The Discourse Strikes Again

I talk about politics more than enough in my day job and professional writing, so this isn’t really a political blog, but one issue I’ve been following closely for the past two years or so is the movement to grant full legal rights to sixteen-year-olds. This movement was sparked by incidents of gun violence in American schools, and it was especially strong in DC, where sixteen-year-old activists could and did actually show up in person to various political offices while campaigning in highly public spaces. Many of the activists have come from BIPOC communities, and the movement started to spread more widely as it became linked to BLM demonstrations this past summer.

As it currently stands, the argument is this: If sixteen-year-olds are considered “essential workers” during the pandemic, and if they’re paying local and federal income taxes, and if they’re being teargased by the National Guard while they engage in civic protest, then they should be allowed to vote. In addition, if high school students are being asked to risk their lives and the lives of their teachers by returning to school, they want to be able to hold their elected leaders accountable.

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I’ve also started to see Tumblr-style accusations directed at these activists along the lines of, “You claim to be anti-capitalist, but you’re going to college, which is a CAPITALIST INSTITUTION” and “If you claim to be anti-capitalist, why do you HAVE A JOB” and…

…and I just have to check out, honestly.

I know I keep saying this, but I’m tired of the tools and language of social work and social justice being weaponized to attack minority voices and marginalized communities on social media. Who does this benefit, exactly?

Voices Are Not Commodities

I Know I'm Late
https://medium.com/@rebecca.albertalli/i-know-im-late-9b31de339c62

So why do we keep doing this? Why do we, again and again, cross the line between critiquing books and making assumptions about author identities? How are we so aware of invisible marginalization as a hypothetical concept, but so utterly incapable of making space for it in our community?

Let me be perfectly clear: this isn’t how I wanted to come out. This doesn’t feel good or empowering, or even particularly safe. Honestly, I’m doing this because I’ve been scrutinized, subtweeted, mocked, lectured, and invalidated just about every single day for years, and I’m exhausted. And if you think I’m the only closeted or semi-closeted queer author feeling this pressure, you haven’t been paying attention.

As someone who was disowned by my family after being outed at fifteen, and as someone who was very recently forced to leave a stable job after disclosing a disability, my position on the matter is clear: Personal identity is complicated, and no one should be made to feel pressured to disclose sensitive personal information in a public venue. This is not social justice; it’s real violence performed against people in vulnerable positions.

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