I do wonder if it's my responsibility to spread a message of

The words of Zazie Beetz, spoken with candor and humility, reveal the burden felt by many in the light of public attention: “I do wonder if it's my responsibility to spread a message of environmental awareness or political awareness or just, like, don't be racist or whatever, but I don't want to be the person who's like, 'Everyone be vegan forever!’” In these lines, she gives voice to the tension between influence and authenticity, between the expectation that those with a platform must instruct the world, and the personal desire to live without presuming mastery over others.

At the heart of her words lies the struggle of responsibility. When one is given visibility, whether through art, fame, or leadership, society often demands more than performance—it demands guidance. Yet Beetz questions whether such guidance should be a duty, or whether it risks becoming a burden, forcing her voice into the mold of moral command. She acknowledges the noble causes—environmental awareness, political justice, the fight against racism—but resists the idea of dictating absolutes, of demanding from all what she herself may not fully embody. Her words remind us that influence must walk hand in hand with sincerity, or it risks becoming hollow.

This struggle is not new. History shows us the tale of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor who was also a philosopher. Though he held supreme authority, his Meditations reveal a man constantly questioning his duty: how much of himself should he give as teacher, and how much should he reserve as seeker? He did not impose a doctrine upon Rome, but modeled a life of reflection, discipline, and humility. Like Beetz, Aurelius understood that the power of example often outshines the power of decree.

Her reluctance to be the one crying out “Everyone be vegan forever!” reflects a deeper wisdom: that transformation cannot be commanded, only inspired. For when people feel coerced, they resist; but when they see genuine conviction, they are moved. The greatest teachers of history—from the Buddha to Martin Luther King Jr.—did not win hearts by scolding, but by embodying a vision so powerful it invited others to follow freely. Beetz’s words echo this truth: influence should flow not from coercion, but from authenticity.

There is also an honesty in her confession of uncertainty. Too often, leaders and celebrities present themselves as prophets with all the answers. But Beetz’s hesitation speaks of humility, a recognition that she, too, is human, still seeking, still wrestling with her place in the world. This humility is itself a form of guidance, for it teaches that one need not be perfect to care, and one need not dictate to inspire. It is enough to stand openly in the struggle for justice and awareness, without presuming to command every step of the journey.

The lesson is clear: each of us, whether great or small in stature, carries a measure of influence. But our duty is not to issue decrees—it is to live truthfully. If we care for the earth, let us show it in our choices; if we oppose injustice, let us speak it with courage; if we seek compassion, let it be evident in our lives. In this way, we guide others not by compulsion, but by the quiet power of example.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, take this teaching into your hearts: do not be afraid of influence, but wield it with humility. Speak for justice, but let your words be joined to deeds. Inspire change, but do not demand it as though you hold dominion over the hearts of others. Remember the wisdom of Zazie Beetz: to guide without tyranny, to speak without arrogance, and to live so authentically that others, seeing your path, may choose to walk alongside you of their own free will.