I live in a bubble, and I’m not talking a Coronavirus related bubble. I live in a bubble because I don’t think enough about the world outside my postcode. I live in a bubble because it’s too hard to acknowledge the truth and what to do with it. There’s no way of dressing up what is happening in our world. Here are some cold hard truths at the time of writing:
According to the World Health Organisation’s website, there are about 1.2 billion people in this world who try to live with less than a dollar a day.
I was watching ABC News the other night and in India there are people walking over 200km in order to find food and work. Doing all this without food and water. As I tried to find the statistics on the ABC News website, I eventually found some information on India. In order to find the information on India, I had to scroll past a big photo of Prince Charles and Donald Trump. I had to scroll past news of New York and how big businesses would cope with the saga of having employees working from home. I had to scroll past news of those affected in Australia who stepped off of cruise liners in disgust. And once I finally grew drowsy, skimming through articles of seemingly hotter topics of more important people, I got to the story around India.
According to the UN Women website:
“It is estimated that 35 per cent of women worldwide have experienced either physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence or sexual violence by a non-partner (not including sexual harassment) at some point in their lives.” and “Approximately 15 million adolescent girls (aged 15 to 19) worldwide have experienced forced sex (forced sexual intercourse or other sexual acts) at some point in their life. In the vast majority of countries, adolescent girls are most at risk of forced sex by a current/former husband, partner or boyfriend. Based on data from 30 countries, only one per cent ever sought professional help”
This is only a little drop of what is going on in the world. And frankly, I don’t really know a lot about these situations. I hide myself from these truths because it seems overwhelming. I get guilt. I don’t appreciate the sadness it brings to my day.
But it’s not fair. I’m not being fair to other human beings around the world. It seems silly what I worry about. It is ridiculous that I can grumble. Why don’t I have gratitude for all I have? Why do I read so many celebrity gossip news feeds, but scroll past the news articles on poverty and abuse? I think I partly know why. Part of me doesn’t want to interrupt my seemingly happy day. Part of me doesn’t have much understanding about refugees. Part of me has heard flippant comments. Part of me has thought that it’s beyond my capacity, both my mental ability and my financial generosity.
But that is not fair. It’s not enough. I’m not doing enough. I’m not being enough. Real bubbles break soon enough. I hope to break the bubble I’m living in. Getting informed is pivotal to this. With that knowledge I hope that wisdom will form. And through that wisdom may I start to love others on the other side of the world. That won’t make it all of a sudden fair, but I want to give it a fair go.