ASCOT, ANTI-AUSTERITY AND LIES… OH MY!

This last Saturday I went to Royal Ascot to celebrate a friend’s birthday. It’s not something I would normally be attracted to, nor something I would want to spend the money on, but I’ve never been one to shy away from new experience. Will I go again? Meh – probably not. But I certainly don’t regret going.

On the same day there was an anti-austerity march in London. I’ve been to many of these types of rallies in the States before (where I grew up). I come from a working class bordering on middle class background (mind you, that’s American middle class and not British middle class), and have always leaned left politically. I have no problems with the finer things in life and if I can dip my toe in its pool every now and then, I am happy to do so. But I’m not obsessed with it and I’m certainly not interested in watching other people suffer over my gluttony. However, this time I had no interest whatsoever to attend the anti-austerity march. It’s not because I am pro-austerity and it is not because I was dying for the pomp and pageantry of Ascot, but because I have grown increasingly more frustrated with the pop culture of protests and the self-importance of it all. George Carlin brilliantly discusses our self-importance here:

Don’t get me wrong, there is A LOT of self-importance at Royal Ascot – in fact, it oozes it – but at least it’s honest. The motives are clear: be seen, spend money, dress up and get drunk. Whether you agree with it or not is irrelevant. It’s so false that it’s oddly real. Like a weekend in Las Vegas, you know exactly what you’re getting into! I’m afraid this is not the case with most political rallies.

Rallies and political causes du jour not only make the participants look like conformist sheep (which oddly they think they’re fighting against) but it more often than not hurts the cause they feel they are supporting (e.g., the BDS movement hurts Palestinians more than it helps them). If you don’t understand the irony of taking photos on your iPhone and posting them on Facebook while you’re at an anti-austerity march, you’re a big part of the problem I’m afraid. You might think your intentions are good but more often than not, there is a deeper, selfish motive. How do I know? I used to be one of you.

It took me some time to recognise my own hypocrisy of attending similar rallies while dressed in good clothes and sipping on a Starbucks latte. How could I claim to hate a system that I clearly embrace in my daily life? How many lives (both human as well as animal) have my lifestyle and my home cost? I thought my splintered fingertips passionately grasping onto picket signs was helping to fight a system of greed, but I was only fighting against myself, and my ego. I was fighting against the chip on my shoulder after a childhood and adolescence in which I felt I was a victim of some conspiratorial powers greater than myself. I thought my clever chants advocated a worthwhile cause but they were only advocating self-righteousness and highlighted my insecurities.

Worst of all, I wanted to look like I cared. And to be honest, I genuinely thought I did. I can certainly appreciate that anyone who has attended these anti-austerity marches would find my words uncomfortable and infuriating, but the brutal truth fucking hurts. Just as I would have done, I am sure excuses are made to validate the motives.

I have no desire to paint everyone with my own brush, but I know I wasn’t the only one who reeked of insincerity at these rallies. We all had an insatiable fire within us to do something, to feel important, to feel needed. Well, who doesn’t? What’s wrong with that? Who doesn’t want to see a better world? I get it. We all get it. But these protests will not change the system. Sadly, it is how systems remain exactly the same because words and marches mean nothing if you’re not willing to give up your first world comforts and security. Sooooooooo…… are you?

I assure you, those who are suffering in impoverished and war-torn nations don’t give a shit if we went to the anti-austerity march or if we went to Ascot. Either way we have a roof over our head, we have food in our bellies and for fucks sake, we go on holidays! Really – think about that. WE ALL GO ON HOLIDAYS! Do you think someone whose stomach is grumbling or whose child was just killed in war cares if you live in a small flat and go on a low-cost holiday to the shore, or if you live in an estate and go to 5-star resorts across the globe? How incredibly obnoxious are we? There’s no difference between you and the Queen to someone who has absolutely nothing. And there’s no difference between you and a racist if you attend solidarity marches just to appear righteous.

In the 90s, I shouted to Free Tibet… because the Beastie Boys did and because the people I admired in my social group did. I would never have admitted that then but it was true. I regurgitated the peaceful rhetoric and quoted spiritual leaders but I had never been to Tibet, never been to China, never even discussed it with anyone from those regions yet somehow I thought I knew what I was talking about. I didn’t. The dogma seemed righteous enough and perhaps it was a worthwhile cause but my inability to see the true motivation behind my actions made me (if I’m brutally honest) a shitty person for years to come. I’m sure the ripple effect of my dishonesty reached further than the “good” I did at those rallies. No, I was never a bad person in the conventional sense of “bad”, but I recognise that the tons of energy I expelled into fighting should have gone into creating; accepting instead of blaming; transforming instead of projecting. I became a caricature of an activist instead of actually doing anything to change myself – which by the way – is the only form of protest that actually works. BEING TRUE TO YOURSELF IS BIGGER THAN ANY SO-CALLED MACHINE. Always has been, always will be.

I’m still political. I still post about things that matter to me. The difference this time is I know what I’m talking about and I don’t open my mouth unless I am 150% certain of the facts. I also won’t attend a rally unless I walk my talk. Of course I’d like people to rethink their opposing positions on issues I feel passionate about but I’m comfortable with the idea that they may not. I can’t expect the world to see things as I do, nor should you. Accepting diversity in culture as well as in opinion, is the point isn’t it?

Don’t stop speaking your mind or standing up for what you believe in. The world needs more passionate people. And yes, the system is in desperate need of a shake-up. But the world does not need inauthentic do-gooders and it certainly doesn’t need more martyrs, more noise and more empty gestures. The same way someone who is ‘fighting the man’ and flaunting their bling; the same way someone who asks you to sign petitions for peace but yells at their partners and treats their friends like shit; the same way someone fights for women’s rights but is making herself puke so she can fit into her favourite jeans again, please PLEASE be authentic in your causes. Otherwise, stay home.

THIS IS WHAT 40 SOUNDS LIKE

As I slowly enter into the last month of my 30s, I have to say, I’m really looking forward to turning 40 in July.

You know what turning 40 is like to me? It’s the epic part of the song that comes after the typical verse/chorus, verse/chorus formula. It’s where the artist breaks from routine and shows their mettle. It’s the “I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?” bit of life. Unrestricted. Uninhibited. Unashamed. Unafraid.

In my 20s I wanted to impress everyone. As an artistic person, this was incredibly suffocating. Trying to create (mind you, whether it be the creation of art or the creation of life) with the sole purpose of pleasing or appeasing others is THE WORST reason to create. There is nothing free about it. I acted like I was free, it seemed like I didn’t care what anyone thought but every single action I took, every note I sang, every word I wrote or uttered had 10 voices behind it analyzing how it would be perceived. Those voices are maddening. It’s the heart and the soul having a tug of war in the stadium of our mind. Noisy. As. Fuck. Not a good show. Don’t go see it.

In my 30s I wanted to understand myself better. I became more introspective and asked myself many questions: What do I want from life? What’s important to me? Who the hell am I, really? I went out on political rallies and I pontificated about spirituality. When I came to understand that no matter what state the world was in, no matter what faith/philosophy people chose to accept or reject, I still had to like my own company – and I didn’t. My efforts to save the world from mediocrity and apocalyptic doom had NOTHING to do with anyone else. It was a convenient way to escape myself… and those maddening voices that still echoed in the stadium. Begrudgingly, I began to break down each and every echo until I discovered dark truths I never wanted to admit. Pretentious. As. Fuck. Not a good show. Don’t go see it.

Now, on the precipice of 40, I’m re-opening up the box office because finally my stadium has some healthy acoustics. Sound. As. Fuck. A killer show. Come see it… if you want.