I attended an inspiring awards event recently, celebrating and rewarding the accomplishments of several impressive Black high school seniors in Charlotte. There were many presenters. I tried hard to commit to memory the poignant points. But alas, most phrases escape the small squishy vault that is my brain.
Except, on this day… one.
A beautiful and powerful female referenced a quote her dad always told her.
“99% of success,” she paused, “is just showing up.”
With those words, I looked around the room, sat a bit taller in my seat, head held high, in full agreement. It was a gorgeous spring Sunday afternoon after a long week. More than once I considered not attending the ceremony, certain I would not be missed. I had plenty of other selfish things I could do with those two hours. But alas, I showed up. Her quote convinced me to be quite proud of this detail.
For a bit.
I believe I am in good company with most Americans who have very short memory spans. On my way home from work the very next day, I sat at a stop light not far from our home. A leathery white man sat on the narrow median inches away from my car door, his head bent on his scuffed knees, cardboard to his side. Dozing. I watched as his tired body slowly began to list left before toppling off onto the pavement in a lane of oncoming traffic. I watched.
I did nothing. Nor did any of the people in the dozens of cars around us/him. The light turned green and he slowly fumbled to his feet and quasi out of harm’s way, and I drove on. Hesitant. But still I did nothing to help him. 99% of me was a thousand flippin’ percent right there, buckled into my safe, air conditioned car talking to my daughter on the phone. I did nothing. My lazy 1% is still swarming in my heart. Sad. Angry. Embarrassed. My 1% did not show up.
What does “just showing up” mean to those high school students? Those moldable balls of clay whose world spins before them.
Showing up is something. The speaker wasn’t wrong. But it isn’t enough. Not in this world.
What about the other one percent? It damn well better pack a powerful punch. Girls and boys, it better wake up, sit up, suit up, lace up, roll up, fire up, act up, ante up, lift up, nourish up, and RISE UP, Alicia Keys!, cause we need more.
What does “just showing up” mean to the people in Charlotte who need food? To those of us who can make a difference?
Federal cuts to USDA sources and upcoming tariffs will severely impact us at Nourish Up. Not “may.” WILL. We are proud to provide nutritionally-balanced food in my city for the children, the elderly, the families, the HUMANS in it. But it’s the healthy components that will be most impacted by cuts to our food banks. This means — for Nourish Up alone:
A 50% reduction in frozen foods will cost us $125K to purchase to replace
A 50% reduction in produce will cost us $500K to purchase to replace
Any reduction in dry goods will cost $0.90/LB to purchase to replace
If dairy remains at a $5K weekly expenditure = $250K/year
You do the math. Let’s rally our one percents. In whatever space is meaningful to you, please donate, volunteer, advocate. Call me if you want ideas.
What’s your ONE PERCENT?
Wow, Courtney. This brought tears. Thank you for your honesty and your call for action. Lately, I've thought a lot about the messages I see that tell us it's okay to "take care of ourselves," to disengage for the sake of sanity. I know there's truth to that, and burnout, with times are as they are, is real. But I also know it can be a code for not stepping up because we have the option not to, because the impacts aren't affecting "us."
We're all connected. I so appreciate this tender and pointed reminder of that.
Thank you