The horrors persist, but so do I.
It’s easy to forget how far we’ve come when surrounded by uncertainty; it’s easy to lose sight of the wonder in our lives amid the darkness in the world right now. Today, I celebrate my birthday from my familiar spot on my beautiful forest-green couch—a space I claimed while recovering from my operations last year. This year, I’m fortunate to be laid up with a flu-like illness instead of cancer.
My little family and I have come a long way. Liam is speeding through year two of his doctorate, and Bert, asleep by my side, has become a teenager. We've been lucky enough to skip the typical tantrums and rebellion and have the most loving and wonderful boy instead.
My work continues to grow from strength to strength as we tackle an increasingly divisive landscape where climate issues are more important than ever. Yet the past months have been arduous, and it’s hard not to feel disheartened by the hate emanating from those places we believed would keep us safe. Watching JD Vance and Trump publicly attempt to humiliate Volodymyr Zelenskyy felt like an attack on all of us. Seeing a literal war hero being attacked live on television by a group of thugs in suits only cements the decline of the West as we know it.
What really made me think, however, was the notion that because Zelenskyy wasn’t wearing a suit, he somehow disrespected the President of the United States. The man who ambushed Zelenskyy turns out to be a right-wing presenter on a right-wing cable show and the boyfriend of conspiracy theorist Marjorie Taylor Greene. While I don’t like to get personal, it must be said that if you’re throwing stones, you should look in the mirror—especially when giving out fashion advice. That suit-and-tie combo was disgusting, and none of us deserved to witness it on primetime television.
What I’m trying to say is that the heaviness we feel is being thrust upon us by those who do not represent us, who do not reflect us, or even look like us. Have we been asleep all this time, actually believing these people care about us? Have we moulded ourselves to fit into a society that, at the very top, doesn’t accept us? That ultimately expects us to wear a salmon-coloured tie and a nylon suit?
What a waste of energy it has been to expect a seat at the table.
Despite a general feeling of malaise, somewhere deep within my congested chest is a sense that we are about to break free from the societal restrictions that keep us polite, orderly, and plugged into the roles we believe we need to take on—roles that don’t rock the boat. With the daily rise of brands being called out for advertising with GB News or our favourite artists facing backlash on social media for their involvement in a McDonald’s campaign, it’s clear that the power of the people can and will be effective.
As power becomes increasingly imbalanced, one thing is certain: where money goes, power grows. We have the power to decide who gets our money and who doesn’t. There are lists of brands we can boycott to evoke real change, as I mentioned last week.
That’s the point I’m trying to raise: despite feeling bleak, and knowing it may get harder, we still have choices. Choices about whom we collaborate with, who we partner with, what we purchase, and which media we choose to consume.
It isn’t easy. Last year, after working on a hospitality project, I was promised that any commercial event linked to my affiliation would be compensated with a percentage deal. However, they retracted this agreement when I brought it to their attention in January. My initial reaction was disappointment, but just like the man who heckled Zelenskyy, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. I was in the wrong room with the wrong people.
Even when that club shared its links with GB News, I chose to see what I wanted to see, believing you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you. I thought you needed to be polite and fit into their little box of privilege to succeed. But no—that isn’t the way forward. Those places are dying out, and people like you and me need to dig deep and prepare to fight harder for the change we want.
A year older, and I’m tired of simply being wiser. It’s time to be active in our activism because when they come for one, they come for us all.
The horrors persist, but so do I.
