A COMMENTARY: Where Is the Outrage?

There are moments in a community’s life when silence becomes its own form of consent. This is one of those moments.

We cannot keep giving passes. We cannot keep pretending that everything is all right simply because no one has called attention to what is plainly wrong. There is a powerful narrative circulating — that hate is isolated, that violence is unavoidable, that progress alone is enough. But anyone paying attention knows that everything is not all right.

Not in our neighborhoods. Not in our streets. Not in the hearts of families who keep burying loved ones.

That is why the silence is so troubling.

I have not heard the outrage from the pulpit. I have not heard sustained, urgent calls from faith leaders. I have not heard the collective voice of moral authority rising to meet this moment. And that absence matters, because historically, when violence threatened the soul of our communities, the church did not whisper — it roared.

I also have not heard enough from elected leadership where it matters most. In particular, where is the sustained concern and visible urgency from Toyia Tucker as violence continues to shake District 4? What about our At-Large councilors Travis Chambers and John Anker? This is not about personal attacks. It is about public responsibility.

When shootings happen, the conversation too often drifts toward misplaced solutions. Too frequently, the “answer” offered is policing the very people most affected, rather than addressing the root causes that created the conditions for violence in the first place. That is not a solution — it is avoidance.

Yes, the Columbus Police Department was recently named the recipient of the Georgia Chapter of the FBI National Academy Associates’ Phyllis Goodwin Agency of the Year Award, recognizing leadership, modernization, and efforts to reduce crime. That achievement deserves acknowledgment. But awards do not erase trauma.

Officers responded to yet another shooting Sunday evening, finding two people injured and transporting them to a local hospital. The investigation continues, but the emotional damage is already done. The neighborhood believed stricter safety measures would prevent more bloodshed. Instead, it was reminded that recognition on paper does not always translate into peace on the ground.

So the question must be asked plainly and without apology:

Where is the outrage? Why are faith leaders of the Interdenominational Ministerial Alliance not in an uproar?
Why is there not louder, more persistent concern from those elected to speak for affected districts.                                                                           Why does the community keep being told to “wait,” “be patient,” or “not be adversarial,” when lives are being lost?                                                   And why is the first recommended solution, in the Black community is to “shut down our facilities" or "close our parks" when situations like these occur?

Speaking up is not being adversarial. Calling for accountability is not hostility. Demanding a strategy is not division.

If no one is willing to start the conversation, then someone must. If no one is willing to convene leaders, then someone has to pull the chairs together anyway. Because allowing another election cycle — another year, another tragedy — to pass without challenging the narrative is not leadership. It is surrender.

We cannot walk into 2026 with the same talking points, the same excuses, and the same funerals.

Silence is not neutrality.
Silence is a choice.

And right now, our community deserves voices that choose courage over comfort.