I had a (mighty privileged) wave of grief today.
- Aliesha Bannister
- 7 days ago
- 3 min read
I cried for humanity today.
Well — that’s not entirely true.
In truth, I cried for myself.
It’s selfish, but I did.
It was brief and raw.
I cried for the life I used to have, and the ways it felt ‘simpler’ — before I saw humanity and our world as things really are; back when the veil of privilege still held its illusion over my mind’s eye.
Woven into this wave of grief was the loss of a sense of connection (false as it may be) that I used to feel with others.
The connection that came from collectively being driven by the dream of health, wealth, growth and material success. The satisfaction that came from feeling important, purposeful and free.
The hit of dopamine that came from being seen and accepted by men. The comfort that I was ‘somebody’ and 'winning' when my work identity was recognised, spoken about, and celebrated.
That’s part of the cleverness of it all isn't it, the way the framework of society gives a sense of unity, community and belonging… even though the entire underlying blueprint is literally about keeping us disconnected and severed from each other and our own truth.
I mean seriously, how does that sense of connection even exist when we’re essentially in direct competition with each other right from the start? It's wild.
Was this grief because I missed the ease of my small, white, privilege-veiled world, a place where I knew what the rules were and got a kick out of trying to be the best at them?
A deeply privileged perspective to even consider.
In reality though, despite what the tears and inner explorations appeared to convey, I would never go back to living that way.
So then — why the grief?
Who knows. Sometimes it just comes in.
Does it mean I wish things were different?
Of course I do, but not in the way of wishing I never took the path of clear seeing and deep feeling.
What I wish is that this path — the one where the harsh, real, difficult, traumatic, and human-driven atrocities are so forward facing — didn’t need to exist.
That, I definitely wish.
Ultimately, I suspect this burst of grief was to create space to hold more, sort of like a little expansion of the Self; a bolstering of capacity. Which makes sense, given the unrelenting nature of what’s occurring globally.
More capacity will no doubt be helpful (melting face emoji).
I’d never change being able to see past the veil of privilege, as not doing so keeps us stuck in a loop of harm and complicity, which is a hard no.
But today, I momentarily grieved who I used to be, and the sense of purpose and connection (she thought) she had. It’s the last time those things felt so clear, which I’m just now realising.
Hopefully then, a renewed sense of purpose and connection is coming through, something just as clear, but more real, more authentic, and more fulfilling than I’ve ever even known.
I’ll keep ya posted.
Take care of each other.
AB. x
If this resonates with you, please share it with others, and also let me know — it helps to know we're in this fuckery together. x
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