Lots of things I want to say but not sure how to tie them all together coherently - so I won’t try. Gotta keep reminding myself: old-school blogging FTW! I can guarantee that this post will mix the personal and the socio-political in all kinds of confusing and inconsistent ways.
But I guess first I should explain the title of the post. Heh, that’s why I have an inside jokes tag. Jenny sent a tweet yesterday wherein she coined the term (she also recently coined “sleevishness,” referring to wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve) and then I put it in my GTalk status, which is our medium of choice for enabling each other’s procrastination at work.
Now that that’s out of the way, I want to jump right in with some quotage. Last night I read this post by Glamourpuss at The Pole Affair and got déjà vu because I swear I’ve written something nearly identical in my paper journal at some point during the last ~10 years.
She asks me what I do when people hurt me and I tell her I don’t say much, preferring instead to walk away, hide, lick my wounds in private and avoid further pain. She asks if I confront my aggressor and I say that generally, I do not, and I certainly don’t retaliate. She asks why and I say because confrontation scares the hell out of me and that’s the way I’ve always done it. She points out that what worked for the little girl in a turbulent household and kept her safe, may not work now, and it’s time to question this learned behaviour. That gives me plenty to mull over. I tell her I accept she’s right, but truly, I have no idea how to be different — what does being different actually entail and what do I do to be that?
Then today, in the comments of the amazing post which I linked to earlier (to which…), I read this comment, and it nearly made me cry; because as I told Rusty on AIM, this commenter absolutely nails everything I’ve TRIED to articulate many times before but have always failed.
I’m thinking of all the times people have told me to shut up, to calm down, that things that I care about or that bother me or that genuinely concern or frighten me are no big deal and I’m just being irrational and overemotional, or that I’m just plain wrong about my own opinions, feelings, or experiences and then later, the same people say “well geez Sugar, don’t be such a victim, why do you give up so easily/ feel so helpless/ not speak up/ never stand up for yourself?”
WHY? FUCKING WHY?!!!! ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING SERIOUS.
Because you will treat me like an idiot if I do. Because you will dismiss me if I do. Because nothing I say or do will be listened to for the most part, and I have no way of guessing which are the exceedingly rare situations in which it will, so WHY in all the nine hells should I even consider opening myself for ridicule and condescending remarks and then also have my needs or worries unmet anyway?!!!! I actually have a fucking brain, contrary to popular thought, and frankly I find it pretty IMPRACTICAL (oh noes, I know the logicks?!) to make gestures which I know from experience to not only be fruitless, but also to invite more woe upon my head. I tend, in my actions, to attempt to protect myself from further harm if harm’s been done already and I don’t feel I’m in a position with enough advantage to correct it. OH GODS, THE BRAINING. SHIT, IT’S LIKE FUCKING POETRY, EXCEPT WITH MORE MATHS.
I’m running out of sarcastic remarks to type in all caps, but all the exclamation points in the world wouldn’t be enough to emphasize this: We’re. Not. Stupid. Or Crazy. Or Lying.
I felt the pang of a knife twisting in my gut as I read it. I was thinking YES YES YES as my eyes got a little cloudy.
I love my blog because it’s a place for me to speak my piece and no one can tell me to shut up. Or, they can try - and believe me, they definitely have tried - but I can ban them and let them go whine about their “free speech” rights somewhere else. Because this is my space. This is where I get to say the things that matter to me, to speak the truth of my experiences, to talk about the things that are important to me and the only potential censor in place is my own self-imposed feelings of limitation. And, ya know, this is the space where I try to work through those limitations, too!
But even with all that happy touchy-feely stuff, there also comes the reality that if my little corner of the internet is a place for me to speak my truth and not be silenced, then the internet also has spaces where hateful people can do the same sort of mocking and demeaning that they’ve done for almost too long for me to remember - and I’m not sure whether it hurts more “in real life” or online, but it still HURTS, I know that much.
Let me try to tell you how it feels to pour your heart and soul into something you believe in, to try to explain yourself, defend yourself against vicious attacks, work for a better world, be the change you seek, all that stuff… and have someone just laugh in your face. -Actually, I don’t have to tell you; the commenter I quoted above already did.
What a lot of people don’t understand when they talk about “defending yourself” against bullies is, that only works if the bully takes your defense seriously. Back in middle school? I couldn’t defend myself - because I tried at first, but then I stopped, because I learned that me trying to defend myself was more cause for laughter and mockery. There was no way for me to win. So I might as well just shut up and take it.
Last night, I was in the XXBN chat room while listening to Gracie and Callie on the radio show (everyone should listen to the podcast of it, btw; it was a great show). Gracie was talking about identity online and choosing how much to reveal or hide, and she said something like, “I think Amber and I both get kind of sad or angry about this.” And then Nobilis, who was in the chat room too, said: “Amber? Angry? Naaaaah…” and then put in a smiley emoticon.
Argh!!! :(
I don’t want to be typecast as “the angry woman” - it feels icky and exploitative and demeaning. It makes me feel small. It shoves me into an uncomfortably familiar box. And - not that I should even have to say this (but the other shitty thing is that it puts me in the position of having to say “no I’m not!”) - I don’t think I’m all that angry. I don’t even know what that would mean or look like. I don’t understand it as an accusation. And yet, there are people who perceive me that way - and they’re always men. So why is that? (Don’t answer, it’s a rhetorical question.)
I said as much to Nobilis in the chatroom last night. Even though it felt uncomfortable and scary (see above quote re: confrontation), I called him out and told him that was not okay, and explained why (basically what I wrote in the last paragraph).
He said nothing.
This is a pattern, too. I share how I feel, open my veins, put myself out there even when I shouldn’t have to, because I’ve been put in the position of having to by others; and the response, even sometimes from people I love and who love me… is silence.
And that, I truly don’t understand.
And, too? Is anger not at times a valid and justified emotion/reaction? I certainly agree with the sentiment that anger should not itself be an end but should be a means to something constructive. But how exactly does it help for anyone to deny being angry, ever? Sometimes people have a right to be angry. Sometimes there are situations where if someone wasn’t angry, you’d really wonder what was up!
Of course, it’s no surprise the way this gets leveled at women in particular; we’ve been socialized to be “nice” and take care of other people’s feelings, often at the expense of our own. Nice girls don’t get angry. It’s just not done. I can’t tell you how many times I was chastised by my mother with two simple words and a stare that told me not to talk back: “Be nice.”
I get angry, sure. Unfortunately I tend to turn my anger inward, and it becomes destructive to me. And, moreso than being angry in that fired-up, righteous, in-your-face way (see again: confrontation), what my anger actually manifests itself as, most of the time, is sadness. A heavy, all-encompassing sadness where I just don’t know what to do. Add to this a history of clinical depression and it’s not exactly fun times ahead.
But seriously, what can I do, in the face of things like this? I avoid reading such blogs - I keep myself out of such situations - as much as possible, because of the toxicity. (Again, there’s the word that always fits: toxic.) I’m always wary of it reaching the point of becoming willful denial of reality - although, I think, the very fact that I worry about this means that I won’t ever have that problem. Hell, why even equivocate at all: I know myself well enough to know that that will never be a problem of mine.
And yet.
I hear terms like “echo chamber” and they sting, sometimes - because it seems that they are often misapplied.
What’s the good in shouting at a brick wall? It’s better, I think, to say what needs to be said in a place where those words won’t be stifled, and people can choose to listen or not. Maybe slowly but surely people will start to consider things that they previously had written off. I know it’s possible. It doesn’t happen in droves, but I truly do believe this type of micro-activism (to borrow a term from Renee) is important.
Yet I can’t keep having the same conversations over and over again. Saying the same things, to people who suddenly close their ears. The “Don’t Be That Guy” panel at Balticon was extremely difficult for me for this reason - even though I also felt heartened and hopeful about it because I saw two people in the audience have ‘click’ moments; I saw their eyes light up, their heads cock to the side as they considered something new.
And anyway, I can’t always keep myself out of these situations, because it infuses progressive circles as well. The casual sexism, comments about “oh lord what is she wearing,” and somehow it’s okay if it’s a woman we don’t like; the casual racism, Photoshopped images of politicians in blackface and we’re all supposed to understand it’s “satire;” the jokes about trannies and hookers; the R-word, everywhere. The people who think they get a pass because we both happen to oppose the war in Iraq.
I can’t call it out every time. It’s too exhausting.
Well, I’ll write more later; I feel depleted at the moment. For now I’ll close with Tori:

