I’ve Been Protected by Systems, and Failed by Them: Why I Don’t Owe Blind Loyalty

I’ve Been Protected by Systems, and Failed by Them. I Don’t Owe Blind Loyalty to Either

Some people have religion. Some have routines. Some cling to identity. Others hold fast to systems, like unions, government programs, or ideologies, not necessarily because they believe they’re flawless, but because they once offered safety when nothing else did. I’ve learned that when you question these systems, even gently, people can respond as if you’ve insulted a loved one. It took me a while to understand why.

A friend and I were having a conversation about unions. At first, I didn’t get why it became heated. I wasn’t criticizing unions across the board, I was just saying, let’s not romanticize them. But she responded by telling me to read a book. That comment stung a little. It felt dismissive, like she thought I didn’t understand history or didn’t care about workers’ rights. But later I realized something deeper: it probably felt like I was attacking something that kept her family afloat.

She told me she walked picket lines with her dad growing up. She got healthcare because of a union. That system helped her survive. That changes how you hear things. If someone criticized food stamps or disability, I’d probably get defensive too, because those are systems that helped me eat and pay rent when I had nothing. Systems become sacred when they’ve saved you.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask questions.

Systems Can Be Both: Protective and Failing

I’ve been protected by systems, and failed by them. I don’t owe blind loyalty to either. That line sums up what took me years to learn.

Growing up, I thought things were black and white. You’re either for the people or against them. You either trust the system or you’re a rebel. But life taught me nuance. I’ve seen government programs help someone feed their kids, and I’ve also seen those same programs trap people in cycles of bureaucracy, shame, and limitation.

The same goes for unions. I’ve seen them defend good workers. I’ve also seen them protect people who abuse power or who harm others, like a principal who kept his job after multiple harassment complaints, just because the union kept moving him from school to school.

My point isn’t that unions are bad. It’s that no system deserves uncritical praise. Even the best systems fail sometimes. Even the worst systems occasionally help.

When Safety Turns into Sanctity

One of the hardest things to untangle in adulthood is the difference between what helped you survive and what still serves you now.

That’s true of everything from religion to politics to the jobs we stay in too long. It’s especially true of systems, like unions, schools, public health programs, or government aid.

They are not inherently bad. In fact, some are deeply good. But they are not sacred. Sacred things cannot be questioned. And anything that cannot be questioned becomes a trap.

Systems Are Not Neutral

It’s easy to fall into the mindset that systems, especially worker-friendly ones, are automatically good. But history tells us otherwise.

Unions have done powerful, necessary work. But they’ve also had a long history of exclusion.

For example:

• Many early American trade unions explicitly excluded Black workers from membership well into the 20th century.
• Women, especially women of color, were often seen as threats to male-dominated union jobs.
• Immigrants and undocumented workers have historically been sidelined in negotiations, or only included when politically convenient.

Even now, discrimination can still happen within these spaces. A union might protect its own, but who counts as its own? Sometimes, not everyone.

And this taught me something important:

You should never give full faith to any system that can choose who it protects, and who it doesn’t.

That goes beyond unions. DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) programs in corporate America promised a new kind of fairness. But many of them turned into slogans. Surface-level optics. Boxes checked, not change made.

Does that mean DEI is bad? No.

Does it mean we shouldn’t fight for fairness? No.

But it does mean we have to be careful not to trade one blindfold for another.

The Psychology of Loyalty

People will fight for what helped them survive.

That’s human nature. If a system put food on your table, if it gave your parent a job or saved you from eviction, you’ll carry that memory like a torch. And sometimes that torch becomes a shield. You’ll defend it even when it stops serving you.

I saw that with my friend. She wasn’t just defending an economic system. She was defending a life story. One that gave her stability.

And I wasn’t trying to take that from her. I was just asking what happens when that same system doesn’t protect someone else. Or what happens when it protects someone who’s hurting others. (Like in the case of a principal being shuffled around despite multiple harassment claims, because of union protections.)

She said, “Well, that must’ve been a bad union.”

And maybe it was. But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.

The Psychology of System Loyalty

People protect what has protected them. It’s that simple.

When someone’s worldview is built on a system, whether it’s union advocacy, government support, capitalism, or religion, any critique of that system can feel like a personal attack. Not because they’re irrational, but because it threatens the emotional foundation of how they survived.

My friend saw my questioning of unions as siding with investors and corporations. I wasn’t. But when you’ve only survived because someone fought for labor protections, it’s easy to see any ambiguity as betrayal.

But the truth is, you can care about workers and still want to be an investor. You can believe in fair wages and still think owning land doesn’t make you evil. You can believe in wealth, not to hoard it, but to build safety, to grow, to contribute, to live with dignity.

That’s the mindset shift I’ve been working toward.

There’s No Virtue in Staying Stuck

I used to think being low-income was just who I was. That the most I could be was a secretary. That food stamps, disability checks, and minimum wage were the ceiling. But over time, I realized those things were lifeboats, not homes. They were meant to keep me afloat so I could swim toward something better. But if you never believe there’s something better, you’ll cling to the lifeboat forever, even after the storm has passed.

Some people don’t like that mindset. They think striving for more is greedy. That wanting wealth means you’re turning your back on your people. That investing makes you a sellout.

But that’s not true. Wanting more doesn’t mean forgetting where you came from. It just means refusing to stay stuck.

Quoting Whitman: Filter for Yourself

Walt Whitman once wrote:

“You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books…you shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me…you shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.”

That’s how I live now. I’ll read your books. I’ll listen to your stories. But I’ll also bring my lived experience to the table. I’ll filter it all, yours, mine, history’s, and build my own understanding.

Some people don’t like that. They want loyalty to one side. I can’t give it.

Wealth Isn’t Evil. Blindness Is.

Wealth has become a dirty word. People assume if you want more money, you must be greedy. But when I say I want wealth, I’m talking about security. Options. Stability. Not just for me, for my family, for the people I love, for the causes I care about.

That doesn’t make me the enemy. That doesn’t make me a villain.

In fact, the people I admire most aren’t the loudest capitalists or the most radical activists. They’re the ones who live in the middle. Who invest wisely. Who vote with intention. Who build wealth ethically. Who call out injustice when they see it, even if it costs them.

That’s what I want. That’s who I want to be.

So no, I don’t owe blind loyalty to any system. I owe it to myself to stay awake. To ask questions. To filter what I hear. To grow. And to help others grow, too.

Because systems may come and go, but my integrity, my mind, and my ability to evolve? Those are mine to keep.

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