Protest
Protest is a funny thing. It can be found in the streets of St Pauls to the disparaging glances in coffee-shops. It can be a video, a T-shirt, a film, an article, a look, a gesture, a letter, a market stall. It can be violent. It can be peaceful. It can be a denial, or a plea. It can be unnoticed. But it can never be silent.
This is why protests are so rare. Protest, by its very nature, requires the positive communication of ‘I don’t Agree.’ This, in itself, is a powerful statement. How many times have we agreed to something, just to make life easier? Agreed, even when you don’t? Agreed, even when it angers you? Agreed, even when it offends you?
Why do we agree? Do we just not care? I think we do. I think we care. I have spent a frightening portion of my life venting frustration or anger because I have agreed to something that I DISAGREE with. I disagree with how I am spoken to. I disagree with being patronised. I disagree with my friends. I disagree with my parents. I disagree with my lecturers. I disagree with the news. And yet I agree. I agree by staying silent. Everyday, I hold my own personal internal riot against the world and all the things I disagree with. And yet, I stay silent. I agree. I do not protest...because I am polite.
There is something about ‘protest’ and ‘politeness’ which jar. Speaking out is impolite. Yelling is impolite. Speaking up is impolite. And the human condition seems to be trained to be polite at all costs. You may have just heard the most offensive insult you ever thought possible to hear, and will cry for days from the emotional fall-out...but you daren’t speak up, for fear of offense.
Protest is a funny thing. The lack of it shows how we are quite (un)happy for our own feelings or values to be trodden on whilst staying silent for fear of offending the treader. (My spell-check is telling me right now that ‘treader’ isn’t a word. I have decided to protest by leaving it in there, and stating on record now, that it IS a word, even if I have just made it up) Well...frankly, fuck that. The saying ‘Pick your battles’ will always have it’s place – no-one will thank you for ‘protesting’ at a cashier in Starbucks. But I think the words ‘But when you have picked – fight like a motherfucker’ should be added.
Protests can be big and small. Some change the world, others change a person, and some just change what we view on Twitter each day. But that’s what protest creates. Change. So agree to not agree. Let your emotions take over, and say those three words: ‘I don’t agree.’ Say them again. Say them to someone. Add a ‘fuck you’ in there somewhere. And say them often. ‘I don’t agree’. Because personally, I don’t agree with a world where politeness comes before passion.
And to everyone who has ever trod on me: I was too polite to tell you, but Fuck You, I don’t agree. If you want to protest, write an article.
By Siobhan Wilson
