In the eighteenth century there was a popular and lively belief that the good feeling we get from charity was the earthly reward for doing something worthwhile. I wrote a (literal) dissertation on how that idea changed, but let’s just say that it has lingered in various ways.
Charity is emotional. We give to causes that we respond to, and charitable organizations market toward those feelings. If you don’t cry over the ASPCA commercial, it’s not because you weren’t meant to. Open hearts, open pockets.
Organizations that accept physical (as opposed to strictly monetary) donations get caught in the fallout of this. People will drive a considerable distance and go to a great deal of trouble to donate trash, just for that hit of feeling like they are helping. (They are not helping, but the volunteers who accept those donations are strictly coached to never imply that.) You will notice right now that fire-relief charities are begging people not to donate physical objects for exactly this reason. On the monetary side, organizations are often pressured to accept strings-attached funding for glamorous or high-profile projects, while basic services go wanting.
Charity is about giving gold stars to donors, no matter what they donate, because their good feelings are the only thing keeping you afloat.
This might sound harsh, but I don’t mean to imply that there is anything wrong with donating to, or volunteering with, a charitable organization or participating in acts of private charity. I am simply drawing attention to the ways that work is rewarding.
People come to social justice work with that same attitude. I am helping! I need a gold star! And when that glowing moment of recognition and gratitude is not forthcoming, those same people tend to become angry that the environment is too hostile. These people are not grateful for my work.
But social justice isn’t charity. Charity is charity.
Social justice is about rectifying serious, structural problems. It usually starts with a deep recognition of how you participate in and benefit from those structures. That doesn’t feel good–it feels bad. The fact that it feels less bad for you than it does for the victims of those structures also feels bad. But it doesn’t matter that you feel bad, because this isn’t charity.
(Charity, in fact, exists, outside of isolated incidences, because of the problems activist work is trying to solve, and there can be an odd resistance from people who really love charitable work to truly liberating people from that framework.)
In some activist spaces, the resistance to “gold stars for participation” has led to an active antagonism toward good feelings. This can be tricky to navigate if you aren’t used to it. The emphasis on bad feelings isn’t intended to drive people from the work, though. It is intended to cut short that moment where the good feelings stop. If you bring your trash to social justice spaces, you are going to get called on it, so that you will bring less trash next time. In order to do serious activism, as opposed to charity, you need to be willing to be uncomfortable. If you aren’t, it’s best that you try again later.
Social justice is a slog. It is hard, and strategic. It is banging your head against the wall of both your own internalized misogyny/racism/transphobia/homophobia/ableism and the very structures of your own daily life. And that slog is not undertaken because those poor people need your help, and you can save them–it’s undertaken because it’s the only right thing to do. You may find that work internally rewarding sometimes, but oppressed people do not owe you thanks for taking the boot off their neck.
Jessica Thinks 