Most days my social media feed is recipes I’ll never make, kid pics, or some craft idea I’ll save and forget about later. Cheerful. Familiar. Safe.

But the last few days have been different.
My feed has been filled with violence, with multiple incidents of senseless brutality. People hurt. People killed. And maybe the hardest part was watching others cheer, jeer, or pick it apart like it was a sports game. Added to that was the replaying of the planes hitting the towers on 9/11. Those images never really left us, but seeing them again and again has dulled the weight of that day. For many of the parents of our girls, 9/11 is only a childhood memory. They were toddlers or very young when it happened.

I remember that day. I remember the absolute terror. But I also remember the day after, which also happens to be my birthday, when the country seemed to breathe together. We were united in grief but also in hope. For a brief moment, there was a connectedness that I really thought might change the world. And yet now, somewhere along the way, tragedy has turned into entertainment. What used to be reported with care is now blasted raw and unfiltered straight into our hands. People in the comments pick sides, argue about who the hero or villain is, forgetting these aren’t characters in a TV show. They’re people. Families. Real lives.

And our kids are seeing it.

I hesitated to even write this. The last thing I want is to add to the noise or seem like I’m chasing headlines. But silence doesn’t sit right either, because our girls are growing up in this world and they deserve better. Part of why I started blogging this year was to find my own voice and to live out our core value of leading with an open heart. Maybe this post is as much for me as it is for you.

If I were queen of the world, no child under 18 would be on social media. Every child would start the day with a warm hug, a warm meal, and a kind word from an adult who believed in them. Maybe I’d erase social media altogether, but then I’d lose all those recipes and craft ideas I’ll never make, sitting there quietly guilting me into better time management. The only kind of “violence” a child would ever witness would be the sky cracking open in one of those sudden Virginia thunderstorms.

I believe social media is one of the biggest problems. It feeds outrage. It normalizes cruelty. It numbs us. My daughter isn’t on any platforms. She doesn’t even know what TikTok is, which honestly gets her teased sometimes. But I’d rather her be teased than think endless scrolling through chaos is normal.

I think back to when I was younger. People were outraged over a video game that showed cartoon blood when you ran over people with cars. The big concern then was that it would desensitize kids to violence. And looking at where we are now, I guess it has. Today, we can watch that happen to real people in real time. And the world just scrolls on.

No wonder kids feel anxious, unsafe, and overwhelmed. Girls are lonelier, sadder, more stressed than ever. When all they see is anger, violence, and division, it’s easy for them to lose sight of the goodness and light still in the world. Every child needs to know their life has value and that even in dark times, hope can rise.

At Girls on the Run, we try to offer that better way. We teach girls that emotions are real and valid, but they don’t get to be the boss of you. Anger doesn’t have to end in destruction. Sadness doesn’t have to swallow you whole. Joy doesn’t have to come at someone else’s expense.

We teach self-control, empathy, respect for life.
We teach that you can disagree without dehumanizing someone.
That you can feel without being ruled by it.

True courage isn’t about shouting louder than someone else. It’s about listening, really listening, even when you disagree. That’s how respect is built. That’s how communities grow strong.

That’s the world I want our girls to grow up in.
Safe enough to speak from the heart. Strong enough to listen with compassion. Strong enough to value life, even when it’s messy and complicated.

And this is why Girls on the Run matters. It’s not about running laps. It’s about giving girls tools to deal with a world that feels like too much. To teach them they’re not powerless. That they can pause, breathe, choose.

Because compassion, courage, and respect are the antidotes to fear and violence.

At Girls on the Run Piedmont, we’re committed to equipping girls with the tools to rise above the noise, choose courage over chaos, and lead with compassion.