Justice & Reform — Just Do The Right Damn Thing

Recently, I wrote a rather divisive piece about how Martin Shkreli is not the illness, but a symptom, a small cog in a large machine that screws us, one and all. I wrote it because I’ve seen the self-perpetuating cycle of hate and vitriol towards him spin up to epic proportions since December, and I believe we have our focus on the wrong thing.

I wrote it because in the grand scheme of the problems with Big Pharma, Martin Shrkreli is irrelevant. He wants you upset, like John Doe in Se7en; if you kill him, he wins.

I wrote it because I’ve lived the hell of our healthcare and pharma industries first-hand for my whole life.

I wrote it because my mother has multiple sclerosis, and my father’s kidneys failed the year I was born.

I wrote it because they’ve both almost died time and time again, from internal bleeding to falling down stairs to being given the wrong medicine in the hospital to I could continue but this is already depressing enough. They almost died and got charged through the fucking nose for it.

I wrote it because I, as a stupid kid, took my father’s illness and problems with medical bills onto myself, and carried that load so long and so far that it helped break me. I didn’t know any better. I still don’t, to an extent.

I wrote it because humor is how I cope with the ugliness of the world.

I wrote it because my story isn’t unique. It’s not even the worst you’ll hear.

I wrote it because the hatred and anger and confusion I feel, and others feel with the system, will eat us alive if we allow it to fester, because we’ll die before it gets us anywhere.

I wrote it because the only way to live through that darkness is to take all that negativity and put it back out into the world as positivity. I believe that with all my heart. I have to. I have to, or else I’ll die.

Hence, social justice. Hence, political reform. Hence, fixing our broken healthcare system (and Congress) to make them work for the people. Hence, there are so many better ways to spend your time and energy than hating Martin Shkreli.

Activism is Played Out

This site (GorillaRadio.tv) followed me and retweeted/liked my story on Shkreli. I was curious about them, so I went to their site. The opinions could not differ more than my own, but I thought, hey, that’s perfect. We disagree strongly. If I write for them, perhaps we can open a dialogue between our two ideologies and maybe make some progress on, if nothing else, how we address those with such opposing views. Maybe I’m naive, but I wanted to try.

They silently unfollowed me and didn’t say another word. ‘Odd,’ I thought. This does not bother me in and of itself (plus, I’m new to Twitter, maybe it was an accident?), but they did a complete 180 and dropped an absolute gem on me:

I was floored. Absolutely floored. I know I shouldnt’ve been, but I was. I think they finally took the time to read my work, instead of just retweeting a comment I made about Congress. Who would’ve thought?

If the phrase ‘social justice’, or any derivative, irks you (how was your last Men’s Rights rally?), what it really boils down to is ‘don’t be a dick’. Actually, we can make it even simpler than that: if you have to stop and ask yourself, ‘is this a dick move?’, it probably is, and you should rethink your course of action. Those are the words I try to live my life by.

Believing you can make a difference will never be ‘out’. Fighting to have your voice heard will never be ‘out’. Not lying down in the face of these odds will never be ‘out’. Think of the people who’ve truly made a difference in this world. For every one, there’s a million who laughed at them, ridiculed them, or told them that there’s nothing they could do.

The problem with working to make a difference and change the world isn’t that it’s impossible, it’s that we believe it’s impossible, and we opt out of trying. However, examples in the world of the ‘impossible’ coming true are everywhere.

In my lifetime, I thought a black president was ‘impossible’.

In my lifetime, I thought frank, positive discussions on mental health were ‘impossible’.

In my lifetime, I thought people with AIDS and sex workers having a voice (loud, powerful, resonant, beautiful voices) was ‘impossible’.

I truly believe ‘impossible’ to be a temporary obstacle, but only if more of us rise to the occasion. We’ve done it before, and we can do it again. Big Pharma makes money hand over fist wrapped around your throat, and we need to change targets.

Take your anger and turn it towards bringing a little hope. Turn it towards holding companies and politicians accountable. Turn it towards believing in your ability to effect change, even if just on a local level. Turn it towards the positive. Turn it towards justice.

Yes, the social kind.

Anthony Walker writes for CROSSING GENRES, an alternative literary magazine with a strong social justice vibe, that features poetics, free flow narrative, creative nonfiction, flash fiction, op/ed, and more.

You can find him on Twitter at themightyarelex, or e-mail at lawalkerv@gmail.com.