5) Staying in Your Lane (Is Actually How Systems Grow Stronger)

I don’t have an informed opinion about the intricacies of water policy in Flint, Michigan.

I don’t understand the complexities of fishing rights disputes in the Pacific Northwest.

I haven’t lived the experience of navigating immigration court as an undocumented person.

And you know what? That’s okay.

In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s necessary.

Because the idea that every able-bodied adult needs to have a fully formed, defensible opinion on every issue affecting every community is not only impossible—it’s actively harmful to effective civic engagement.

We’ve created a culture where staying in your lane, acknowledging the limits of your knowledge, and trusting others to speak from their expertise is seen as apathy or privilege or not caring enough.

But what if I told you that staying in the space you actually understand is how systems grow stronger? That knowing what you don’t know is a form of wisdom? That strategic focus isn’t the same as willful ignorance?

Let’s talk about lanes. And why staying in yours might be the most radical thing you can do.

The Pressure to Have an Opinion About Everything

There’s a reason we feel this pressure.

Social media rewards hot takes. The algorithm prioritizes engagement, and nothing drives engagement like controversy. So we’re incentivized to have opinions about things we know nothing about—and to share those opinions loudly, confidently, immediately.

The news cycle moves so fast that by the time you’ve educated yourself on one issue, three more have exploded. And if you’re not posting about all of them, someone will notice. Someone will ask why you’re silent. Someone will question your commitment.

This is exhausting. And it’s ineffective.

Because when everyone is shouting about everything, no one can hear anything. When every issue is treated as equally urgent, nothing gets the sustained attention it actually needs. When we’re all trying to be experts on all things, we’re actually experts on nothing.

And the people who are living these issues—the people with proximity, with experience, with deep understanding—get drowned out by the noise.

Staying in the Space You Understand

Here’s what I know: staying in the space that you understand can help each system grow stronger.

When you stay in the space that your experience has lent you, you’re able to accurately describe what’s happening from where you sit, from what you are experiencing. You can speak with authority because you have actual knowledge. You can offer nuance because you’ve lived with complexity. You can identify gaps because you see them up close.

I can’t make a declaration around small things that I don’t understand. But I CAN make a declaration around the fact that a Black man should not be scared to call the police to his home for fear he may be the one that would wind up dead or in jail for relying on a system that is broken.

I can say that because I don’t need to understand every detail of policing policy to recognize when a system has fundamentally failed in its purpose.

But can I tell you exactly how to fix it? No. Because I’m not a police officer. I’m not a community organizer in neighborhoods most affected. I’m not a policy expert in criminal justice reform. I’m not someone who has navigated that system as a Black man trying to keep his family safe.

I have a responsibility to say “this is broken.” I don’t have the expertise to prescribe the specific solution. So I don’t need to know statistics to spout–I need to raise my voice in support of an obvious gap.

And that’s the distinction we’ve lost: the difference between naming a problem and prescribing a solution.

The Danger of Speaking Outside Your Experience

There’s a reason why staying in your lane matters: when you speak outside your experience, you take up space that should belong to someone else.

When white activists center their voices in conversations about racial justice, Black voices get pushed to the margins—again.

When men dominate discussions about reproductive rights, women’s lived experiences get treated as secondary to abstract principles.

When able-bodied people make decisions about accessibility without consulting those who live with the disability, the “solutions” often create new problems.

This isn’t about silencing people. It’s about strategic positioning.

Author and activist adrienne maree brown teaches: “Move at the speed of trust” [1]. That means understanding who is best positioned to lead on which issues. It means recognizing that your role might be to listen, amplify, resource, and support—not to lead.

And here’s what’s hard about that: it requires humility.

It requires acknowledging that your perspective, however well-intentioned, is incomplete. That your lived experience, however valid, doesn’t give you expertise on everyone else’s. That sometimes the most helpful thing you can do is step back and make room.

Proximity and Expertise Matter

Activist and lawyer Bryan Stevenson talks about the power of “proximity”—getting close enough to the people and problems you’re trying to help that you can actually understand what’s needed [2].

If you don’t work within a system, it will take you longer to get up to speed to understand how things work within that system.

That doesn’t mean you can’t learn. It doesn’t mean you can’t care. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t support movements that don’t directly affect you.

But it DOES mean recognizing the difference between:

• Solidarity: “I stand with you. How can I support your leadership?”

• Saviorism: “Let me fix this for you because I think I see a way forward (though I haven’t lived this experience).”

Solidarity asks: “What do you need?” Saviorism assumes: “I know what you need,” or a worse version, “I know better.”

Solidarity centers the people most affected. Saviorism centers the helper’s good intentions.

And good intentions without proximity often create harm.

How to Know Your Lane

So how do you figure out where you should focus? Where your voice actually matters? Where you have not just passion but positioning?

Ask yourself these questions:

1. Do I have lived experience with this issue?
   If yes: Your voice carries weight. Speak.
   If no: Listen first. Amplify those who do.

2. Do I work within this system?
   If yes: You understand the nuances, the constraints, the leverage points. You can speak to what’s realistic.
   If no: Be humble about your recommendations. The people inside the system know things you don’t. We don’t know what we don’t know.

3. Am I directly affected by this issue?
   If yes: You have a right to speak, to demand change, to refuse to be silenced.
   If no: Your role might be to resource, amplify, open doors—not to lead.

4. Have I done the work to understand the history, the complexity, the stakeholders?
   If yes: Make sure you can contribute meaningfully to the conversation.
   If no: Educate yourself before taking up space with uninformed opinions.

5. Who is best positioned to lead on this, and am I centering their voices?
   This question matters most. Always.

The Family Parallel: Everyone Has a Role

In healthy family systems, everyone has a role—but not everyone has the same role.

The parents make certain decisions because they have information, experience, and responsibility the kids don’t have yet. The kids have insights into their own needs that parents need to hear and respect. Grandparents might offer wisdom from experience. Extended family might provide support without being in charge.

When everyone tries to be in charge of everything, the system collapses into chaos.
When no one takes responsibility for anything, the system collapses into neglect.

The key is differentiation—knowing where you end and others begin. Knowing what’s yours to carry and what’s not. Knowing when to speak and when to yield the floor [3].

Family therapist Murray Bowen taught that healthy systems require people who can maintain their own sense of self while staying connected to others. Not enmeshed (where you have no separate identity). Not cut off (where you’re disconnected entirely). Both separate AND connected.

That’s what staying in your lane actually is: maintaining your focus while trusting others to maintain theirs.

What About When Systems Fail People Outside Your Lane?

Here’s the question I know you’re asking: “But what if I SEE injustice happening to people outside my lane? Am I supposed to just be silent?”

No.

Staying in your lane doesn’t mean staying silent in the face of harm. It means being strategic about how you use your voice.

You can and should:

• Name the injustice: “This is wrong.”

• Amplify those most affected: “Listen to what [people with proximity] are saying.”

• Use your platform to resource: “Here’s where you can support the people doing this work.”

• Leverage your privilege: “I’m using my access to open doors for those who’ve been shut out.”

What you shouldn’t do:

• Center yourself: “Let me tell you how I would solve this problem for these people I don’t know.”

• Speak over those affected: “I understand this better than they do.”

• Performatively engage: “Look at me caring about this issue!” (without sustained action)

See the difference?

One uses your voice in service of others. The other uses others’ pain in service of your ego.

Trust Is How This Works

Here’s what makes this possible: trust.

I trust that the people working on water policy in Flint know more than I do about what that community needs.

I trust that the people navigating fishing rights disputes have thought about this longer and harder than I have.

I trust that the people living as undocumented immigrants understand the stakes in ways I never will.

And they can trust that I’m tending to the systems I DO understand.

Because I DO understand family systems. I DO understand nervous system regulation. I DO understand attachment trauma and how it shows up across generations. I DO understand what it looks like when parents are trying desperately to do better than what was modeled for them.

That’s my lane. And I can speak to that with authority because I’ve lived it, studied it, worked in it for decades.

When I stay in my lane and trust you to stay in yours, we build collective capacity instead of competing for credibility.

So What?

The next time you feel pressure to have an opinion on everything, ask yourself:

1. What are the systems I actually understand deeply? (List them. Be honest.)

2. Where do I have proximity, lived experience, or expertise? (This is where your voice carries weight.)

In this instance there are two more question:

Can I articulate the things that can be done by others who may not share my proximity/experience/expertise but who share my concern?

Do I know how to ask for help and support that would be meaningful within a this cause or situation I fully understand?

3. Where am I feeling pressure to perform on knowledge I don’t have? (This is where you can release the pressure.)

4. Who is best positioned to lead on issues outside my lane? (Find them. Amplify them. Resource them.)

5. How can I support movements outside my lane without centering myself? (Listen. Donate. Show up. Share their load in the work.)

You don’t have to fix every broken system. You have to fix the one you’re standing in.

And when each of us does that—when each of us tends to our lane with focus, humility, and strategic clarity—the whole road gets better.

Stay in your lane. Trust others to stay in theirs. And watch how much faster we all move.

CITATIONS

1. brown, a. m. (2017). Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. Chico, CA: AK Press.

2. Stevenson, B. (2014). Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption. New York: Spiegel & Grau.

3. Bowen, M. (1978). Family Therapy in Clinical Practice. New York: Jason Aronson.

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