I have a few weeks left until graduation and I've been a straight-A student all of my life. I used to think that meant something, but I'm starting to see that speaking eloquently and having philosophical ideas doesn't translate into monetary value. People are still driven by money and, as always, the only thing selling is whatever makes a quick buck. Figuring all this stuff out has sincerely depressed me because I'm starting to realize how little security I have in the future and I'm a bit disappointed at the adults of my childhood for not holding up their end of the deal to make the world a better place for their children. Instead? Their children inherited a worldwide recession just as they were on the cusp of spreading their wings toward independence in the real world. Now? Most millenials have little prospects and their wings are being crushed within the confines of their parent's garages or their childhood rooms.
True, it is a pressing matter. I think about this all the time as I struggle to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with my life so that I can find a balance between being happy and actually being able to afford living. It often seems like we (middle classish folk) are falling behind. I start to get angry, or at least disappointed, when I consider that I probably won't get to fulfill my childhood dream of traveling the world and going on exotic adventures - those things cost money, a lot of money. And then I start to think about even smaller things like affording a house and being able to pay for my future children's educations. When I think of houses costing as much as they do (and taxes being what they are), I feel like the prospect of owning a house before age 30 or 40 or even 50 is rather grim (and that's where vacation money will probably go). And then I think about having kids (an idea that has been lately presenting itself as being attractive for the future), I question whether I'll even be able to afford them because I surely wouldn't want to bring children into this world without having anything to offer them. Sometimes, even though I know it would be frowned upon, I even scorn the fact that I am not rich when others, who clearly don't seem to deserve it, are.
Sounds rather daunting, doesn't it? But perhaps it sounds like the banal whining of a rather privileged individual taking all she has for granted. I'd agree with you there. I've recently started thinking about the world with a wider perspective and I realized that more than half of the people on this planet would probably consider my life a dream, to them it would probably be like winning the lottery. To them, it might be considered being rich.
I'm sure we've all seen poverty statistics. I remember reading somewhere that more than half of the children on the planet don't have basic things like food, water, and shelter. A large number (can't recall the exact number) give birth without any medical care. And something like 12% of the world's population uses up 85ish% of the world's resources. I think our society has already grown numb to statistics, but when you truly begin to imagine the human beings behind those numbers…it's really upsetting.
As a privileged child growing up with a western education, whenever I read about famine, hunger, wars, torture, rape, etc. - it always seemed like something very distant in the past. I always assumed that civilization has advanced and has gotten better. But for
I find it hard to truly conceive that there are people out there who do not have electricity, clean water, a decent bed, a shelter, food, family, or even at least the security of knowing they won't be massacred the next day. This is very strange to think about and it's something that, when I think about it, makes me feel stuck. I feel like anything and everything about my life is so superficial when so much of the world's population is in need of only basic things.
I had this picture in my head the other day: Me sitting in a class about critical theory discussing Freud's ideas about sexuality. The lecture hall is filled with privileged young adults whose parents have expended quite a large sum of money to secure a seat in that lecture hall for their child. These people are all well-dressed, most have computers (probably MacBooks) in their bookcases, and very few (if any) have any worries about where their next meal will come from. In front of the room is a person that has spent probably well over a decade of her life writing sophisticated, though sanity-impairing, term papers and flagging pages of large books with color-coordinated post-it notes just so that she could finally qualify to stand in front of the room to discuss the remote importance of Freud's thoughts as they relate to literature and thought. Most of the young adults in the room check their cell-phones, discreetly hidden by the screens of their laptops, for incoming text messages as they repeatedly stare at the time in order to gage how long they have left to hear the self-described intellectual at the front of the room. There is much self-absorption cut with disinterest all across the room. To make matters worse, it is hot and humid and most stomachs in the room have begun to rumble.
Ok. So that's the scene on one side of the world. But let's imagine some other part of the world (or maybe it's not even that far away, who knows?). There is a thirteen-year old girl sitting naked in a dark room. Her mind is blank as the the last few days have left her bereft of all emotion or fear. She stares into the darkness as her memory attempts, mostly in vain, to destruct itself. Her parents have no idea where she is, although they search for her desperately. Their limited means, however, ensure that a significant amount of time will pass before they see her again, too much time. The girl feels the sharp pangs of hunger tugging at her body, but she does not intend to touch the stale bread that sits in the other corner of the room. When the room gets too quiet she imagines that she hears the hoarse voice of the man who brought her here and her entire body shudders. Her insides feel as though they are turning outward, and she finds herself wishing her body will burst before anyone else might come to violate it.
This happens…more than any of us would care to know about. And what's even more preposterous is that this is only one of the many many MANY horrible things that happen in the world EVERY SINGLE DAY!
How is a person supposed to function normally knowing that such barbaric atrocities happen? As a woman, I very often think about the thousands (maybe millions?) of women that are sold into sexual slavery or that are abused and oppressed. I think about this sometimes as I mentally complain about waiting too long for my coffee, or when I am rushing to get to class on time and nothing else in the world seems to matter aside from my racing to school on time…I think about these things a lot especially when I'm in the midst of some banality. I'm pretty sure that anything that I can complain about in my life right now is infinitely better than the many desperate and hopeless situations so many others find themselves in life right now. And it's not fair. Why are some people's fates so dark simply because of where they were born? And what makes me any different other than the fact that I was lucky enough to be born in a place and to a family that kept me from danger?
These kinds of thoughts sometimes keep me up at night and I can't understand how it is possible for such fates to exist simultaneously. And I know that most of us don't think about the bad in the world all the time simply because it would keep us from being able to move forward, but how is it possible to move forward knowing so much shit happens? It's such a shocking and crude reality, and sadly, I fear that getting older only makes one retreat even more into one's own circle since that, in itself, can be a scary and disorienting reality.
But I don't know…I don't know what can be done or how to do it.
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