Revisiting an earlier draft of a post:
Hi folks!
Today I finished Katherine Boo's book Behind the Beautiful Forevers (later than I should have, but I am giving it two careful reads with notes so nobody worry). And I realized a truth about myself that I am unsure how to feel about: I distanced myself from feeling too much. The book is nonfiction, written in a narrative/novel style, and deals with the lives of the residents of a slum just outside Mumbai called Annawadi. There's sadness, hardship, and cold reality.
And after I finished, I realized that I hadn't cried once. Not at either of the two suicides or the murder or the bleakness. I get emotional easily, so why was that? I removed myself emotionally from the plot - while I still empathized with characters and got involved in the story, I didn't allow myself to get too attached. Sometimes it's a survival tactic, because everyone who works with social justice or even lives in the world can understand that sadness can mean feeling helpless and burned out. A certain amount of distance seems necessary. But at the same time I wonder if it means losing some of my humanity, my empathy. I suspect that as I see more harsh realities in India I will keep this dilemma in mind.
I did, however, feel guilt. Realization that the products I use and my own consumerist lifestyle have some impact on the lives of Annawadi's residents and on many people across the world. The chemicals in my nailpolish were possibly inhaled by factory workers or leaked into drinking water somewhere. And while I can cut down on beauty product use, or many other things, I can never stop consuming entirely. It isn't possible for me to become self-sustainable or to only use things that come from ethical sources: while that would be great, I have neither the time nor especially the money that such a venture would take. What we - what I- need to do is to put pressure on companies that act unethically, in hopes of getting them to stop. That dilemma is unsolvable otherwise.
Hi folks!
Today I finished Katherine Boo's book Behind the Beautiful Forevers (later than I should have, but I am giving it two careful reads with notes so nobody worry). And I realized a truth about myself that I am unsure how to feel about: I distanced myself from feeling too much. The book is nonfiction, written in a narrative/novel style, and deals with the lives of the residents of a slum just outside Mumbai called Annawadi. There's sadness, hardship, and cold reality.
And after I finished, I realized that I hadn't cried once. Not at either of the two suicides or the murder or the bleakness. I get emotional easily, so why was that? I removed myself emotionally from the plot - while I still empathized with characters and got involved in the story, I didn't allow myself to get too attached. Sometimes it's a survival tactic, because everyone who works with social justice or even lives in the world can understand that sadness can mean feeling helpless and burned out. A certain amount of distance seems necessary. But at the same time I wonder if it means losing some of my humanity, my empathy. I suspect that as I see more harsh realities in India I will keep this dilemma in mind.
I did, however, feel guilt. Realization that the products I use and my own consumerist lifestyle have some impact on the lives of Annawadi's residents and on many people across the world. The chemicals in my nailpolish were possibly inhaled by factory workers or leaked into drinking water somewhere. And while I can cut down on beauty product use, or many other things, I can never stop consuming entirely. It isn't possible for me to become self-sustainable or to only use things that come from ethical sources: while that would be great, I have neither the time nor especially the money that such a venture would take. What we - what I- need to do is to put pressure on companies that act unethically, in hopes of getting them to stop. That dilemma is unsolvable otherwise.
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