I have spent a good part of my weekend thinking about social responsibility; duty to my family, my community, my state, my country, humanity as a whole. I think it’s in part due to the local politicians who knock on my door asking me why my concerns are, how am I troubled by what is going on in my town. We don’t get much state-wide attention here, not that there are any elections at that level for another year.
Then again, many of the podcasts I’ve listened to and books I’ve read lately, including romantic fiction, have had social responsibility as a central theme. I didn’t pick those books for that reason—it just so happened some of my favorites happened to chose that topic and I almost always read or listen to whatever they publish. In these, the focus is on the city, the community as a whole, humanity, albeit in a fictional world over a hundred years ago. There are happy endings, where single individuals can make a difference in someone’s life, sometimes many somebodies. If nothing else they prove that the things I struggle with have been plaguing western civilization for a very long time, and while we have some good ideas, no one has yet been able to change civilization, society, no more than a mind or two, to greater enlightenment, or even a bit of empathy.
On social media, I will scream into the night about the value of my beliefs, but will rarely confront anyone. When I do, I shake and yell internally, knowing I’m being trolled and giving the jackasses pleasure in my reacting to them before I block or unfriend them. Still, I make myself question those posts at least once a week, especially those who seem softer or more approachable, people who ‘like and share’ things without really thinking about the implications. In these situations I consider myself a one-woman educational committee. Or commando. It all depends.
I consider myself a liberal, though to be honest I’m an armchair liberal. I have strong beliefs, and I rail against the machine when I can, but I don’t put as much muscle behind it as I think I should. I don’t often protest in the streets with banners and placards. I write postcards to politicians, but I don’t put my checkbook behind all of the causes I believe in. There are too many of them, and I have never been able to chose which one to throw myself behind. The environment and overpopulation, what used to be called civil rights: BLM, rights for LGBTQ people, a woman’s right to choose, etc., gun control and international weapon proliferation. Democracy and the very real threat of the fascists and totalitarian right. Civil liberties, corruption and the growing loss of human rights here and across the world. I feel paralyzed and unable to say which one I need to focus on, or where I can make a difference.
I’ve never considered running for office, or doing more than I have done. It comes from many things. I’m an introvert for one. The idea of having to be around all those people forcing myself out there, gives me jitters. I also have a chronic fear of failure… of not being good enough, not knowing enough, being witty enough, quick enough, to stand up to real life bullies, to argue my points and my beliefs with passion, and to convey my conviction and convince others. I was not blessed with chutzpah. I don’t crave the attention needed—I abhor it. And I wouldn’t know where to start. I have never been a joiner. And I do so hate being uncomfortable. Yes, poor me and my first world problems.
But I do believe in making a difference. There is a quote I saw (on social media, of course), that enjoins all to make what difference they can. It need not be large, as long as we do our best. That has always appealed to me.
And I’ve been thinking about it at work. For more than a dozen years, in several large corporations, I’ve worked in an environment where we contract off-shore resources to do quite a bit of the work. It troubled me when I learned that local people were let go in order to enable this outsourcing model. But because I like to eat, and want to maintain my comfortable home and existence, and because I felt powerless to stop this (all the while fearing my own position would be outsourced), I said little to anyone who mattered, and none of them had any influence or say in the matter had I spoken up more.
But something happened and those folks overseas have been come my co-workers, and I know their situations are tenuous and ever so much worse than mine. I learned late Friday of one woman’s situation that sounded horrible. I spoke up. I spoke up loudly and would not allow myself to be distracted. I did this, knowing I don’t have enough power to make things better, but I fear I have the power to make things worse. I spoke without thinking much about it ahead of time. I fear I may have made the situation worse, and that is what I dread more than anything. I don’t want to sacrifice anyone in the hopes of a better future. And all the while I wonder if I am sacrificing my own comfort and security for someone I barely know. And despair it won’t make any difference for either of us.
I’m no philosopher. I’m no crusader. I’m a slightly-past middle aged woman who cares a lot but is far more of a coward than she wishes she were. I write romance novels and get depressed if I read or watch something that has a sad or ambiguous ending. I am reminded of an old Peanuts cartoon that I’ll paraphrase: I love humanity, it’s people I can’t stand.
And on Monday, I’ll figure out my next step, be that to suck it up (unlikely), retreat (unlikely), look for a new job, or look for a compromise. And wonder how my credibility and remaining influence may have suffered as a result. But if I can sleep at night by knowing I did something, it might make the sacrifice, the discomfort, the loud ranting and raving, worthwhile.
The Connecticut Writers' Circle 