I, like anyone, like to believe I care about others. But I think, importantly, care sometimes isn’t enough, and simply listening instead may be more significant for avoiding inadvertently harming others. This seems obvious, and it is really. But taking my social philosophy module enlightened me to theories describing exactly what I’d think about on a long train ride home or moments in my room where I questioned what the best ways were to help others. But as much as I think, sometimes the way to help someone is to listen, not be performative or try to do what I think is best, but rather, attend to the needs of others who actually have struggled with said issue and actively help.
An important discussion in social philosophy is that of injustice, where those in marginalised groups are harmed through an unequal power dynamic and an inherent unfairness which can cause or perpetuate harm. My initial response was naïve in many ways; I felt injustice could be solved through simply ‘making things fair’, giving equal attention to everyone else. That solves it, right?
Possibly it’s more complicated than that. Sometimes, the same for everyone isn’t quite enough. Especially given that we don’t all start from the same baseline quantity to begin with.
I’ll start with caring about social issues, and how this can sometimes go wrong.
When looking around at others and their views, we often impose beliefs onto others of how they should feel, where their background has led them and create assumptions based on their characteristics and appearance that shape our perception of their beliefs. Often wrongly. In a way that disregards their lived experience and almost acts as if we are writing it for them.
While possibly well-intentioned, this imposition of ideas onto others can go against their identity. Imposing a false narrative on someone else harms their autonomy and risks reducing their lived experience to their social location, which is false. Even though we can be motivated by care, this subtle erasure reinforces an unequal power dynamic where their agency is diminished in response to our impositions on their identity. I think if we treat identity like a shortcut in this way, it’s a very slippery slope to disregarding their personal insights for our projections, which actually reinforces the problems we’re aiming to tackle.
I find this to be exacerbated when marginalised groups come into the picture. We all inhabit the same social world, but our social realities differ greatly based on our internal characteristics and external appearance. Our identities shape the way we’re perceived, whether that be gender, sexuality, race, culture, or so on.
I think in this day and age, there is evident progression and regression in many cultures, and some parts of the world seem unsafe for marginalised groups. However, marginalised voices are often showcased. You hear of a prosperous actor from a low-income background or a renowned Black female scholar praised for her achievements, and whilst they certainly deserve this applause, I question the system that enables them to reach the top. Olúfémi O. Táíwò discusses this privilege in his essay ‘Being-in-the-Room Privilege: Elite Capture and Epistemic Deference’, commenting that those who experience the harsh reality of marginalisation and unfortunately not those whose voices are heard, but rather, those who are ‘systematically different’ from those they are supposedly representing. I think his thoughtful commentary on this topic is an essential read for anyone who cares about social justice or for those who wish to challenge their beliefs on the topic. It is really insightful in a way I was privileged to be exposed to through the readings required from my recent module.
Unfortunately, this is a pattern we see across many other examples of marginalisation. Those in the minority are taught to be essentially self-sacrificing: to go along with the game regardless of the implications. A useful term here is the ‘glass ceiling’, referring to societal barriers that often prevent marginalised groups from advancing into leadership roles due to biases and limiting prejudices. These forms of bias are entrenched in hierarchies shaped by dominant ideologies, which prohibit certain individuals from advancing, even when qualified, because of unfair beliefs. Whilst this is a term for the workplace, deeply ingrained biases can impact marginalised groups in every facet of life, making understanding their lived experiences a priority.
Referring back to his essay, Táíwò raises another important point about knowledge. A member of a marginalised group has knowledge through lived experience, but this can be unfairly overperceived by individuals.
This can put them in an uncomfortable double bind: where they either engage and are drained of questions, or judged for their answers, or disengage, allowing reinforcement of negative stereotypes which affect them. It’s these unfair situations which disproportionately affect marginalised communities, making them answer to individuals in a way that those whose identities align with the dominant ideologies simply would not have to. This targets their agency and unfairly disadvantages them, putting marginalised communities in awful predicaments, which spotlights their identities as a talking point. It’s absurd and unfair. Just because somebody experiences marginalisation, it does not make them your endless resource for questions, and it is not their job to educate you. Their testimonies are not simply at hand for endless questioning and scepticism. This commentary spotlighted the vulnerability within marginalised identities, not from themselves but rather, a society which places expectations on them which are subsequently difficult to detach from.
I think the core argument here isn’t that we should not showcase their voices altogether, but recognise that the system is problematic, and swerving around it through shedding light on filtered individuals does nothing for dismantling the marginalisation which harms them anyway. This concept of the ‘room’ is useful in questioning what it means for us to be in the room. It’s a metaphor that reflects the power of having a voice and pioneering social justice, but more deeply, makes us question the rooms we are not privileged to enter. In this sense, being in the room represents those who are heard, the few filtered ‘representatives’ and instils in us to not question the other unoccupied rooms in which constructive conversations could prosper, but in fact, without the voices of those who really need to be heard, will not.
Discussions like this remind us to be open, mindful and considerate. Sometimes we might not know how to best approach situations, but education is often the way to resolve this. I’ve always believed in the importance of humanities and social sciences subjects, but topics like this reinforce the necessity for them for understanding human experiences, and how we can help others feel heard and understood. By centring on reflection, I feel we can truly best understand others’ needs and recognise our own ignorance in reinforcing negative narratives and placing unrealistic expectations on others.
Táíwò’s essay reminds us to be considerate and perceptive as recognising one’s own responsibility and authority is best to contribute to making a true structural change is the way to tackle societal injustice rather than deferring. Importantly, then, we must recognise those who are also missing from the room rather than just listening to those present.