In my late 20s, I realized that I had a very clear social

Hear, O seekers of understanding, the words of Tracee Ellis Ross, the artist and thinker who spoke with both vulnerability and wisdom: “In my late 20s, I realized that I had a very clear social conscience and strong opinions about things like diversity, equality, and education, and while I tried to become more politically literate, I just couldn't catch on. It felt like I had walked into a movie that had already started, and no one would explain what had happened.” Beneath these humble words lies a timeless truth about awakening — the moment when the soul stirs and sees that the world around it is vast, complex, and already in motion.

Her confession is not one of ignorance, but of human awakening. For each person who walks the path of awareness must one day realize that the story of the world did not begin with them. There are histories that run deep beneath our feet, struggles that echo through generations, and voices that have long been speaking before we arrive to listen. When Ross says she felt as though she had entered a film already underway, she gives voice to the universal feeling of one who awakens late to truth — the awe and confusion of realizing that justice, identity, and belonging are not new battles, but ancient songs carried forward by countless hands and hearts.

In the age of the ancients, there were seekers who journeyed far from home to learn wisdom. They too arrived in temples where teachings had already begun, scrolls half-read, and discussions deep in progress. They felt lost among the wise, yet it was humility — the willingness to admit they did not yet know — that became the beginning of their wisdom. So too with Tracee Ellis Ross. Her awareness in her late 20s marks not delay, but destiny. For understanding comes not when the world is ready, but when the heart is. To awaken later is no failure; it is to join the eternal conversation of humanity, already alive with the voices of those who came before.

The social conscience she speaks of — that stirring of empathy toward diversity, equality, and education — is the awakening flame of the heart that longs to see justice done. It is the same fire that burned in the hearts of prophets and reformers. Yet the modern world, complex and chaotic, often hides the roots of its struggles. One must dig deep to see how centuries of silence and pain have shaped the present. To “walk into a movie already started” is to realize that you are inheriting not only the light of progress but also the shadows of history. You must learn the story before you can shape its ending.

Consider the tale of Sojourner Truth, who was born into bondage yet rose to speak for the freedom of women and the enslaved. She too stepped into a movement already in motion, where others had spoken before her. Yet her entry did not weaken the cause — it strengthened it. For every generation must join the chorus of justice in its own time. Ross’s awakening, like Sojourner’s, reminds us that one need not be the first to speak to speak meaningfully. It is not when you arrive to the struggle that matters, but that you arrive at all, ready to listen and to learn.

Her words also carry a deep compassion for those who feel left behind in a world that moves quickly. In times of noise and division, it is easy to believe that only the educated or the eloquent belong in the realm of change. But Tracee Ellis Ross shows us that awareness is not a race. Every human awakening — whether in youth or in age — contributes to the river of progress. To admit confusion is itself a sacred act of honesty, for humility opens the gate to wisdom. Those who pretend to know everything learn nothing; those who confess they are learning become true stewards of growth.

Thus, the lesson is clear, my children of the modern age: do not despair if you feel late to understanding. Every movement toward truth is sacred, no matter when it begins. If you feel lost in the middle of the world’s great story, start by listening. Read the words of those who came before you, seek teachers among the wise, and above all, keep your heart tender. For empathy is the beginning of all education, and love is the highest form of literacy.

And so, take this counsel: when you find yourself entering life’s great conversation mid-scene, do not rush to speak. Watch, learn, and let the story reveal itself. In time, you will find your place in the script — not as an outsider, but as one who has joined the timeless fellowship of those who care, who question, and who dare to make the world more just. For the world’s story is still being written, and your voice, once awakened, becomes part of its eternal song.