“The Lone Soldier”—Being the Only Advocate in the Room

To quote myself from the start of my first semester here at UMBC, “I have somewhat of a unique position in that I often find myself standing in the middle of the line–I am biracial, bisexual, nonbinary, and have lived below the poverty line in an upper middle to high class area. I straddle many fences, and those experiences have made me sympathetic to both sides. It can be difficult to bridge the gap between marginalized and privileged groups.” I said these things in a reflection on my own activism, contemplating whether or not I could consider myself an activist. To be honest, sometimes I still don’t quite feel like I deserve that title, but I do my best.

Since then, I have learned quite a bit (which one would hope would be the case, considering how much tuition costs). As is the case with any knowledge, situations will arise where you are the only one in the room who is knowledgeable about the subject. Sometimes the conversation is trivial, and it doesn’t matter how much or how little you know about the subject. Sometimes the conversation is important, and your expertise is vital to understanding.

I have often been told that the way I speak, with assertive confidence, gives others the impression that I know what I’m talking about. While I do spend a lot of my free time learning new things, I am by no means an expert in anything but my own experiences. When I have to talk about something I haven’t experienced, I try to pull on what I’ve learned from others who have. But of course, trying to talk about something I haven’t experienced is much more difficult than talking about something I have. And this poses a problem when I’m the most knowledgeable person in the room on the subject.

Most recently, this situation arose while talking with a friend about MoistCr1TiKaL’s response to iDubbbz’s apology for his racist content. For those out of the loop, both MoistCr1TiKaL and iDubbbz are white YouTubers. MoistCr1TiKaL’s content largely focuses on commentary on internet culture and news, and iDubbbz is most well-known for his past comedic content. Unfortunately, a lot of that past comedic content was racist. iDubbbz recognized this, albeit years later, and apologized for the harm his content caused. MoistCr1TiKaL then responded, and subsequently doubled down, that iDubbbz’s apology was unnecessary. MoistCr1TiKaL’s own audience disagreed with him, and several other YouTube commentators put out videos running down the whole situation. D’Angelo Wallace’s and Kat Blaque’s videos discussing the topic provide comprehensive rundowns of the situations and a nuanced discussion about racism and accountability, for those interested.

While talking with this friend, they mentioned not finding the situation all that important. They said they found it almost laughable when people used slurs because, to them, it devalued the racist meaning of the word and made the user look like a fool. This came from their experiences of being both Black and Hispanic and experiencing racism that was much more difficult to deal with than a random creator on the internet. I pointed out that this kind of racism was harmful, too, and it normalized it and harmed others, even if it didn’t personally hurt my friend. But I felt out of my depth; I am white-passing, and my personal experiences with racism are complicated. The way I move through the world is completely different to how my friend moves through the world. In helping my friend understand why such content was harmful, I had to stare into the abyss of my (lack of) knowledge—and it stared back; I was wildly unequipped for this conversation, but if I didn’t have it, I wasn’t sure anyone else in my friend’s life would. So I sent them Kat Blaque’s video on the situation, trusting that her words would make more sense than mine, and that her experiences would resonate more with my friend.

But being the only advocate doesn’t always mean you’re the one who knows the most—sometimes it means you’re the only one willing to speak up. Some groups are so stigmatized that broaching the topic with the wrong crowd can cause conflict. Take, for example, furries. Last semester, I wrote a literature review that argued against the bias that academia holds against furries, and ended with a call to action. This was not, however, a popular topic; most people seemed startled or uncomfortable with the subject. Furry fandom was not something I was very familiar with at the time, but my paper was born from frustration at constant criticism of furries, and even genocidal jokes about them in group chats, largely fueled by misinformation and harmful stereotypes. My concerns about the popularity of using furries as a punching bag were overlooked, even by close friends.

Discussing taboo topics is not easy; you are liable to be given a label you don’t identify with, or even a derogatory one, when you defend a group people love to hate. The main question I received when writing the literature review was, “Are you a furry?” While the frustration of being asked that question did not stop me from continuing my research, the implications can stop others from publicly advocating for a group of people. Sometimes the barrier to being an advocate is simply not wanting to be the one who’s targeted. But the less people who speak up, the harder it is for others to. For some closeted queer people, advocating for queer rights can be dangerous, as it could draw unwanted attention that could pose a physical threat to their lives. The more often we advocate for the fair and equitable treatment of others, the harder it is to target individuals, and the easier it is for others to get involved.

But knowing that doesn’t make it easy. Even with as vocal as I am, I get nervous when I share my opinions. People can be unpredictable; even those you know best can manage to shock you. For courage, I follow the mantra they teach you in kindergarten: “treat others the way you want to be treated.” When I don’t have the courage to speak up, I hope that others will in my stead. How many times growing up did I witness something that I felt powerless to change, if only one other person had stood up for me? Making the world a better place sometimes means stepping up and being the person you needed when you were younger.

Activism looks different for everyone. For some, it is going out and marching or walking out in protest. Some choose to utilize social media to spread awareness and use the algorithm for greater good. For myself, I like to use the definition Dr. Kate Drabinski gave us in her GWST 200 course on activism: “living life in accordance with one’s values.” Whether you choose to be vocal or provide support from the sidelines, it is important that we show up for each other—especially when it may be difficult to do so.

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