Comfort Versus Change: Failing at Feminism

I have been a feminist since I could talk. For better or worse, I have always seen injustice, prejudice, racism, sexism, and unfairness in the world, and it always deeply disturbed me. Of course, I have grown and changed as a feminist. I’ve had to confront ways my privilege has made me blind to the plights of others. I’ve had to learn how some feminists have made things worse for other women—particularly Black women and transgender people. I’d like to think the kind of feminism I practice has a positive impact on all people, but I always have to face up to ways it doesn’t. It is often uncomfortable to be a feminist.

One of the ways I never realized I may be failing at feminism is comfort. I want people, especially those inclined to disagree, to agree with me, to become comfortable with the arguments I’m making and the way I’m making them. I realize that since I was young, I always strove towards finding common ground, meeting the adversary where they are, and speaking softly. Sure, I changed some minds that way, but is that what feminism is about? Making people comfortable? Only changing minds a little at a time?

I guess put another way, I’m wondering if in today’s world of social media and having information at your fingertips, if it is up to feminisms to make men comfortable enough to join us? Feminism is about equality for all people, fighting to overturn systems of oppression that are bad for everyone—regardless of gender, regardless of sex. One thing might be focused on at one moment, but it’s a war, not a singular battle. I have spent an inordinate amount of time carefully crafting arguments to convince others—particularly men in my case—that x, y, or z is a problem. In fact, I’ve probably spent more time trying to keep men in their comfort zones while also getting them to agree with feminist perspective than I have talking with other feminists about how to change the world (or burn it down, as the case may be).

It is really fucking uncomfortable to recognize the ways you personally participate in systems of oppression. It is really fucking uncomfortable to recognize the ways you personally gain from systems of privilege that keep you in and keep others out. This system is so strong that people, mostly men but not all, honestly see Brock being deprived of a future as the real tragedy, and the woman who was raped as a drunk slut. One blogger states, “Men see themselves in Brock Turner–that’s why they won’t condemn him.” White men are so much more important than women that it is a tragedy that he will not be able to white man it up in the future without the stigma of this. The automatic assumption is that Brock–not the victim– had something to add to the world. Only Brock and his future are valuable.

We see this inability to go outside of one’s preconceived comfort zones with the responses of Brock Turner’s family and friends to his case. I have read the victim’s letter, the dad’s letter, the friend’s letter. In the latter two I see one commonality: the complete inability to recognize his personal actions as rape. They understand rape. They understand what rapists are. But they have absolutely no ability to see Brock as a rapist. Brock even says it himself: I’m not a rapist. I didn’t rape. I was just drunk and promiscuous. We see it in language: non consensual sex is rape. Why does “non consensual sex” as a term even exist? When is non consensual sex ever not rape?

You’d think that reading a definition of rape and then reading the narrative of what Brock did would be enough to convince anyone, even a father who doesn’t want to admit his son is a rapist. But we are too used to being comfortable. We have constructed a notion of evil in our society—it exists, I recognize it, it’s bad, I’m a good person, therefore I’m not evil, I can’t do evil actions—that is “other.” Period. Brock’s friend Leslie writes, “Brock is not a monster…where do we draw the line and stop worrying about being politically correct every second and see that rape on campuses isn’t always because people are rapists.” Just take one moment to let that statement sink in.

“Where do we draw the line and stop worrying about being politically correct every second and see that rape on campuses isn’t always because people are rapists.” “Rape on campuses isn’t always because people are rapists.” People who rape are not rapists, they are victims of circumstance: pressure to drink, college life, who the fuck knows what else. “Rape on campus isn’t always because people are rapists.” This means Brock is not a rapist even though he raped someone. How can we have such a cognitive dissonance in today’s society?

13332777_1151980981519325_2177203313262081833_nI worry that one reason is because people like me have been too focused on keeping people comfortable. Not that it’s up to me to change minds, but I have chosen that mission for myself. I want to change minds, to change the world. Can I change the world by letting people accept the notions of institutional racism and sexism without exposing how they help make it happen and benefit from its existence? I don’t know. But I do know that getting people to understand something exists is a totally different thing from getting them to personally recognize their role in it. It’s going to be really uncomfortable to do that. I don’t know if it will work. I think there will be a lot of anger, a lot of denial. But maybe they will eventually come to accept it. Maybe we all will all come to accept our roles in the current system of inequality and work to change it.

Today we exist in a world of hate, created and spread by people who perpetuate the idea that “we” are not the problem, “they” are. People like Trump, who resonates with so many people, make it easy to sidestep any personal responsibility for caring for our society and each other. It is not my fault. It is theirs. What a comfortable position to be in. Unfortunately, comfort doesn’t create change, and in a world where people who rape aren’t considered rapists, we desperately, immediately need change.