Privileges & Perspectives

Oops!

Dear friends,

I have made it my practice to take great care about how and what I post on social media. I have always made a concerted effort to avoid sharing shame or blame or unnecessarily inflammatory posts. Sometimes, however, I screw up and post something that is any or all of those things that I try to avoid. On Sunday I had a momentary lapse of judgement and reposted this: “If you’re silent, you’re complicit. It’s that simple.”

A few hours later, a dear friend questioned this black & white statement and that led me to replace it with this one where, instead, I invited conversation about why and how we are noisy or silent, showing up or not showing up:

And the response was incredible! Twenty-four hours after posting this, there were over 90 ‘likes’ and more than 30 comments. 

CM said, “I’m grateful for all the noise you make, Jess. Know that others are making noise, rattling cages, and making plans, even if you don’t see it on social media. Those of us who have to exit/return to the states frequently have to be careful about what we post on social media.”

LG said: “I spent most of my life so far being a noisy advocate at all levels of govt. But the burnout is real, as is alienating coworkers, employers, friends, family and neighbours. I like to think of it as a relay race rather than a marathon. We take turns.” 

JW said: “We need more noise from many industries that rely on immigrants, nor have we heard much noise from government officials regarding the loss of tax revenue from detained immigrants that have been paying patriotically.”

BB said: “Some people are in the attic.”

AM said, “I grew up reading about people who hid Jews from the Nazis and wondering if I'd have been that brave. For over forty years, I've been writing the stories of people who are courageous, still unsure I could be brave myself. But now... I'm a really old white woman, in a paid-off house, with food in the pantry and a paid-for car by the front door. That's pretty safe financially. Physical safety? Well, there are MAGAmenschen in the area, as there are everywhere now, but I figure what the hell? I'm brave enough to make noise, make Resistance memes, demonstrate, give to liberal candidates and causes, bug legislators, post, comment—whatever these 92-year-hands can do. It's not enough, but it's something.”

And lots and lots of people rightly pointed out that many, many people are silent, not because they’re complicit, but because they already have a target on their backs and might already be in hiding.

So, no, it’s not ‘that simple’, no matter how much I wish it was. I am grateful to my friend who questioned my initial post, and all the people who commented on my replacement post for reminding me how nuanced and varied Resistance is. Resistance shows up in countless different ways. We who care do what we can according to our capability, our capacity, our fortitude, and our personal situation, not to mention all the external influences on our lives in the moments of political crisis. I am grateful to be reminded that no one truly benefits when we shout on social media or in person that others are doing Resistance 'wrong'.

Expressing ourselves in the age of the meme.

For all our kvetching about the unpleasant aspects of social media, it also brings a lot of good into our lives. Social media offers us connections we might not have irl, cute animal videos that calm our nerves, mouth-watering recipes, community freebie pages, and so much more. However, social media platforms (some more than others) are primarily designed to ruffle our feathers and ignite our emotions. I have long been wary of the crowds who shout on Face Book, sharing memes that neatly express their exploding emotions in one little square. While I am deeply uncomfortable with this short form of political activism and my gut reaction is to view it as unproductive virtue signalling, I can also understand that (a) social media is specifically built to get us fired up via memes, and (b) this is the world we live in and the only way that many people feel they can express their pent up anger and grief at the horrors (real or perceived)  around us. I worry that too many people share and re-share memes without ever fact checking, and thus incendiary and often inaccurate information quickly makes the rounds, firing up our already frayed nervous systems. We see something that resonates with us, and then, boom! We hit ‘share’ without thinking through the message we’ve just sent out into the world.

The gestapo antics of ICE have been a major theme in my emails to Republicans, so, on this sleepy Sunday morning, I was a sitting target for a post vividly depicting more ICE atrocities and the catchy little statement, “If you’re silent, you’re complicit. It’s that simple.”  Boom! I hit ‘share’ without thinking through the actual message that I just sent out into the world. 

Social media, long form

Early into my letter-writing campaign, I decided to share my correspondences with Republican senators on Face Book. My motive? I wanted to spread a little humour and a little hope. I wanted to show that when we write to politicians, it is not necessarily shouting into the void. I wanted to gently encourage others to contact their representatives and make their voices heard (#BeNoisy). I hoped to convince others that their voice deserves to be heard. I wanted to use my emails as a way of letting folk know what bullshit government sanctioned shenanigans we are up against on any given day. I have actively tried to avoid blaming or shaming others who haven’t got the fight-fascism bug that I inherited from my activist family, but hoped I might encourage some political or social engagement. I tend to avoid sharing memes (unless they’re adorable or funny), and mainly keep my social media practice long form.

As the daughter of a Holocaust survivor… A perspective

Back to the “If you’re silent, you’re complicit. It’s that simple” Statement. 

I have spent my entire life obsessing over my grandparents’ fate. What was it like for them in the 1930s as they read the news, heard rumblings, of what was happening in Germany while going about their daily lives in their comfortable Belgrade home? How terrified they must have been that morning on April 6^th, 1941, when Hitler bombed the bejeezus out of their city. Did they start planning an escape upon hearing that the Yugoslav foreign secretary had signed a treaty with Hitler handing over the Jews to save the rest of the country? My grandmother’s heart must have surely broken when my grandfather answered the call for Jewish men to gather at the central square only to be carted off to a labour camp (sound familiar?), then disappear forever just a few months later. And then, the call for women and children came. As a mother, my blood still runs cold as I try to imagine what it was like for my grandmother to hand her 7 year old son into the care of her Christian sister just before being carted off to a death camp.

Just as I’ve tried to fathom what life was like for my grandparents when fascism came knocking on their door, these days I am desperately trying to wrap my head around the trauma ripping through the immigrant population in the US. I cannot imagine how increasingly terrifying each day is as parents wonder if their kids will be kidnapped from school, or they’ll be abducted at work, or their homes will be invaded by heavily armed thugs, or they’ll be seized at their court appointments. Are they thinking about the 70,000 Americans who voted to have their rights ripped away from them? Are they wondering which of their neighbours voted against their existence?

All my life I’ve wondered why people didn’t speak up, step up, and fight the Nazi machine. How could their neighbours allow this to happen before their very eyes (though, in all likelihood, many of those neighbours probably participated in the genocide)? I frequently see the statement, “If you ever wondered what you would have done during the Holocaust, you’re doing it now.”  Not to dis the many individuals and organizations who risked their own lives to help Jews escape, hide, survive, but a heartbreakingly larger number of individuals and organizations either remained silent or willingly participated in the genocide of European Jews. It is, understandably, this perspective that makes me want to shout out now as we witness ICE, the modern day gestapo, terrorizing our non-white neighbours, “If you’re silent, you’re complicit!”. 

So much privilege!

A number of people commented on my post about how those of us with privilege need to step up to protect those under attack. Personally, I totally agree with this belief, and, as someone with privilege up the hoo-ha, I’m not afraid to use it in our current fight against fascism.

Today being Canada Day, I am grateful for the privilege that comes with being a Canadian.

When I was ten years old, my father had just completed his doctorate and applied all over the map in hopes of landing a professorship in mathematics. In the end, he received 2 job offers: Butte, Montana and Ottawa, Ontario. He accepted the job at the University of Ottawa, became a Canadian citizen after a few years, and eventually retired in Victoria BC. Being the youngest of 3 siblings, I just happened to be the one offspring who followed my father North, also became a Canadian citizen, and moved to Victoria BC to care for him when his Parkinson’s Disease advanced.

Not a day goes by that I am not awed by these strokes of luck that landed me in Canada (not Butte Montana), and the immense privileges that come with this. One of the main privileges, of course, is how safe I feel being noisy in my support for my southern neighbours who are under assault.  From this side of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, I can safely send hundreds of very annoying emails to Republican senators and then post them on Face Book. While I don’t imagine I’ll be able to safely cross the border to visit my dear ones who live in the US anytime in the foreseeable future, I am not worried that I am in any danger by continuing my emailing campaign from this side of the water, and that is some fine privilege.

I also have the privilege that comes with being a white, older, relatively able-bodied woman, and as such, I don’t believe I have a target on my back. I have the freedom to #BeNoisy without risking my own safety.  One person commented about my initial post that I’d probably assumed that most of my friends were privileged and not having to be in hiding, and dang! She hit the nail on the head with that one! Even when we think we’re really aware of our privilege, we can always use a little help to investigate it more thoroughly. This FB conversation has allowed me just that.

Small but mighty

In this moment of self-reflection, as we contemplate our privileges and our responsibilities in the face of rising white supremacy and fascism…

I like to say that my husband is one incarnation off being a sheepdog because of his insatiable urge to help others and problem solve. I, on the other hand, am decidedly one incarnation off being a terrier. You know, those little dogs who see bigger, scarier dogs, and rather than cowering, start barking like a demented fiend? I’m that little scrappy dog who sees danger in the form of injustice and takes it on. I’m tenacious AF and won’t let go once I’ve sunk my teeth in. Outting my inner terrier while embracing my white-girl privilege, I am committed to barking loudly at the fascist brutes until they all just fuck off and disappear. Of course, for those of you who feel you also have the capacity to bark and growl, and the privilege to do so safely, I invite you to join me. And for those of you who haven’t found your bark, or have reasons why you can’t, I’ll happily bark twice as loud to make sure your voice is also heard.

Woof!

Jessica