The other day, I found myself in a debate with a friend of a friend on the ethics of buying second-hand fast fashion, and whether he could justify his Shein purchase because he bought it off someone else on Vinted. This was a debate we were both approaching from virtually the same point as Western consumers from similar economic backgrounds - it was not a debate where either of us were particularly shaped by any other experience which had radically formed our opinions. However, as I am prone to do at any minor inconvenience, I jokingly responded to one of his points with the accusation 'are you silencing the voice of a queer woman of colour?' Now he (to be clear, a straight, cis, white man) took it in the spirit it was intended and laughed, but he put his hands up and said he couldn't argue with that. While it was not a serious enough discussion for me to press the point further, it struck a chord in me. Why couldn't he argue with that? There are some moral and ethical debates where I am undeniably shaped by the intersection of minorities I occupy. However, this was not one of them, and honestly it was a debate where he could have convinced me of his view if he had pressed on.
And therein lies my moral dilemma. Is it enough of a fight for me to simply exist in the space I occupy, or do I actually have a duty to my EDI hire qualities to actually fight and protest in a tangible way, rather than simply invoking my identity as proof of my political beliefs? Another of my friends (again, a straight, white man) (this article is fatally misrepresenting how many straight, white men I interact with regularly) is far more politically active than me. He is a card carrying member of the Green Party, is far more vocal about his political beliefs on his social media, regularly attends political events or protests, and we have discussed that among the atrocities of recent events, he feels that with his privilege comes a duty to speak out for the people who can’t. Now I am by no means politically apathetic – I am keenly aware of what is going on in the world and am more horrified and terrified every day. But when I talk politics, it tends to be either from a slightly amorphous moral high ground that I am obviously pro-Palestine and trans rights, and anti-Trump and anti-ICE, yet the only way I practically show this is by donating money or in very rare occurrences (and only when it is geographically convenient for me) going to protests. Or, when it comes to politics closer to home, which at the moment is largely shaped by a fear of Farage’s Britain if Reform comes to power, I have general basic human empathy and awareness that the vitriol being spewed is vile and untrue. However, I also approach it from a very personal fear of having my rights stripped away. And this personal fear which accompanies my moral compass, which is not backed up by the extensive action some others partake in, seems to automatically place me on a more ethical pedestal to certain counterparts.
And I’m not saying I necessarily disagree with this. In fact, I really don’t know how to feel about this. Because sure, it seems logical that if your rights are not being repeatedly attacked in the same way others are by a group you oppose, if you truly want to show your solidarity you need to be vocal and active about it. In comparison, the simple fact of fighting for my right to exist and being opposed to those who think I don’t deserve that right seems to be enough for a lot of people. However, despite existing in an intersection of minorities, I am well aware I am speaking from a position of privilege in that I have both the financial and political freedom (at the moment) to speak out when others can’t, which makes me wonder whether I should be doing more to speak out in order to truly be worthy of my identity. I see many friends regularly using their social media to promote a political message, yet I feel somewhat helpless posting in this way with an awareness that the only people who are going to see it are about 300 people who I have the capacity to have actual conversations with. But then I wonder if it would still be better than doing nothing.
My Instagram is by no means apolitical but to be honest, the majority of it is made up of book recommendations, fan edits and gay memes and I like it that way! With so much turmoil in the world, and so much to be constantly scared of and horrified by, I treat my Instagram as a safe space to scroll (well, as safe as it can be when I constantly see extremely targeted reels about my love life). Unless I am so genuinely struck by something that I need to post a horrified rant which badly articulates my feelings on a topic (and even this normally happens on my close friends), my posts are for me to share the joy in my life. I refuse to ever shy away from politics, but I tend to save my consumption for news outlets and dedicated blogs and discuss these issues through conversation with my friends rather than simply sharing a post on my story.
However, I know people whose feeds are completely overtaken by politics and constantly post about all the different issues going on in the world, and honestly whenever I encounter this, I feel guilty. Guilty that I’m not doing enough, that I’m posting about the fact that I was enjoying cocktails on the beach when children are being taken from their homes and innocent citizens are being shot. Guilty that I am putting effort into finding the perfect picture of myself to post with the perfect cryptic song choice, when others are constantly speaking out and putting their peace on the line in the service of others who look like me, yet are being attacked for our shared identity. But mostly, I feel guilty that I am perceived as having authority to talk about these topics and express my political anger when I feel like I’m not doing enough to tangibly back it up except existing.
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Protests against the far right in the UK calling for 'love, not hate.' |
Yet another part of me is well aware that it is not an unreasonable stance to simply fight for my existence and the existence of others, and that my straight white male counterparts are not morally superior because they choose to actively fight in a situation where their rights are not under attack. Although I am obviously shaped by my identity and don’t know who I would be otherwise, I’m certain I would hold my same morals and values even if I didn’t have a personal stake in some of the conflicts I feel strongly about. But I am also aware that I do not inherently have a duty to fight to prove my existence to others, and, if I wanted to, I have the right to protect my peace and shouldn’t be expected to be vocal and protest about every atrocity all the time simply because of the identity I happen to have.
People have different capacities to deal with constant outrage, and I would never break a friendship with someone if they were less politically active than me, a feeling I hope my friends share about me. I know queer people, and people of colour, who are doing absolutely nothing to speak out in the current political climate, yet they are entitled to their peace. They are equally also entitled to reap the benefits that come from a community made up of every sector of society and a whole host of different identities continuously fighting for their right to exist and pushing forward in the face of adversity. However, it is exactly that community which makes change possible, and it is a community which is an impossibility if people can’t stand up and do the bare minimum. So, as much as we should have the right to simply exist and not be thrust into activism while our (gosh, how many times have I said it?) straight, white, male counterparts have had to make an active choice to tangibly prove their morality through their protest, as minorities we have a duty to one another. I might not have a personal stake in a debate about fast fashion, but in my choices to be politically active, I can’t pick and choose whose rights I am willing to defend and I will continue to do so. I am entitled to not subject myself to being constantly bombarded with horrific news of the world on my social media, but I can put in that extra bit of effort to seek out protests and ways I can make a difference.
Because, at the end of the day, for some people it is exhausting to exist. The situation in America seems to be deteriorating in so many catastrophic ways which I do not have the capacity to go into in this article, but in the wake of recent events there are so many minorities who are facing the prospect of that right to simply exist being taken away. And for those people, it is exhausting to be expected to resist and fight in tangible ways all the time and feel like nothing is changing. And therein lies, I think, the crux of my guilt, in that despite my privileged position, I still sometimes feel exhausted by the necessity of caring all the time and then guilt for feeling that exhaustion in my privilege. However, in trying to articulate my thoughts for this article to my friend, she made what I think is an important point we all often forget. Most people are not as special as they like to believe they could be, and do not have the ability to change the world by themselves. But we all have the capacity to make small changes in ways which sometimes feel insignificant, like not shying away from those political conversations with friends or family members to try and help others understand why it is necessary to fight. And these small changes are sometimes the best form of resistance because sometimes it’s all you can do. If you try to make a difference in a way manageable for you, this snowballs and accumulates when everyone does their bit, even if it feels like your small actions aren’t enough by themselves.
It's ok if all you’re fighting for is your right to exist. It’s a pretty good reason to fight. But I think the conclusion I’ve come to is that we are all fighting for everyone to exist. And the only way this can happen is through putting in that extra effort and pushing the boundaries of your capacity to fight, which makes a community who can make a difference. If your boundaries make you feel guilty, trust that even the smallest actions are better than nothing, and even by having political discussions you could be making a difference and changing someone’s mind. In creating that community, we create a space where we all feel like we can take a moment to breathe when we need to, and remember that it’s not worth fighting to exist if we’re not actually enjoying our existence. So fight and protest and donate, do what you think demonstrates how much you care about politics, but never feel guilty for enjoying the existence you’re fighting for everyone to experience.
By Anjali (she/her)