Folk-politics and cutting my hair
I was reading an article that made me once again think about various critiques directed at folk-politics (see Srnicek and Williams, 2016). Folk-politics (what an interesting choice of name/word! Folk! Why not Human Beings?) refers to everything that is everyday, human-scale, local, simple, horizontal. To various social movements. It's seen as something opposite of planning and the party and, by some, as something that doesn't lead to transformations in society. I disagree with dismissive approaches towards everyday politics of Human Beings. I strongly believe in human goodness, human agency and our everyday practices. I believe that humans are inherently capable of love, creativity, empathy, solidarity, right action, (un)learning, self-transcendence. I see very few actions coming from the state to bring about genuine sustainability, but multiple actions coming from the civil society, from fellow humans, from various movements (voluntary simplicity, slow living, zero-waste and so on). Oftentimes fellow humans within academia say that the Everyday Politics of Human Beings doesn't have a concrete strategy. But neither do political parties and groups of experts/academics seem to have strategies to deeply transform our society. Somehow, it also feels narcissistic to claim to strategise. It feels wonderful to empower human beings to act in their everyday life, to learn about their existing everyday actions and desires, what constrains and empowers them, to be inspired by others and their stories. This is not to say that actions of the state (e.g., regulations and policies) don't matter. They matter, and so do actions from businesses and other organisations.
Like others, I am a political being. I do not think that my engagement with politics should be reduced to understanding the political landscape of the country where I live, of my region, and voting well. I see everything that I do as a political act, an act of everyday activism. Practising extreme minimalism (slow living, simple living, zero-waste) and non-hierarchy within academia is a political choice. I believe that if more fellow humans saw their life (including their work) as inherently political, they would make better choices and decisions. Everyday activism doesn't have to be exhausting. In my experience, it is joyful and empowering, as it gives me a feeling that I am doing something (obviously small-scale, but still something).
In my view, even the act of cutting hair (or growing it out) is an act of activism. Perhaps those fellow humans who advocate the party would find it laughable, but I don't.
I've been growing out a buzzcut for almost two years. I shaved my hair when I was going through a challenging situation in my life. It felt freeing to cut it. It also felt empowering, as I said goodbye, for a while, to something that is seen as such an important symbol of femininity in our society. The hair has grown out over these two years. I noticed that it was taking a long time to wash and to dry. I was using more water than I was comfortable with. The hair was more challenging to brush, while I wanted my hair to be in line with my simple and slow living. I didn't want to invite more products into my life to make my curly hair more manageable. So I decided to cut it. I've cut my hair myself many times in my life, but this time I was not ready to do it. I had no suitable scissors, and the hair was an awkward length after growing out. I asked my partner to cut it, but for similar reasons he refused. I went to see a fellow human who cut my hair. The new length works so well with my principles of sustainable living. My hair dries faster. I don't need to use any extra products to brush it. I don't dye, style, blow dry, or condition my hair. Most of the time, I wash it with water, and at times with shampoo. The best water for my hair is rain water. It was wonderful to use rainwater on holidays in Bornholm. I didn't collect it. I just washed my hair in the rain.
Reference
Srnicek, N. and Williams, A. (2016) Inventing the future: Postcapitalism and a world without work. Verso: London.