I'm plagued by the ability to put myself in other people's shoes.
I don't claim to have the amount or depth of trauma as some of the people I've spent time listening to and getting to know and love.
That's the thing, though. I love them, and I'm fully aware that they've been through insurmountable pain.
And unfortunately, in some cases, I was exposed to what that pain looked like in the moment. The facial expression is still burnt into my eyes. Horrific nuances that just can't be described are etched into my moral template.
And having the misfortune of seeing it is not the only example. There are other ways of feeling someone else's hurt. This is where I'm stuck in a catch 22. I can't speak on this forever, yet whatever light I shed on one, equally takes the focus off another. They all deserve to be seen as much as one another.
Yet somehow the world just keeps turning — and turning a blind eye, no less.
Again, none of what I say here is experienced at the level that they did. I have no right to claim that. But I feel compelled to talk about it.
I used to roll my eyes when people spoke about privilege like it has any bearing on my life or actions.
Now I see it.
The things we do here in our safe havens, where consequences seem nonexistent, have real effects that must be lived and endured by others elsewhere. Decisions we make that seem small can have devastating impacts on people we don't see.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I see someone throw a wrapper on the ground and go berserk on them.
But the totality of our moral structure is enraging. Especially when I see people around me denying the truth that's become so real to me. We make decisions every day that are like deciding that we don't want to carry our fair share of weight, so we take a wheelbarrow and pour the rubble onto someone already stuck with a ball and chain.
Everyday choices that most people take for granted. I can't stop looking into them deeply and seeing the implications. I do it with everything. It hurts.
That's the thing, though. I love them, and I'm fully aware that they've been through insurmountable pain.
And unfortunately, in some cases, I was exposed to what that pain looked like in the moment. The facial expression is still burnt into my eyes. Horrific nuances that just can't be described are etched into my moral template.
And having the misfortune of seeing it is not the only example. There are other ways of feeling someone else's hurt. This is where I'm stuck in a catch 22. I can't speak on this forever, yet whatever light I shed on one, equally takes the focus off another. They all deserve to be seen as much as one another.
Yet somehow the world just keeps turning — and turning a blind eye, no less.
Again, none of what I say here is experienced at the level that they did. I have no right to claim that. But I feel compelled to talk about it.
I used to roll my eyes when people spoke about privilege like it has any bearing on my life or actions.
Now I see it.
The things we do here in our safe havens, where consequences seem nonexistent, have real effects that must be lived and endured by others elsewhere. Decisions we make that seem small can have devastating impacts on people we don't see.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I see someone throw a wrapper on the ground and go berserk on them.
But the totality of our moral structure is enraging. Especially when I see people around me denying the truth that's become so real to me. We make decisions every day that are like deciding that we don't want to carry our fair share of weight, so we take a wheelbarrow and pour the rubble onto someone already stuck with a ball and chain.
Everyday choices that most people take for granted. I can't stop looking into them deeply and seeing the implications. I do it with everything. It hurts.
