"Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes"

 So much of my work is about voice, from singing and performing, to having the confidence to speak up for self and others, and speaking your truth to power. This is a moment in time when the power of collective voice is being felt around the world. 

It has been a momentous and traumatic few weeks. At a time when so many people continue to deal with the effects of a pandemic, it seems that each passing hour now brings news of more racism, police brutality and denial of human rights. These are by no means new issues, but we are living through a historic moment of heightening tension and resistance that I hope will be the catalyst for lasting change. 

I hold the privilege of living a life free from fear of racist violence, abuse and discrimination. I am acutely aware of how the pain and anger I experience as I watch from a distance is a fraction of what I’d be feeling if the violence and oppression being brought sharply into focus was being aimed at ‘people like me’. I can choose to switch off, step back and spend time considering how to be a good ally. When there are structures in place that have systematically oppressed a group that you are part of, switching off may not seem like a possibility.  

Being in some version of lockdown at a significant political moment like this gives those of us with white privilege the gift of time to learn, think, support and recharge. The ‘recharge’ element of supporting social change is important because we are in this for the long haul. There will be backlash. There will be steps forward and back. It will require courage to keep pressing forward, raising our voices and demanding change. It will take an enormous amount of energy, though the more we share the load, the less draining it stands to be. Those of us who are not directly affected by a particular form of inequality can help by taking some of the load of challenging, sharing/amplifying and putting pressure on those in power, in order to let the people who are directly dealing with this trauma rest. I feel it’s crucial that we don’t turn away from the discomfort... even though growing can really hurt and so much of what we’re seeing is horrific to watch, it must be acknowledged. But to keep that stamina up and look after our mental health, we all need to take time to recharge. We all deserve support and good health. And the struggle needs us to be in good health and good voice. For me, recharging means taking breaks from social media, news, protests and petitions to do things that energise or soothe me - from singing or breathing to taking baths and watching escapist series. It also means connecting with like-minded people, in order to feel sane, seen and heard. It involves being gentle with myself if I’ve ‘got it wrong’, while still committing to do better.

I’d also like to acknowledge that it’s Pride month. The struggles against racism and homophobia/biphobia/transphobia are inextricably linked. In the U.K, transgender people are facing very vocal discrimination, and their existence is being denied by those with positions of huge power. Again, I have privilege here as a cisgender, queer woman. I believe it was a cynical move for JK Rowling to take space away from the demands for an end to oppression by speaking out against another marginalised group (many of whom are doubly discriminated against due to ethnicity and trans identity). Much of my work over the years has been about supporting transgender young people to feel accepted, able to speak up and be seen. These are basic human needs and I will stand up against anything that threatens them in any way I can.  

I am aware of how many words I have used here – partly as a way to process my own feelings and partly because there is so much to discuss. I want to avoid taking any more space away from people whose voices need to be amplified louder than mine. In the end, it comes down to a plea for us to educate ourselves, be courageous enough to speak out against injustice even if our voices shake, and to stay safe and well.  

Resources and ways to support:  

Ways to support BLM https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ 

Ways to support BLM UK https://blmuk.carrd.co/ 

Free therapy for Black people https://www.blackmindsmatteruk.com/ 

Opinion piece on black trans rights https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/when-black-lives-matter-black-trans-people-must-be-freed-ncna1228316 

Round up of BLM reading, resources & Black owned businesses https://thefword.org.uk/2020/06/the-f-words-suggested-list-of-blm-reading-and-resources/ 

Charity for trans children & young people https://mermaidsuk.org.uk/ 

LGBT campaigning charity https://www.stonewall.org.uk/

Collective Psyche, Myth and Ritual

(Content warning: suicide, Holocaust) 

It’s a well-rehearsed argument that humans are hard wired for connection. Ultimately, we are pack animals who historically relied upon safety in numbers. Much has been made already of the possible mental and emotional impacts of existing in a state of relative social isolation during this pandemic. And while it can sometimes be weird, frustrating and exhausting to engage in a barrage of video calls and online chats, those of us who have the luxury of being able to do so may manage to stave off the worst effects of being locked down away from our social networks. As well as being pack animals, we’re meaning-making beings, and when things don’t make sense, it impacts us. So, what sense can we collectively make of who we feel we are in the midst of a crisis? 

 I’ve alluded before to the collectivism that there can be in a global situation like Covid-19, even in our separateness and our different levels of comfort and privilege. Around the UK, there have been acts of kindness and solidarity springing up to replace (for now) the old norms of politely ignoring each other. Rainbows on windows and ‘low skilled workers’ becoming ‘key workers’: symbols and narratives agreed upon collectively. Throughout human history, stories around the campfire, told to warn of the consequences of actions, to create and stay connected to a shared identity and to honour ancestors, grew into religion and ideology. Our unique human ability to think conceptually helped us to collectively imagine – to strengthen our safety in numbers by imagining stories, symbols, tribal identities and rules. This would establish an insider/outsider structure – once myths, symbols and rules were in place, there were consequences for stepping outside of them. Being ousted from your group would, at one time, have meant certain death – this is not necessarily true in the modern world, though the deaths of those who have taken their own lives after being shamed on social media platforms might suggest otherwise.  

We have come a long way in material terms since all our stories were told around campfires (I’m still very partial to a campfire story). And yet, we still participate in collective meaning making as we yell into a curated online bubble and pin our colours to the mast, be they rainbow flag, Union Jack, stars and stripes, Saltire, anarchy symbol... I shout loudly about the causes I care about, and while I do my best to build bridges and find our common humanity, I admit that it’s tough at times. Especially when those I disagree with appear to be invested in stripping people unlike themselves of their rights and their humanity. I’m sure they feel the same way about me. Each of us has decided that the other is on the wrong side of the tribal rules. 

What scares me right now is the use of myths, symbols and stories intended to create a collective narrative for the personal gain of those who are promoting them. This is propaganda. The Nazis used an incredibly slick, powerful campaign of oratory and visuals to convince the poor and disillusioned that putting and keeping them in power, and scapegoating Jews (along with Romany people, LGBT people and other groups) would be in their best interests. Referencing the Holocaust as a warning about sleepwalking into dangerous political action is nothing new. Yet, the VE Day celebrations that took place recently on the streets of England didn’t speak to me of quietly contemplating how the world became so broken that millions of lives were lost to a fight against fascism, or of considering how we can make the ‘never again’ story a reality. Instead, it spoke to me of a need for togetherness, shared identity and hope gone wrong. An attempt to celebrate the myth of a nation, built on empire, priding itself on stoicism, stiff upper lip and standing up to the ‘bad guys’. But when we break out the bunting to celebrate those purported shared values and do the conga while thousands die alone, and carers are sent into perilous situations, I feel we may have lost sight of this national concern for social justice and speaking truth to power, if indeed we ever had it.  

What I take from all of this is that it is time to start creating new narratives. These stories need not be dictated by those who have power and guard it jealously. This requires some form of coming together to ask what kind of society we want to be. What are the needs of our collective psyche? When it comes down to it, we all need the same fundamentals. Belonging is a significant part of that picture, though belonging that exists at the expense of the rights of an ‘other’ cannot be healthy for the psyche of either the ‘in’ our ‘out’ group. We all need those bottom lines of food and shelter, safety and security (a la Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs). Needing to protect our own resources can lead us to believe that the existence and behaviour of others is a threat to our safety, especially in times of scarcity. I suppose that’s the next building block for ‘othering’ and drawing lines in the sand. But assuming that there’s enough food, shelter and security to go round (which there is, it’s just that some people have a lot more of it than others), our next needs in line are social. Some of the powerful people who would have us believe that a national myth of heroic stoicism is more important than our common humanity or safety seem to be abundant in resources and pretty starved of real love and belonging. So, while they may (rightly or wrongly) have been given the job of steering this ship through a storm and ensuring our survival, I hope that we don’t also let them steer us into believing jingoistic national myths. Or, if I’m now dealing in lost causes, that the rest of us will find our collective voice and use it powerfully.

I’m curious about what rituals may be created and what will endure beyond this crisis. I’ve spoken with people a lot recently about the importance of ritual, be it the first coffee of the morning, the lighting of commemorative candles, the lunch time jog, daily meditation or coming together with friends (virtually or otherwise) to connect and blow off some steam. The rituals we choose both demonstrate and shape the stories we tell ourselves. They say things like ‘it’s important to remember those gone before us’, ‘mental and physical health are important’ or ‘in this time of chaos, there are some things I can predict and control, and that makes me feel safe’. For me, intention is important here. It doesn’t really matter whether the ritual is a prayer or a double shot espresso – it’s the meaning that we ascribe to it that gives it significance. So, if we’re up for the challenge of creating new shared stories and rituals, how might that look? Could the VE Day conga lines be replaced with action that really stands up for the little guy? Don’t get me wrong, one of my favourite things is coming together with people to celebrate – to dance up a storm, to sing together, to let go, be silly and be human. This is a bit like my annual pilgrimage and I’m missing this summer’s cancelled festival season already. But much like the importance of the meaning we ascribe to rituals, context is key too. Coming together in defiance of something scary and unjust is a remarkable human trait... though a virus isn’t to be stood up to as if it were some kind of terrorist, so in this case, best to stay at home. It’s hard not to be able to gather in the way we’ve evolved to, but it will happen again before too long. I look forward to being able to come together to connect, analyse, plan and celebrate. In the meantime, we’ve been offered a chance to reflect on who and how we collectively want to be.  

For support around self-care and building helpful rituals during a chaotic time, contact me. If you’re experiencing mental health crisis, contact The Samaritans or your GP.