An Open Letter on Emotional Labour in a Capitalist Society
This summer, I am attending a series of different Pride events throughout Southwestern Ontario. For each event, I bring a small shop containing buttons, pins, stickers, and mini Pride flags, all of which are for sale – along with copies of my book, A Pocket Guide to Pronouns. I also give out my business cards and information about the various educational programming I offer.
Yesterday, I attended Niagara Pride (hosted in St. Catharines’). Overall, it was a wonderful event (as Pride events typically are) – I had the chance to network with many other amazing vendors and organizations. It was fabulous to see people dressed in their Pride gear and enjoying celebrating with our community.
However, I did have one person come up to me early on in the event – we will call this person “J” (in the interest of not making assumptions around pronouns). After “J” spotted my book and asked about it, I gave a short spiel explaining what is in the book. When “J” found out that I was charging for my book, “J” looked rather offended, and said: “Why are you charging money? It’s an educational resource – you should be giving it to people for free. Don’t you want people to learn?”
I had to take a moment to squash down my anger and frustration before I calmly replied: “Well, queer and trans people have to make a living too.”
“J” and I went back and forth for another minute or so before “J” left, evidently displeased that I was not giving things (including my book) out for free.
This interaction is still sticking with me, because it is not the first (or last) time I have had this interaction. A few months ago, someone wanted to know where the proceeds from the sales of my book go – the sarcastic part of my brain wanted to respond with “my groceries”. I am friends with several other entrepreneurs and owners of small businesses (many of whom are queer, trans, disabled, and/or BIPOC) – each of these individuals have expressed similar frustration and experiences with would-be customers and community members seeming to be angry at the thought of us making a profit from our work.
Before I go into this next part, I want to first acknowledge that I come from a fairly privileged background. I am confident that, if I were ever in dire financial hardship, I would have the necessary support from family and friends to get back on my feet. It is important for me to acknowledge this because this is not the reality for many people, especially those in equity-deserving communities.
With that being said, I am a full-time student who works several part-time and contract jobs throughout the year, with unsteady employment – in addition to my entrepreneurial activities. Technically, I hover right around or just below what is classified as the Ontario poverty line. I have been searching for more steady employment for the last two years. I share all of this not to garner sympathy or concern – but to illustrate a picture of where I am at and why I am forced to make the decisions that I make.
No, my book is not free. For one thing, as any author will tell you, it costs a significant amount just to publish and produce a book – there are costs associated with paying an illustrator, editor, and designer, plus getting everything distributed to bookstores worldwide. Every time that I place an order for a new shipment of books, I do get an author discount – but there is still a cost. Thus, in setting the prices for my books, I had to deduct the base cost to print and ship the book, plus still ensure I make a decent enough profit to not spend the next 10 years earning back the money I spent to bring this book to life.
That is to say nothing of the emotional cost that is involved with producing a book. It takes time, energy, and copious research in order to write a book, alongside countless revisions, feedback from beta readers, and more. For those of us who write more personal books that discuss our lived experience, as I do in A Pocket Guide to Pronouns, there is a certain level of vulnerability and emotion tied to sharing our stories for the world to read.
I would genuinely love to be able to offer this resource for free. I would love to be able to facilitate workshops for free – especially because I understand that many people, especially those in equity-deserving populations, often struggle to access these resources. I would love to be able to donate the proceeds of my book to the charities that I care deeply for. I would love to not have to spend so much time thinking (and sometimes worrying) about money, and how I am going to make a living for myself.
But the reality is that we live in a capitalist system, and at this stage in my life, I cannot do any of these things, because I am still working on earning back my investment into producing A Pocket Guide to Pronouns. I cannot give away buttons or stickers because it costs time and money to actually make these. I cannot offer free educational workshops or training programs because it takes significant time and energy to design the programs, to respond to emails and requests, and to facilitate the programs. Each of these entrepreneurial activities takes time away from other things, preventing me from dedicating more hours in paid regular employment.
More than that, I deserve to be compensated for my time and energy. Why is the onus always on equity-deserving entrepreneurs and educators to donate our time and energy? Why aren’t we asking big-name authors with dozens of highly distributed books where their proceeds are going? Why aren’t we holding big businesses and corporations that profit off of Pride events accountable for feeding into rainbow capitalism by creating Pride products just for June, profiting off the queer community, and refusing to actually show up as allies?
I am CONSTANTLY being an educator. It can be as simple and small as someone asking me what my pronouns mean and how to use these – which probably happens about 95% of the time when I share my pronouns. Other times, people expect me to be a dictionary about all things queer, or they expect me to teach them how to debunk myths and misinformation, or commentate on the latest anti-queer hate crime. Almost never is any consideration given for the emotional labour I constantly engage in by having to share this unique and deeply personal part of myself just for someone else’s education.
And most of the time, I am willing. I am willing to answer a few questions, particularly when I can tell they are from a genuine place of wanting to learn. I am willing to direct people to resources (such as A Pocket Guide to Pronouns and other wonderful books) where they can learn more.
But I’m not going to teach you everything there is to know about the queer community, and I won’t be providing recommendations (formally or informally) for organizations to become more inclusive – not without the appropriate compensation. Would you expect someone to come in and offer de-escalation training (or similar) to your employees without paying them for their time? Would you expect a friend to help you move homes without at least getting them lunch? Would you expect a plumber or electrician to come in and make recommendations on how to address an issue in your home for free?
No – because people recognize the inherent value and necessity of each of those things, and they are willing to put the financial resources behind making this happen. So why don’t we do the same for equity-deserving populations? Our lived experience is an expertise, and we have just as much value to contribute as any big-name author who has written a dozen books, any educator who has hosted hundreds of training programs, and so on. Most of all, we deserve to be compensated (often at a bare minimum) for our time and efforts.
So, to come back to my conversation with “J”. Please do not ask your local entrepreneurs and small businesses if they have any free stuff, or where they are donating the proceeds. If something is free, there’s generally a sign that says “free”. If they are donating somewhere, they generally tell you (or there is a sign). The reality is that, when you ask us these questions, it instills a sense of guilt within us – as though we aren’t doing “enough” to support our community, or that we are somehow unworthy and undeserving of compensation. Meanwhile, most of us are just trying to get by, to exist in a system based on exploitation, and to do the best we can to support our communities through our art and expertise.
A big shout out to all my fellow equity-deserving entrepreneurs, authors, artists, and small businesses! You are doing amazing. Thank you for the work that you do to share yourself and your art/expertise with the world. And yes, you deserve to be compensated for your time and energy.
And finally, a note to everyone – please do your best to support equity-deserving entrepreneurs, authors, artists, and small businesses year round! The money we spend is a vote for the future we want to build. Even little things like getting what you can from a farmers market rather than a big box grocery store, getting a book from an independent bookstore rather than Amazon, and showing up to vendors markets at events such as Pride – these are small, tangible things that make a big difference.
