Thursday, June 9, 2022
capitalism is bad for our mental health
Depression and anxiety are increasingly becoming an issue, with more and more people struggling, taking their own lives, or reaching out for help. And while healthcare professionals can often provide care in the form of medications and therapy techniques like cognitive behavioral therapy that can be life changing, I think there are some deep-seated causes that have gone unaddressed and continue to feed into people's depression and anxiety—most of them being the external stressors weighing heavily on people stemming from the ways we organize our society. Most people have to work for a wage to survive, or else hustle one way or the other, sometimes both. People often have to spend a great deal of time at work (the majority of our waking hours in fact) and commuting to and from work, keeping us away from friends and family and limiting the free time we need to exercise or relax and recharge. Workloads themselves are often full of stress. On top of that, wages for many aren't enough to do more than pay for rent, food, and other bills, and people feel like they're living to work. They don't call it "the rat race" for nothing. As if that weren't enough, even more pressures come from trying to make due with what you get, forcing us to make tough financial choices between things like paying for food, rent, and utilities vs. healthcare, childcare, and car repairs. Over half of Americans alone live paycheck to paycheck in a state of perpetual precarity and the threat of unemployment and ruin around every corner. And if you want to gamble, you can put yourself into a lifetime of debt to get a higher education and piece of paper that might get you a little extra cheese, but there are no guarantees. It's also difficult to relax when at least five days are full of going full speed to make someone else rich and two days are left for you to try and do all your personal errands, spend time with friends and family, and do something enjoyable and meaningful. And when we don't have the time or money for that, we often find it easier to self medicate with drugs or alcohol or reality TV or whatever helps us through the day. And the broader socioeconomic atmosphere across the globe isn't much better, often full of violence and uncertainty, from wars and food shortages to volatile stock markets and imperialist competition between nation states. Combined that with the ability to have constant stimulation from news and social commentary on TV, social media, etc., it's little wonder that people are suffering from depression and anxiety more than ever before. Certainly not every mental health issue is caused by these material conditions, but a large number are, and the majority almost definitely exacerbated by them. If we want to truly address this growing mental health crisis, we must not only expand access to and normalize mental healthcare, but also address the omnipresent material conditions giving rise to and exacerbating them. We need more free time. We need to have our basic needs met without having to work ourselves to death. We need more access to the things that make life worthwhile and enjoyable. And we need to share all of that with everyone instead of a system where a few profit disproportionately off of the labour of the many, while the many in turn benefit from the oppression and exploitation of the poor and marginalized. Capitalism is a pyramid of inequality, and the further down you are, the heavier your burden and its negative impacts.
Wednesday, June 1, 2022
happy pride
Happy Pride!
Pride month means a lot to me for various reasons. One is, my current relationship officially began during Pride, when both my girlfriend and I volunteered to help canvas for NARAL Pro-Choice and run their booth at the 2016 Portland Pride Festival and Parade. The Orlando nightclub shooting happened just the week before, and all the other volunteers bailed, likely because they were scared of something similar happening at openly LGBTQIA+ events and locations. But we were happy to help, collecting signatures for a measure supporting full range of reproductive rights for everyone, handing out swag, marching in that Saturday's trans parade, etc. At the end, Sunday the 19th, the organizer took us both out for a beer, and we ended up expressing our feelings for one another and have been together ever since. Pride is literally or anniversary.
In addition, I've had my own journey towards undoing the societal conditioning against LGBTQIA+ individuals and lifestyles I was exposed to growing up in the media and others around me, and exploring my own gender and sexuality. While my mom was as open as a boomer could be, my step-dad and peers were definitely not, and I absorbed negative ideas and stereotypes about LGBTQIA+ people even when I didn't understand what words like gay, bi, or trans meant. I was just conditioned to think they were bad and something you didn't want to be because it was gross, unnatural, etc. Fast-forward to my late teens, and I was hanging out with a diverse group of people, wearing goth makeup and women's clothes and occasionally making out with hot guys because why not? And while I can (and usually do) easily pass for a cis, straight white dude, I'm definitely somewhere along the queer spectrum. I find certain men attractive, and I have loved people of the same sex. I also identify with more feminine roles and people and styles even though I also feel pressure to fit in as "one of the guys." I've never felt body dysmorphia or the need to transition, and pretty much most of my relationships have been with women, so I don't feel the need to claim any labels, like queer or bi or anything else, because I don't want to take attention away from others who have struggled a whole lot more in their lives for the right and ability to be open about who they are and it's not a large part of my own amorphous identity. But I also understand the need to normalize these things despite it not being a large part of my identity, so I'm definitely open about my opinions of gender and sexuality being a spectrum and my own place on that spectrum to anyone curious and being vocal about my support for people being free to express their gender and sexuality and ending all the violence and discrimination inflicted upon LGBTQIA+ individuals who fall outside of the various socially-imposed, traditionally accepted, cis-normative categories.
As a species, we have to capacity to enjoy a rich spectrum of emotional and sexual relationships. Part of the reason I think this isn't more obvious to many people is that we've been conditioned by social, religious, and cultural norms to identify with a single 'orientation' and, more importantly, to find only one specific orientation socially, morally, and culturally acceptable. We're just now reaching a point where it's becoming somewhat acceptable to be open about being attracted to the same sex and to be in a same-sex relationship, which is good. Unfortunately, we're still trapped culturally into identifying as one or the other (gay, straight, etc.), which doesn't even begin to address the limitations of our views about gender. And scientifically, we're trapped by an ideology of genetic sexual determinism to do the same thing. So it's going to take a bit longer for people to fully realize the possible diversity in human sexuality and that it's not only possible to be attracted to people for who they are regardless of sex or gender, but that it's OK to be attracted to someone for who they are regardless of sex or gender.
And even though my social and political activism isn't what it was 5 or 10 years ago, I still try hard to continue to advocate for LGBTQIA+ people and for things that would benefit them, from marriage equality to guaranteed reproductive rights, as well as to connect those struggles to struggles for gender equality, racial equality, and socioeconomic equality. Because all of these struggles are intertwined, and if one of us isn't free, none of us truly are. We just benefit from a temporary privilege at the expense of someone else, which is both harmful and morally repugnant; and social structures and cultural norms that support these unequal systems of oppression must ultimately be torn down.
It's a long, difficult process. And I know that many people would prefer slower, more moderate solutions. Things like 'tearing down' oppressive structures sounds destructive, violent even. But some foundations can't be salvaged before something new is built. And Pride itself began as a riot against the enforcement of that oppression, and even though police today like to ride in Pride parades and corporations like to throw rainbows all over their tweets and ads this month, the police are often used to uphold systems of oppression and many of those same companies financially support politicians and organizations dedicated to restricting and reversing hard won rights. Quick to cash in on a growing market, but just as quick to stab them in the back if it appeases another. And our society, while arguably changing for the better, still finds it publicly acceptable to ridicule and demonize people simply trying to exist, as all the recent anti-trans laws and comedy specials illustrate. And I definitely think we need the same active, revolutionary spirit of Stonewall for the fights ahead. Because these structures and those who support and benefit them, will not be transformed without hard battles and a militant willingness to dismantle oppressive institutions.
I love Pride because it has a very deep and very sentimental place in my heart. It's one of the places where I learned how to be brave, and where I found love. But I also love it because it's as much about celebrating oneself and the diversity we find in one another as it is an openly rebellious challenge to outdated modes of thinking and long-standing systems of discrimination, dehumanization, and psychological and physical damage. And part of celebrating Pride is being brave and standing up for others and building something better, which sometimes requires getting our hands a little dirty.
Pride month means a lot to me for various reasons. One is, my current relationship officially began during Pride, when both my girlfriend and I volunteered to help canvas for NARAL Pro-Choice and run their booth at the 2016 Portland Pride Festival and Parade. The Orlando nightclub shooting happened just the week before, and all the other volunteers bailed, likely because they were scared of something similar happening at openly LGBTQIA+ events and locations. But we were happy to help, collecting signatures for a measure supporting full range of reproductive rights for everyone, handing out swag, marching in that Saturday's trans parade, etc. At the end, Sunday the 19th, the organizer took us both out for a beer, and we ended up expressing our feelings for one another and have been together ever since. Pride is literally or anniversary.
In addition, I've had my own journey towards undoing the societal conditioning against LGBTQIA+ individuals and lifestyles I was exposed to growing up in the media and others around me, and exploring my own gender and sexuality. While my mom was as open as a boomer could be, my step-dad and peers were definitely not, and I absorbed negative ideas and stereotypes about LGBTQIA+ people even when I didn't understand what words like gay, bi, or trans meant. I was just conditioned to think they were bad and something you didn't want to be because it was gross, unnatural, etc. Fast-forward to my late teens, and I was hanging out with a diverse group of people, wearing goth makeup and women's clothes and occasionally making out with hot guys because why not? And while I can (and usually do) easily pass for a cis, straight white dude, I'm definitely somewhere along the queer spectrum. I find certain men attractive, and I have loved people of the same sex. I also identify with more feminine roles and people and styles even though I also feel pressure to fit in as "one of the guys." I've never felt body dysmorphia or the need to transition, and pretty much most of my relationships have been with women, so I don't feel the need to claim any labels, like queer or bi or anything else, because I don't want to take attention away from others who have struggled a whole lot more in their lives for the right and ability to be open about who they are and it's not a large part of my own amorphous identity. But I also understand the need to normalize these things despite it not being a large part of my identity, so I'm definitely open about my opinions of gender and sexuality being a spectrum and my own place on that spectrum to anyone curious and being vocal about my support for people being free to express their gender and sexuality and ending all the violence and discrimination inflicted upon LGBTQIA+ individuals who fall outside of the various socially-imposed, traditionally accepted, cis-normative categories.
As a species, we have to capacity to enjoy a rich spectrum of emotional and sexual relationships. Part of the reason I think this isn't more obvious to many people is that we've been conditioned by social, religious, and cultural norms to identify with a single 'orientation' and, more importantly, to find only one specific orientation socially, morally, and culturally acceptable. We're just now reaching a point where it's becoming somewhat acceptable to be open about being attracted to the same sex and to be in a same-sex relationship, which is good. Unfortunately, we're still trapped culturally into identifying as one or the other (gay, straight, etc.), which doesn't even begin to address the limitations of our views about gender. And scientifically, we're trapped by an ideology of genetic sexual determinism to do the same thing. So it's going to take a bit longer for people to fully realize the possible diversity in human sexuality and that it's not only possible to be attracted to people for who they are regardless of sex or gender, but that it's OK to be attracted to someone for who they are regardless of sex or gender.
And even though my social and political activism isn't what it was 5 or 10 years ago, I still try hard to continue to advocate for LGBTQIA+ people and for things that would benefit them, from marriage equality to guaranteed reproductive rights, as well as to connect those struggles to struggles for gender equality, racial equality, and socioeconomic equality. Because all of these struggles are intertwined, and if one of us isn't free, none of us truly are. We just benefit from a temporary privilege at the expense of someone else, which is both harmful and morally repugnant; and social structures and cultural norms that support these unequal systems of oppression must ultimately be torn down.
It's a long, difficult process. And I know that many people would prefer slower, more moderate solutions. Things like 'tearing down' oppressive structures sounds destructive, violent even. But some foundations can't be salvaged before something new is built. And Pride itself began as a riot against the enforcement of that oppression, and even though police today like to ride in Pride parades and corporations like to throw rainbows all over their tweets and ads this month, the police are often used to uphold systems of oppression and many of those same companies financially support politicians and organizations dedicated to restricting and reversing hard won rights. Quick to cash in on a growing market, but just as quick to stab them in the back if it appeases another. And our society, while arguably changing for the better, still finds it publicly acceptable to ridicule and demonize people simply trying to exist, as all the recent anti-trans laws and comedy specials illustrate. And I definitely think we need the same active, revolutionary spirit of Stonewall for the fights ahead. Because these structures and those who support and benefit them, will not be transformed without hard battles and a militant willingness to dismantle oppressive institutions.
I love Pride because it has a very deep and very sentimental place in my heart. It's one of the places where I learned how to be brave, and where I found love. But I also love it because it's as much about celebrating oneself and the diversity we find in one another as it is an openly rebellious challenge to outdated modes of thinking and long-standing systems of discrimination, dehumanization, and psychological and physical damage. And part of celebrating Pride is being brave and standing up for others and building something better, which sometimes requires getting our hands a little dirty.
Friday, February 4, 2022
got the covid shame blues
Having COVID, I'm feeling a lot of things. Tiredness is the main thing I'm feeling at the moment. But I'm also feeling things like guilt and shame over managing to get myself sick. Not because of anything said to me directly so much as things seen and heard in the background. Due in part to the divide between people who took the pandemic seriously and those who didn't, there seems to be a fair amount of social stigma and scorn, however passive, directed towards those who eventually become infected. People often assume they are unvaccinated or anti-mask or irresponsible and not doing what they can to avoid catching and spreading it. I've seen multiple examples of people making a point to note that they haven't caught it yet, wearing it as a badge of honour and distancing themselves from the rabble who have, pointing out that they're FULLY vaccinated and ALWAYS wear their masks and NEVER go anywhere, with the implications towards those who have it being obvious.
And I get it. It's been a real struggle to get people to take this virus seriously and take all the necessary precautions they can. Working in healthcare, I saw just how bad things could get and it terrified me. For two years, I've been upset at the mediocre government response and have tried to convince people I know who were on the fence to get vaccinated, including patients who were hesitant and asked me about it. But I couldn't run from it forever, and it finally caught up to me. And now I'm one of 'them.' And while I'm lucky that most of the people I know are supportive of me personally, I'm still seeing many say critical things of others who have gotten sick, or make it a point to announce yet again that they haven't gotten COVID for the hundredth time. And it's hard not to take some of that a little personally.
I feel judged to a certain degree. I feel ashamed. I feel unclean. I feel like I'm outside of the community in some way. It's definitely a struggle not to feel bad about myself for something that, in many ways, is beyond my control. My luck simply ran out. Yet it feels like more than that and that it's my sinfulness of some sort that's being punished. Moreover, few who champion their negative status seem to include in those declarations of viral purity any sort of acknowledgement of the luck and privilege that's assisted them, things like the ability to work from home and limit their exposure, living in a house rather than an apartment complex, having personal transportation rather than relying on public transit, not having family members who must go out and risk daily potential exposure (e.g., kids that have to go to school, partners that can't work from home, etc.), the money to order tests and the best masks and constantly have food and groceries delivered for the last two years so that they don't have the leave the house (and does anybody think about the poor people delivering these things?), etc. There's a whole lot of often overlooked luck and privilege involved in staying negative.
That said, I can't entirely begrudge the people who cling to their negative status. Our government has basically taken a personal responsibility approach rather than a systemic, coordinated effort to provide people with supplies; the financial ability to stay home; enact and enforce masking and vaccination mandates, social distancing, and quarantine measures; limit gathering, etc. For the most part, we've been forced to fend off infection during a global pandemic on our own, so there's a lot of pride to be had in not becoming infected, and our culture certainly enforces that. We're conditioned to see everything through the prisms of individualism and self-reliance; and if we've made it in life by getting the perfect job or have managed not to catch a contagious virus, we're made to feel that it's because we deserve it and have done what's required. We put in the hard work. We believed the right things. We have the intelligence and drive necessary for success. The world helps those who help themselves and pull themselves up by their bootstraps (and protect themselves with the boxes of N95s they had delivered from Amazon). And we're all susceptible to this narrative to some extent, and the more we have and the luckier we are, the more susceptible we tend to become.
It reminds me of the biblical Pharisees, who clung to their status of purity and distanced themselves from those they found to be impure, from lepers to the lowly peasants with low-paying and unsavory jobs that nevertheless made the society they lived in possible, quarantining themselves in their temples and wanting for little. They believed in their own righteousness and purity and used their 'cleanliness' both as proof of their own worthiness and as a hammer to strike against the worthiness of others, putting them in their place. It wasn't out of ill-will that they did so, though. It was out of fear of losing what they had and becoming contaminated by the impurities of the world they thought they could outrun, neither seeing how their luck and privilege gave them an advantage, nor how the unlcean were suffering because they were pushed to the margins of society (or even outside of it). It was a defense mechanism, one that appears to come more naturally to those who find themselves part of the 'haves' than the 'have nots.'
And we're not much different. I spent the last two years afraid of catching COVID, both because I was afraid of how sick it would make me and those around me if I spread it, and because I was afraid of being marked as unclean and judged for all the things I probably did wrong to get it. I wasn't as privileged as the Pharisees per se, but I considered myself one of the faithful and held to my negative status as something special, sacred even. And now that I've lost that, I'm somewhat relieved because the fear of getting it is no longer weighing upon me as it once was (although the fear of lasting effects still is), but I'm also struggling with my own feelings of loss and being impure and wondering if we'll ever create a society that manages to welcome, comfort, and care for everyone equally, regardless of their circumstances. And this isn't just about COVID, but any potential divisions we can use to uplift and malign ourselves and others.
And I get it. It's been a real struggle to get people to take this virus seriously and take all the necessary precautions they can. Working in healthcare, I saw just how bad things could get and it terrified me. For two years, I've been upset at the mediocre government response and have tried to convince people I know who were on the fence to get vaccinated, including patients who were hesitant and asked me about it. But I couldn't run from it forever, and it finally caught up to me. And now I'm one of 'them.' And while I'm lucky that most of the people I know are supportive of me personally, I'm still seeing many say critical things of others who have gotten sick, or make it a point to announce yet again that they haven't gotten COVID for the hundredth time. And it's hard not to take some of that a little personally.
I feel judged to a certain degree. I feel ashamed. I feel unclean. I feel like I'm outside of the community in some way. It's definitely a struggle not to feel bad about myself for something that, in many ways, is beyond my control. My luck simply ran out. Yet it feels like more than that and that it's my sinfulness of some sort that's being punished. Moreover, few who champion their negative status seem to include in those declarations of viral purity any sort of acknowledgement of the luck and privilege that's assisted them, things like the ability to work from home and limit their exposure, living in a house rather than an apartment complex, having personal transportation rather than relying on public transit, not having family members who must go out and risk daily potential exposure (e.g., kids that have to go to school, partners that can't work from home, etc.), the money to order tests and the best masks and constantly have food and groceries delivered for the last two years so that they don't have the leave the house (and does anybody think about the poor people delivering these things?), etc. There's a whole lot of often overlooked luck and privilege involved in staying negative.
That said, I can't entirely begrudge the people who cling to their negative status. Our government has basically taken a personal responsibility approach rather than a systemic, coordinated effort to provide people with supplies; the financial ability to stay home; enact and enforce masking and vaccination mandates, social distancing, and quarantine measures; limit gathering, etc. For the most part, we've been forced to fend off infection during a global pandemic on our own, so there's a lot of pride to be had in not becoming infected, and our culture certainly enforces that. We're conditioned to see everything through the prisms of individualism and self-reliance; and if we've made it in life by getting the perfect job or have managed not to catch a contagious virus, we're made to feel that it's because we deserve it and have done what's required. We put in the hard work. We believed the right things. We have the intelligence and drive necessary for success. The world helps those who help themselves and pull themselves up by their bootstraps (and protect themselves with the boxes of N95s they had delivered from Amazon). And we're all susceptible to this narrative to some extent, and the more we have and the luckier we are, the more susceptible we tend to become.
It reminds me of the biblical Pharisees, who clung to their status of purity and distanced themselves from those they found to be impure, from lepers to the lowly peasants with low-paying and unsavory jobs that nevertheless made the society they lived in possible, quarantining themselves in their temples and wanting for little. They believed in their own righteousness and purity and used their 'cleanliness' both as proof of their own worthiness and as a hammer to strike against the worthiness of others, putting them in their place. It wasn't out of ill-will that they did so, though. It was out of fear of losing what they had and becoming contaminated by the impurities of the world they thought they could outrun, neither seeing how their luck and privilege gave them an advantage, nor how the unlcean were suffering because they were pushed to the margins of society (or even outside of it). It was a defense mechanism, one that appears to come more naturally to those who find themselves part of the 'haves' than the 'have nots.'
And we're not much different. I spent the last two years afraid of catching COVID, both because I was afraid of how sick it would make me and those around me if I spread it, and because I was afraid of being marked as unclean and judged for all the things I probably did wrong to get it. I wasn't as privileged as the Pharisees per se, but I considered myself one of the faithful and held to my negative status as something special, sacred even. And now that I've lost that, I'm somewhat relieved because the fear of getting it is no longer weighing upon me as it once was (although the fear of lasting effects still is), but I'm also struggling with my own feelings of loss and being impure and wondering if we'll ever create a society that manages to welcome, comfort, and care for everyone equally, regardless of their circumstances. And this isn't just about COVID, but any potential divisions we can use to uplift and malign ourselves and others.
Thursday, January 13, 2022
it's all about the people
This Twitter thread is a great observation. The text is as follows:
The pandemic is at least helping to unobscure some of the social relations normally hidden by the logic and functioning of capitalism. This is essentially the reality behind what Marx termed fetishism, i.e., "the way in which a situation hides what the real significance is" (David Harvey).
As Marx explains in relation to commodities in Capital vol. 1:
And some of that mystification is removed when we start to view things in the way Miriam Posner does, i.e., that "[E]very time you can’t find something, that’s a sick person. Every missing item, that’s a sick person. (People, really, but it’s hard to imagine 'people' in the abstract, and what COVID makes visible is that the supply chain is human beings.)"
While this may seem like commonsense, I don't think we naturally see it that way because our ingrained focus is primarily on the commodity and its price, availability, etc., while our relationship to it is generally through the commodity itself and its point of purchase, not all the human social labour behind it and embodied within it. Due to our societal habitus, we often have to make a conscious effort to reframe our perspective, which can have radical consequences. And in this case, it helps to rehumanize the labour we're conditioned by capitalist social relations to view in the abstract. And this, of course, is a small step towards increasing worker solidarity.
We can only challenge and effectively combat the social forces and institutions that exploit and oppress working people together. And that fight begins with an illumined consciousness (seeing how the system alienates and exploits us) and a sense of solidarity with other workers and groups of marginalized individuals who, ultimately, depend on each other for their collective emancipation.
It’s interesting to consider, re. supply-chain shortages, that COVID doesn’t infect machinery or transport; just people. So every time you can’t find something, that’s a sick person. Every missing item, that’s a sick person. (People, really, but it’s hard to imagine “people” in the abstract, and what COVID makes visible is that the supply chain is human beings.) I was thinking last night that we’ve been talking about supply-chain problems as a result of an epidemic, but ultimately they’re both the result of the same thing: the fact that we’re all connected to each other, despite what we might insist or wish. It's quite true that things like clogged ports and semiconductor shortages are real factors, and it requires a little bit of imagination to understand what this has to do with sick people. + But consider: physically, the ports are fine. The ships are fine. Why can't they be unloaded faster? Similarly, the raw materials for (e.g.) semiconductors exist, or we wouldn't be able to make them at all. Why can't we increase production to meet the need?
The pandemic is at least helping to unobscure some of the social relations normally hidden by the logic and functioning of capitalism. This is essentially the reality behind what Marx termed fetishism, i.e., "the way in which a situation hides what the real significance is" (David Harvey).
As Marx explains in relation to commodities in Capital vol. 1:
A commodity is therefore a mysterious thing, simply because in it the social character of men’s labour appears to them as an objective character stamped upon the product of that labour; because the relation of the producers to the sum total of their own labour is presented to them as a social relation, existing not between themselves, but between the products of their labour. This is the reason why the products of labour become commodities, social things whose qualities are at the same time perceptible and imperceptible by the senses. In the same way the light from an object is perceived by us not as the subjective excitation of our optic nerve, but as the objective form of something outside the eye itself. But, in the act of seeing, there is at all events, an actual passage of light from one thing to another, from the external object to the eye. There is a physical relation between physical things. But it is different with commodities. There, the existence of the things quâ commodities, and the value relation between the products of labour which stamps them as commodities, have absolutely no connection with their physical properties and with the material relations arising therefrom. There it is a definite social relation between men, that assumes, in their eyes, the fantastic form of a relation between things. In order, therefore, to find an analogy, we must have recourse to the mist-enveloped regions of the religious world. In that world the productions of the human brain appear as independent beings endowed with life, and entering into relation both with one another and the human race. So it is in the world of commodities with the products of men’s hands. This I call the Fetishism which attaches itself to the products of labour, so soon as they are produced as commodities, and which is therefore inseparable from the production of commodities.
And some of that mystification is removed when we start to view things in the way Miriam Posner does, i.e., that "[E]very time you can’t find something, that’s a sick person. Every missing item, that’s a sick person. (People, really, but it’s hard to imagine 'people' in the abstract, and what COVID makes visible is that the supply chain is human beings.)"
While this may seem like commonsense, I don't think we naturally see it that way because our ingrained focus is primarily on the commodity and its price, availability, etc., while our relationship to it is generally through the commodity itself and its point of purchase, not all the human social labour behind it and embodied within it. Due to our societal habitus, we often have to make a conscious effort to reframe our perspective, which can have radical consequences. And in this case, it helps to rehumanize the labour we're conditioned by capitalist social relations to view in the abstract. And this, of course, is a small step towards increasing worker solidarity.
We can only challenge and effectively combat the social forces and institutions that exploit and oppress working people together. And that fight begins with an illumined consciousness (seeing how the system alienates and exploits us) and a sense of solidarity with other workers and groups of marginalized individuals who, ultimately, depend on each other for their collective emancipation.
Wednesday, December 29, 2021
just fucking look up already
Besides more people being vaccinated, which is good, things are worse this year than last. Cases are skyrocketing. Hospitalizations are going up while hospital beds are full and there isn't room for other needy patients. Healthcare workers are burnt out. Meanwhile, the CDC has cut the number of days for sick people to quarantine in half, and our government has done little to curb this surge, relying on people to just magically stop it themselves.
While it would be nice if more people took this seriously and were more proactive, governments can't and shouldn't just rely on people hopefully doing what's needed to prevent global pandemics. Consistent and aggressive measures need to be taken. Clear and universal guidelines and mandates need to be made and communicated. And they have to be enforced. Otherwise, things will continue to spread and mutate and spread until our current vaccines are effectively useless. Even if politicians lose elections, they should be focused on preventing the spread and saving lives. And the CDC needs to do more than adjust guidelines to appease political-economic demands and expectations. People are more important than the economy. People are the economy and should be the priority, but it sure as hell feels like corporate bottom lines and the opinions of obstinate opponents of strict quarantine measures have more weight at the moment. And I'm really pissed and disappointed about that.
Things didn't have to get this bad. This was preventable. But this is what happens when people in positions of power and authority don't give a shit because doing what's needed to protect people and saves lives costs them approval points and money and they just don't care enough about people in comparison to our GDP and the profit margins of corporate donors to do the right thing. This is just like Don't Look Up. Just replace comet with COVID. People have to demand better. We need systemic solutions to systemic problems, not reliance on every individual to do what's needed without material help and government coordination.
Every infection and death is a weight on my heart, and an indictment of our society and the unwillingness of those in power to do everything they can to help prevent them. I can't express how furious this makes me or that they've been making the same mistakes for two years. Our government's obsession with the economy and the hyper-individualistic morality that dominates both our culture and politics are murderous. I don't know how I'm mentally going to survive another year of this.
While it would be nice if more people took this seriously and were more proactive, governments can't and shouldn't just rely on people hopefully doing what's needed to prevent global pandemics. Consistent and aggressive measures need to be taken. Clear and universal guidelines and mandates need to be made and communicated. And they have to be enforced. Otherwise, things will continue to spread and mutate and spread until our current vaccines are effectively useless. Even if politicians lose elections, they should be focused on preventing the spread and saving lives. And the CDC needs to do more than adjust guidelines to appease political-economic demands and expectations. People are more important than the economy. People are the economy and should be the priority, but it sure as hell feels like corporate bottom lines and the opinions of obstinate opponents of strict quarantine measures have more weight at the moment. And I'm really pissed and disappointed about that.
Things didn't have to get this bad. This was preventable. But this is what happens when people in positions of power and authority don't give a shit because doing what's needed to protect people and saves lives costs them approval points and money and they just don't care enough about people in comparison to our GDP and the profit margins of corporate donors to do the right thing. This is just like Don't Look Up. Just replace comet with COVID. People have to demand better. We need systemic solutions to systemic problems, not reliance on every individual to do what's needed without material help and government coordination.
Every infection and death is a weight on my heart, and an indictment of our society and the unwillingness of those in power to do everything they can to help prevent them. I can't express how furious this makes me or that they've been making the same mistakes for two years. Our government's obsession with the economy and the hyper-individualistic morality that dominates both our culture and politics are murderous. I don't know how I'm mentally going to survive another year of this.
Friday, December 24, 2021
merry x-mas
While having its roots in, and combining various elements of, pagan winter solstice celebrations, Christmas traditionally commemorates the birth of Jesus. And the more I contemplate what it is I admire about the life of Jesus, the more I think it boils down to the overarching theme of restoring community and repairing the brokenness we find in ourselves and the world. Almost every aspect of his example and message seems to point to this singular goal.
From the more abstract idea of the universal Christ manifested in the universal church (Gal 3:28), to the greater part of his words and actions and those of his disciplines, everything ultimately points to this idea of healing and restoration out of a seemingly inexhaustible source of compassion and love that we're encouraged to develop and tap into. Loving others as ourselves (Mt 22:35-40). Do to others as you would have them do to you (Lk 6:31). Forgiving seventy-seven times (Mt 18:21-35). Giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, welcome to the stranger, clothes to the naked, and care to those who are ill or imprisoned (Mt 25:31-46). Leveling inequality, both social (Mt 25:31-46) and economic (Mt 19:16-30). Bringing back into the community all those who were reviled or pushed to the margins of society by dominant power structures, from marginalized ethnic groups (Jn 4:4-42), lepers (Mt 8:1-4), sex workers (Lk 7:36-50), and tax collectors (Lk 15:1-7) to sinners (Mk 2:13-17), the poor, and those with disabilities (Lk 14:7-24). Throwing down rulers from their thrones and lifting up the lowly (Lk 1:46-55). Etc.
The story of Jesus is a meditation on saving the world from itself and its contradictions, hypocrisies, and modes of oppression—an intersectional meditation that's supposed to inspire hope, reflection, and action. What we're asked to repent of is our unskillful actions, the harm that we directly cause through greed, anger, and ignorance or indirectly support with our complacency and nonaction. And what we're encouraged to celebrate is our own potential for goodness and the example of those both real and mythical who show us the way to fulfill that goodness—the prophets who light the way with their words, deeds, and warnings, the shepherds who guide us and lead the way forward as we work together to restore our community and repair our relationships with ourselves and one another. And I think this idea is reflected most beautifully and succinctly in Teresa of Avila's poem:
The spirit of Christ is resurrected in these moments. Every time we hold out our hand to lift someone up. Every time we care for another person who's sick, in prison, or in mourning. Every time we give of ourselves when others are in need. Every time we choose to forgive rather than to condemn. Every time we cultivate compassion and understanding rather than be overcome by anger and fear. Every time we seek reconciliation over estrangement. Every time we embrace peace over violence. Every time we make someone else's suffering our own and seek to do what we can to ease it or shoulder it ourselves. Every time we challenge modes of harm and oppression. Every time we elect to side with the oppressed. Every time we choose to include others into our lives and welcome them into our communities.
That's the moral of this story to me and what we're truly called to honour and celebrate. God is love, and love exists in our hearts when we're in relationship with others.
From the more abstract idea of the universal Christ manifested in the universal church (Gal 3:28), to the greater part of his words and actions and those of his disciplines, everything ultimately points to this idea of healing and restoration out of a seemingly inexhaustible source of compassion and love that we're encouraged to develop and tap into. Loving others as ourselves (Mt 22:35-40). Do to others as you would have them do to you (Lk 6:31). Forgiving seventy-seven times (Mt 18:21-35). Giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, welcome to the stranger, clothes to the naked, and care to those who are ill or imprisoned (Mt 25:31-46). Leveling inequality, both social (Mt 25:31-46) and economic (Mt 19:16-30). Bringing back into the community all those who were reviled or pushed to the margins of society by dominant power structures, from marginalized ethnic groups (Jn 4:4-42), lepers (Mt 8:1-4), sex workers (Lk 7:36-50), and tax collectors (Lk 15:1-7) to sinners (Mk 2:13-17), the poor, and those with disabilities (Lk 14:7-24). Throwing down rulers from their thrones and lifting up the lowly (Lk 1:46-55). Etc.
The story of Jesus is a meditation on saving the world from itself and its contradictions, hypocrisies, and modes of oppression—an intersectional meditation that's supposed to inspire hope, reflection, and action. What we're asked to repent of is our unskillful actions, the harm that we directly cause through greed, anger, and ignorance or indirectly support with our complacency and nonaction. And what we're encouraged to celebrate is our own potential for goodness and the example of those both real and mythical who show us the way to fulfill that goodness—the prophets who light the way with their words, deeds, and warnings, the shepherds who guide us and lead the way forward as we work together to restore our community and repair our relationships with ourselves and one another. And I think this idea is reflected most beautifully and succinctly in Teresa of Avila's poem:
Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours.
Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world.
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.
Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
The spirit of Christ is resurrected in these moments. Every time we hold out our hand to lift someone up. Every time we care for another person who's sick, in prison, or in mourning. Every time we give of ourselves when others are in need. Every time we choose to forgive rather than to condemn. Every time we cultivate compassion and understanding rather than be overcome by anger and fear. Every time we seek reconciliation over estrangement. Every time we embrace peace over violence. Every time we make someone else's suffering our own and seek to do what we can to ease it or shoulder it ourselves. Every time we challenge modes of harm and oppression. Every time we elect to side with the oppressed. Every time we choose to include others into our lives and welcome them into our communities.
That's the moral of this story to me and what we're truly called to honour and celebrate. God is love, and love exists in our hearts when we're in relationship with others.
Friday, December 17, 2021
the sky is falling
I don't want to sound like some sort of alarmist scaremonger here, but COVID infection rates are on the rise, there's little-to-no help from the federal government and many local governments are still pretty free and loose with mask and vaccination mandates, a lot of people are out and acting like the pandemic is over, people are going to be travelling for the holidays, and new variants are popping up because not enough is being done to vaccinate the global population and enforce protective measures. In addition, there's a growing crisis in our healthcare system beyond the fact that it's expensive and inefficient compared to universal systems, and I'm afraid that it's close to its breaking point. There are shortages everywhere. MAs. RNs. PAs. Doctors. Phlebotomists. Lab techs. Respiratory therapists. Pharmacists. Pharmacy techs. Etc. Wait times for everything are long and getting longer. Places are short-staffed and people overworked. Many are retiring or quitting due the stress and lack of appropriate compensation. And there aren't nearly enough new people coming in to take their place. This may not affect young/healthy people as much in the short-term, but it's definitely affecting people with chronic medical conditions and those with acute needs. On top of that, many other sectors are having issues finding people to fill positions, often because many aren't willing to work for the amount employers are offering, and there are massive supply chain issues due to this, COVID, and a number of other factors. What we need right now are strong, universal mandates for masking and vaccinations, an overhaul of our healthcare system, and a resurgent labour movement to help support workers and make wages for all these jobs worth the labour we must put into them. These are all big projects, but they're necessary if we want to stop huge numbers of people from dying and things collapsing. Because they're very close to it. Everything is so interconnected and tenuous that we're looking at something truly terrifying happening in the near future. People are still dying at alarming rates from COVID. The economy isn't as stable as they make it sound, especially with the debt market the way it is combined with lack of government assistance, labour issues due to low wages and overwork, and supply chain issues. And seeing as how our government doesn't seem to care about anything besides the military and stock market, we're going to have to rely on ourselves and mutual aid to weather this storm. So support unions, striking workers, and neighbours. Don't cross picket lines. Try to be as safe and proactive as possible. Wear masks all the time and make sure you get vaccinated. And hope for a miracle.
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