Photo by Sebastian Unrau on Unsplash
How do we know we’re on the right path? We decide it.
I’ve recently realised how much I question myself. I regularly wonder whether what I am doing is correct, and whether I should re-evaluate or choose a different tact.
I have gotten so used to using my brain to find the ‘correct’ answer to social situations, discussions, arguments, problems, and, well, everything else.
But when it comes to life, it is far more about conviction than it is about logic. After all, It is no less ‘correct’ to be a school teacher as it is to be a President. The only thing that can make it ‘right’ or not is whether we are happy with our choice.
Which puts the onus on us. How do we choose? How do we know what we are doing is right?
With these sorts of quandaries, the more we ask questions, the further away we get from the answer.
We choose what we feel is right. We may choose randomly, or we may believe it is our destiny. Or we don’t even think about it at all. We just simply live our lives without even needing to worry whether it is ‘right’.
For me, I see my path as one to bring greater love and wellbeing into the world. Why? Because it feels somewhat natural, especially considering what I’ve experienced in my life journey.
My challenge has since been how to stick with my ‘right’ path.
Wanting to bring more love in the world means change. And change means disruption. Disruption can mean conflict.
It’s easy for me to start questioning myself:
But isn’t ‘love’ about nothaving arguments? Is this really the best way to do this? Should I have said that?
It’s in these moments where conviction is more important than logic.
This all comes to mind because of an experience I had this week.
I was in a ‘debate’ (well, argument) recently in a group chat. It was around the creation of a separate ‘FLINTA’ group. FLINTA stands for Female, Lesbian, Intersex, Trans and Agender.
In principle, it’s a nice idea to have a space which allows some space for marginalised people.
But in practice, I find such groups problematic. It essentially is on the basis of no cis men. The explanation of this is because they benefit from the patriarchy.
I find such an argumentation overly simplistic. It ignores the issues that gay and bisexual men face, including higher mental health problems and rates of suicide.
In practice, I find such spaces are dominated by white (cis) women who then can dominate the space and actually talk on behalf of marginalised groups. To be accepted you have to look ‘womanly’ enough to be accepted, which is problematic in of itself. Trans Men are theoretically included, but in practice may just look like a guy. After which they have to ‘prove’ they are trans. Intersex people can also be cis men, whilst agender people could also look ‘male’ and thus not be included.
So in summary, I think creating such groups actually does harm, rather than helps. I think there is some well-meaning stuff there, but the language and thinking is outdated.
So, the solution is using more updated language. The stance needs to be more about inclusion than about exclusion.
We’re probably due a conversation to highlight the inconvenient fact that being a woman does not suddenly make you a more tolerant person. In fact, my personal experience has been that white women have done more damaging racialised action against me than white men. Historically, the majority of white women have supported all sorts of oppressive actions and racist movements. Nice White Ladies by Jessie Daniels was a very informative read around this subject.
And so, I highlighted these points. Did I need to? Probably not. Did I want to? Yes. Why? Because it aligns with my principles and my life direction.
It wasn’t a popular thing. I was told that I’m being aggressive. I had someone saying the only person with a problem is me and I should stop on my personal crusade. I also had a white person tell me that I don’t understand because I wasn’t born a woman so I need to ‘check my privilege’. (as a side note, it’s funny that the only people who have told me to check my privilege in my life have been white people who actually have far more privilege than me).
There were ways that perhaps I could have argued ‘better’ or differently. Or perhaps this wasn’t worth the emotional energy it required.
What really helped me in this moment of self-questioning was returning to the idea of being on the ‘right path’.
With this idea, I realise that these smaller, tactical questions don’t matter so much. It’s more about the direction I’m going in.
I’m following my principles, and it’s leading me to where I am meant to go