To the small businesses protesters: I may not agree with you, but I see you.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear like I did that day when I was faced with the distinct possibility that I might not be able to provide a reliable source of income for my 13 staff members – some with small children and medical bills, most living paycheck to paycheck, most without healthcare beyond the small supplemental policy that we were able to afford as a small business.

March 16 was the day that Governor Beshear mandated the closure of all restaurants and bars. Over the course of a week we lost six catering jobs and about 40 percent of our weekly sales. In an industry with already razor thin profit margins, the loss of sales means we can’t pay our overhead operating expenses or payroll. In a heartfelt, and somewhat desperate appeal, I reached out to my community on Facebook, pleading with them not to stop eating at our restaurant, that we would continue to provide a clean, safe environment, that there was no evidence that the virus could be passed through food. I was immediately accused of choosing profit over human lives.

It’s funny how quickly we turn on each other in times of crisis. I remember feeling really alone and isolated at that time. Not even my closest friends could begin to understand the pressures that we were facing. Most still had jobs and were able to work from home. Most had company-sponsored health insurance. My Facebook feed was filled with people baking sourdough bread, doing NTI work with their kids, making jokes about wearing yoga pants, and having Zoom meetings in quarantine. All while we were frantically trying to survive, facing the very real risk of losing everything, including the ability to provide for our own family.

We closed down our restaurant indefinitely on March 23 when we just couldn’t, in good conscience, create a safe and socially distant work environment for our staff, and when the 30-40 percent drop in sales could no longer justify us remaining open. Governor Beshear’s efforts to expedite unemployment benefits, along with the federal unemployment supplement made it possible for us to come to this decision. The promise of SBA relief loans and grants (although we’ve yet to receive any) made it possible for us to imagine how we might rebuild and reopen down the road.

Last week, it was reported that over 100 small business owners gathered at the Kentucky state capital to protest the Governor’s mandate to close non-essential businesses. They demanded the re-opening of Kentucky and of our economy. Entrepreneurship can come with high rewards, but it also inevitably comes at a high price. No one is going to save you but yourself. As small business owners, I imagine these protesters felt that pressure. Like me, they are facing unfulfilled promises of exhausted government-backed loans and grants, riddled with red tape and long wait periods.

I get it. These are scary and complicated times. There are no winners in a pandemic. The best we can all do is help one another survive this. As business owners, this is our moment of reckoning. This is what will distinguish profit-driven business owners from socially responsible entrepreneurs. This is when we remind ourselves what people who earn paychecks will never understand. That’s it’s not just about profit. It’s about our legacy and our life’s work.

We may not agree on the science, the curve, the trends, the numbers, the theories, the mandates, but I bet we can agree on one thing – that our businesses mean more to us than a way to make money. That we must do everything in our power to protect our people, our customers, and our commitment to our communities, from a virus that has infected over 600,000 Americans and that has taken the lives of over 30,000 Americans. Even if we don’t fully understand it. Even if it there’s conflicting information out there. Even if it means that we have to swallow our pride and accept temporary help in the form of unemployment benefits – a system that we have been contributing to, and that is designed to help us in this very circumstance.

It would be devastating to our communities, and thus the long-term survivability of our businesses, if we rushed to re-open. It would be irresponsible for us to risk putting our staff in harm’s way if we went back to business as usual, when we don’t yet have clarity on when the virus will peak in Kentucky. As gathering spaces of our communities, we can’t be the ones encouraging the unnecessary assembly of our customer. Staying closed isn’t a sign of weakness or a lack of confidence in our abilities to run our own businesses. It doesn’t mean that we aren’t willing to fight for our life’s work. It means the very opposite. It means we are willing to make the sacrifice that few are willing to make – to risk losing everything in order to do what we know is right.

Mae Suramek is a recovering non-profit professional turned social entrepreneur, and founder of Noodle Nirvana, a socially conscious noodle shop with a side of world peace, located in Berea.