Protesting when you’re young

I still consider myself part of ‘the young’. Even though I’m an almost aged out version by now, but still. I’m 27. Young for the 30+ crowd and old for anyone between 10 and 23. But when does ‘young’ end and ‘adult’ begin? A question for another time.

The younger generations are mainly the ones that protest the regime. They see injustice and aren't conditioned yet to let it slide. They grow up, see the flaws of the world and want to fix them. They hear fairy tales, read comics and watch tv programs where the bad guy always, always loses. 

Whenever a story ends, all is right with the world. Sure, the protagonist might’ve had to make some sacrifices along the way, they might’ve lost a few things. But as the last page rolls around they look at their true love, or at the sky where there’s always a magnificent sunset and feel victorious. 

When all you see growing up is that bad behaviour will be punished, villains always lose and any rewards are never worth the cost; but all of a sudden you see a world filled with people and systems who are exactly like the villains in the stories, but somehow they’re winning and destroying people and planet in the process.. of course you get angry. 

I love to see groups of students get together on the barricades and do something about it. I have so much respect for the ones who protest while their own safety is at risk. People who joined on the flotilla, that barricaded the docks in the Netherlands, that give up time, energy and sometimes even social status for the cause. They band together and steer the world in a different direction. They actually make a difference.

There are people, often from the older generations, that point and say they don’t understand it enough because of their youth. That they don’t know the depth of the political game. And maybe they don’t. But they know right from wrong.

I’ve never stood on the breaches. The only time I’ve protested is for Black Lives Matter in 2020. I read books on different cultures, histories and injustices and I donate. I try to support different causes, but all my support is from a distance. I’ve never held down a line or taken to the streets. And I feel really guilty about it. 

I’ve been doing a lot of reflection since the Gaza occupation. I don’t have any Palestinian friends, or friends that protest. I’m hardly ever on Instagram, don’t follow mainstream news and the conflict doesn’t really live in my place of work.

And so unfortunately, it’s really easy for me to not protest it. To not feel the urgency that something needs to change. To feel like it’s too far from my bedshow. To donate some money every month, interact with a video from someone asking for help and call it a day. 

But that ‘s not the kind of ‘young’ I want to be.

I live in the Netherlands. One of the most privileged countries in the world. Of course, we have our own problems with racism, extremism and all the other -isms, but I’m still intensely aware how privileged my life has been. And on top of that, I’m white. The only ‘minority’ I’ve got going for me is that I’m a woman. 

Now white women are incredible at playing the martyr. I really, really want to prevent myself from being one as much as possible. I say as much as possible, because I don’t think I can completely prevent it from seeping through some cracks every now and then.

All the protesting I would do would be from a safe place. A place of privilege. And I feel like I’m not doing enough to make the world a better place. To make use of all the privileges I’ve been given. 

I live in the city centre. A lot of people walk past our door. Every season we decorate our windows in colourful themes. Recently we’ve added some permanent decorations. A pro-immigrant flyer, an LGBTQIA+ flag and an Palestinian kefiyeh. 

There have been some instances of violence in the Netherlands towards people that show support for these groups. Mainly in the form of broken windows. And so the first thing that pops into my head is not the wish for anyone to see this and feel supported, it’s doubt whether or not we’re subjecting ourselves to violence by putting this up.

The second thought is the people I’d want this to see. But the first, is whether or not I am safe for having this in my window. How horribly privileged is that? 

Even though I am acutely aware of the discrepancy of my safety in relation to the groups I’m showing support for, I know these thoughts are normal.

Everyone is alert to the dangers that are threatening them. And to potentially put yourself in harm’s way will always fuel risk aversion thoughts. Even if my version of ‘harm’s way’ is absolutely nothing compared to the dangers others are facing.

Like a famous Dutch guy (Herman van Veen) said:

“No one wakes up one day and decides they want to become a refugee.”

He also asked the question if Adam (from Eve) had a navel. But that’s another story.

The city we live in is predominantly white. And the spaces my partner and I - liberal artsy white people - find ourselves in, even more so. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t even have that many close black friends, or people of color in my circle. How bad in the white-privilege is that?

I want to think that’s not because I’m racist or just a dick, but I can’t be sure. And I feel guilty about that too. Don’t I sound like a martyr already? :/

Now I support and boycott my fair share. From donating to multiple charities, to doing volunteer work, not buying certain brands (using the Boycat app) and living as co2 neutral as possible. I eat vegan most of the time, separate my trash and drink oatmilk. And, of course, I use as little plastic as possible. But the consumers are not the root of the problem, the people who exploit the system are.

When it comes to climate action, I think I do okay in my personal life. But again, I’ve never protested it. No one around me does. It’s easier to tag along with my friends to celebrate pride than it is to initiate to go to the climate mars. But I want to. I want to feel like I did something. Like I’ve used my privilege for something good. And maybe reduce my white-guilt at the same time? Is it possible to want both at the same time?

This essay feels like I’ve bared my soul and admitted all the things I’m secretly ashamed of. It feels like I’m wrong just for not doing enough. It might come back to haunt me one day. 

But I am honestly trying to be on the right side of history, not just the ‘not blatantly wrong’-side.