The past few weeks have sucked for America as a nation. On top of all the tragedies that don’t make the news and will never be heard about, some of the main headlines on every website and in every periodical were about Brock Turner’s disgustingly short sentence for rape, the death of a little boy at Disney World, and the tragic mass shooting of 49 people at the gay nightclub Pulse in Orlando. Everyone is talking about these things. Every time I log onto Facebook, or check Buzzfeed, or even look on Odyssey, feeds are inundated with articles about these tragedies. It seems like everyone has something to say.

But if everyone has something to say — a heartfelt letter to write, a poignant social commentary, a comparison between tragedies, whatever — then it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone left to really listen. The importance of listening to one another, of listening to those who have actually had to experience these tragedies first hand, became clear on a national scale when the Stanford woman’s letter to her rapist, Brock Turner, was read and published nationally. Here was a woman who could have remained silent. But instead, she chose to speak up, to defend herself (and in doing so, defending other women who can’t do the same); luckily, people paused to listen, and her story gained a huge amount of social and political traction. But so far, despite outrage at the judge and at Turner’s sentence, nothing has really changed. Yes, we listened to her, but mostly only to the point that we had new angles to write articles, Facebook statuses, and Buzzfeed posts about.

Then, with the little boy killed while on vacation, few again stopped to listen, but were quick to blame. The one article that really struck me out of all the press on the incident was a mom who had taken to Facebook to post photos of her own kids in the same spot the boy was attacked by the alligator, only 30 minutes earlier the same day, with the message that the tragedy could have happened to any family at any time and that the boy’s parents shouldn’t be vilified. This seemed to be a new, softer perspective amidst the chaos. It’s easy to blame other people, say that his parents weren’t being responsible, or that the Disney parks are at fault. While some or all of that is entirely possible, it’s not the point, and it’s not helpful. What’s helpful is not inciting public outrage at the theme park, prompting Disney to find and euthanize multiple alligators in an attempt to gain public closure. What’s helpful is not shaming parents who are grieving over the loss of the child. What’s helpful is stepping back, and listening; and if you absolutely have to step in and speak, maybe ask questions like “what can be done to keep wildlife and park-goers both separate and safe?” or “how can we help ease the pain of those suffering a huge loss?”

America has an epidemic of taking a news story and milking it for all that it’s worth. Often, this leads to people making the tragedy about themselves. But unless you share the same or a similar experience with those going through these tragedies, it’s not about you at all. This was made painfully clear with the Pulse shooting last weekend. It was a hate crime against the LGBTQ+ community. Not a religious act of violence, not a random occurrence, but a targeted mass killing that endangered and took the lives of many, while also threating the LGBTQ+ population’s ability to feel safe in their own homes. Although almost every post or article I’ve seen about the shooting has expressed sorrow, outrage, and disappointment. Very few have reached out to act as true allies. Although there are multiple political and social issues wrapped up in the tragedy (gun control, for one), at the end of the day, a large part of our country’s population is hurting, and needs our help. They don’t need us to come swooping in and save the day, though. What they need is love, and patience, and support.

Too many groups for too long have been topics of news and conversation, without being allowed into the conversation themselves. Hell, these groups shouldn’t just be allowed to talk, they should be leading the discourse, and it’s ridiculous that this still isn’t happening on a large scale. In the past year alone, black lives have been put in danger and marginalized. Women’s lives and safety have been let down by the American justice system. LGBTQ+ lives still have yet to gain total acceptance, and have been attacked for their identities. And these are only the three biggest groups to have made headlines. To all of these groups, and to those that suffer in relative silence: we see you. You matter. Your race matters, your gender matters, your identities matter, your sexuality matters, your existence matters. To allies: it’s time we stop talking over or for the victims, the marginalized, and the hurting. It’s the job of an ally to support, and to listen.

Let’s listen to one another. Not just waiting for our own chance to speak, but really hear what one another have to say. If we really listen to one another’s experience, and one another’s pain, maybe we can find some common ground to build solutions off of. I’m ready, and I hope people around this country are ready, to hear you. On that note, I’ll shut up, because it’s your time to speak.