Normally this column kicks off on a blatantly political note, but today's reflection will be a bit different.
One of the things I hear quite often, be it from myself or from others, is that lacking a direction is frightening. "I don't know where I'm going," someone might say. "What direction am I going in?"
Feeling like you're "all over the place" isn't really a pleasurable state of being - in my personal experience, it's one of confusion and anxiety. We're taught from birth that our journey will be linear and that we won't have to take steps backwards; we won't have to fall on our faces only to discover that we injured ourselves for good reason. Without this sense of self-certainty in the future, we second guess ourselves, doubt things that deep down we hold to be true and sometimes shut down, giving into the pressure and giving up on pushing past what troubles us.
What I am coming to realize more and more is that for me, this fear of not knowing what comes next or anxiety about not having a self-defined and pre-planned future can be traced back to one simple question: "Why?"
When word broke about the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines flight 730 over the weekend, I could only imagine how engulfed by these feelings of fear and uncertainty the families and friends of the 239 aboard became. "Why has this happening to my loved one, my friend, my life, me?" As just an observer, it was impossible to put myself into their shoes and truly commiserate a grief so unexpected and bizarre, especially since the "how" has yet to be, and may never be answered, yet alone the "why."
Faced with long-standing histories of inequities and modern day dilemmas that test our patience, hurt our hearts and tempt our self-destruction, explanations and justifications are few and far between. We cannot rely on logic and reason to sustain our spirits as we fight for what we believe is right, just as we cannot rely on logic and reason to convert our opponents and make love from hatred or cooperation from opposition. This, as we know, is a most laborious task, and it is through that tireless and dedicated action that we inform our own bodies and minds about our personal "why":
Why we stay up until three in the morning writing love poems to enthusiasts and oppressors alike. Why we tolerate the titters, sighs and side-comments when we embark on educating others, in the hope that something gets across, even if it's just our own willingness to listen. Why we hold protests and direct actions regardless of the pushback, regardless of the fear mongering. These are the whys I prefer to think about more often because they remind me about the strength and beauty of people around me who insist on making a difference at all costs.
All this to say that in working to become more "politically erect" and aware of how it is our obligation to un-educate ourselves as well as educate ourselves and others, we cannot forget the work of self-care, self-love and self-survival. After all, constant questioning and critical critique, while seemingly productive, comes at a cost for each and every one of us.
Let's remember to take care of ourselves and one another.
Jonathan Moore is a freshman majoring in American studies and political science. He can be reached at Jonathan.Moore581594@tufts.edu.
