PhDerp

Thoughts on power and privilege: when NOT to intervene

Something happened today that makes me rethink about the complicated nature of privilege and highlighted once again the importance of self-reflexivity.  I won’t go into detail but suffice it to say that all of us need to take the time out before acting and think more about the repercussions of our actions. 

This reminds me of the time, years and years ago, when a good friend of mine, YP, was involved in a relationship with KL, who later became her husband.  YP and I were part of the same feminist group, so we mostly shared similar political outlooks.  YP and I were close.   One night, YP confided in me that KL had hit her and that she didn’t know what to do about it.  She felt trapped, conflicted and worse of all, she felt like a shitty feminist and was afraid of the judgment of her peers (like me) for ostensibly believing in gender equality but staying in a relationship that was, by all accounts, harmful.

I did not know what to do.  I did not know what to do for YP because she said these things to me in confidence.  I was seething with anger towards KL.  I wanted to hurt him, to make him pay, to make him know that he was a rotten human being.  After much deliberation, I decided, unbeknownst to YP, to message KL.  I told him in no uncertain terms that what he did was terrible, that he was being abusive, and that he really needed to stop hurting my friend.  I was in my very early twenties and, in hindsight, I was so naïve that I honestly felt that what I was doing was right.  How could it not be?  I was helping!  My intentions were good!

Those of you who work with domestic violence survivors can probably predict what happened afterwards.  The amount of shame and guilt I felt then has in no way disappeared; if anything, it has grown bigger and the idea that I violated someone’s trust pains me even today. Rather than being grateful – which I idealistically expected – YP was livid.  I then realized that I violated her trust and that in no way did I make her situation “better.”  I acted pig-headedly, thinking that I could ‘rescue’ YP away from a fraught situation and that my words would have a healing effect.  After all, isn’t this what happens in after-school tv specials?  YP then told me that by sending KL an unsolicited message, I put her in a terrible situation where the power imbalance between the two of them was heightened, where rather than having the authority to get him to apologize, she now felt that she had to apologize to him.  She also added that there were circumstances in KL’s personal history that made what he did not necessarily forgivable but a little bit more understandable. 

The point isn’t that YP’s interpretations of my actions were wrong or right.  The fact is that she had every right to be angry with me.  I was wrong because I intervened when YP did not ask me to. My actions effectively put an end to my friendship with YP.  In thinking that I could help her and save her, I made the situation worse.  It was an act of feminist colonialism, where I assumed that YP did not have the agency to act and to resist and that it was up to me, the good old feminist activist, to intervene.  I don’t know whatever happened to YP and to KL.  I really hope that both of them – yes, even KL – are at a good place. 

What happened today was a bit similar but on a much smaller and less intense scale.  No one was physically harmed, but I did hurt a really good friend because of my actions. I think one of the lessons I’m finding it tough to learn is that there are battles that all of us who are social activists – heck, all of us who are empathetic, well-intentioned human beings – just simply cannot participate in, no matter how much we really want to.   And that before jumping in and acting, we have to be self-reflexive and think really long and hard about all possible repercussions of our actions.  A good friend isn’t one who acts presumptuously but is one who listens, who is supportive, and who gives someone the space and the courage to fight their own battles.  Intentions almost don’t matter; actually, it is almost always the case that intentions are bunk.  It is the real, hard, tangible consequences of your actions that one has to account for.  Power dynamics are a complicated issue, and an outsider who acts even with the purest intentions may invariably worsen said power dynamics.

(This blog has taken a rather intense turn, hasn’t it?  What is supposed to be my respite from the hurdles of academia has become a space for political and personal writings and self-reflection.  Trust me, I’d much rather write about, say, Katie and Tom’s divorce or about the brilliance of late harvest Vidal wine from Strewn.  Life certainly takes interesting turns).