New pet peeve: Memes and headlines that say “XYZ News Story/Social Issue Exists and No One Is Talking About It.”
People share these on Facebook or Reddit or anywhere, really, without adding a comment regarding the thing that no one is talking about. And then comments pour in about how the commenter knows about this thing but nobody else knows, or how the commenter agrees this is important but no one else thinks it is, or even just shame on the news media and on society for not talking about this important issue.
And I hate it. So much. Because in all of the talk about how no one is talking about the thing – NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT THE THING!
This pet peeve has developed over years I'm guessing, but I wasn’t fully aware it had become a pet peeve of mine until just yesterday when I saw some random meme a friend shared bemoaning some truth that no one is talking about, and I felt a comical sort of rage well up inside me and an internal voice screamed at the top of its imaginary lungs, “DON’T SAY NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT – EXPLETIVE TALK ABOUT IT!!!!”
I started de-meme-ifying my communications a while back. I still enjoy reading memes and clicking ‘like’ when I experience enjoyment or satisfaction or agreement. I’ve learned that sometimes it is nice to just surface-level agree without deep thoughts. I still read headlines and don’t follow up by reading the story far more often than I do follow the link and read it through. I’ve learned that always there are too many news stories to read everything, so I have to pick which to give my time to and which to let slide.
And also.
Since de-meme-ifying my communications, I am less likely to jump on a “Yeah!” “This!” bandwagon. I am more likely to get annoyed by memes that say things I agree with but that use judgment words or inflammatory language or that seem to dismiss the complexity of an issue with some boiled down truism – even if I agree with those things. And this past year, I find myself thinking, “I agree with this... but what if it was created by a Russian bot? Is this the sort of meme designed to increase the division between me and those with whom I disagree? Is this useful? Is this helpful? Does this help increase understanding of this issue or does it just polarize the issue?”
Since de-meme-ifying my communications, I am also far less likely to read a shared news story if the person who shares it doesn’t articulate why they think it is worth my time to read. “Seriously, read this” or “OMG THIS” or “I couldn’t have said it better” doesn’t add to the conversation, doesn’t tell me why the person thinks it was important to share, and doesn’t give me any insight into my friend’s perspective or experience or understanding. Unless the article is something I am already predisposed to be interested in, I’m going to need a sentence at least that says “This topic is important to me because of this reason, and I think it is insightful that the article takes this perspective.” THAT is the motivation I require these days to follow a link I wouldn’t normally follow.
And, it turns out, since de-meme-ifying my communications, I want people to talk about what they have to talk about. That is, I get kinda pissy when they don't. And seriously, I get it, we can’t talk about everything. But I want to know what you have to say. And as of yesterday (or possibly months ago and I just didn’t realize it until yesterday), I officially cannot stand it when people talk about how people are not talking about something... rather than just talking about the thing. Just talk about the thing! Tell me what you have to say. I want to know. I’ll listen.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Standing
I'm in mourning right now. It's kind of a figurative mourning, but it doesn't feel figurative. I have apparently reached the stage in trauma processing where you mourn. You mourn what could have been, what should have been. For me, I'm also mourning humanity. Well, my idealistic notions of humanity -- that has died, to be replaced with something closer to the reality of humanity.
The thing is, I'm an activist, and pretty much always have been. My mom and I got pepper-sprayed at a counter-demonstration against the KKK when I was 18. I've gotten into honest to goodness physical altercations with neo-Nazis. I've marched on Washington. Michael and I once made the decision to go through with a protest even though it had been made known that anyone who showed up would get arrested; we made the decision to get arrested. It didn't happen, but still. I've worked with rural poor and urban poor and third world poor. I've seen first hand the devastation that can be -- and has been -- wrought by humanity upon other parts of humanity. This is not new to me.
And yet. And yet. Some part of me maintained this idea that at the core of us all, humanity is inherently good. People hurt each other accidentally, or systemically when the systems are too big for people to realize and own personal responsibility within it. People get led astray and hurt others, but can later find their way to redemption and kindness. Some part of me held onto that.
But what about those people who hurt you? Eh, that's different. Well, it felt different. It felt different because I was traumatized and I hated myself and I believed that I deserved it and therefore any harm that came to me fell into the exception rather than the rule.
It doesn't feel different anymore. Because of therapy. Because of the outpouring of voices of other people who have experienced traumas like mine. It wasn't just me -- there is a deeply rooted culture of men making claims on women's bodies. I wasn't an exception because I deserved it. I wasn't an exception, and I didn't deserve it. It's just that -- in large and small ways -- many people believe that they can and do own women's bodies, that they have a right to our time and our attention and our love and deference and bodies.
I keep hearing arguments that men just don't know better; they don't realize how their actions or words fall into this spectrum of ownership. And sure, I'll grant that misplaced jokes and comments and flirting can happen. But that is not what I'm talking about. That is not what we're talking about. I had people come after me with purpose and malice. One person in particular set about trying to break me. Malice. Purpose. Ownership. An entire lack of regard for my humanity.
That's the brainspace of realization I have been occupying.
Dawnland is coming out. (This is not a non sequitor.) It's a feature length documentary about the Maine Wabanaki-State Child Welfare Truth and Reconciliation Commission that was recently concluded. This TRC was focused on the taking of children from Wabanaki families. Maine and other states have a disproportionate level of taking for Native children. This follows centuries of other types of taking of children -- the boarding schools, adoptions programs, and massacre.
My country, my people, we have a long history of malice against Native peoples. Claiming ownership of their land and their water and their children. Setting about with purpose for hundreds of years and thousands of strategies to take their lives, and their futures, through their deaths or through the taking of their children. Malice. Purpose. Ownership. An entire lack of regard for their humanity.
Watch First Light -- a freely available 13 minute mini-documentary preceding the release of Dawnland, for a brief introduction to the Maine TRC.
Watch The Canary Effect -- a freely available 1 hour documentary about ongoing history of genocide by our people against Native people in our country.
I got to attend an early viewing of Dawnland because I have been involved with Maine Wabanaki REACH, specifically as a volunteer educator of white/non-Native people about our shared history with the Wabanaki. The idea is that it is not the job of the oppressed to educate the oppressor. We have a responsibility step up and educate ourselves and each other.
My government instituted yet another policy of taking children. This time at the border. People seeking asylum are having their children taken from them and are then being criminally charged for crossing the border to seek asylum.
We keep wanting to claim that it's our ancestors, not us, who did those things. But here we are doing them. Here we are standing by while our people do these things. Whether or not you or I are there, this is us doing this. We are letting it happen. There is no 'them' doing this. This is America. We are doing this.
We did this when we bought and sold Black people in our country. We separated children from their parents. We worked people to death. At the Whitney Plantation Museum this summer, I learned that adult slaves had an average lifespan of 7 years once they were put to work on the sugar plantations. I learned that once the Transatlantic Slave Trade came to an end, we bred Black people like animals to keep up with the demand for stolen bodies to work the industries that could only be sustained with the work of stolen bodies. Once slavery came to an end, plantation owners set up debt cycles similar to our modern day payday loans that kept Black workers basically -- but not legally -- enslaved.
The Thirteenth Amendment ended slavery and the coercion of labor except for prisoners. Our first period of mass incarceration of Black men occurred immediately following the Civil War. We are seeing it again. Black prisoners are a commodity. Watch The Thirteenth (link to trailer) on Netflix to learn more about the systemic, purposeful taking of Black bodies over and over and over in our country, including today.
***
This song I wrote this week, when I first sat down to write it, was going to be a song about my mental health in a world where people claim ownership of others, where people have made that claim on me. But I couldn't keep it within myself. We are taking people's children. Just like we have taken people's children before, like we have taken their bodies, taken their labor, taken their land, taken their water, taken their liberty, taken their lives.
I fully recognize the privilege of my position, and what I am doing placing my own experience within the same spectrum of humanity's worst hits like slavery and genocide. My intention is not to exalt my suffering nor to downplay others. Rather, my intention is to speak to the truth that large and small violations of humanity occur when we (human people) place our own humanity above that of others. That small kernel of bitterness that anyone might feel toward someone else, delighting in their suffering, justifying to ourselves that they should suffer so that I can have mine... that is not unique to "the bad people." That is us. Human people.
Malice. Purpose. Ownership. A lack of regard for others' humanity.
It is hard to see the ways in which we dehumanize others, but I would argue that it is easy to see the ways that others have dehumanized us. Starting from that place of our own experience of being dehumanized, we can cultivate our empathy for others who are being dehumanized. We can stand with them.
And taking another step forward, we can cultivate an awareness of how we benefit from, participate in, and stand idly by the dehumanization of others. It's okay to feel shame for that; it's shameful. But don't stay there. White shame hasn't solved racism in all these centuries. White shame is ultimately self-indulgent. We self-flagellate without taking the actual steps we need to take to dismantle this dehumanizing tendency in ourselves and in our society. I don't fully know what all the steps are to dismantle dehumanization in myself and in my society. But I'm working on it. And I hope you'll work on it with me. We have a responsibility to try, and to keep trying.
The thing is, I'm an activist, and pretty much always have been. My mom and I got pepper-sprayed at a counter-demonstration against the KKK when I was 18. I've gotten into honest to goodness physical altercations with neo-Nazis. I've marched on Washington. Michael and I once made the decision to go through with a protest even though it had been made known that anyone who showed up would get arrested; we made the decision to get arrested. It didn't happen, but still. I've worked with rural poor and urban poor and third world poor. I've seen first hand the devastation that can be -- and has been -- wrought by humanity upon other parts of humanity. This is not new to me.
And yet. And yet. Some part of me maintained this idea that at the core of us all, humanity is inherently good. People hurt each other accidentally, or systemically when the systems are too big for people to realize and own personal responsibility within it. People get led astray and hurt others, but can later find their way to redemption and kindness. Some part of me held onto that.
But what about those people who hurt you? Eh, that's different. Well, it felt different. It felt different because I was traumatized and I hated myself and I believed that I deserved it and therefore any harm that came to me fell into the exception rather than the rule.
It doesn't feel different anymore. Because of therapy. Because of the outpouring of voices of other people who have experienced traumas like mine. It wasn't just me -- there is a deeply rooted culture of men making claims on women's bodies. I wasn't an exception because I deserved it. I wasn't an exception, and I didn't deserve it. It's just that -- in large and small ways -- many people believe that they can and do own women's bodies, that they have a right to our time and our attention and our love and deference and bodies.
I keep hearing arguments that men just don't know better; they don't realize how their actions or words fall into this spectrum of ownership. And sure, I'll grant that misplaced jokes and comments and flirting can happen. But that is not what I'm talking about. That is not what we're talking about. I had people come after me with purpose and malice. One person in particular set about trying to break me. Malice. Purpose. Ownership. An entire lack of regard for my humanity.
That's the brainspace of realization I have been occupying.
Dawnland is coming out. (This is not a non sequitor.) It's a feature length documentary about the Maine Wabanaki-State Child Welfare Truth and Reconciliation Commission that was recently concluded. This TRC was focused on the taking of children from Wabanaki families. Maine and other states have a disproportionate level of taking for Native children. This follows centuries of other types of taking of children -- the boarding schools, adoptions programs, and massacre.
My country, my people, we have a long history of malice against Native peoples. Claiming ownership of their land and their water and their children. Setting about with purpose for hundreds of years and thousands of strategies to take their lives, and their futures, through their deaths or through the taking of their children. Malice. Purpose. Ownership. An entire lack of regard for their humanity.
Watch First Light -- a freely available 13 minute mini-documentary preceding the release of Dawnland, for a brief introduction to the Maine TRC.
Watch The Canary Effect -- a freely available 1 hour documentary about ongoing history of genocide by our people against Native people in our country.
I got to attend an early viewing of Dawnland because I have been involved with Maine Wabanaki REACH, specifically as a volunteer educator of white/non-Native people about our shared history with the Wabanaki. The idea is that it is not the job of the oppressed to educate the oppressor. We have a responsibility step up and educate ourselves and each other.
My government instituted yet another policy of taking children. This time at the border. People seeking asylum are having their children taken from them and are then being criminally charged for crossing the border to seek asylum.
We keep wanting to claim that it's our ancestors, not us, who did those things. But here we are doing them. Here we are standing by while our people do these things. Whether or not you or I are there, this is us doing this. We are letting it happen. There is no 'them' doing this. This is America. We are doing this.
We did this when we bought and sold Black people in our country. We separated children from their parents. We worked people to death. At the Whitney Plantation Museum this summer, I learned that adult slaves had an average lifespan of 7 years once they were put to work on the sugar plantations. I learned that once the Transatlantic Slave Trade came to an end, we bred Black people like animals to keep up with the demand for stolen bodies to work the industries that could only be sustained with the work of stolen bodies. Once slavery came to an end, plantation owners set up debt cycles similar to our modern day payday loans that kept Black workers basically -- but not legally -- enslaved.
The Thirteenth Amendment ended slavery and the coercion of labor except for prisoners. Our first period of mass incarceration of Black men occurred immediately following the Civil War. We are seeing it again. Black prisoners are a commodity. Watch The Thirteenth (link to trailer) on Netflix to learn more about the systemic, purposeful taking of Black bodies over and over and over in our country, including today.
***
This song I wrote this week, when I first sat down to write it, was going to be a song about my mental health in a world where people claim ownership of others, where people have made that claim on me. But I couldn't keep it within myself. We are taking people's children. Just like we have taken people's children before, like we have taken their bodies, taken their labor, taken their land, taken their water, taken their liberty, taken their lives.
I fully recognize the privilege of my position, and what I am doing placing my own experience within the same spectrum of humanity's worst hits like slavery and genocide. My intention is not to exalt my suffering nor to downplay others. Rather, my intention is to speak to the truth that large and small violations of humanity occur when we (human people) place our own humanity above that of others. That small kernel of bitterness that anyone might feel toward someone else, delighting in their suffering, justifying to ourselves that they should suffer so that I can have mine... that is not unique to "the bad people." That is us. Human people.
Malice. Purpose. Ownership. A lack of regard for others' humanity.
It is hard to see the ways in which we dehumanize others, but I would argue that it is easy to see the ways that others have dehumanized us. Starting from that place of our own experience of being dehumanized, we can cultivate our empathy for others who are being dehumanized. We can stand with them.
And taking another step forward, we can cultivate an awareness of how we benefit from, participate in, and stand idly by the dehumanization of others. It's okay to feel shame for that; it's shameful. But don't stay there. White shame hasn't solved racism in all these centuries. White shame is ultimately self-indulgent. We self-flagellate without taking the actual steps we need to take to dismantle this dehumanizing tendency in ourselves and in our society. I don't fully know what all the steps are to dismantle dehumanization in myself and in my society. But I'm working on it. And I hope you'll work on it with me. We have a responsibility to try, and to keep trying.
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