The White Privilege of Avoiding Bad News

Photo by pawel szvmanski on Unsplash

Yesterday, an old friend of mine and I were catching up on each other's lives after not having spoken for a while. After sharing updates on family, work, and comic book movies, our conversation turned to the news of the day, and she shared a surprising but not uncommon perspective on the condition of our nation.

“Ugh, I just can’t deal with it anymore,” she said. “The bad news is exhausting, and I’ve just stopped watching the news or going on social media.”

I could see in her eyes that she was sincere in her fatigue.
I could sense that she genuinely was grieved by everything happening.
I could tell that she'd decided not to enter into the depths of despair anymore because of the toll it’s been taking on her.
And I knew that the option of this emotional distance was evidence of a privilege she and I share, one that is part of the problem right now.

I know many people like my friend. They're otherwise decent, responsible, good-hearted human beings who don't realize how insulated they are from the kind of fear and threat that people of color, the LGBTQ community, immigrants, or Muslims experience as a working reality in this America. This protection makes inaction tempting, especially when moving into the fray carries such conflict and invites such mourning.

That we even feel a choice in these moments is possible shows the subtle and insidious ways privilege works. It allows us to have urgency as an option, where for others it is a necessity. Many people are fighting for their very lives right now, and the idea that they could or would opt out isn't a consideration for them. It shouldn't be an option for any of us if we aspire to be fully functioning humans in times when inhumanity is prolific.

In moments like these, when people's basic civil rights hang in the balance, when their inherent worth is being contested, and when bigotry again rears its head and launches an assault on marginalized communities, those not among those communities have a choice of either confronting the oppressors or ignoring them and collaborating with them. This decision is itself a luxury afforded by our pigmentation and position. It's a perk that comes without us asking for it or being aware of it, and one we need to use wisely.

There are days when I feel my own white comfort creeping in, when I’m tempted to choose blissful ignorance, retreating into the cloistered bubble of imagined, or at best, temporary safety. I know that were I to fully indulge in the buffers my privilege affords me, this could easily lull me into an apathy that is dangerous to my soul, harmful to this nation, and deadly to strangers who find themselves in the path of realities that are far more than uncomfortable headlines.

Now I fight that instinct when it comes, because I know that many people don't get to choose neutrality in matters of justice. They don't get to decide to ignore the events of the day or sidestep the difficult conversations, or avoid walking into the streets and braving taunts and threats. Some people do this as a matter of daily survival, and if I am to even come close to living in any kind of solidarity with them, I need to be as internally burdened to action as they are. I have to be willing to feel even some momentary, infinitesimal measure of the panic they live every second with.

When I find myself overwhelmed or disheartened by the steady stream of horrible news parading in front of me, I try to remember to ask myself, “Who is feeling this news more deeply than I am? Where is the burden? Who is suffering?” That helps me not avert my eyes and prompts me to lean in.

Friends, feeling other people’s suffering is going to hurt. It should. Those people are worth it. They are worth the relative inconvenience of reading, of watching, of knowing, of feeling, of responding.
Ignoring fascism doesn’t make it go away; it ensures its survival. We’re here in this precarious place, partly because so many people took the day of least resistance.
Shutting off the news temporarily is self-care, but shutting it off permanently is an act of violence.

If things are too painful, too turbulent, too unsettling for you right now, and you just want to ignore it all, realize that you are fortunate to have such a luxury at all. Be grateful that you even feel you have a choice in the matter, whether to be in the trenches or to stay out of harm's way.

Privilege will always try to tempt you into inaction, always lure you away from the discomfort, and always tell you to ignore the bad news.

For the sake of those who don't have a choice, refuse to let it.