Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame was quite possibly the most traumatizing movie of my childhood, which makes the fact it was also my favorite movie slightly worrying, but I’ll leave that for my therapist to figure out. When the mob of society, led by villain Judge Claude Frollo ties down Quasimodo and torment him for no other reason than that he looks different, six year old me would clap her hands over her ears, scrunch her eyes shut, and rock until the scene was over. That being said, my parents have a particularly incriminating video of three year old me prancing around in nothing but tighty-whities, bellowing the opening song to the movie in a strangely deep voice for such a stubby legged human. I begin with this to emphasize the range of emotions this movie inspired in me as a child. I wanted to be like Esmeralda, to stand up against cruelty and fight for what was right, no matter the cost. As an adult, I see the same scenes from this childhood movie played out over and over again in every day life, immensely more terrifying as this is now a reality and I don’t know if there will be a happy ending. But something is different. I have not become my childhood hero, a woman who sees oppression within society and fights for justice. I have not become Esmeralda, who answered the oppressors order for silence with a cry for justice. I have become what this incredibly complex work of art condemns so scathingly. I have become a bystander.

I am, regrettably, only one of a million in a society of bystanders. I’d like to believe that if I ever saw someone being abused I would immediately step in, and I think I would, but that’s not the kind of bystander I’m talking about. I am a bystander on a grander and subtler scale. I am the person who shares articles on Facebook calling for change and has agreeable discussions with likeminded friends, but never truly does anything beyond passing the proverbial buck to someone else, satisfied that I have done my part. I am not the person who stands alone in the face of wrongdoing. I did not take charge. I did not take responsibility. I am ashamed to say, I have allowed myself to become someone who looks the other way until I am not alone. I did not realize this for a long time, ignorant of my privileged position which allowed me to pass through life suffering few hardships, allowed me to see and hear about atrocities on the new, be horrified by it, and then turn off the TV. It wasn’t until I re-watched Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame that I realized my crime. It was a single line in the movie that triggered this realization, forcing me to take a long, hard, and often uncomfortable look at myself and my actions.

We find you totally innocent. Which is the worst crime of all.

I encourage you to watch the whole scene, but I will also briefly describe it. Pheobus, former enforcer of Judge Claud Frollo (a racist and misogynistic judge who is in sole control of the Paris police) and Quasimodo, the hunchback raised and brainwashed by Frollo, are searching for the Court of Miracles, the gypsy safe haven, to warn them everyone is in danger, having both turned against Frollo and his xenophobic persecution of gypsies. Captured by scouts, they are brought to the Court of Miracles to stand trial. Here, these perceived servants of Frollo are treated by the gypsies just as Frollo too often treats them – with a joke of a trial followed by an execution. Frollo is, by my interpretation, a scarily accurate depiction of today’s justice system when it comes to people of color. He detains and imprisons the gypsies with no real reason, or one that is completely misguided by his own racism. We as viewers can see his bigotry and abuse, but we never see anyone in society stand up to him. Even Pheobus allows this persecution to continue, rebelling only when a white family is sentenced unfairly to death. Watching this movie, I became uncomfortably aware of how like our society this was, and how the only character I truly could compare myself to was the sheep like bystanders who looked the other way.

We find you totally innocent. Which is the worst crime of all.

When a system of law, justice, or government is oppressing and persecuting a people, or allows for the oppression or persecution of a people, all those who do not actively oppose it may be innocent in the eyes of the law, but are morally guilty and culpable for all the pain and harm that comes of a corrupt system. When Clopin (the gypsy leader and narrator of the movie) says “we find you totally innocent,” he is dressed as Frollo, the symbolic personification of the law and of society itself. But when he finishes the line “which is the worst crime of all,” he is once again dressed in his own clothes. This line follows an entire movie of racial oppression and persecution that is lead by society’s face of justice and lawfulness. It is a condemnation of all those who have turned a blind eye to the problems in society, of those who have not stepped up and taken action, of those who have claimed not to be part of the problem yet do nothing to fix it. In short, it is a condemnation of the bystander.

Inaction is not against the law, but inaction is a moral crime non the less. The person who sees the bruises of abuse and says nothing may not be guilty in the eyes of the law, but they are still guilty of inaction. In our society, we seem to have come to the conclusion that inaction is a valid course to take when we see something bad happening to someone else. We seem to think that if we are not being affected, if we are not the ones causing the problem, we are not responsible or culpable for the harm being done to others. Posting on Facebook and dumping ice buckets on our heads have become enough to absolve us of the sin of a bystander. We are taught as children that if we see someone being bullied on the playground, that we should do something. And that’s the thing about bystanders. In doing nothing, we are allowing the bullying and abuse to continue and by allowing it to continue, we validate the belief that the bullying is ok. Somehow though, that lesson doesn’t seem to translate into adulthood when the bullies are those in positions of power.

I have been a bystander for many years. I don’t really know how to stop being one, but at the very least, I can stop looking the other way. When a stranger says something racist or homophobic, no longer will I let myself keep walking, pretending I didn’t hear it through my headphones. It can be incredibly hard to do when alone, as there is no one there to judge me for my inaction. No one will know if I simply keep walking.

But I will know. And now, hopefully, that will be enough to make me turn around and speak. Fear of judgment should not be what makes one stand up against injustice, nor should the hope for reward. One should stand up for injustice because it is the right thing to do. As Einstein said, “A man's ethical behavior should be based effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties and needs; no religious basis is necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by fear of punishment and hope of reward after death.”