Every single world crisis has to come with a tone-deaf celebrity in tow, thinking they are contributing to a hard-held conversation while inserting themselves in the narrative not belonging to them. Pandemic had Gal Gadot and unbeatable “Imagine”, Russia-Ukraine war has AnnaLynne McCord shelling out a poem about Putin.

Global crises are usually felt most, or felt at all — by regular people. It’s very hard for a privileged celebrity to understand the tone of the situation in crisis, or what people need at that moment. Hence, Gal Gadot thinking seeing famous faces singing can actually heal or help someone.

Or AnnaLynne, when asked by BuzzFeed News what prompted her to post a World War Poetry, explained:

“I know how I could easily have moved in the direction of becoming a dictator myself. If certain circumstances of my life were different, were I a little less bent toward healing and more toward vindication, I could have been a darkly powerful person.”

I can’t even analyze this statement with a straight face, AnnaLynne is so far from reality, she just about entered Metaverse.

Many of my friends asked me how come I don’t comment on this war. Some of the people I don’t know also sent me direct messages asking me why I don’t post any stories on my social media about the war. Given I’m usually vocal about many things.

Because I think silence is sometimes more needed than noise. Because we can’t be experts on everything. Because most of us don’t have platforms big enough to make a difference. Because we got way too obsessed with having to share everything, having to have a stand about everything, when it’s perfectly fine to just listen. Needed, even.

I know you did. You live it every day. And I think I figured out why. Because the pandemic locked us up in the houses where we felt helpless about doing anything but stare at the screen and talk. Share. Circulate information over and over again. Have a side. Hate everyone who has a different side.

There was nothing to do but share. Maybe it was our way to feel a little bit of control over an otherwise tragically uncontrollable situation. Uncontrollable by us, at least.

The lockdown is over, but we are still mentally locked up. We stayed there. We are still in those rooms, feeling obligated to share, say, take a stand, take on people with different stands.

The pressure to constantly be consumed by every single issue or crisis that happens in the world, feeling obligated to speak, circulate information, and if you don’t that must mean you are a terrible person — creates the exact unhealthy pressure, anxiety, and the constant strung-out state of mind, that made us tired, aggressive, hostile and unkind.

It’s what made us that way.

I have an authority on war. I grew up in a war. The war that had the same premises as this one; isn’t it always the same? Someone goes into someone else’s sovereign territory by false pretenses to “save their people” living there. They go into this “rescue mission” by bombing every inch of the entire country.

I spent 4 years of my best teenage years when I was supposed to be out, flirting with teenage boys — locked down in a shelter. It wasn’t the same lockdown that you had during the pandemic; you had Netflix, heat, food to order, a cell phone, a computer, hot water, and no planes flying above your heads.

I had none of that. We had no heat, oftentimes no light, food was what you grabbed on the way down, no TV, no phone. Staring to the wall, waiting, counting bricks, flies, minutes. 4 years.

The scenes of my sister and I watching Beverly Hills 90210, and something so important happened in the previous episode and you want to watch it so badly and are praying for a seize-fire at least that day; your father makes you a bowl of popcorn, you manipulate your sister to make us hot chocolates, you are in the middle of an episode and siren starts.

You hear the ammunition, but you can’t figure out where. Your dad is pretty chill like every child that grew up in Communist society, wars or a constant promise of one are pretty much a default state, but your mother is one of those glass-half-empty kind of people that diabolically feed off of negativity.

Her hysterics couldn’t be forgotten even if I try, every siren was followed by her animal roar, on the dot — “we are next!”, where you had to lay on the floor, next to the bed or some time sturdy furniture, waiting to see if it’s just lay on the floor for few hours or go to the shelter type of siren.

The absurdity of watching the actors frolic on Rodeo Drive and the next minute laying on the floor, looking at the dust buds under the bed or whatever furniture you ended up falling next to, for hours on end, noticing the smallest details, cracks, discoloration in the wood, while having such paralyzing fear that did °180, you almost felt none.

I know what these people are going through. Who would I be helping?

My platform is not big enough to make a difference. I’m not from there to know all the details and info important enough to share. I do most by following the people that have big platforms, and the ones with first-hand information.

What I can do is listen. Hear. Send my American friends some articles on Slavic Wars, so they understand something so foreign to them. I can sign petitions, donate what I can, but most importantly I can shut the fuck up and LISTEN.

There’s a brilliant Tweet written by Devon Price (@drdevonprice), a psychologist, professor, and author that says the following:

“You are not obligated to issue grand proclamations about incredibly complex issues you know relatively little about. You are also not obligated to flood your nervous system with upsetting imagery and information for hours — that is not the same thing as informing yourself.”

You can inform yourself in silence. Away from the screen.

The crisis is not content. Wars are not content. You don’t have to and you shouldn’t be an authority on absolutely everything. You can have a feeling about it, of course, and your feelings about this horrible thing happening in the 21st century are totally valid and still there, in your body, even if you don’t share them on social media.

Maybe pick your battles, and be grateful you are not a part of this actual battle.

Let the people in the midst of it, have this room.

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This article was originally published on Medium.