Have you ever told me that I’m not allowed to have an opinion on your country because I don’t live there and it doesn’t affect me? Well today is your lucky day. For five minutes I will do just that!

“It’s not your country, so you don’t have the right to get upset or have an opinion about this. It’s not going to affect you.”

This was what I was told the other day when I brought up the subject of the US Supreme Court’s decision to allow companies to refuse to pay for employee’s medicine based on their religious beliefs. At the time I took it to be an inefficient and laughable attempt to close this debate because the person was unable to come up with a counter argument for my point. In the end, we agreed to disagree, and left it at that.

But thinking back on it two days later, I realise the unfortunate implications of this statement, and I’m appalled by them. Well, nobody said I was quick at picking up on this sort of thing, but better late than never I guess.

Thinking about it, this is an argument that I’ve been on the receiving end of a lot. When a good fifty percent of my friends are not resident in the UK (and most of them are indeed, American), it’s inevitable that the subject of our country’s policies comes up eventually. And I like a good debate. I like watching two sides duke it out, either butting heads like furious rhinos, or one side crumbling like a soggy biscuit. But I also like being a part of them. I like getting passionate about my own opinion, and yes, I like the sound of my own voice.

I’ve never liked the “you don’t live here, so therefore you can’t have an opinion” argument, mostly because I always think that if that’s your only defence left to you, then you’ve pretty much lost the fight – it’s like invoking Godwin’s law only with less Nazis. I can see the basis for this argument. It’s very difficult to have a clear view of a country and its make-up when you’re an outsider looking in – heck, being an insider looking in often isn’t enough given how diverse the average culture is and how many levels make up society. There are so many sides to a story that it is impossible to generalise them all into a blueprint of the entire patch of land. I might get very upset as an outsider that American women are having more and more obstacles thrown up in the way of their sexual freedom and health all in the name of religion and freedom to express your belief, but maybe there’s a side to this argument that I’m just not seeing from my privileged position as a judging foreigner.

So let’s pretend that everyone who’s ever said to me that I’m not allowed an opinion on a country that I don’t live in, is correct. For the next five minutes, if it doesn’t affect me or my country, then I’m not allowed to care or have an opinion about it.

I’m not allowed to care that over seven hundred people are dying in West Africa from the worst Ebola outbreak ever recorded. When I think of how many families that are being torn apart as their loved ones are put into a unit of isolation where only ten percent of infected will survive, I’m not allowed to feel sad for the woman crying over her children, or the little boy weeping for his father as he coughs and vomits up blood.

I’m not allowed to care that there are still about two hundred girls between the ages of sixteen and eighteen missing in Nigeria, kidnapped from their school by terrorists while they sat their exams, being sold off at this very moment as wives or sex slaves. I’m not allowed to care about how scared they must all be feeling, and how much despair they must be experiencing as each day goes by with no sight of rescue.

I’m not allowed to care that in a few months a woman will inevitably be beaten to death outside a sexual health clinic in Massachusetts by a petitioner who’s being there was sanctioned in the name of freedom of speech. Why would I? I don’t live there.

I’m not allowed to care that in five countries in the world men can still be put to death for being gay. I’m not allowed to care that, until last year, domestic violence against women and children was perfectly legal in Saudi Arabia. I’m not allowed to care that in the last few weeks the news has been peppered with reports of teenage boys being murdered in the Middle East.

It’s not my country.

...

Look me in the eye and tell me that you did not hate the person I was just pretending to be.

So don’t anyone ever tell me again that I’m not allowed to care or have an opinion about something, just because it’s happening in a country that isn’t mine.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have belly dancing to prepare for. Good evening.