Praxis; Twos “Comfort”s
Perseverance; purging the cynic; taking myself too seriously
Quinn McClurg
Microcosm: bearing witness to the endless hellstorm of current events is my duty as a journalist and individual; however, for the sake of my own worsening mental health, I must temporarily avert my gaze and recuperate. Learning is praxis, as is taking time to heal; however, anyone can overstay their welcomes and drown in either. I hate this comfort, that I have a choice—that I am not immune to drowning myself.
Informed or not, how can anyone anywhere live a life with meaning during a genocide? Every new human rights violation draws more attention to how arbitrary the constructs governing our lives are, how regularly their cruelties are required. Take a store-bought, plastic-boxed salad: how many people were killed for the land and resources, poisoned by runoff and waste, or enslaved to farm and produce it? There is no ethical consumption under capitalism; your resulting comfort while consuming depends on how aware you are of this country’s enduring cores of suffering (prison-industrial / military-industrial complexes, outsourced slavery / production, union busting / lobbying, drawing borders, etc.).
Compared to similar historical periods (the Long Sixties, the Cold War, Iraq and Occupy Wall Street, etc.) where have the activists gone? The rioters, revolutionaries, and everymen doggedly crowding the streets? Aside from some, they’re all inside: some are unaware, sedated, or unwilling to sacrifice their time and comfort; few others are recuperating or merely surviving until they can continue their radical actions again. I define “comfort” in terms of the infinite forms of empty stimulation, placation, consumption, and sedation ever-available at our fingertips—any activity that may not benefit us in any way, that champions our isolation, estrangement, ignorance, bigotry, self-interest, or disempowerment over our connection, disruption, liberation, or decolonization (mundane substance use, consumerism, screentime, etc.). Of course, everyone needs these “comforts” to live; however, these comforts should be supplemented with praxis, forward-thinking and -movement, lest we waste our resources or consume another’s.
I want to define the fruits of praxis as the radical, yet tenuous “Comfort”—the affirmation, community, and catharsis won when defying (i.e. risking oneself against) an oppressive authority, conception, or status quo. Of course, the most marginalized deserve the most comfort, as merely surviving day-to-day in an oppressive country may be enough—it’s radical, risky, and potentially Comforting itself. The less marginalized should be obligated to more action before indulging in their own comforts, especially since Authority is less likely to respond with violent force. However, Comfort is not equal, and may be as conditional as the spaces granting it.
Post-encampment (May), my partner and I were pushed out of almost all of our organizations and friend groups (all rooted in autonomy, anarchy, mutual aid, and decolonization) due to racism and misogyny pointed directly at my partner. Having previously given multiple people chances to do better, my partner did not hesitate to leave, and, as their white partner, I was obligated to follow behind them. Since then, we’ve lost our most immediate means of social change: praxis, community, and Comfort; it wasn’t my partner’s first time either, given their long organizational history. For intersectional organizers like them, Comfort comes at the cost of enduring real harm that is trivial or invisible to the more privileged and powerful organizers. We spent the next several months isolating ourselves and hurting together.
Today, my partner continues to live comfortably in a manner that hadn’t been possible for them at any other point in their life, and I continue to grit my teeth through my remainder of University while working three jobs. While working, I attempt to keep my body and principles from being destroyed; however, the weight of lacking Comfort is suffocating—I often find myself slipping into comfort more than I should (any is detrimental to work / school). I find myself thinking: Does my radical survival outweigh my obligation to action? At whose cost does my comfort and inaction come? Exhausted organizers? Unsheltered unhoused folks dying of exposure? Hundreds of child slaves in cobalt mines? Thousands of wrongfully convicted, enslaved prisoners? Hundreds of thousands killed by our own country’s bombs?
It’s unfair to pin these atrocities on one inactive person, but one person can make a remarkable difference, especially in local mutual aid and organizing (Southside Food Share / Harm Reduction, Supply Depot, encampment defense, East Phillips Urban Farm, etc.). Additionally, action can be as simple as boycotting, supporting local businesses / artists, contributing as little as possible to the economy, being as kind as possible to the environment, and educating others on social injustice. I am constantly working, but I still have time for all of these methods, and they do provide some Comfort; mere cents on a boycotted item can become blisters on a prisoner’s hand, screws on a warhead, or bullets in a bootlicker’s gun.
Needless to say, we must resist while we are living. If you must indulge now to deliver radical action another day, your mere survival is justified.
Seek to know evil, and live enabling as little evil as possible.