FUEL ON THE FIRE
Written by Shalina May. Images via Unsplash.
Great change earns great recognition. It earns its place in newspaper headlines, half the posts on anyone's social media feed, and the conversations of thousands of people who have heard about it. And for most of these mediums, time is a commodity. Readers and listeners are chronically busy, after all—all they have time to hear are the essentials of the story: Who started it? Who ended it? Who shouted the loudest? Who from that usually rigid body of higher powers finally allowed the thing to pass?
The invariable answer to each of these questions is a name, or maybe two. We hear that X set the movement in motion, and that Y brought it to the fore. And here we remain satisfied. We commit these names to memory and collectively admire them for their determination and bravery. For their audacity in the face of a system the rest of us have allowed to suppress us. We thank these people for the change they brought single-handedly into our lives.
But the phrase 'single-handedly' is hugely stretching the truth. It's exaggeration, for the sake of convenience and making eye-catching news. No doubt these individuals were/are incredible; change requires representation before it can happen, and these folks were unparalleled in their bravery, taking up the mantle for their causes.
But they were by no means the only ones responsible.
For examples, look to history. Consider the first major victory in the movement for women's suffrage (by extension, one of the first major victories for women's rights as a whole). In 1893, New Zealand became the first self-governing country in the world to allow women the right to vote in political elections. Now, a large part of this success must be owed to Kate Sheppard, arguably the most prominent member of the movement in NZ who gave public speeches, wrote and distributed pamphlets, and organised several large-scale petitions. In 1890, a petition arranged by Sheppard in support of women's suffrage gained over 9000 signatures. Another in 1892 collected nearly 20,000, and yet another in 1893—the one that would finally make a difference—boasted almost 32,000 signatures—nearly a quarter of the adult European female population in New Zealand. This would be the final straw; about four months after the petition was presented to Parliament, the women of New Zealand gained their right to vote.
Take a movement that experienced a new beginning in more recent history. In the early hours of the 28th of June 1969, police raided what was reputedly one of the most popular gay bars in Manhattan at the time—the Stonewall Inn. This was not the first of its kind on the Stonewall nor on other gay bars, and members of the LGBTQ+ community had been subjected to regular harassment from the police for years. On that day, the people decided that enough was finally enough. When the police began to grow violent, both the patrons of the bar as well as onlookers that had gathered around the scene—starting from about a hundred people and eventually swelling to five or six hundred—fought back, triggering a series of riots that would occur over the next few days. Marsha P Johnson, a drag queen and gay activist, was a highly prominent figure in these uprisings and would go on to take part in the first of what is now known as a Pride march—on the one-year anniversary of the Stonewall riots. It was a new age. The LGBTQ+ community began taking far more direct routes in calling for change than its predecessors (who often used more political avenues). Members started becoming more vocal; the voices of people from all over soon joined those in New York, as Pride marches began springing up in other US states (such as Boston, Dallas, Milwaukee) and other cities around the world (London, Paris, Stockholm). The States had experienced LGBTQ+ uprisings before, but a big part of what made Stonewall different was the massive number of its participants, and the incredible following and support that the gay rights movement gained after the riots. The legacy of Stonewall and Pride are felt strongly until today, with same-sex marriage legalised in 29 countries as of this moment, and a very recent US Supreme Court ruling making employment discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or transgender identity illegal.
The prevention of the status quo continuing as usual is also a form of change. Take the movement for climate change that Greta Thunberg set in motion in 2018, when she was only 15 years old. What started as a solo school strike outside the Swedish Parliament—demanding the Swedish government reduce carbon emissions in accordance with the Paris Agreement—turned into a global phenomenon by September of 2019, which saw marches for climate change spring up in cities all over the world. They were attended by an estimated 4 million people in total. Greta's unrelenting activism—giving impassioned speeches before heads of states at the U.N., meeting with Presidents and prominent environmentalists such as Al Gore—backed by the millions of youths' voices around the world, has produced notable effects. More than 60 countries stated that they would cut greenhouse gas emissions down to zero by 2050, and there was an 8% increase in the number of Swedish people taking the train (as opposed to airplanes) for domestic travel in 2019. Polls have revealed significant increases in public concern for the environment.
So what is the common factor tying these accounts together? The shining leadership of several brilliant individuals? Without a doubt. But what is a leader with no one to lead? A spearhead without its shaft? Look deeper, beyond the few names you see in the headlines, and wonder who gave them the lift they needed to get there. Who contributed their voices to the first solitary scream so that it would be heard across the world?
You're right. People like you.
People like us. The masses—the ordinary people, people who go to school and work 9-5 jobs, who read online magazines about change—are needed more than we think. The narrative that we as a society have become accustomed to, that of singular saviours, is problematic. It's lovely to believe in miracles, comforting to put our responsibilities in the hands of one person with a passionate voice. But it does not happen as simply as this. Nor does it have to be complicated, or include a great risk that each of us must take to become involved. In a day when online platforms exist, support can be given through a click of your finger. Share that article about climate change. Sign the petitions calling for the arrest of the police officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Elijah McClain... and every other victim whose names become known to you, for there are so, so many.
And if that sounds like a small contribution to you, it's because yes, it is. But that's all that's really needed from every person when we are several billion strong.
Take a page out of the book of history. Appreciate the admirable individuals who acted as catalysts for these great changes, and then think of the millions of people who stood behind them and gave their voices greater power—the average people with average lives, who look just like you and me. They each of them had a working voice. They each of them made the single decision to use it in support of something they believe in.
Will you use yours?
