#white saviour complex

*thanks to them, the second and third days of the festival were cancelled.

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22 July 2023 x

And good on Kid Laroi for performing at his hotel after his show at the festival was cancelled.

When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a doctor or a veterinarian. I wanted to help heal. And even as a small child, it felt like my calling.

Most kids dream of becoming a hero. The firefighters, the builders, the astronauts. The one’s who get medals and standing ovations. There’s many very monetarily successful movies and comics about all the superheroes we dream of. The people we want to save us. At one point, I thought I could be a hero. I wanted to be.

Being a hero wasn’t an issue for me though. People started to notice acts of kindness in me, and when they held that in high regard, I did too. I did everything I could to help others. It came naturally.

I bandaged my siblings and pets and strangers up. I gave advice like a wise old man, my aunt thanked me for helping her to leave her abusive husband when I was 8. I saved two people from drowning when I was 10. I talked friends out of suicide a dozen times. I became a street medic. I have saved dozens of lives, often under extraordinary circumstances. By definition, I fit the one for ‘hero’.

And I have so many issues with it. This isn’t a humble brag.

I genuinely think that we, as a society, put certain people on pedestals that shouldn’t be. I don’t think anyone should be. The hierarchy of heroes is inequitable and unrealistic. I think we should do the right thing because it’s the right thing, not to win an award or a badge of honor.

I see headlines all the time that are just ‘hero firefighter does their job!’. They’re paid to do this, of course they’re going to do it. As an abolitionist, I see cops hailed as heroes, usually for doing the objectively right thing, and it seems to magically erase the realities of what they do, the systemic harm they perpetuate. It’s the entirety of the ‘there’s some good cops’ narrative. And it causes great detriment to our communities because it makes it seem like the police do more good than bad.

Society particularly loves to paint white, cishet, abled, rich, educated, affluent men as heroes. The ones who can save us. Our hero.

And yet we ignore the people who are saving lives left and right, like people who use drugs who Narcan their friends. Or trans youth who stay up all night with their suicidal friends. Or the street medics who set up civilian ambulances for their under-served and neglected communities.

No one’s giving them medals.

Beyond that, people aren’t checking in on heroes. I’ve heard “you’re incredible!” and “thank you” a million times, but rarely do people genuinely check in on me after I’ve rescued someone.

And I usually need it. I’m at my worst mentally and usually physically after a rescue. It often takes months or years to process those events— they are traumatic for the rescuer too. Especially those of us without formal training or those of us who have attempted to rescue someone and lost them. We’re left to drift among all of these confusing and conflicting emotions, sometimes never understanding why.

The worst thing I hear: “I could NEVER do what you did”. It breaks me apart every time.

I don’t want to be doing this alone. I don’t want to have to save people over and over. I can’t save everyone.

I have to repeat that last one like a mantra sometimes.

I can’t save everyone. And so often, I still try to. I jump in without thinking. I throw myself into danger and worry about myself last, or, never. And it usually ends with me being seriously injured.

When I’d bandage up my siblings and pets it was after our parents hit us. I stepped in front of them as often as I could. I swallowed so much water while trying to save someone from drowning because they kept pulling me under that I puked. My 20-something-year-old boyfriend I dated when I was 16 stabbed me with the knife I had just talked him out of cutting himself with. He went on to keep caving my face in and choking me until I was blue. And of course, I’ve been seriously injured dozens of times during rescues. My body physically hurts so much afterwards, let alone the emotional toll.

I have to wonder: What would happen if I didn’t step in? Would it be so bad?

But of course, my brain always answers with a thousand of the worst case scenarios— or, just with what happened anyways. Sometimes people die no matter how much you try to fight to save them. And that has to just be what it is.

I think sometimes people live, and that just has to be what it is too.

But when we ascribe people as heroes, the message we send is that some people are heroes, some people aren’t. And I feel so strongly that this isn’t true. I believe that everyone has the capacity to help others, and so often, they do so in seemingly insignificant ways, and their deeds are not recognized.

Small acts of kindness are never small.

Life saving happens in everyday, ordinary ways. Sometimes what has saved my life has been something the other person will never remember or know. The Christmas cards from the elementary schoolers sent to the homeless shelter I lived at. The partners and friends who sat with me until I was safe on my own. My friends who held my hand as my heart beat dangerously fast, their presence being all I could feel, replacing the tightness in my chest. My cat cuddling me, purring until she snores. Strangers holding doors, strangers carrying my groceries, strangers checking on me. The dozens of items from my Amazon wishlists that have kept me alive.

I wish I could say how thankful I am to the community that’s kept me alive. How every time they’ve called me a hero, it’s because they made me possible. That they’re a hero just as much as I am.

I read ‘Mutual Aid: Building Solidarity During This Crisis (And The Next)’ by Dean Spade recently. In it, Dean describes “leader-less and leader-full” movements. It’s exactly what we need in the world. Hero-less and hero-full communities. We don’t need a select few— we need communities and societies structured around giving care. We need it to be standard, not extraordinary.

Personal responsibility can lead to community responsibility. We could have thriving, beautiful communities where we all care for each other so fully that no one single person is a savior, because we are all uplifted equitably.

I urge everyone I know to be more like the heroes they uplift. To think about what values they hold in high regard in others and to apply them to their own actions. To be what they already are, and acknowledge it.

How This Film Erased Asian-Americans From Their Own Story, May 1, 2023

Remember 1989’s True Believer, starring James Woods and Robert Downey, Jr.? A prime example of Hollywood’s longstanding White Savior Complex? Dolly Li examines how the flick centered a white lawyer in a story based on Chol Soo Lee’s arrest. Stream Free Chol Soo Lee now on YouTube or the PBS App.

Resources: Free Chol Soo Lee on Independent Lens: https://www.pbs.org/independentlens/documentaries/free-chol-soo-lee/

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