Whenever capitalism is critiqued, especially online, a common response is to attack the critic, pointing out that they were able to give their critique through some means that exists due to capitalism. This is the energy embodied in Mister Gotcha, the self-described “very intelligent” character from cartoonist Matt Bors; even for a serf who believes feudalism can be improved, Mister Gotcha has an answer that he thinks invalidates concerns.

“How can you tweet that capitalism is bad on your iPhone?” is one version of this sentiment. Another example of this might be, “Why does a teen fashion magazine have anything to say about our economic system?” These pointed attacks are demeaning and reductive. They also miss a key point; from my own experience, the inside of the system is perhaps the easiest, if not only, place to ask these questions.

Honest, good-faith interrogations of critiques of capitalism are merited and arguably vital as alternatives like democratic socialism increase in popularity, or at least lose some of their historical “bogeyman” baggage. The fact that polling shows young people are especially receptive to alternatives to capitalism means these questions may not go away.

We must ask ourselves why greed and profit are allowed to drive the nation’s economy when social welfare and public good could instead. And we must recognize that capitalism, as it is implemented in the United States today, has done centuries of harm to generations of working-class people. How is it that income inequality has increased across the planet? What are we to do with a generational plague of student loan debt? How can we ensure prosperity without sacrificing our environment? These are the kinds of questions we must ask ourselves.

But all of this can be very difficult, given the way capitalist thought is baked into our culture.

From the time we are born, almost all of us are actively engaged in a capitalist. In the U.S., many mothers pay thousands of dollars to have their babies delivered in hospitals. Our parents’ jobs and financial stability determine a great deal of our upbringing and identity, a phenomenon some call the “birth lottery.”

Our own careers are the way we are installed and operate in this system. They are projected on us as identities as adults and young people. I can’t remember ever being asked, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Instead, it was always, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The difference here, between an activity (doing) and an identity (being), is fundamental to the way capitalism forces us to participate with all of ourselves. The simple act of our existence is so often wrapped up in and dependent on what productive value we can offer.

It is possible to extricate yourself from capitalism by extreme means. But for folks who can’t join a commune or become fully self-reliant in the remote wilderness, there is another key question: How can those of us with the privilege to benefit from this system criticize it, even as it lifts us up and provides for our livelihoods?

For me, it’s possible to criticize capitalism because of what I’ve witnessed in the lives and struggles around me: Seeing how some people are taken advantage of means it’s necessary to ask this question. It might be tempting to view my trajectory from emergency redneck plumber to a job at the World Trade Center as a celebration of capitalism’s possibilities. But it has never felt this way. Along the way, I’ve seen people struggle with the realities of capitalism — with wage theft, with crunch-time labor practices, and with the kind of sacrifices it takes to put yourself ahead of your financial well-being. I wish I could say more and share the stories of these people, but the threat of defamation lawsuits means it’s too risky.

These moments, my career, my privilege, and — yes — even my iPhone, are reminders that I am part of something much bigger than myself, which can often feel outside of my control. But, to me, these things are also evidence that advocating for systemic change is necessary, even if I stand to lose something.

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