Beyond Politics

I read a NYT article about the politics of language and it finally gave me the courage to break my streak of silence from the last couple months. The article questions the recent adoption of newly minted “politically correct” acronyms like BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, and Latinx, calling into question where these acronyms came from and where they are from and who gets to decide that they are the new definition of “socially acceptable”? The article discussed the possibility that “politically acceptable” also creates a new layer of exclusion for education around acceptable and unacceptable terms — which is often problematic because it usually means further exclusion of groups of people who are not surrounded by academics who will teach them about the newest politically acceptable form of describing their own experience. The article continues to describe how most people who would be classified as BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ or Latinx etc., would not use these words to describe themselves… which to me completely defeats the purpose of a word for description at all. Do nothing about us, without us. If we don’t see ourselves represented in the language that your system deems “acceptable”, you are silencing us before the discussion has even begun.

I love words. The search for the perfect set of words that can properly convey a meaning and feeling that is so deep from within my soul… it is often times the most meaningful work for me. At the same time It is terrifying and I find myself often avoiding the effort because I am so afraid of failing and not being able to express these thoughts that are so closely woven to my identity and sense of being. But each morning when I try, the words flow. And the few times I land on just the right combination, it is sheer bliss — like I have described my being to myself and I am seeing myself clearly in this moment for the first time.

In addition to the terror of not finding the right words, I am also deeply aware of the interconnectedness of language and power. More specifically, I am astutely aware of the fact that the language that gives me joy, clarity, and bliss is a language that does not match the colour of my skin. The mastery of something that was created with the intention to never be mine is never lost on me. Every compliment I receive (especially white-someones), who impressively note my eloquence or mention “that was very well said,” always lands in a weird place in my gut. It’s the spot right next to the place held for comments like “wow, your English is so good!” and one of my favourites, “I literally had no idea you were Chinese when I spoke to you on the phone”. It is the general area of my gut that hangs onto the reminder that because I am a Chinese woman, my love for and ability to express complex thoughts through English will forever be a little unexpected and slightly strange to others. Whenever I write, I have to live in that spot of reckoning, where the thing that makes me feel alive makes others feel uncomfortable.

As such, politics make me angry. Discussing at length the various activities that need to happen with no attempt to take a first step at doing a single thing about them, makes me angry. Spending more time trying to find the politically correct way to address something than is spent actually including the people who you’re trying to help in the solutions, makes me angry. I am angry because politics dictate so much of our lives and they also point to the system of oppression that we are trying to change. As a woman of colour, also known as a woman of the global majority, I am constantly trying to break out of oversimplified boxes, step out of narrow tiny lanes, and refuse placating and demeaning attempts to try to keep me in the place that is convenient for the system that is my oppressor. I will find every opportunity I can to call out and refuse to play political games. Maybe everyone else is comfortable treating their lives and this world like a game, but I am not here to play. This land is my home as much as it is anyone else’s and there is too much work to be done to get stuck behind your politics and fake niceties.

I will always value the act of something being done more than I value that same thing being discussed. So let’s go. Share this with someone if it resonated for you. Reflect on your own participation in this political game. What is one thing you can do differently to create more of the world you want. What is one thing you can do to move beyond politics? Let’s do this together. I’ll be doing my part, exploring, creating, and publishing one bold reflection at a time.