A rallying cry for empathy in the face of demoralization
In the face of the likely confirmation to the Supreme Court of Judge Brett Kavanaugh, a man accused by multiple women of sexual assault, by former friends and classmates of lying under oath, and by the public of acting like a childish prick in a job interview for one of the most highly regarded positions in our country, I had an interesting conversation with my boyfriend, Mike.
After venting about my despair over the state of this nation, Mike, always the optimist (for which I love him endlessly), replied, “Well, it could be worse.” He nudged me to take a look at our privilege—we live in an environment in which we don’t fear for our safety and lives on a daily basis, don’t have to walk eight hours one way to access water (and contaminated water at that), don’t have to worry where our next meal will come from or how we’ll feed a family. Mike’s right—I am incredibly privileged, so yes, it could be much, much worse for me as an individual.
However, recognizing and acknowledging my privilege prompts me to also remember the entirely good luck that brought about my circumstances. I don’t say this to discount the success and circumstances brought about by the hard work of others. I don’t mean to discredit anyone; I solely aim to recognize that so much of our circumstances are luck. Nothing I have done or will ever do will make me deserve more than the next person to have been born into a family that does not feel persecuted in our home country, does not worry about having food on the table, does not feel less than because of how we look, how we love, what we believe, or where we come from.
Through my privileged lens, I can see that yes, it could be worse for me; for others who have not been so lucky, I can’t be so sure.
I have not been sexually assaulted and then silenced or called a liar, as Christine Blasey Ford, Brett Kavanaugh’s accuser, and countless women and girls I know have been. One in five college women have been sexually assaulted. Having recently graduated from college, I truly credit that I was not sexually assaulted in my four years to a combination of good luck and daily debilitating migraines, which made going anywhere but to bed not an option on many occasions. I would shout this from the rooftops to the naysayers who believe “good girls” who make “good decisions,” especially when it comes to drinking, aren’t at risk of being sexually assaulted if I could. As a leader of hundreds of women in college, I’ve had the honor and the burden of hearing the stories of more women than I can count and if I were unconcerned with confidentiality, I could provide countless examples of “good girls” making “good decisions” with bad luck. For these women, whose sense of safety and self-worth have been stripped away as they were assaulted and then shamed for it, I cannot assume from my place of privilege that it could be worse.
As you can see from my photos, I am not a minority. My heart rate does not quicken out of fear for my life when I see a cop car. I have never been harassed or discriminated against for what I look like and I have never been told I do not belong here. Out of luck, I was born into a family with the means to raise me in a safe neighborhood, so I never feared gang violence while walking to school and none of my classmates were shot dead in the street. I did not have to turn to crime as a means of survival and no one has ever assumed I would be in prison or dead by the time I reached adulthood. For me, it could be worse, but for those whose hand wasn’t as lucky, I can’t be sure.
I and my entire extended family were born in the United States. Therefore, as luck would have it, we are all U.S. citizens. We have not weighed the violence in our home country against the dangerous journey to a nation that will likely mistreat us and send us “back to where we came from” and decided the latter was still the better option. I have not had the world scream at me that because of where I was born, “give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” doesn’t apply to me. How can I assume for individuals who have not been so lucky, it could still be worse?
I have no tips and tricks for you today, although I wish with all my heart and soul I did. I understand if you’re feeling angry or disheartened and if to shield yourself from those emotions, your response is to shrug and remember it could be worse. However, I challenge you to join me in recognizing our good luck and privilege so we can support those for whom this may be as bad as it gets. The ability to empathize with and support each other is needed now more than ever.