November 2006

We Are Looking for You

Not long ago, I was talking with a senior member of Chingusai when he said this:

“The moment we start thinking of ourselves as ‘activists’ let’s quit doing this work.”

In a sense, both he and I could be called “activists,” and we do carry the mindset of people who are active in a movement. But what he meant was that we should refuse to give ourselves that name.

An activist, quite literally, is someone who puts effort into an activity. The suffix “-ist” added to “activity” implies professionalism and expertise. In any movement, activists participate with exceptional dedication as experts, raising the overall capacity of that movement. The number and quality of activists are core elements in determining how far a movement can go. That is why the title “activist” is not easily earned—and why it is a name that carries pride and responsibility. For someone working in a human rights organization, there is no reason to reject it. And I, too, wish there were more professional activists in the movement for LGBTQ+ rights. Brilliant activists will open up new perspectives on LGBTQ+ issues and serve as essential groundwork for changing the world.
So why say we should quit the moment we start thinking of ourselves as activists?

Giving oneself the name “activist” may actually be easy. Anyone who carries out work with a purpose could claim it. But the moment one starts to think of oneself as an activist, that name can begin to draw a line. It can feel as though, as an expert, one is granted greater verbal power—the power to speak more—and even the power to judge. It becomes easy to believe that, simply by being an activist, one must be more right. In some ways, that belief may even seem justified. Yet the name I give myself makes me less reflective of myself. For someone engaged in movement work, this can be fatal. What I took from his words was a warning to keep the mindset of someone who acts, while remaining wary of the moment one begins to see oneself as better than others—and, in doing so, loses the ability to reflect on oneself.

This way of thinking is not the mindset of a professional who pours their entire being into the work, but rather a kind of amateurism—one that carries activism alongside an ordinary life. It says that human rights work is not something only experts do. The moment people believe that human rights activism belongs exclusively to activists, everyone else is reduced to compliant, ordinary citizens who merely adapt to the world as it is. Human rights work becomes something done by exceptional people far away, and I, who am not an activist, am left only to watch.

But within the “amateurism” of human rights work, this is not how it works. With even a small amount of will, effort, and time, one can participate anytime, anywhere, and bring about change—whatever shape it may take. Human rights activity settles very close to one’s everyday life. You come to realize that human rights work is not only about grand gestures. Those who move in this way are also treasures of the human rights movement. We do not stop acting just because life feels harsh, because the world is busy, or because we are forced to do what is given to us. Action begins and continues right here, in the small slices of time we manage to make. By taking a small interest in our own work, and in the work of “other us” whose hands we are holding, by participating and creating movement, we end up accomplishing more—perhaps much more—within our own lives.

There is a vast difference between watching and stepping forward to join in. Because I have acted, I grow colder in my anger, hotter in my despair, deeper in my joy, and more painfully alive in my dance. There are already many stages on which such experiences can unfold, and many more waiting to be created. Whether in Chingusai or elsewhere, there are hands extended everywhere around us. Whether it is the LGBTQ+ rights/liberation movement or another social movement, if you dream of a better world—a world without discrimination or exclusion, where people can develop themselves more freely and live in greater harmony—all you need to do is reach out and take that hand.

I offer this story to you, who carry the will to reflect and “simply act” in your everyday life.
You, reading this right now. “We are looking for you.”

Chingusai / Oh Ga-ram (오가람)