From the Safety of My Armchair by Shaquille Peralta of Los Altos California

 From the Safety of My Armchair 

by Shaquille Peralta of Los Altos California

In March of 2020, the world experienced a shit-show that is the COVID-19 pandemic. The effects of isolation and monotony deteriorated the world as we knew it. For a time the idea of working from home, spending all day with your pets, the lack of traffic or picking up new trades like baking gave our world as we knew it a sense of normal and comfort. With that new sense of normal and comfort came the greater awareness of how to protect ourselves from the ease of transmitting COVID-19.. As society's awareness grew so did the divide between those who believed in the virus and those who did not. Little did we know that this was only the beginning to an even greater divide, George Floyds death. May 25th, 2020, Officer Derek Chauvin pinned down George Floyd, restricting his ability to breath for several minutes. Ultimately leading to Floyds murder. This divided the fuck out of the world. As half of the world mourned, protested and rioted in the name of justice for George Floyd, the other half of the world mocked, criticized and honestly did not give a single shit about the whole situation. Was it possible that fentanyl and meth could have been a cause of his death? It is possible because an overdose of fentanyl can cause low blood pressure, slowed breathing and a decreased heart rate. But a toxicology report stated the drugs in Floyds system had metabolized, meaning it was less than likely. After further reports and reviews of Floyds murder, experts stated that “Healthy people would have died too.” So was a possible counterfeit $20 bill and drug abuse enough to justify Chauvin kneeling on Floyds neck until he suffocated to death? Absolutely not.

Floyd was the unfortunate catalyst in sparking our awareness. Soon came the rise of social media being a platform for news. Everyone became aware of police brutality, unequal rights, and more importantly mental health. Going out as a Black American has never been more terrifying. You could be stopped for dressing a certain way, driving a car that looks too high for your pay rate, or even just holding a bag of skittles. Fear filled half of America's hearts as being a person of color meant that you either stay in isolation for fear of the virus, or you risk being shot down by the virus that is hate.

On June 2nd, 2020, in response to the killings of

DONTRE HAMILTON

ERIC GARNER

JOHN CRAWFORD III

MICHAEL BROWN JR

EZELL FORD

DANTE PARKER

TANISHA ANDERSON

AKAI GURLEY

TAMIR RICE

RUMAIN BRISBON

JERAME REID

TONY ROBINSON

PHILLIP WHITE

ERIC HARRIS

WALTER SCOTT

FREDDIE GRAY

ALTON STERLING

PHILANDO CASTILE

STEPHON CLARK

BREONNA TAYLOR

GEORGE FLOYD

DAUNTE WRIGHT

AND TOO MANY MORE...

We experienced Black Out Tuesday. Black Out Tuesday came to be as an act of protest against racism and police brutality. The world was to pause the “show” to reassess what it means to be an ally/advocate and how we can do more to help our sisters and brothers in need. What was supposed to happen was that social media would be filled with black squares to promote the idea that #TheShowMustBePaused. Where that whole thing fucked up was when you look up #BLM or #BlackLivesMatter, you were not able to see all of the actual resources and news going on that day because it was all blacked out. Personally I did not partake. What I did was post up were resources for Black owned restaurants and business because that’s what I was comfortable posting and was educated in. Although beautiful by design, the execution did hinder its performance. What Black Out Tuesday should have been was a day to showcase the pure beauty that Black Americans have given the world. A day where resources, Black owned business’ and pure success of the Black American is showcased. Not a day where everything is pushed down the algorithm because millions of people are posting black squares. 

During the peak of the protests and riots, I started to feel as if there was a lack of genuine care for the situations going on. “Person” would post on Instagram; videos, photos and infographics about the murders and police brutality but follow all of that up with a photo of their outfit of the day… You want your audience to be engaged and educated in social matters going on, but you also want to make sure they know you’re up on the latest fashion trends...what the fuck? Where does one draw the line of sincerity vs trending? Furthermore, it had felt as if many people wanted to be one with the majority posting about BLM rather than being deemed the minority and possibly a “non-ally” because you’re not posting about it. I feel that a lot of society and social media are aware of what’s really going on but do they have a deeper knowledge or understanding?  That I’m not sure. To really educate yourself on the social matters going on today is to understand who was murdered, profiled, harassed etc, and to understand the ripples those situations have society as a whole. It’s one thing to just post statistics, resources, infographics, etc, but do you really understand the metrics? Do you understand the psychological effects this may have on those around you? Do you even know where and how they got to their statistical result? I feel ever-so deeply for all of these aspects because I myself, still am not as educated and knowledgeable as I should be. I am guilty of advocating from the safety of my armchair.

Armchair advocacy is someone who uses the power of social media to advocate on matters. This could be very beneficial with Instagram pages like @jackfroot and @nextshark finding major success in releasing information that doesn’t reach news outlets. Although, advocating for social matters within itself is very important and every little bit helps, is it enough to just repost what’s on Instagram or Facebook? When is it a good time for one to move from their armchair and into the driver seat to get even further for their cause? For a long time I never knew when or how that transition for me would take place. When the pandemic started and BLM was on the rise, my girlfriend at the time was an advocate for all of those things. I was too, but I unfortunately never had the opportunity to attend a protest like she had done. We both donated money, we both posted resources, but oddly enough, we didn’t  really speak about the matters at hand. I was conflicted and confused. Why did we only care about these social matters when it was the talk of the town? Why didn’t we have the conversation open at all times? Why did we both feel as if we had done enough? January 2021, we unfortunately broke up. 

This sent me on a downward spiral towards self hate, negative projections, minor alcoholism, nicotine addiction, and suicidal ideations. With all of these mental/emotional health issues, therapy wasn’t enough at this time. I was struggling in school, work, even my athletic life. I felt as if I did not have a purpose. Life did not have any meaning for me. I did not give a single fuck about what was going on in the world. As I started to have a better grasp of my life, I felt that it was probably time to just dip my toes into the dating pool. Naturally, as cancerous as I feel it is at times, I downloaded Tinder. After a month of having my self-esteem stepped on, I was more than ready to delete the app. Thousands of swipes later, I saw R.

 R had her Instagram account on her profile so naturally I checked it out. I swear I fell in love, almost instantly.  R was something else. R embodied everything that I feared in my life. She was almost like the opposite of me but more importantly, she was in the driver seat. Advocating for those whose voices weren’t loud enough. She was in the thick of the protests. She was all bite, not just bark. Something about her passion sparked feelings within me that had me asking myself What have I contributed to society? Why am I so afraid to speak up? Why have I not done more? It’s this idea of fear that really struck me. She was fearless, where I was fearful. When the AAPI attacks began to rise, R was extremely vocal about the issues going on, along with that she called out various SF artists who were known sex offenders or known for gentrifying the community. All of these things I had absolutlely no clue about, and that bothered the fuck out of me. R saw the fucked up side of our community and took active steps to work against it. Where I clueless as fuck, sat there and continued to try and win sneaker raffles. I felt my heart's desire to do more not only for myself but my community, for those who aren’t loud enough, for those fearful like me to do more. 

A moment that stands out in my head happened a few years ago, two female friends and I were at a bar next to the restaurant they worked at. My friends knew all the bartenders, the security, pretty much everyone inside the bar. As we drank, an extremely drunk older man came up to us, started flirting with the girls, and eventually talked to me. He said things like “Why don’t we get out of here?” All I said was;  “I think we're good here without you” The man left and eventually returned, drunker than before. As he continued to flirt with the girls, he put his arm around one of them and attempted to kiss her cheek. All of the security came, took the guy out, and offered us free drinks for the mishap. After I fell in love with R and started questioning my ability to be in the driver seat, I started reminiscing about what happened that night. Why didn’t I step in more? Why did it have to resort to security stepping in? Why did I freeze? In hindsight because my friends knew all of the workers, no matter what they were safe. But still, If I froze then, what about tomorrow?

I think about the AAPI attacks as of lately and wonder what if it was me? Or someone I know and love? What if it were my mom? Attack after attack, I see them all on Instagram and take the time to read the comments just to see others’ point of view. What grinds my gears the most is when they say “If it were my family they were after, I would kill them” I completely agree and understand where they’re coming from. But why does it only have to happen to your family? Maybe I’m taking this too literal. Maybe I’m becoming more passionate than I thought. But why can’t more people step up and be advocates or defenders for those who can’t do it themselves. Why does it have to happen to you for you to take more action? I understand that there is a rational fear that comes into play, I truly do believe that, but there shouldn't be 20 cars that drive by while an Asian/Black/Latino/ETC person gets their fucking head bashed in. I shouldn’t have to go to a local deli and see the letters KKK tagged on a banner for a Vietnamese owned salon.I shouldn’t have to be fearful of my mom going to the grocery store. I shouldn’t have to get ready for work and make sure that I have my wallet, keys and fucking pocket knife on me. The attacks are inspired by fear. Fear that society won’t return to its original state. Fear that the virus really is a “Chinese Virus” rather than something that could have happened to anyone. Violence solves nothing. The murder of the countless Black/Asian/Latino/Indian etc civilians, whether by other civilians or police solves absolutely nothing.

I believe that I was so bothered and at times extremely angry with how I saw various people approach advocacy on social media and other platforms was because I’m scared. I’m afraid of getting pulled over at night . I’m afraid of my mom going to the mall alone. I’m afraid that myself or someone I love won’t make it home because someone else was having a bad day. How can we fucking sit here and talk about two Asian women being stabbed in broad daylight and continue to enjoy Cinco de Mayo? 

At this time I still question my role as an advocate. How can I do more? What if I choke when stepping up? What if I don’t do enough? The longer that I continue to spew word vomit, the more clearer it becomes that my role of advocacy comes in the form of this anecdotal paper. Advocacy has many faces that some fail to recognize. I surely did. As I become increasingly self aware about my own advocacy, whether that be for BLM, AAPI, Latinx, mental health and so much more, I start to see the beauty in what everyone brings to the table. Like stated before, advocacy has many faces. All of those faces stem from the ability to educate and respect another's form of advocacy. There is no one true form in which someone can be an advocate. Advocacy is more stepping in or speaking up when you’re called to action. Advocacy is reducing stigmas. Advocacy is proving that you’re not just a model minority. Advocacy is support, whether that be mental or emotional, it’s showing the person who was made to feel insignificant that they’re so much bigger than what they’re made to believe. 

While I sit here and think about my conflicting feelings of being a bigger advocate I can’t help but think Where do I go from here? As I keep repeating and will repeat until the end of time, advocacy comes in many shapes and forms. You can write, dance, sing, present poetry, attend a protest and so much more. What I myself failed to accept about advocacy is that there are so many forms of it. Because someone may be doing it from  their armchair doesn’t mean that they’re form of advocacy is wrong. Although at times it may seem ingenuine or just a trend, that doesn’t deter from the fact that they’re pushing a message of social awareness to the community. 

As I start to take the drivers seat I find myself fearful as fuck, out of my comfort zone, and out of the safety of my amrchair. This isn’t an accusation that so & so didn’t do enough or that we all need to attend protests and riot. This is what started off as me calling myself out on my own bullshit and challenging myself to do more. What this turned into is a self reflection on how I can help with my own form of advocacy through this writing and more importantly a self reflection of my fears and doubts living in this current age. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still scared shitless. That doesn’t mean that I’m not going to do my part. Even the smallest things that seem everso insignificant have the ability to affect one person, and sometimes that one person is all it takes to stop an attack, speak up against injustice, get that person off that ledge, or to even have someone step up from their armchair.