Craft of Writing Portfolio

Jade Lee
Part 2: Discursive – “Grief in 2021”

My first interest in the world began when I asked my mother why banks could not just make more
money and give it to all the poor people who needed it. She replied by explaining the concept of
inflation – if we printed more money into the economy, the price of everything would increase
altogether. I don’t recall my 12-year-old self fully comprehending the answer, but my curiosity for
worldly issues grew from thereon.
Whenever I ran into a troubling concept in economics, politics or history, my mother would be the
first person I asked. From the Great Depression, the housing cycle, the conflict between Israel and
Palestine, communism in Cuba, the Global Financial crisis, the war in Libya, or the tension in the
South China Sea, my mother had an answer to almost every question I asked.
From when I was a young child, I relied upon my mother to give me an answer. She could extract
information from the depths of her brain to satisfy any query that I had. Over the years, whenever I
asked her a question, I tried to poke holes in the answer, in a backwards way of solidifying her
response within my mind. While my mother always gracefully replied to my questions, no matter how
ridiculous they were, it built up an unfortunate habit in myself.
Playing devil’s advocate became a natural function for me. Before forming my own impassioned
opinion, I began to prod at others’. If people claimed that abortion is a right, or climate change is a
significant issue, I would venture to argue the opposite. I began to argue for an opinion that wasn’t
truly my own. But in reality, I had no real opinion. Untethered to either side of a debate, I was like a
floating speck of dust without any real thoughts or passion. Whichever direction the wind would
blow, I would float and struggle against it. And that was the extent of my political opinions.
In time, I began creating some conflicts when I discussed controversial topics with my peers.
Amongst several debates, I was reduced to being simply argumentative and ignorant by disagreeing
with the opinions around me. Many people are driven with the desire to ‘change the world’ or
whatnot, and guided with the belief that they will have a sliver of impact on the world around them. I
hold the same sentiment while thinking about my own futile actions. The interactions people make
every day are powerful. And yet powerful to what extent? Change becomes limited when people
avoid confrontation. I pursued the mentality that there was a purpose behind my disputes, and a logic
to my disagreeableness.
But I have become tired of confrontation. Most of us are too busy to truly care about problems foreign
to our own realities. What little we know of all the other people, countries, societies, and cultures
other than ourselves is so limited and misconstrued. What’s the point in arguing about geopolitics in
Africa or genocide in Asia, a world away from my own uneventful and unimpactful life?
Strife is all around us already. In the media we consume every day, there is a plethora of voices,
equally as loud as the other, that demands us to listen, berates us to feel sympathy, educates us on
facts upon “facts”. It has become easy to distort information, and the media itself is no longer
representative of the opinions of the people, and more a representation of which opinions are better
funded. The depiction of grief in media and confrontational news continuously enthrals the consumer
while condemning them to a cyclical consumption of trauma. Social media makes it so easy to post
stylised infographics on the sufferings of *input third-world country here* without doing anything
much else. The viewer feels joy, either from the knowledge that their own situation is unlike the
sufferings displayed on their crafted forms of media, or from self-fulfilled virtue signalling to coddle
themselves into thinking that they have done some good for the world. The complexities of a human
are reduced to character limits, refined images and filtered clips. Suffering is simultaneously
surrounding us, and at the same time, plaguing somewhere far away from our own realities. While I
feel that mundane conversation is limiting and unimpactful, these issues drive a passion within me
and a desire towards some sort of betterment. Now conflict exists outside of and within me, as I
neither conduct any helpful action, nor provide less cynicism than the media circus of grief.
I have a funny feeling that I am not alone with feelings of displeasure derived from the media. My
mother, for one, could often be found most nights with her eyes glued to the television. On display
was not your typical reality show, or cooking program, gardening special or romantic drama. What
played every night was the daily news, or perhaps a discussion panel, or an independent journalist
presenting information from around the globe. And following those programs, it was not uncommon
to hear scoffs and loud remarks from my mother like “Are you kidding me!” directed at the television.
The media is adept at creating intense feelings, of anger, grief, sorrow, passion and rage. The problem
of what to do with these emotions becomes its own conflict within individuals, and internally I tussle
with the idea to reach no answer. Misguided passion ignited by vindicative fury does little good. And
yet keeping silent amidst societal and global turbulence fuels the prevalence of further anarchy.
Between myself and I, we debate over debating against society and everyone else. While a constraint
of discourse is alarming, an abundance of discourse is draining. Conflict begets conflict. I’m thinking
in circles.
So, what’s there to do now? My interest in the world has only grown since childhood. My role in
society has arguably gained more importance, but I am one amongst billions. We all coexist within
this fluctuating technological society. When we are surrounded by social media all the time, we
become exposed to extremes. It only takes a few hundred or maybe even twenty comments and it
seems like the whole world seems to be going crazy.
Will politics and grief continue to be intertwined? Conceivably so. With the existence of passion, one
can never escape grief. Between silencing my own voice, and choosing when to use it, there exists
adversity among confusion. The same naivete in my childhood self will inevitably be reciprocated as I
look back upon the past in due time. And thus, the desire that generates grief will decidedly contrast
the joy that results from one’s attempt to make their imprint on the world.

Word count: 1109