Dear ones,
The first time I heard a critique of “lifestyle politics,” I felt great relief. As someone who grew up in and out of poverty, with precarious housing, I entered the punk/activist scene with some trepidation: was I going to have to continue living in run-down spaces with dumpstered furniture and piles of crap everywhere? “You don’t have to keep living poor or like a crust punk to be devoted to the cause” a well-paid, poor-raised anarchist-ish union organizer told me, handing me a copy of Murray Bookchin. “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism. Build power, it doesn’t matter what you buy.”
I was overwhelmingly grateful to be given permission to not be crusty, but continued to dumpster food sometimes, shop at thrift stores (heels and skirts more than black jeans), and share housing. Partly this was because I was still broke (for-real broke, not the way I feel sometimes today), but I also still appreciated living more simply and in alignment with my values. When I started making a bit more money (grad student money, ~16k a year, huge for me at the time), I shifted a bit. I bought new clothes more often. Some fancy kitchen appliances. Had fancy drinks at fancy bars. And it felt….really good.
I leaned more into the “there is no ethical consumption…” line as a rationalization for a lot of my decisions. In some ways it was clear I was living a more harmful existence: more consumption, getting paid by an institution built on stolen land, and so on. In other ways, I became a more ideal green consumer under capitalism: I could afford Fair Trade, organic, and TOM’s recycled shoes (one of the only eco-apparel game in town in the early 2010s). Green consumption is also harmful, of course, but we’re trained to think it’s better somehow. But beyond all of that, my nervous system was calmer. I was healthier. I was getting more into yoga and ‘natural’ modalities, and became extremely convinced that healing my nervous system was absolutely part of a holistic and meaningful revolutionary strategy. And besides, putting emphasis on my individual choices was neoliberal! Barring being a billionaire, much of the Left seemed to report, I could do what I want.
“How long can I keep using my trauma as an excuse to not give more money away?” another poor-raised queer friend of mine posed over lunch recently. We had been bonding about our similar class backgrounds, our similar class transitions (theirs was a more economic transition, but we both shared cultural and education mobility). We both give regularly to mutual aid funds, but we also both currently live in nicer spaces than what we grew up in and, like, do nice things for ourselves sometimes. We also both happened to be traveling through Europe and staying at squats through most of our stay.
“I didn’t think I could handle dirty blankets and sleeping on floors anymore, but I…can?” they shrugged.
I related to this a lot. I have insisted on a more comfortable existence—clean apartments, pleasurable things and experiences as a part of trauma healing and with an awareness that me staying in poverty doesn’t help dismantle capitalism. But where is the line? What does it mean to skip a Venmo request on Instagram the same day I get my nails filled (for example)?
In many of my witch circles and sex worker circles–disporportionately femme and feminized spaces—there is a lot of emphasis on abundance. In my particular sex worker and witch circles, they are also simultaneously anti-capitalist circles, which means that in addition to promoting making a lot of money, they also encourage both giving a lot of money away and also dismantling the system. But in addition to, not at the expense of living a safe, pleasurable, abundant life. Like that first read of Bookchin, this approach to wealth – that it’s not bad to have it if you also give some of it away and also support struggles for liberation – felt like a relief.
“You make under $25k a year, you rent, and have debt. I don’t think you need to worry about being ‘the problem,’”my friend M, squatter-turned-mortage-payer, says to me when I talk about this question with her. “In anarchist spaces, femmes always get more shit for having money or any comfort because it looks different, and that’s bullshit.”
*
“How much is ‘enough’?” my friend Nicole asked me on her podcast last year. We had an hour long conversation, but didn’t land on any easy answer.
*
I spent most of the past month in a squatted apartment in Catalunya. P had DIY-wired the house so there was working electricity, but the plumbing wasn’t entirely functional. The toilet operated on a bucket system, which meant we’d take the water that poured from the open pipes of the bathroom or kitchen sink and once it was full, pour the bucket down to “flush.” The internet was spotty. It was much less clean than I keep my space. A year ago, If you had asked me if I would have willingly spent a month in a space like that, I probably would have said ‘no.’
I didn’t have access to a lot of things I have access to in the states, but like my friend at lunch, I adapted. Within a week, I still missed the relative ease of my life at home, but I adjusted. It’s what we do. For example, I didn’t have the fancy gym I usually go to, but I had tons of walking and garden work. This reminded me of an interview I heard with Vandana Shiva:
“...we were made to look down on our bodies, we have to reclaim our bodies; we were made to look down on bodily work, we have to celebrate working with our body. You know, we run a course at Navdanya, which I call yoga of the earth because all the time I hear people, ‘Oh, agriculture and farming is drudgery.’ And then I ask, ‘Do you go to a gym? Do you do yoga?’ ‘Yeah, yeah, it's so relieving. And so enriching.’ I said, but in the field, you do exactly the same postures. And we have a beautiful poster, where what you're doing in gardening is a yoga of the earth for the earth.”
More and more, movements are taking into account the ways in which our bodies, traumas, and nervous systems are impacted by systems of power and also the ways in which we must accommodate those various embodiments in our struggle. I am not convinced that more people living in precarious conditions will be better for getting us closer to free. I do think it behooves us, though, to consider what we want and need to support comfort and nervous system regulation, and to consider the levels of harm it does or doesn’t create. What does it mean to give ourselves permission to consume for comfort and pleasure, when consumption is not sustainable to keeping the planet alive? What if we could find comfort and pleasure from things that also contribute to ecological thriving, not threaten it?
This letter feels more like an invitation than an argument. I don’t know how much is enough. I don’t know if I should live more simply in order to give to every single Venmo request I stumble across if it means my nervous system will be fucked again. I don’t know if I’m using that as an excuse.
Here is a very incomplete list of links from folks who have been thinking through similar things:
I was working on this draft before I saw Alicia Kennedy’s essay on lifestyle journalism, but it was so synchronous and I really appreciate her thinking around this topic, especially as it relates to land and food!
Dean Spade’s older but relevant project, Enough Enough.
Resource Generation feels a little too non-profity to me sometimes, but they still have some good things to say.
Yes Magazine’s issue on How Much Is Enough?
My reflections on mutual aid which address some of this from a slightly different angle.
No pretty closing line today, just an invitation. I’d love to know your thoughts on these questions: What is enough? Where is the line? (Seriously, hit reply, I’d love to engage).
love & solidarity,
raechel
I don’t think there’s a definitive line of what is enough vs what is too much. For some people *cough* the 10% *cough* the most valuable asset IS their money. Directing those funds to grassroots efforts in their local communities is where they might have the biggest impact, because their basic survival needs won’t take a hit.
The rest of us have debt. Or caretaking responsibilities. Or a lack of insurance. Or any number of things that add up over time to us being one emergency away from utter ruin. When I think of what level of money would make me feel safe, I don’t think of a specific amount. I think that I’d like to turn my phone off for a month and not have to worry that my family needs to call me for emergency money. I think I’d like to be able to slip on the sidewalk and crack a tooth and *not* fear my life being forever ruined by the medical costs or the pain. I want to have actual savings lmao and I am nowhere near financial security, real or imagined.
Also I’ll drop this very very short little thought exercise from Current Affairs: https://www.currentaffairs.org/2017/01/for-a-luxury-leftism
Life on this world has been so miserable for so many for so long. What is the point if we are not fighting for every person to enjoy decadence and feel joy?
I give away a percentage of my income every month because that feels easiest to me, and it goes up when my income goes up. When I get bigger checks, I put half in savings, keep a quarter and usually give a quarter unless I myself am backed up on bills.I usually share the ask post when I give, and ask followers to match me since I do have a platform.
I also DO look for cheap or free pleasures and ways to regulate in part because of income fluctuation and sometimes thats the only way, and sometimes so I have more to give. But I agree with your friend- femme guilt is higher over these things. You not being able to regulate your nervous system doesn't help someone else regulate theirs necessarily, and you not having any fun just completely deprives you of life and energy so you have less fight and power to offer.