A Personal Look at Wokeness, Conservatism, and the Fight for Equality
"Woke" generally refers to an awareness of social injustices, including systemic racism, sexism, and inequality. Being woke often involves supporting diversity, LGBTQ+ rights, and policies aimed at reducing discrimination. For me, these issues are deeply personal. In a previous post, I wrote about the many gay people in my family, including my late father and brother. Looking at my family’s history, I can see how being gay has been a recurring theme across generations. I have no doubt that a person is born gay.
I know this is a controversial topic, and I’ve struggled in my own life, feeling misunderstood when I tried to explain this belief. But as time has passed, we find ourselves in a very different climate. Today, I often wish that my late gay loved ones could have experienced being out of the closet, living freely as their true selves.
Many of us who share these views are grappling with the global challenges brought on by newly elected leaders like President Trump, whose views on these matters contradict what we, as woke individuals, hold dear. What we’ve fought for now feels threatened.
Conservatives often emphasize tradition, personal responsibility, and skepticism toward social change. They value maintaining established institutions and moral order. To them, "wokeness" can feel like a threat to traditional norms or free speech, often associating it with radical cultural shifts they disagree with.
On the other hand, those of us who are so-called “woke” may sometimes misunderstand conservatism, overreacting by seeing conservatives as resistant to progress, unable to see beyond their point of view, and unwilling to listen.
We need to agree to disagree, find common ground, and cultivate a mutual desire for fairness and societal well-being—even if our methods or views differ. It’s important to engage respectfully, listen to different perspectives, and make space for everyone, even if their views make us uncomfortable. Difference has always been central to the human story, with the more powerful often lording over minorities or those seen as “other.”
Back when I was doing my master’s in art, I came across Derrida’s idea of différance, and it really stuck with me. He basically played with the French word for “difference” to show how meaning is never fixed—it’s always shifting, always postponed. In French, this works well because words only make sense in relation to other words. Something is what it is because it’s not something else.
But Derrida takes it further. He points out that our emotions, our perspectives, and even the way we interpret things are always changing. The way you read a book today won’t be the same as how you read it next year—or even tomorrow. Meaning is never final; it’s always evolving.
To me, différance feels more like a process than a definition. It’s the act of constantly making sense of differences, never landing on a single, unchanging meaning. Derrida wants us to see that things aren’t black-and-white; everything is in motion.
And with difference comes the need to deconstruct and rebuild our understanding of the world. That process isn’t instant—it takes time, patience, and openness. But making space for différance—for different perspectives and ongoing change—is what allows us to grow.
