You actually do owe everybody something: On hyper-individualism & inconvenience
By Jayan Singh, Masthead
Hey, does this carrot cake recipe still work if I sub out the cream cheese for mayo and the carrots for rutabagas? No? Then why did you post it? I hate carrots and I’m lactose intolerant. It’s like you didn’t even consider me at all. It’s like I’m some random person on the Internet, and you don’t know I exist. It’s like I fully have the option to just not bake this cake and keep scrolling. It’s like this recipe doesn’t revolve around me hating carrots and being lactose intolerant.
Why is this the script that’s written in every TikTok’s comment section? Why is this the soundtrack to every opinion ever? Why did someone genuinely write on Tumblr, “Reminder that you are not ever obligated to be a good person”? Why does everyone want a village, but no one wants to be a villager? Why are so many people comfortable with putting themselves over everything, every time?
More and more, I get videos of people claiming that it’s totally okay to cancel on picking up your friend from the airport after the plane has landed; Complaining that they, as your friend, have no obligation to help you move; Defending that, to the nth degree, you as an individual come first over family, over friends, over relationships, over pets. When did we get so self-centred? The answer is, in my opinion, it’s not totally our fault, but it also kind of is.
You may remember the 5-star phrase “I don’t owe anyone anything” from 2010s self-care culture. Face masks, mani-pedis, and boundary setting promoted the idea of saying no sometimes to save yourself from stretching too thin and making sure there was still a held-together person to call on when in need. It advertised to a generation of girlbosses and people-pleasers (also often women) who were expected to do everything without a peep, because that was the cost of equal rights in the workplace, and you wanted to be the same as the guys, right?
But like every five dollar phrase intending to challenge the patriarchy, it doesn’t go through the social media washing machine without coming out a little faded. “I don’t owe anyone anything beyond what I have the bandwidth for” turned into “I don’t owe anyone anything at all; Not kindness, not empathy, not anything that inconveniences me.”
We all know that we should generally strive to be more tenderhearted, nicer people – especially in a rising political climate that says it’s okay for anyone who isn’t rich, white, and powerful to die in the streets – but it’s the unwillingness to be inconvenienced in the face of personal relationships that I want to focus on.
In a tale as old as time, it all boils down to capitalism, in one way or another. We have a product for everything; Every discomfort we have ever had to experience has a quick-buy, cheaply-made solution. It may not work, but if it doesn’t, there’s a hundred more products to try next! Comfort is bought and sold at the touch of a button from places willing to sell to you for under a dollar. It’s not advertised who suffers because of it – Why would it be? – but that’s a whole other article.
There is also a severe lack of boredom. This might sound like an insane thing to complain about on paper, but boredom is a useful tool that we have all too quickly forgotten. From boredom stems art: The experience of being faced with nothing but your own empty brain to draw ideas from. From boredom stems self-reflection: With nothing else to think about, you’re stuck with you and your thoughts, and – if you’ll lie back in my therapist office sofa – how do you feel about that? From boredom stems observation: With nothing else inside your own head, you turn outwards, to ponder the brains of others. From boredom stems the forceful experience to think independently without someone else’s thoughts being incessantly shoved into your crania. We’ve gotten rid of boredom. Every down moment that we have is spent scrolling and playing Clash Royale. (Notice I’m saying we. I’m not blaming you. I run an entirely digital zine. You should see my Screentime.) We don’t allow a rogue thought to enter our brains. There is no inner silence in a digital world.
We have promoted quick solutions for every discomfort we could experience, from neck pain to waiting for the light to change. We expect to live in cushiony peace every moment of our lives. We should be able to call our friends and hang out when we want to. We should be able to spend time with our family when it’s fun. Giving someone a ride? I don’t really feel like driving, I’d be much more comfortable on my couch. Being asked inconveniences by our kinships feels like a crack being broken into our carefully crafted Me-Domes, like they’re invading our privacy, or “disturbing our peace” – another very popular boundary-setting phrase that has turned into hyperindividualism.
We’ve forgotten that to love someone isn’t always easy. The little sacrifices that you make – like your time, your effort, or a papercut from helping them load their printer – is what shows them you care. And vice versa, they show you that they care by waking up at 5am to pick you up at the airport. Because they want you to be safe. Because they would sacrifice a bit of their comfort to give you some of yours.
My advice? Embrace altruism through minute boredom. Bake someone something. No, you don’t have to, there’s no occasion, but it’s nice. Don’t do anything else while it’s in the oven; Watch it rise, or write a little thinking-of-you card. Rake your neighbour’s yard. Call a beloved relative and ask about their day. Help build your friend’s IKEA furniture, and bring a hammer – The instructions say you don’t need one, but you do. Go back to your societal roots and help an elderly person cross the street.
Your phone does not love you. Real people do. Be inconvenienced, for a little bit, and love them back.
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