Year: 2002

Categories
Connecting Weblogging

Looking Glass Self

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Jonathon wrote today:

Surely much of the joy and many of the rewards of any relationship come from having our beliefs challenged, from having the opportunity to experience the world through someone else’s eyes.

We talk of “weblogging avatars” as if we can each be so easily classified. We see each other through words on a screen and we think we know all there is to know about our neighbors, only to find out in a shattering instant that those who agree strongly with us on some topics do not agree, just as strongly, on others. As weblogging matures, we’re going to need to come to the truth that each of us is not a looking glass reflection of those who read what we write.

In response to Mike’s questions on gender stereotypes, Dorothea answers with far more courage than I. She writes:

But Mike, as best I can tell, would rather I kill the category, summarily execute this part of my written self. He has an image of women (not just his wife, but all women, including me and Shelley and Tish and Jeneane and Halley) that he wants desperately to cling to unmodified, to believe in, to advocate, to proclaim, indeed to deify. I think I threaten that image. No, I know I do. Who am I to be a goddess? Yet if I am not a goddess in Mike’s eyes, what can I be to him?

I don’t know. I wanted to be a person, but in all honesty, his cherished image of people who happen to be female won’t leave me free to be the kind of person I know myself to be. I want to be that person, not any kind of goddess, not any kind of ideal. I do feel diminished in comparison with Mike’s ideal. How could I not? But I must still refuse to try to inhabit it. I must still refuse to endorse it. I must still challenge it.

Viewing each other flatly, through the reflection of companionship engineered by the newness of this medium will only last so long. “We are writing ourselves into existence”, only lasts until it reaches the barrier of the real world, and we realize that each of us is a three-dimensional person who existed before weblogging. Can we accept that, and accept each other’s differences? More than that, can we look beyond our expectations, and shatter the looking glass?

Dorothea also writes:

No, take that back—I like these people now. I do. I am upset and bewildered that this should be such a barrier, that this self I am constructing is so difficult for other selves to accept. I don’t know how best to handle my own thoughts and feelings, much less those of others concerned.

I have no answers, any more than I ever have. I don’t feel good about any of this; I feel tired and empty, unheard and valueless. I used to think that I could best contribute (whatever that means; I have tried three times to define what I mean by it and failed) by telling my stories, airing my hurts and fears and angers and suggestions, making this self I am writing as whole a one as I can.

…making this self I am writing as whole a one as I can.

We have gone beyond the stage of crying out “All we need is love, love, love” and moving in for a virtual group hug. And this transcends silly issues of delinking and blogging popularity.

Can we accept each other’s differences. No, let me phrase that differently: can we celebrate each other’s differences, regardless of the strengths of our own beliefs? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Lastly, Dorothea also writes:

If I continue blogging, that is. As I said, I am a bare few inches from the end of my rope.

Dorothea, all I can say is that if you left, I would miss your self, badly. Your whole self.

Categories
Government

Learned terrorism

Michael sent me a link to an editorial that talks about Learned Helplessness and its association with the current ‘war on terror’. The author. Kriselda Jarnsaxa, writes:

The experience of the last 15 months here in America seems to be producing a nation suffering from learned helplessness. Fear is induced through the constant, but oh-so-vague, warnings emanating from the government. Another attack is imminent, we are told, they may be coming to blow up our banks, our hotels, our apartments, our holiday celebrations. They may be coming in hidden on boats, or scuba-diving to our shores. They may already be here, hidden among us, and we don’t even know it. They may use suicide bombers or shoulder-mounted surface-to-air misses can knock planes from the sky. Crop dusters may be used to spread biological agents, or they may load a conventional bomb with nuclear waste to spread radiation throughout a large city. May… may… may… may. The list of horrors is nearly endless, as is the imagination of those whose job it is to come up with new warnings, it seems. We see no escape from this fear, and are told our only hope is to sacrifice our freedoms, our cherished liberties, our very way of life, on the altar of security, so we do – willingly, it seems – and never realizing that maybe, we should be afraid of our government, too.

I didn’t think to equate my country’s seeming inability to wake up and see the nightmare with Learned Helplessness. An interesting twist.

This follows on Bush cutting federal employee pay raise, because, as he says, the money is needed for the War on Terror:

In a letter sent Friday to congressional leaders, Bush announced he was using his authority to change workers’ pay structure in times of “national emergency or serious economic conditions” to limit raises to 3.1 percent.

Of course, one can ask why Bush doesn’t roll back the tax cuts, which only benefit the wealthy.

I don’t know why we just don’t send the Congress home. Bush has been given powers that allow him to alter or change any law he wishes in the ‘name of national security”, and Congress lets him. The American public lets him.

As long as Bush plans on bombing Iraq and, we presume, to follow through to other countries such as Iran (Israel’s personal favorite), and Saudi Arabia (the US personal favorite), the voting public of this country seems indifferent to what Bush does. However, I don’t think the public reaction (or lack of same) is based on Learned Helplessness: I think it’s based on equal parts fear, retribution, greed, and a desire to show the world that the US is top dog and can kick anyone’s butt.

Cry “Havoc!” and let loose the dogs of war

Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Categories
Diversity Weblogging

Hedgehog

Commenting and cross-commenting associated with Mike Golby’s posting. Lots of words to get to core of the matter: Mike wants to discuss the issues without someone experiencing personal affront. He says that I am being defensive. I rant and rail and point and link until I slow down (hitting a wall does tend to slow you down) and realize…damn…

Yup. I have become a hedgehog of defensiveness, rolled up into a cute but painful little ball, spikes out, bitty nose buried, gleaming little eyes looking up as if to say, “You can kiss my spiny butt.” Just be glad I’m not licking your shoes and foaming at the mouth.

It is very difficult to discuss issues such as gender bias, stereotypes, and sexism without internalizing the discussion. I have long admired those who can discuss even the most vitriolic topic in calm, measured words. I can’t. I have a tough time just convincing people I’m being passionate, not angry.

The difficulty inherent with some of these discussions is that the comment boxes aren’t big enough to handle all the baggage we bring with us. There’s barely enough room to move. Worse, we can’t look each other in the eyes to know when to press forward, and when to pull back. Quickly.

Adding to the challenge is that the conversation can continue off-weblog, flurry of emails and exchanges becoming increasingly angry passionate.

You, innocent reader, see the tip of the discussion and can’t understand why something so small can be so deadly. You wonder in trustingly, open your mouth, issue a tiny squeek, and WHOMP!

You have just been overreacted.

Poor you. You get up and check yourself for injury, wipe the blood from your eyes, and, shivering from shock, crawl away, trying to move carefully so that your movements don’t attract further attention. A whimper issues from your mouth as you vanish from the weblog page. Not a pretty sight.

Sometimes when we feel very strongly about something, it’s challenging not to get angry passionate. Passion is great to start the fire (“we didn’t start the fire..”) but it’s hell on the participants over time.

Mike has questions to answer and this topic of gender stereotypes and bias, sexism and sex discrimination is worth discussing. Tish wrote an excellent, detailed response to Mike’s question.

(Is it just me and my hedgehog nature, or are Mike’s questions a tad bit loaded?)

Categories
Diversity Weblogging

Girlism Redux

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Mike Golby wrote a posting that asks several very complex questions, leading to one stated goal: he wants to understand why I (and Dorothea) fight these battles about sexism and gender bias and equality, such as the one about girlism this week.

I’m not asking these questions because I have nothing better to do. I want answers because these questions are there and they constitute obstacles to my understanding what is irking two of my friends, Shell and Dorothea. In other words, while I understand that I might come across as sexist and that view will be ‘me’ in the eyes of others, I feel something of their pain and want to know what I can do to ease it

I don’t believe there is an answer that I can give Mike, other than to point to what I have written. If in these postings he hasn’t found the answer, then nothing further I can write will provide any additional clarification. Or justification. Perhaps the only answer is there is no answer because the issue is less about understanding and more about acceptance. I can say that I don’t write on these issues lightly.

If this is the brave new medium we keep telling each other it is, then each of us must celebrate it in our own way, and this means writing about what is important to each of us. These issues are important to me.

When Halley wrote the following, it was something I could not ignore:

It’s “girlism” — women want to be sexy girls and use all the tricks girls use. Crying, flirting, begging, winking, stomping their feet when they don’t get their way, general trotting around showing off their long legs and whatever else they decide to show off thereby distracting and derailing men.

Stealing the phrase from Mike, I didn’t respond to Halley’s writing because I had nothing better to do. I waited for three days hoping someone else would respond because I knew writing about it could possibly generate tension. In the end, when I saw no one else commenting, I did so because the behavior Halley attributes to generic Woman can be generalized to fit all women, and that means me. And this type of behavior, as described, violates every bit of honor and pride in being a woman that I have. It violates every bit of honor and pride in being a woman of all women I know.

Mike, in your weblog posting you seem to wonder what the harm is in comments such as Halley’s or in stereotypes, and to question why women and gays fight so strongly against them and for our “rights”. To paraphrase you, aren’t we isolating ourselves by our actions?

In response all I can say is that generalizations based on class or gender membership, stereotypes, bias, bigotry, and racism are not acceptable, in deed or by word. After all, human history has shown the harm that “words” can cause. As for needing to fight for rights, in this country it is still illegal in some states to be gay and it is deadly in other countries. Being gay is still condemned in many major religions, including the Catholic religion. I don’t even need to go into the fight women still have for equality, both in my country, and in the world. Women have to fight, even in a modern country such as the United States, just to keep the right to have an abortion by some means other than on her back on a kitchen table being stabbed with a coat hanger.

Equality, fairness, won’t be given — they have to be taken.

What would you have us do? Wait for the alpha male to tell us “Oh, today you no longer have to bare your throat, we are now equal and you can do as you please”?

One of the most oft quoted phrases I see is David Weinberger’s we are writing ourselves into existence. When I searched on this, I found the following:

“This is exactly what I think is happening with blogging, we are finding voices that will ultimately make us new selves, or as David Weinberger likes to say, “we are writing ourselves into existence.” If Gilligan is right and we’re witnessing the end of patriarchy, the fresh honest style of blogging by both women and men will certainly hasten its demise.”

 

Halley’s Comments

 

“The importance of the weblog phenomenon isn’t so much that it enables people to publish their breakfast menus or even their genuine insights. It’s that we now know what our “avatars” on the Net are going to be: not graphical cartoon representations but our body of writing. You are what you write. On the Web we are writing ourselves into existence. This introduces into the self the same issues of control, inspiration, invention, deception and play as have always been present in the relationship of authors to what they write.”

David Weinberger

 

“I think Dave’s right on with this, and I think we can take it one step further, and a hyperlinked thought it is: As our fingers wind around the keyboard sketching our online selves–filling in the furrows, the wrinkles, the gleam, the raised eybrow as we go–that avatar we create *recreates* us in the offline world. It is a circle of creation and recreation. That is the joy in it for me–not so much the voice, the self I have created through blogging, but how that unleashed voice is transforming me, the person, the flesh and the mind.”

 

Jeneane Sessum

 

“As human beings, we are different people. This is where words can hit like hammers. As hearts and minds sharing Web space, I think we understand and know each other. Yet here, on the Web, our words carry even greater weight. ‘We are writing ourselves into existence.’ We do so on delicate, butterfly wings. It is here that words either fly or die.'”

 

Mike Golby

If we are truly writing ourselves into existence, then we have to accept the fact that our existences may not always overlap. And we’re going to need to learn how to respect this.

This is the last posting on the ‘girlism’ topic I’m going to write. To continue is to belabor the issue, as well as seeming to beat Halley about the head with her words, which was never the intent of any of my writing on this subject. If anything, after reading so many of the thoughtful posts, I am deeply grateful that Halley brought this subject up. But enough’s enough.

Mike, I did a poor job at answering your questions, but I can’t answer for the world at large — why do we do this or why do we do that. All I can answer is why I write as I do. We each have our own windmills to tilt at, and we don’t all share the same friends or foes. At times the only thing we share is the truth of our words, and the passion of our beliefs.

(And again, I have probably taken this all too seriously. After all, this is only weblogging.)

Categories
Just Shelley

I, victim

Each of us is capable of being a victim given the right circumstances. The only thing that saves us is learning to control a difficult time rather than let the time control us. This is something I learned when I was 15 years old, a wild child with little sense.

At school I met a girl my age who lived in a foster home. Unlike me, she was sexy and sophisticated, with more than a hint of the forbidden because of past indiscretions. Somehow, we became great, good friends.

I’m not sure why but one day she and I decided to run away from home. We ended up in the pad of a friend of hers who gave us a place to stay — a sleeping bag next to other sleeping bags in a one room apartment somewhere within the down side part of Seattle.

That first night a group of us were playing cards and drinking cheap pop wine when he walked in. His name was Dan and he was 27, tall, thin, with long dark brown hair and mustache. He had a velvet voice, and his moves were sinuous, like a cat. When I looked at him, I saw about the most exotic creature I had ever seen. One look into his deep brown eyes and I was lost.

When Dan looked at me, he saw a too-young woman with long red-brown hair, freckles, green eyes half hidden behind gold-rimmed eyeglasses, wearing a blue shirt and navy bell bottom jeans. As he was turning away from me, rejecting this too-young woman, he saw my hands and stopped. Instead of walking away, he grabbed the floor next to me, leaning close, talking to me in his soft voice.

Later he would tell me it was my hands that caught his eye more than anything else — long, slender, graceful hands.

Dan and I stayed together, moving from house to house, staying wherever there was an empty spot. The friend I had run away with decided to go home but swore she wouldn’t tell anyone who I was with. Well, of course she told everyone who I was with as soon as she stepped through her home door.