The Political is Personal
Stepping onto my soapbox …
The personal is political is the 1970s battle cry of feminists. The personal experiences of women are rooted in their political situation and gender equality. That battle cry has echoed for the last five decades. There has been many a time, as a feminist myself, I’ve thought, I wholeheartedly concur.
But now, since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine last week I am fixated on the inverse - the political is personal. As I see countless critics blame that unprovoked attack on our weakened administration. These are their words, not mine. I can’t help but to wonder, why are the victimized, or victim adjacent as in this case with our country, responsible for the actions of the aggressor?
Prior to starting this war with Ukraine, Putin joked about a potential invasion, “like it or not, my beauty, you have to put up with it.” Do they though? Almost a week into this declaration of war against a sovereign nation, we know the Ukrainian people are fighting tooth and nail against the Russians. Most of us are filled with admiration for their courageous efforts.
Do you align with a bully or have compassion for the oppressed? Which brings me to this presumptive inquisition - how were you raised? Lets take this political equation and make it personal. Was your childhood home a democratic one? Did you feel like you had a voice even if you were not yet an adult? As a minor, did you feel empowered, that your thoughts and ideas had value? Or was your household an autocratic one? Maybe a bit old school and your father ruled with an iron fist? You know, maybe your mother repeatedly told you to wait till your father got home.
I’ve got to say, for me personally, my parents’ divorce at my tender age of six notwithstanding, mine was what I consider, looking back, fairly democratic. I felt valued and seen by the head of our household, my mother. She instilled in my sisters and I values of compassion, kindness, and integrity. It has served me, and continues to serve me, extremely well to this day.
My political is personal story harkens back to that childhood of mine. While my family experience, a home with three daughters, was more democratic than not, it was in a time and setting of more traditional and, dare I say even, some autocratic households. They were plentiful in suburbia. I’ve no doubt they pitied my broken home. No worries, my sisters and I turned out okay. Actually, a whole hell of a lot better than okay. But, I digress …
Periodically throughout my burgeoning adolescence a neighbor boy a couple years older than me would attack me unprovoked. Not because he disliked me. I tried not to show him outright disrespect. I did not dress provocatively. Or call attention to myself. To no avail. I suppose he was enamored by my resources and wanted them for himself. He thought, with his brut force, he could take what he wanted. Please understand this, every time this happened I was terrified. But I had to push that down, figure my way out, and fought like hell. And I repeatedly held him at bay even though he was naturally bigger and stronger than I was. He never did get to any of my resources.
Why? Why do I share something so personal? I see people I once knew simplifying what’s happening now with this atrocity and blaming it on our administration. Let me be clear, victims are not responsible for the actions of their aggressor. For all the armchair critics, dig deeper. Your assessment is too lazy. I wish you would do more meaningful intellectual work. Stop grabbing for that low hanging fruit, the easy talking points, and as emotionally challenging as it may be, apply your political ideology to your personal life. Show some introspection. If you are willing to criticize the world in which you live in ad nauseum, please take that same light and shine it on your own experience. Where do you fall in that narrative? Are you aligned with an aggressor or the victim of someone else’s unwanted advances?
Stepping off my soapbox now …