Get Over Yourself.

Get over yourself.

People have been saying that the coronavirus is the great equaliser. To some extent, they are right. Covid-19 has affected our whole world: rich and poor; young and old; educated and non-educated; those in good health, those in poor health; men and women; white, brown, black…

However, not everyone has been affected to the same extent. Let’s make no bones about it.

I think finally, some people that wanted to pretend inequality does not exist, are waking up to smell the coffee.

This post is not intended to make you comfortable. Get over yourself.

Oh don’t worry, that phrase – which you are going to see again and again as your eyes follow the trail of these words – is one I have used for myself, too - and continue to check myself with. I am not picking on you.

The fact is, most of us live with some kind of privilege.

It is comfortable to be privileged.

As a black Christian woman who lives with a long-term condition and speaks with a Northern accent, I’ll admit that I’m not usually the most privileged person in the room.

However, I do live with privilege. I am from a middle-class home. I have never spent a night on the street. I have never had to worry about whether or not I could afford pads for my monthly cycle. I went to good schools throughout my life, and then went to one of the top universities in the world.

None of this is my fault, nor am I ashamed of it. But it would be stupid to start an argument with someone that has known a life of being homeless by stating, “Well, I used to tour with a Christian drama company, and sometimes we didn’t even know if we would have a place to stay that night!”

Erm… That would be an extremely dumb thing to say, and would be utterly missing the point.

Likewise, it would also be incredibly foolish for me to say to someone who grew up on an estate where all the local schools were poorly funded and were filled with students unwilling to learn, that I know exactly how they feel “because I didn’t go to Eton, I went to a state grammar school”. 

If I said that, I would feel an overwhelming urge to slap myself in the face.

Privileged people are generally quite inept at seeing their own privilege. My guess is that it makes them feel uncomfortable. Recognising that they are at the top of the ladder leaves room for someone to topple them from the highest rung. It also means they might have to do something to turn the tables. And they don’t much like that idea. 

Actually, it’s not a guess. I KNOW that it makes us feel uncomfortable to see our own privilege.

I have a lot of amazing friends. And many of them are involved in social justice causes. I have a number of friends who champion the needs of the homeless. At university, many of my friends were involved in “homeless outreach”, where they would get up close and personal with people on the street, provide them with food and talk to them about Jesus.

I never got involved with homeless outreach. Not because I don’t care about the homeless, or sympathise with their plight. It was more because the idea of getting involved made me feel uncomfortable.

To be fair, I was involved with a huge amount of societies at Oxford and I generally needed some time to rest on a Friday. However, I could have gone just once. I never did.

Why? Because the idea of making friends with homeless people made me uncomfortable. I had given small amounts of cash to people before, and I came to realise they were almost certainly using-it for drugs. I also felt uncomfortable because I was a young 18/19-year-old woman and most of the homeless people I would be helping were older men.

However, in dwelling on these realities, I did not leave much room in my brain to consider the needs of these people. When we focus on our comfort, we often do not consider other people’s humanity. The first step in recognising privilege is recognising that we are all the same, in essence: therefore, none of us has a right to believe themselves any better than anyone else. The next natural step is to do something to give a leg up to those squashed by the status quo. Unfortunately, society rewards those higher up on the social ladder, meaning that this can be counterintuitive. 

We want a world of peace. However, peace can only reign where there is justice.

If one us is suffering, we all suffer.

Covid-19 is finally forcing us to realise this reality.

People are dying. I’m not interested in your comfort. 

If you know me, you’ll know that I get very angry about injustice.

The forms of injustice I see used as ammunition against people based on the very essence of who they are, get me the most het up.

Racism and sexism are some of the big ones.

I believe that every human being is made in the image of God. Therefore, when you treat another human being as less than – based on an attribute that is in their DNA – well, you are not just insulting them, you are insulting God.

Get over yourself.

I have friends of many different hues. I love it. I love that the colours of our skin are not a barrier in establishing meaningful and lasting connections.

I therefore have conversations with my friends about race fairly often. I don’t shy away from it. I most certainly do not apologise for talking about an injustice that is causing death to many, and ruining the lives of countless people.

Some of my white friends actually will begin these discussions themselves – they care about injustice, and therefore, racism is not off limits. They also LISTEN when I talk to them about my experiences, and enlighten them on elements of my culture that they may not know about.

Conversations with some of my other friends do not quite follow this pattern. I’ve found myself in conversations with white friends where they start CORRECTING me on racism. Better yet, some seem to think it doesn’t exist. Excuse me, but as a white person born and raised in a white-majority country, how do you really think you can invalidate my lived experience as a black woman who has lived in several white-majority countries?

It took all the grace of God and strength of Jesus for me to not say something VERY RUDE back to them. Instead, I would politely tell them that were completely wrong. 

https://media.giphy.com/media/OUzJPYHSblGKI/giphy.gif - press play on this video.

I am fully aware of when people get uncomfortable about me bringing up racism in discussion. They do that thing where they shrink back in their seats and take an audible breath in, looking around as though they would rather be anywhere but THERE.

Ohh, I’m sorry, does this make you UNCOMFORTABLE??

Well, how do you think it feels to get pushed on the metro with people muttering horrible words about your skin tone? How do you think it feels to be beaten up on the street because you are black? How do you think it feels to be attacked on the street just because you are Chinese; people accusing you of bringing the coronavirus into the country? How do you think it feels to be KILLED just because you are a brown Muslim? Do you think that the thoughts of these people at the time they are attacked is, OH MY GOSH, I FEEL SO UNCOMFORTABLE RIGHT NOW?!

Get over yourself.

People of colour, don’t sit there looking so smug. Sometimes we need to get over ourselves too. You think black or brown people can’t be racist? So why is it possible that some of my family members might never speak to me again if I were to marry a white man? 

Some of you chocolate people only make friends with other chocolate bars. Why? Some of you spend a lot of time complaining about how awful white people are, yet you live in a country inhabited mostly by white people - because some white people gave you permanent residence. You had better get over yourself.

My melanin brothers and sisters, some of you are spending all of your energy getting worked up about white people wearing dreadlocks, when people are dying because they are black and brown. I think you need to pick your battles.

WE ALL NEED TO GET OVER OURSELVES.

If you feel uncomfortable as a man when a lady starts talking about how difficult it can be to be a woman, and how sexual harassment and assault is a common evil we learn to live with, you need to get over yourself. I know some amazing men who will actually listen, but I know of those who will immediately feel as though their masculinity is under attack – “Not all men do that!”

Did we say so?

Why don’t you try saying that to the woman who has been physically and mentally abused, raped and much more by a string of men in her lifetime? Are you really trying to tell me that toxic masculinity is not a thing?

Sure, you might not be a toxic male. I recognise that not all men are. Thankfully. However, to get offended when someone makes the point that toxic masculinity is a thing is completely missing the point.

Get over yourself.

I Got Over Myself.

Where I might have once been uncomfortable around homeless people, now when I see the homeless man that is a regular outside a nearby supermarket, I stop and talk with him. Sometimes I buy him food, if I have anything to spare. A few years ago, I would have given him a quick smile and rushed past, before he could ask me for anything. Now I know his name. Last time I saw him, I prayed for him.

What changed? I got over myself.

I recognised that the cause of the homeless was not solely the job of my friends, already doing a great job championing those on the streets. It was mine too.

It is not just MY (or any other black / brown person's) job to raise awareness about racism. Nor is it just Ruth’s (or any other woman's) responsibility to talk about sexism. Have you been thinking, Oh Ruth is an ambassador with Press Red, so I’ll leave it to her to address issues like domestic abuse?

Any form of injustice against humans is a HUMAN problem.

Racism, sexism, classism, ableism and a bunch of other discriminatory behaviours have bred a world of inequality. Are you going to:

1. -          get over yourself
2. -          hold your lips and listen to those at the bottom

… So that we can start to even things out?

Oh, I’m sorry, does that make you UNCOMFORTABLE??

So here’s why I don’t drink…

Before you start reading I’ll just take a moment to remind you that the writer is someone that dares to be different. Right, so now we’ve got that clear, I’ll tell you why I choose to do what almost no other nineteen year old in the United Kingdom would choose for themselves – I live a teetotal life. That means I don’t consume a drop of alcohol. I don’t drink.

If you didn’t already know, Britain is one of the countries worst affected by binge-drinking. ‘Getting drunk’ is a pastime like playing football. I’m not exaggerating: I’m a university student and I can tell you I see alcohol in its worst light on a weekly basis. ‘Pre-drinking’ is a thing: that’s when people drink copious amounts of alcohol in the corridors (and make a big mess and a lot of noise in the process) BEFORE heading to the clubs where they drink more still behind the bar.

Some 40,000 people die each year in the UK alone due to alcohol-related problems. A&E services are clogged up with intoxicated men and women (and boys and girls – under-age drinking is rife over here) each week, talk less of the domestic abuse and street brawls that ensue – which can lead to murder – as a result of drink.

1. Health

Health concerns seem the most obvious reason to stay away from the bottle. We all know that alcohol poses a plethora of serious threats to health. The list of complications that can be born from alcohol consumption is way longer than my arm: there’s brain damage; liver disease; multiple cancers; increased infection; high blood pressure; pancreatitis; stomach problems; seizures; cardiovascular disease; reduced fertility; depression; anxiety… And there is of course the danger of foetal alcohol syndrome for the unborn child. So it seems obvious why I would choose not to drink alcohol really – I value my life!

Remember that saying: ‘Your body is a temple’? That derives from the Bible, which says, ‘Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own […] therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God’s.’ I reckon the Holy Spirit deserves a much cleaner temple than one blotched with liquor. 

2. Loss of Self-Control

As obvious as it is that alcohol can be lethal health-wise, of recent that has actually not been the main driving force behind sticking to decision to be teetotal. Rather, it’s been seeing my friends drink and watching the unimaginable change that comes over them as they bezzle the booze. They go from articulate, intelligent people to kids with slurred speech. Inhibitions are lowered. I’ve found myself in some rather awkward situations where guy friends have forgotten about that social rule which treasures personal space and have actually made me feel quite uncomfortable. When a guy has had a bit to drink he’s much more likely to start touching you up. Decreased cognitive functioning caused by drinking means people don’t make decisions with the same clarity as they would were they sober. Sexual assault and rape are common after-effects of inebriation. So are domestic abuse and homicide.

Some effects of alcohol are more sobering than others. Some people just behave stupidly. Like, they start dancing like maniacs or they chatter absolute rubbish.  Sometimes their behaviour is a bit more deviant than that… Examples: running in front of a car; stripping completely naked in a public place; shouting nonsensical things at 100 decibels… I’ve had a couple of unpleasant experiences at uni where drunk people returning from a late night out clubbing have tried to get into my room. The first time it was two guys who decided that they wanted to bring people cookers from the nearby kitchens as a very strange 3am present. The second time the dude that lived a floor above me was so drunk he couldn’t tell the difference between his room and mine. That was at four o’clock.

I may be a pretty weird person on a day-to-day basis but I like to be in control of my weirdness. I like to know what I’m doing and be in charge of my thoughts and actions. And so I steer clear of drinking.

Some people tell me that they know their limits and will only get a bit tipsy and then they know to stop. But really I haven’t seen any evidence of this in real life. Most of the time my friends have absolutely no recollection of their behaviour the night before they got drunk – other than that they woke up fully clothed on their bedroom floor (or on someone else’s floor) with a splitting hangover. They don’t remember the things they said or the way they talked or how they walked. But apparently they had a good night.

What’s my point? My point is, how can you know when you need to stop when drinking completely clouds your judgement and your memory? Can you really remember once you’ve had a few that you’ve already downed four alcoholic drinks? Do you even care by that stage?

As someone that’s consistently sober at social gatherings I notice the changes in the behaviour of those that I know well – and I dare say they don’t. 

3. I don’t need to drink to have fun.

A lot of the people I speak to about my decision not to drink stress that drinking is just a social activity. Here in the UK it’s standard to go off to the pub to have a drink with your friends. Drinking makes you more confident and that bit merrier, they tell me. Do you know what I think of that? Genuinely I think it’s sad. Why should a person feel inadequate and unable to have a good time with their friends without first having had a glass of wine – or something stronger?

I think this excuse is all down to social pressure. Few people want to be the only sober person at a party. And I can understand why; I think I’ve already explained in enough detail how distressing it is for me watching my drunk friends become different people right before my eyes. But honestly I can tell you, when I have no need to worry about one of my friends, I have a great time even without gulping down the strong stuff. I love spending time with my friends because they’re lovely, interesting and funny. We can joke together, recount stories and have a good laugh: and not one of those activities has to be coupled with drinking.

Recently at my college in Oxford I proposed that we should have non-alcoholic “posh” drinks at our formal dinners as well as the red and white wine that is served – typically the only other option available has been water. I appreciate that having a glass of champagne can make an evening seem more special – I just prefer my spruced-up version to be a good glass of Shloer or Valentino! Good old grape juice. I’m glad to say the motion was passed unanimously and hopefully formals will have those options on their menu cards soon!

4. My money can be better spent elsewhere.

I don't pretend to know the figures for how much alcohol can cost you in a week but I know it's a lot. Ironically, the same students that protest (within reason) about tuition fees being ridiculously high are prepared to while away their cash on the booze. I'm a student and we're always poor. I don't need to make myself any poorer.

Plus, the cost in terms of time lost as a result of drink is something else to bear. Reports show that almost 15 million working days are lost each year in the UK due to alcohol-linked problems. That's usually because the employee or student has a hangover and can't get out of bed.

5. It smells bad!

I’m being serious – that stuff stinks! Stand next to someone with alcohol breath and tell me you don’t agree. OK so technically this isn’t a reason I don’t drink – I’m already put off it – but just the smell seems enough of an explanation. I’ll tell you a true story which demonstrates the extent of my antipathy for that smell.

In the queue for supper at my college, where all meals containing alcohol are usually marked with ‘ALC’, one evening I served myself a sort of creamy sauce. I wrinkled up my noise suspiciously before serving it but as there had been no signal that it contained alcohol I poured it generously over my meal. But the whiff of that odour was so poignant that I still asked at the till just to make sure it didn’t contain any alcohol. The catering manager himself wasn’t sure and he went to ask the chef – after which I was informed the sauce (and the only other available sauce) both had alcohol in them. The catering manager kindly offered to serve me another dish without the sauce.

Now I know what you’re likely thinking at this moment – My gosh Ruth that was so OTT! You know you can’t get drunk on a bit of white-wine based sauce! I know – I’m not that naïve – but it is saying something that I could have noticed the smell of the alcohol (which people usually say is all burned off during the cooking process) in a sauce that has been left for some time to simmer on the hob. Frankly I just dislike the idea of drinking alcohol so much that even a few millilitres of it would be too much for me.

It’s certainly an anomalous stance to take but I take to the teetotal life! It’s better for my emotional and physical well-being and moreover, I believe God prefers it. (For those that have been mulling over the account in the Bible where Jesus turns water into wine, this is a very interesting read: http://www.johnhamelministries.org/wine_lie_Jesus.htm).