My radicalization was as unremarkable as my lived experience, or lack thereof. I and my family all work for a living but we have been lucky to be reasonably comfortable. Gradually went down the leftist pipeline, first as a left-liberal, then demsoc, before I read Marx and realized that the obvious problems with society are not due to campaign finance or electoralism or individual bad actors.

So I’m in the awkward, probably common, position of being a leftist without any immediate “need” to be, outside of an awareness of the fragility of my own position. While I’m comfortable now, it would not take much to put me on the streets. This is further strengthened in interacting with leftists, befriending people who are genuinely screwed by capitalism, and hearing perspectives I have not lived.

I try hard to listen to others experiences, not to prioritize my experience above theirs which is common for Western leftists. It has been a process to hold my tongue, to realize that my initial idea of how things work is from a middle class perspective. The last few years especially have opened my eyes to significance of imperialism in propping up my Western standard of living, whereas before I was focused more exclusively on domestic exploitation.