During the National Association of Black Journalists convention in Las Vegas three months ago, I saw ABC's John Quinones walking down the hall. I stepped in front of him.

I'm sure he's experienced — and probably resented, at times — the reaction I had.

"Hey! 'What Would You Do?!'" I said as I asked for a selfie.

He smiled and said, "OK."

He was a popular guy at that event.

I've always loved his show "What Would You Do?" which encourages random acts of kindness from strangers. The show places actors in real-life scenarios where the people around them do not know they're on TV. It often explores some of our most meaningful connections: race, romance, poverty, child safety and other tangible issues through simulated moments.

And the show asks people to respond to what they see. I'm sometimes moved when I watch people act with kindness toward individuals (actors) who are mistreated, ignored or threatened.

On one episode, a Muslim woman — an actor — entered a restaurant and the hostess (also an actor) — refused to seat her and talked to her in a condescending tone. Multiple patrons stepped forward and confronted the hostess and some of them even left the restaurant. One couple invited the woman to join them at another establishment.

In another episode, some customers at a different restaurant helped a mother (an actor) pay for a birthday meal for her children.

I do not watch that program to search for deep lessons on life. I watch it because it demonstrates the ties within our humanity and the layers that often obstruct our collective ability to bond. I believe many people, if given the opportunity and resources, will help someone if they can.

But I worry that a world steeped in social media has turned random acts of kindness into an exploitative ambition.

My timeline is filled with people who film themselves paying for someone's groceries or handing cash to a homeless person or giving someone a meal. I appreciate the gestures. But I wonder about the motivation. I'm even more concerned, however, about the subjects of these posts.

Travis Norvell, pastor of Judson Church in Minneapolis, said sometimes he tells stories about kind gestures but "leaves out as many details as I can" so the person can't be identified.

"The healthy thing to do would be maybe you want to share that you did it, but you don't include them in it — it's a person," he said.

I just wonder if these public, posted acts exceed the level of care I believe folks should have for other human beings who might be experiencing a rocky moment or chapter in their lives.

It's a delicate dance without definitive answers. Norvell and I discussed this issue, and he made a good point about my concerns: if a kind moment on social media encourages someone else to mimic that effort, then maybe that's what matters most.

"I find myself reacting in two ways," Norvell said. "One, you tend to roll your eyes at people putting [acts of kindness] online. Then the other part is I, myself, have been moved to do things when I see somebody else do it. In some ways, maybe the motivation doesn't matter as long as it gets other people to take another step."

That makes sense to me.

Yet we also agreed that the people involved in these moments, whose lives are sometimes positioned as content and an opportunity to generate likes, retweets and shares, do not truly get the opportunity to consent. A decision to accept help should not turn a person into a post, if those efforts engender more exploitation than empathy.

But social media can also become a beneficial instrument for charity.

Ta Leia Thomas had a pure heart. When the Brooklyn Center Liquor employee gave her shoes to a homeless man last week, the gesture went viral and attracted attention from major media outlets around the country.

It was like an episode of "What Would You Do?" In a real-life situation, she just helped someone who had a need. The camera captured the moment. And her boss posted the act.

That was an example of social media's power to demonstrate the greatest facets of our humanity when it is used with grace to showcase the impact of kindness.

"I was taught to help," Thomas told the Star Tribune last week. "This was more for him than it was for me, but it made my day to be a better person. You just have to be one."

I'm glad we're helping people. I'm glad people like Ta Leia Thomas exist. And I smile when I see people on TV shows and viral clips supporting others in difficult times. I hope, throughout this holiday season and beyond, those gestures continue.

But do we really have to tell everybody about them?

"You can kind of feel," Norvell said, "when people are trying to get an 'A' in altruism."

Myron Medcalf is a local columnist for the Star Tribune and a national writer and radio host for ESPN. His column appears in print on Sundays twice a month and also online.