I am a woman belonging to a collective. I am a collectivist. I support collectivism, human to human relationships, versus individualism, in an individualistic society.
Collectivism ~ Personal or social orientation that emphasizes the good of the group, community, or society over and above individual gain.
Individualism ~ encourages individual freedom at the cost of traditional family ties and social cohesion, and stresses individual initiative.
I define myself to be this way because it gives me something to hold on to. Despite understanding that my collective community may be slightly false, at least this definition provides me with people. At least if I fall, I have one person to support me in my crawling path. Maybe, if I stick to my collective community, I will never be alone. Yet, my heart is never at peace understanding the demands of my world.
I do not believe my own faith within collectivism; I do not believe my boasting statements because I know there is a chance I am lying to the other and myself. Had my bonds been real, I would have made it to that paradise by now- the paradise I truly dream of night by night. Often I wonder, why was I suffering among my “people” for so many years? Why did I pack my bags and step over the doorstep and more strongly, why did my people leave me alone? Weeks went by trying to explain myself and yet, they never looked back at my health, mental state, security, or status. As I rambled around in panic trying to make my daily call to them, regardless of where I lived, they began to move on without me. I moved away for my collective’s well being, my well being, and my collective waited for me..
My community waited patiently for me to trip, fall, break down, and say- “I cannot make it anymore. I cannot do this all by myself. I must come back and live by your conditions and your rules. I will cater to you, forgive me.” Rejection after rejection, through intentional neglect, purposeful isolation, they dragged me back within their walls. For the betterment of reputation, typical practices and traditions, and personal preferences, they pulled back a member requiring support in foreign cities to the nest she most suffered within. Wise enough to choose survival, she continues to mold to the “right” way of living- ways of her collective.
I define myself as a collective woman because my entire body, mind, and soul ached when seeing my community suffer. Upon leaving my own, I power-briefed them to minimize pain. From a distance, I observed their growth, lifestyle, and journey. Regardless of where I land, I stay internally connected to those who have formed and sacrificed for my existence.
To live as a collectivist, to live as an individualistic.