Is progress enough?

The Distance Between Progress and Justice

Photo by Imagine Buddy on Unsplash

There is always a tension between progress and justice that I struggle with, and it leaves me with more questions than answers. Which is fair enough; who said I was supposed to have the answers.

I am very aware of the uncomfortable truth that those accustomed to privilege often experience equality as oppression. I understand how power works, and I understand the importance of getting the powerful on board if anything is going to move, although in fairness I can’t think of any major shifts in paradigms that have been achieved that way, small victories yes, but big changes… no. The self-described “black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet” Audre Lorde said it better “The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House”

Revolution on hold for a minute for the sake of this piece.

But there is still a physical irk when I find that in those conversations where the needle could move, there has been a need for a lot of tongue biting, plenty of hand holding, and a speech that is extremely conciliatory. And yet the feeling from the other side is not “sorry.” It is closer to “you are welcome.”

It is disheartening because over and over, in every cause shaped by power dynamics, those asking for the bare minimum have to make a case. They have to ask, please and thank you, for things to be slightly more adequate.

I never see social justice movements coming to the table with revenge. Do I hear them exhausted, angry, passionate, determined? Of course. Do I see some people unwilling to beg for dignity and instead demand it with the confidence of those who know it is theirs? Yes. But revenge? never. Sometimes the word reparations come to the table, most times people would be delighted from a clean state “from now on…” and a recognition that what happened was not fair. If you ask me I think it is very generous.

What I see the most, to be honest, is people bending backwards to be polite and make their case. Explaining, calmly, why things need to change. Bringing their lived experience, the data, the statistics, the historical context, the comparisons, the empathy.

I work in this space and I understand that this is the job. To convince people. To shake them enough to pay attention. To appeal to their critical thinking, their empathy, their reasoning so that they feel excited to be part of the solution. That is the job of working professionally in DEI.

But me today, Virginia, Tuesday at 20:21, is pissed off.

I have just come out of a meeting where I had to be grateful to be invited, because realistically they didn’t have to meet me at all, to hear me out. A meeting where I hold absolutely no power, and where any influence depended entirely on me playing by their rules. Rules that exist to reassure them.

I wanted to shout.

WE ALREADY CAME TO THE TABLE IN THE MIDDLE.

WHAT WE ARE ASKING IS NOT CONTROVERSIAL.

WE ARE ASKING FOR A WRONG TO BE CORRECTED.

But I didn’t shout. Of course.

I talked about all of us being us. About moving away from the narrative of a “them”. About how we should all be in this together. I talked about the excitement of shaping a better future. I used the word potential.

And I smiled and swallowed hard when I heard them talk about “both extremes.” Because there are not two extremes.

On the side of those who have been marginalised, the most ambitious voices ask for full justice. Most people are not even asking for that. Most people would be satisfied with progress.

The idea of two equally dangerous extremes is a trap.

It forces every demand to be diluted in advance. It tells you to be careful about what you ask for, because unless it is packaged in careful shades of grey, it will be labelled as the opposite extreme.

And on the rare occasions when someone, somewhere, does ask for something equally extreme but in the opposite direction, the whole group gets judged by it. Suddenly every reasonable demand becomes suspect. A punishable sin that will be kept handy as a counter argument. It doesn’t matter if 99% of the movement is right, this 1% was too much so… our hands are tied… we can’t tolerate extremes…

And this is what breaks my heart. The quiet violence of being told that justice is only acceptable when served lukewarm.

The demand that people protest the right way. That they earn back what was once taken from them by convincing those in power that a fairer world will benefit them too.

So we do. Trust me - we say - you will win as well. And then we explain to them the business case of human rights.

I understand that sometimes we do need to convince those who hold power to be brave. We need to help them accept that not everyone will like what progress looks like. We need to make them see that at some point yes, sides will be taken, because not taking a side is already taking one.

Every time we pretend that progress and justice are the same thing, someone pays the price for our politeness. For our caution. For our cowardice.

Progress, I am told, is a journey of small steps. But for those stepped on, those small steps feel like a kick.