Written by Jarrod Fouts, contributor.
“I don’t care.” It’s a nice sentiment isn’t it? I mean, really. Those three words seem to evoke a type of newfound nirvana amongst the apathetic/nihilistic/whatever-istic youth and general populace of today’s world. As if saying, texting or typing it after a hashtag causes one to transcend time and space itself, then come to a harmonious inner peace that not even the most dedicated monks can achieve after decades of persistent meditation. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bashing the phrase itself. It can be a good thing to say, liberating even. If someone disagrees with you, your choice of clothing, your lifestyle, the music you like, who you choose to love, etc. It can be a great thing to laugh it off and say that you don’t care and let them know that what they say or think doesn’t matter to you because you are happy as a unique sentient being in your Elton John-esque shades with your chihuahua in miniature matching shades.
What we’re not taking into consideration is the weight these words carry. It’s been said time and time again (and is a tired cliche which my writing professors would probably want to strangle me for if they knew I used it), but the sad truth is: words hurt. Words can be weapons and saying you don’t care can be the equivalent of a nuke.
Think about it for a moment. What are we truly saying when we say that we just don’t care? We’re saying we are willfully ignorant. As in we recognize the possible problem, but choose to be ignorant to it for our own often ridiculous reasons. Imagine if your neighbor found out they had a disease and that it was easily treatable, but that neighbor decides against treatment. The neighbor doesn’t even try some crazy holistic method with lots of tea drinking and strange herbs the names of which you can’t pronounce, they just let it sit and grow until it consumes them. That would be crazy, right? Heartbreaking? Well, that’s what being willfully ignorant and saying we don’t care is.
When we say we don’t care, we’re saying we don’t give a flying frog’s hair about the thousands of people who are being ravaged by Ebola in Liberia and other countries. We are voluntarily, nonchalantly saying we don’t care about them or their families, or their hopes or their dreams, we don’t care about their humanity compared to our own. We’re saying we don’t care that people a block away from us on the street are starving, sick, brittle and weak. We’re saying that though we have the power to change it, we won’t, because we just don’t care. We’re saying we don’t care about women’s rights, violence, war, the state of our own country or the living, breathing, thinking and dreaming beings standing right next to us.
Again, I’m not bashing the phrase. God knows I’ve screeched it many times myself and encouraged others to do the same. It can be a wonderful and liberating experience. I do however, think we should be a little more considerate in our use of those three words. And maybe, just maybe in some instances, decide to care. Maybe even care too much.