From Saviour to Activist: Rethinking Global Responsibility
This week, I have experienced a convergence of dissonant worldviews. It feels exhausting. Allowing multiple perspectives to be present and holding the space for that has me question the fracturing I see happen in the world.
The Global pandemic has been the most significant fracturing point—the relentless Grand Canyon difference between those who embraced vaccination and those who did not. Families and long-term friends divided. A conversation that cannot be had unless you seek argument and more division.
Mythology built into the seams of decisions.
Conspiracy theories the architecture of belief.
Added to this the rise of the populists, egomaniacs, tricksters and spell casters who seduce and manipulate the many. Hollow men, for they are primarily men, who feed like vampires off the minds and money of their prey.
And the field, ripe for all of this. The last stages of rapacious capitalism. An Earth boiling and breaking. Those of the lower castes fearing their lowly positions being usurped by others – those minorities who appear so very threatening to their status – trans people, women, LGBTGI, people of colour, indigenous people. The jet fuel that sustains all of this is the myth of scarcity.
The middle class fear the great uprising of the ‘unwashed.’ Including migrants and refugees. Now, only a trickle compared to what is about to happen, with whole countries going 10 feet under.
This is a field where the solutions look like the 2023 version of the young, eager white person going to Africa to save Africans. The saviour complex so righteously and ignorantly taking precedence over asking the local Africans if they actually need saving. (They generally don’t; they need the West and the Global North to stop exploiting and extracting their multiple forms of wealth.)
*Women who lunch feeling good about donating to charity, a pittance in the scheme of things. Often guilt money. Supporting a whole industry of charities.
Can we please consider how to make charity something that is rarely needed because all people have enough? This might mean that instead of giving coins here and there, I have to do something that will cost me far more than loose change. AKA – put myself into the arena with those who sweat and toil for an increased well-being for Earth and all her creatures. And if you cannot do that, but you have spare money, please put it somewhere that is doing something real.
*Nice little ‘disruptive businesses’ that move the deck chair on the Titanic three feet to one side. And everyone goes, ohh…ahh…aren’t you amazing. All the while, the rent in the side of the boat is becoming a gaping maw.
Yes, I am jaded. And yes, this might be a harsh critique. But the Earth is boiling. And maniac men have captured the minds of many, their path to narcissistic glory directly across the broken backs of the very people they appeal to, their weapon the ability to get the turkey to vote for Christmas. This tale has a sad ending—every time.
We stick our heads in the sand. We vote for safe little changes that will not disrupt our safe little lives. No, I do not want to give up my 25 property portfolio so the younger generation might have a home. A home! Not an asset. No, I do not want to pay tax because we are big enough to get away with it. No, those with less say than me are not invited to have the same voice as me. No, those forced to leave their homes due to climate or war are not welcome here. My job, house, and life are at risk if they come!
We get caught in ridiculous side shows of conspiracy where righteousness and drama feed our indignity. The indignity itself a self-perpetuating loop. It goes on and on, feeding off itself until what? We explode? Or collapse?
All the while, we are completely distracted from the actual game that is being played, which is, of course, the point.
Here is my confession and the context for why I can write this with harshness. I was a woman who lunched for charity, feeling nice about myself as the dial of real change didn’t move. I have been the saviour in Africa – metaphorically. I have spent years moving my carefully crafted deck chair three feet on the Titanic, hoping this disruption would save the world.
I have been trapped for over a decade in a cycle of conspiracy propagated by a master spell caster. Indeed, I have done this more than once. I am no longer ashamed of this. I can now discern a spell caster and trickster from 1,000 feet.
So, while my words might sound harsh, I am writing them from the other side of that existence. I have the scars to show for it. The years it took to unpick the tentacles of the carefully crafted web that kept me believing crazy things.
I am writing them because I can no longer stand in this mess of Grand Canyon division.
I am not able to hold the tension between for any longer.
I must step fully to the other side.
This is a risk. Taking a stand for something is always a risk.
I do not have the time or energy to sponsor deck chair recalibration and polite but empty niceties.
I seek commitment. Burning passion. Courage. Fierceness towards a world that works for Earth and all her creatures. From me, first and foremost. And in all areas of my work.
Over the next few weeks, I will be considering what all of this means – literally, functionally and materially.
I cannot promise safety. I can promise integrity.
**This was not the article I was planning to write. It was the article that wrote me.
