I Didn’t See a Place For Me in Politics Until This Pandemic

Unlike most of my generation, I’ve been apathetic towards politics for years. It’s not that I didn’t care: I just didn’t see a place for me. When I looked at the House of Lords, I saw an archaic system. The House of Commons didn’t seem common. I even felt uncomfortable on Twitter among my peers. Each political form seemed dangerously black-and-white, with no space to think for myself. 

Growing up, I internalised the expectation that I was left-leaning due to my age and appearance, but in all honesty, I still hadn’t figured out where I belonged. However, when the government announced that schools were going to close due to the coronavirus outbreak last March, my outlook began to change.

For weeks, all my friends and I spoke about were the new restrictions. We wondered if the police would start patrolling the streets, arresting anyone caught breaking the new rules. We avoided studying and took solace in new routines – aka, surfing the internet and discussing the pandemic on Houseparty.

Many young people like me had never really felt part of the media narrative surrounding our politicised generation – but the combination of free time and sense of unity under COVID-19 meant that my friends and I were open to discussions about what could be done to improve the situation we found ourselves in. COVID brought us together but this was only the beginning.

By spring, George Floyd had been killed by police in Minneapolis and the video of his murder sparked protests across the world. I missed the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests due to my age, so 2020 struck me as a chance to make real change. Things felt different this time round: People wanted to educate, donate and participate. 

But disparities quickly developed between wacktivists and activists. Celebrities and businesses started to post statements regarding their stances on racism and social media became a sea of black squares on #blackouttuesday. It became difficult to decipher who really cared about Black issues. Slowly, that same uncomfortable feeling I had about politics crept back in.

I initially questioned my own commitment when I opted out of performative displays of solidarity on social media. I needed time to process my thoughts rather than blindly following the influence of external pressures. If you don’t post about an issue, people can assume you don’t care. But being aware means more than being consumed by Instagram. Plus, I wanted to be more than aware. I wanted to be active.

Our generation uses social media to stay informed, but it’s also a tool to encourage people to sign petitions and organise protests. Our increased reliance on the internet has played into our hands as digital natives and I felt emboldened seeing many of my friends use it as a springboard to take action.

A recent National Student Union poll showed that 52 percent of students have become more politicised as a result of the pandemic. Whether it’s been the A Level results protests or university rent strikes, we have articulated our frustrations in spite of restrictions. In response to an algorithm that downgraded many students and the inadequate response from the government, I saw my peers take to the streets – proving that things are worth fighting for, even with social distancing rules. 

Despite the uncertainty we faced, we spoke out and ultimately achieved a result. Though the U-turn didn’t produce the desired results for everyone, it felt like validation of our efforts. Our voices mattered and for the first time, it felt like I could influence policy simply by turning up and speaking out. I no longer saw politics as a polarity between different sides but as something more positive. 

Gen Z has been famous for activists. People like Greta Thunberg and Emma Gonzalez. They showed that the issues they fought for were more important than their age and they brought generations across the globe together. But I couldn’t relate to my extremely active peers. Whatever the problem was, the world kept spinning. That all changed when the world stood still last March. 

The House of Commons still isn’t common. But there are common people involved in politics – they are the students, the voters, the citizens, who all wake up, shit and get dressed each day. I’ve realised we all have the opportunity to find our place in politics and make a difference. It just took a pandemic for me to see that. 

@XaymacaLDN