Shore

🧵let's talk about the politics of solidarity There’s a painful double standard in international human rights advocacy: some people from a region are quickly recognized as dissidents, courageous fighters, and defenders of human rights. While others facing oppression can struggle to be heard at all.

I’ve felt this personally, for more than nine months, I’ve tried to find guidance and amplification for a plight that has stretched over multiple years, too often, the response has been silence. I know my experience is my own, but that silence raises a wider question about who advocacy systems are

🧵let's talk about the politics of solidarity There’s a painful double standard in international human rights advocacy: some people from a region are quickly recognized as dissidents, courageous fighters, and defenders of human rights. While others facing oppression can struggle to be heard at all.

When a man is targeted by a government, his story may fit a familiar script: the brave dissident confronting power. When a woman faces state repression alongside patriarchy, misogyny, or gendered violence, those forces are too often pushed to the margins of the story.

🧵let's talk about the politics of solidarity There’s a painful double standard in international human rights advocacy: some people from a region are quickly recognized as dissidents, courageous fighters, and defenders of human rights. While others facing oppression can struggle to be heard at all.

🧵spent nine months reaching out to int'l orgs for help. Most attempts have ended in silence or rejection, can’t know why, and don’t wanna claim certainty about anyone’s motives. But as I read conversations around Jewish safety here/bsky. I’ve begun to wonder whether some people hear “Jewish” and

people often have a fixed picture of what a victim looks like, when someone doesn’t fit that picture, their suffering can become harder for others to recognize. I can only speak to my own experience, but I’ve felt painfully out of place in the stories people seem ready to believe.

🧵spent nine months reaching out to int'l orgs for help. Most attempts have ended in silence or rejection, can’t know why, and don’t wanna claim certainty about anyone’s motives. But as I read conversations around Jewish safety here/bsky. I’ve begun to wonder whether some people hear “Jewish” and

and assume: she must be safe; it can’t be that bad; the Jewish diaspora will take care of her, maybe that isn’t what happened in my case. It’s a fear I’m trying to make sense of as I observe online discourse around Jewish safety. Bc Jews have found safety elsewhere, someone like me can disappear

too many western feminist spaces still fail woc especially those in the Global South. women are fighting misogyny and violence in hostile environments, often with little local support, while organizations that claim to stand with women are nowhere to be found or minimize what they’re facing.

too many western feminist spaces still fail woc especially those in the Global South. women are fighting misogyny and violence in hostile environments, often with little local support, while organizations that claim to stand with women are nowhere to be found or minimize what they’re facing.

this is not an argument against solidarity, nor a claim that every organization or individual behaves the same way. It comes from lived experience, from watching woc struggle to find support, and from seeing their accounts of harm treated as complicated, inconvenient, or somehow less urgent.

🧵I find myself asking whether my identity has made my situation harder for others to recognize. I have tried to find guidance beyond my immediate surroundings, including from organizations that speak publicly about protecting women, girls, LGBTQ+ and persecuted people. Mostly received is SILENCE.

A few responses have arrived wrapped in polite language, but offered vague reasons and no meaningful path forward. I have been left feeling unseen, unsupported, and pushed outside the very spaces I hoped might help. But, why?