Who Are You Outside of Capitalism?
Most of the time when you ask someone about themselves, the first thing they tell you about is their job, or what they’re studying in school to get a job.
Which is unfortunate because when someone asks me about myself, I would much prefer having full social permission to reply with something like, “Hmmm, that’s a tough one. I might best describe myself as symbol of tomfoolery. Or perhaps a lover of little treats. Others, however, might classify me more as a friend to all cats.”
But apparently that is “weird” and “not an appropriate answer in a job interview” — so whatever.
In Canada, our identities are deeply tied to work. We are largely viewed as economic agents and as such, are encouraged to root our personhood in capitalist behaviours by defining ourselves according to what we produce (our jobs) and consume (the things we buy).
But of course, work isn’t just about identity it’s also about survival. And isn’t that the unspoken pressure that exists in every job interview, every rental application, every trip to NoFrills?
“I need this job and housing and food, or I fear I shall surely perish. And if this is my fate, please spread my ashes in my favourite Tim Horton’s parking lot while sombrely singing hymns taken from my Spotify Wrapped.”
Consumed by this worry, it’s easy to become so focused on avoiding pain that we abandon the equally necessary (and worthy) pursuit of pleasure.
You know, that thing that makes life worth living?
I often leave conversations about social issues feeling deflated and disempowered. Like the whole focus is on things I can’t control or all the ways I am in danger or how all the unfortunate intersections of my identity will keep me depressed until I am dead in the ground.
And while these conversations offer valuable critiques of our social world, they offer very little to encourage us to connect to our humanity and capacity for joy.
There is a strange and sad assumption in social justice circles that people who are not constantly engaged in deconstruction and protest are fools who are blind to the reality of their own oppression. “How could you possibly be happy when there is so much wrong in the world? You must not know. You must need to be reminded.”
But sometimes, I am so aware of my conditions and feel so powerless in the face of the social beasts we have created that the only effective antidote is to sit and laugh with my friends.
Sometimes it’s exactly what I need to just forget for a while.
Sometimes the only thing I can do to ease my mind is allow myself to embody the joy and wonder I’m told I shouldn’t be allowed to feel.
And then I go back to my government mandated suffering. And I smile and tell everyone what I do for work. And I pay my rent. And I buy my groceries and pretend the price of grapes doesn’t make me want to cry.
But at least I remember that there’s something on the other side and I remember that there is still some light to reach for despite the darkness.
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