a family member texted nasty words about the music artist Bad Bunny.
Let me explain.
It was Sunday night after the Grammy Awards, and my spirit was in one of uplift—from Lauryn Hill’s indescribable Black artist tribute, to celebrities using their platform to call out ICE, to Bad Bunny (who I admit I don’t even listen to) being the first Latin artist to win Album of the Year.
In his acceptance speech, Bad Bunny said:
“Before I say thanks to God … I’m going to say: ICE out. We’re not savage. We’re not aliens. We’re humans and we are Americans … the only thing more powerful than hate is love.”
The Grammys concluded and I felt the power of artists calling out injustice and reminding us of our shared humanity.
And then the text came.
When my family member texted mocking words about Bad Bunny, my heart sank in defeat. I was actually quite surprised by their cruel words because this person comes from a particular strand of the evangelical church that idolizes neutrality. Where staying politically correct and out of trouble is holiness. But I now understand that voices like Bad Bunny’s are dangerous to them—not because he evokes violence but because he disrupts comfort.
They worship the god of apathy. Indifference is their golden calf.
Their Christian neutrality has abandoned the radical Jesus who “came to set the captives free.”
I read the text. I cried, heartbroken and deeply disappointed that a family member would mock someone who was speaking out on behalf of his community, a community facing daily terror inflicted by the US government. Later that night, in a way-too-long conversation with my husband, I tried to articulate why it hurt so deeply:
“When did caring about human decency become “liberal”? How can people be so cruel? We’re talking about not using violence. About not shooting people in the streets. About not abducting children. How did this become political?”
I’ve been reflecting over the last couple days. I’m tempted to ask, When did human decency become political? But I know the answer—human dignity has always been political. The Beloved Community that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. envisioned, marked by the way it honors the dignity and worth of all humans, runs completely counter to systems of power and oppression. The Beloved Community is in direct opposition to every empire built on fear, exclusion, and control.
The tragedy of power and empire is that it has seeped so deeply into our collective imagination that neutrality toward injustice is now mistaken for goodness. Silence is framed as wisdom. Detachment is confused with maturity. And empathy is labeled as dangerous.
When the boat of neutrality is rocked—when injustice is named—the grip of empire tightens, and people reach for a familiar refrain. Speaking up is bad.
Violence is normalized while calling out injustice is radicalized.
But I’m not falling for this idol of indifference. The way of flipping-tables-Jesus has never been neutral.
The gospel I know insists that the downtrodden are worthy, respected, and beloved. It is a gospel that declares the foreigner is not an alien but a traveler with God as their companion. A gospel where love is not passive, justice is not polite, and human dignity is never optional.
