This post is in regards to my previous post published on February 6.
Today, I question whether it is selfish of me to search for myself–save myself from despair– through the medium of activism.
The sole fact that I have to search for something to care deeply about exposes my privilege. I am not obligated to stand up for a social movement because my rights are not largely threatened on a day-to-day basis. Everyday day, I survive. I am without hunger, without fear, and without prejudice.
Today, I realize that even my new dreams of finding myself in a movement are romanticized, privileged, and selfish. And the longer I am stagnate about an issue as small as my identity, the less time I have to devote to issues that benefit humanity.