Safe (and Other Antonyms)

by Miles Brokenleg

In modern day society, the notion of "safe" and "safety" emerge as fundamental determinants of ones success. Antonyms of "safe", including security, fear, risk, and danger contribute just as much to what constitutes "safety" as its conventional definition. In broad implications, safety serves as a looking glass through which one may analyze and critique global and social trends which are inherently tied to broader issues, such as race, sexuality, and socioeconomic status. In the end, safety emerges as a commodity which is unequally parceled out across the tiers of what constitutes the socio economic pyramid. However, safety can also become a rallying cry. These marginalized groups among the lower levels of the pyriamid to which safety is distributed may lobby for their own safety, utilizing their rights to take back spaces and make change that benefits their cause. Safety is an incredibly complex word, with a multitude of connotations which are framed as much by their direct definitions as well as those which frame the opposite.

Safe structures or systems are some of the gifts that modern day society affords its constituents. Hospitals, for example, are places where recovery, healing, and protection are at the forefront of its construction. However, to engage and be a part of this structure of safety entails that one is of the correct demographic to assert themselves successfully within this space. In terms of theoretical value, a place such as a hospital should afford equal treatment to all of its patients, regardless of their socio economic or minority status. These marginalized groups, whether racial, ethnic, religious, or those simply experiencing poverty have a very different perspective when asked “what does a hospital symbolize to you?”. Because of their status, those who position in the system therefore cradle a meager portion of safety and protection. Hospitals, intended places of healing and protection, are where mistreatment and unequal care, the antithesis of safety, at times runs rampant. [1] In Canada, the story of Ms Joyce Echaquan (Atikamekw) is one which encapsulates this mistreatment. This indigenous woman, a 37 year old mother of 7 was “seeking medical assistance for acute abdominal pain…that she started experiencing the day before. [Ms Joyce Echaquan] was quickly stereotyped…as a drug addict and a difficult, noncooperative patient.” On top of this, ”her pleas for help were essentially ignored.…in the moments before she died from heart failure with pulmonary edema, Echaquan video-captured racist and degrading comments from healthcare workers…powerfully broadcasting to the world the prejudicial treatment experienced by Indigenous people in the healthcare system.” (Tremblay). Ms Echaquan is just one of the many victims of systemic racism and discrimination based on her identity. In relation to violence experienced by Indigenous people in their search for proper treatment and care in a hospital setting, COVID-19 was a brutal force which exposed much of the anti-indigenous sentiments manufactured by the healthcare system. This kind of treatment is a byproduct of colonial behaviors, which turn the definition of safety into something else entirely for people of these categories.  Other examples include “Aboriginals and Torres Strait Islanders [being] denied testing…In the USA, Native Americans have been targeted as vectors of the disease and asked to return in their reservation” and in Brazil, “a congressional inquiry committee recommended that President Bolsonaro be charged with genocide and crimes against humanity for his deliberate neglect of Indigenous groups in the context of the pandemic.” (Tremblay). Therefore, for indegnous people, who’s ways are essentially the antithesis of colonial structures, safety through systems such as hospitals is something which does not exist, and can never exist due to its roots set in colonial constructs. Healthcare, therefore, as a word relating to safety, does not translate for indigenous people across the globe. For example, during the COVID-19 epidemic, indigenous families (and other cultures with multi-generational housing) were disproportionately affected due to a cultural difficulty adapting to social distancing and quarantining in the household, which are elements of healthcare that intrude into the household itself.

That which is “safe” matters just as much as that which is not. Risk, defined as something which exposes an individual to danger, is an element of safety which has greater societal implications. Risk is unequally distributed across the social pyramid just as safety is, and the systems that are put in place seek to minimize risk for the top 1% and maximize care and support. Populations which should be kept “safe”, such as pregnant women, show in studies that “a 42-year-old Caucasian woman with… [a] good diet, good lifestyle and physical activity…would be automatically categorized in a high-risk group.” while a “young black woman, aged 23 years old, spontaneous conception, poor diet, poor lifestyle, no physical activity, with a body mass index of 33, would be categorized as low risk.” (Hajjaj) further illustrating the fact that definitions and qualifications for care are able to be strained and stretched to fit the needs of the more fortunate and privileged groups. For those who do not fit the criteria of these groups, indexes and colonial ways of measuring health are interpreted in very different ways. Unfair categorization is not the end of the road in terms of risk of mistreatment for these groups in health related fields. Marion Sims, a historically celebrated gynecologist, was responsible for operating on non-consenting “black slave women in order to “return them to work rather than…the intention to heal them”. (Hajjaj) In addition to these already abusive procedures, these women “were [not] provided with any form of analgesia while these experiments took place.” (Hajjaj) Of a similar vein in more recent times, studies of “untreated syphilis on black males were conducted without informed consent…while [the men were] being intentionally denied a cure, even once one was identified. The study was projected to be concluded in 6 months, but instead went on for 40 years, into the early 1970s.” (Hajjaj), further illustrating the point of mistreatment of minority groups stemming from individuals meant to heal, help, and care for their patients. For their patients, safety is not something that they would connotate with these individuals (physicians).

In an ideal society, those with the authority and the power would live in a symbiotic relationship with the people that they are meant to protect. The social contract as defined by democratic principles is meant to provide security for both roles in society, where neither party has more power than the other. Nevertheless, people diverge from this idealistic society at what seems to be every chance they can, leading to abuses of power from those who govern. Those who suffer are often the victims of already rampant societal imperfections and systems. On a smaller level, the police are one such body which has at times diverged from its well-intentioned purpose of protecting and providing security. In the United States alone, approximately “1000 people are killed by police each year” with “almost one-third of those killed are Black.” (Mehra, Alspaugh…Sewell). These abuses of power which are disproportionately affecting Black communities are simultaneously engineering a culture of fear and anxiety which stems as far back as childbirth. Mothers, who are meant to be protectors and providers of safety and security themselves, reported “feeling stressed and hurt when their children experienced the hurt of daily racist interactions [23]. Furthermore, both direct and anticipated experiences of racism among their children were major sources of stress, anxiety and sadness, as Black women felt responsible for both protecting their children against racism and preparing them to deal with racism in the future” (Mehra, Alspaugh…Sewell). Obviously, these violent breaches of the social contract established between citizens and law enforcement lead to mistrust and strained relationships with law enforcement in marginalized communities. The police are meant to be a pillar of safety and structure within the societies they are meant to protect, yet this is not the image that many of these groups associate with the police. This, in turn, leads to a vicious cycle of diminishing levels of safety seeing as the structure afforded to most is absent in these scenarios. As one woman of the aforementioned study put it, “[if we] need help…or something like that, we try to take care of it on our own before calling the police, unless it’s an emergency.” (Mehra, Alspaugh…Sewell). However, even in situations which constitute an emergency there may still be a chance for mistreatment by the police, seeing as all parties at play can be caught in the crossfire. Therefore, if they are not meant to protect and provide safety, what are the police there to do?

So, then, if the bodies in charge of governing are unable to regulate safety for all, what is there for marginalized groups to do? One answer is the construction of “safe spaces”. Nevertheless, these spaces have their fair share of strengths and weaknesses, and beg to answer the question “for whom?” is safety procured, and “does it last?”. The term, originally “derives from the 1970s women’s and LGBT movement” where “where like-minded people could meet and share their experiences in a safe environment.” (Flesner). Nowadays, the term is typically utilized by universities and colleges, encouraging a space where “students can speak freely, without being afraid of their peers or their teacher.” (Flesner) the use of the word “afraid” is telling in this scenario, seeing as it alludes to the culture of fear which permeates today’s culture. Arguably, in an ideal world, every space should be safe, and those in positions of social power (whether it be the teacher or other students) should not be tempted to interfere in the free thinking process of the individual. The fact that a “safe space” even needs to be established exposes some of the flaws in today’s society. Critics of the “safe space” mentality instead give the teacher a position of mediator, allowing for children to “manage conflict” and the teacher to “not prohibit it.” (Flesner). Alternative approaches in the classroom to the former are structures such as “classroom civility” which allow for the creation of a learning environment which is both challenging and fair, not saving students from being exposed to real life issues and conflicts. It is argued that a “safe space” is not an attainable environment for minority students, seeing as for these students, “the world outside is not [safe], is not only unrealistic [to create safe spaces], it is dangerous” (Flesner). A “safe” space might be detrimental for some, yet protective of others, yet, this poses the question, for whom is this luxury afforded?

Safety, due to its multifaceted nature, is able to be used as both a weapon and a defense. As seen previously, lobbying for one’s safety is able to prove useful in attempting to make headway on developing a marginalized group’s rights, and fighting against discrimination by creating pockets of safety. However, the dark twin of safety is fear, which can be used as a manipulative measure to influence people and alter their behaviors. One typical means of fear mongering is racialization, where those who are more privileged in the given society (typically white) are manipulated in a way so that they fear the “other”, which encompasses most other racial groups. Racial code is used to connote images and stereotypes to form biases of the targeted party, causing fear and apprehension when exposed with other races besides their own. In Australia, fear of “Black gangs” is just one instance in which the narrative of “white vulnerability’ to ‘Black violence’” is established. (Higgins) The results of this fearmongering and racist profiling are apparant in the fact that “Sudanese-born boys and men…in the state of Victoria…[are] significantly more likely to be arbitrarily stopped by police and/or to report negative or discriminatory treatment by police than Australian-born youth.” (Higgins). In a quote which encapsulates the overall purpose of subjugating this specific racial group, Higgins writes that these behaviors create a “‘moral calculus’ that has actively created vulnerability for one group of people in Australian society so that another might ostensibly be shielded from it (Burke, 2008).” (Higgins) which illustrates how safety, in the form of risk, is able to be manipulated and  distributed at will by certain groups within the societal pyramid. By scapegoating and racially profiling a certain group of people, those toward the top are able to further long standing traditions of discrimination and subjugation while simultaneously stoking fear in privileged (but otherwise normal) people.

The longstanding pursuit of a more just and equitable society is incredibly multifaceted. One simple element within this complicated task is that of safety. Facing issues with power, privilege, racism, and systemic inequality, structures meant to be pillars of safety in one way or another such as hospitals, and the police actually become the opposite, inflicting harm through direct or indirect measures on those who they are meant to protect. So, ultimately, who is meant to receive that which is defined by the conventional meaning of safety and why are they more deserving of it over others? An answer may be gleaned from the system itself, which is broken, just as the definition of safety is broken, fractured into many parts, each with its own interpretation to each person from each different categorical group.