How to stop digging a hole
This week’s question comes to us on behalf of Anonymous:
Why can't white men in positions of power/privilege handle criticism? And why can't they stop digging when people call them out for this publicly?
Oh boy. Short answer? Shame.
Slightly longer answer? We had incredibly shitty role models growing up who taught us we are entitled to take up as much space as possible (physically and verbally), that to apologize was weak, and that we are the main character to every story.
But why speak in generalities when I can get specific? If I am an expert in anything, it’s being a white man. If I were to be an expert in a second thing, it would be fucking up. But let’s start at the beginning…
My father was also an expert in being a white man. His house was his castle and he ran the show. Even as I watched my mother going over all our bills at the kitchen table to figure out the order they could get paid in so nothing would get cut off. And doing this after putting in an eight hour shift of her own, then coming home and cooking dinner, serving as waitstaff during dinner, and cleaning up after everyone. My father could not be criticized. If we didn’t have enough money for bills, it would be because my mother had fucked up.
During dinner, my father would raise his empty glass and my mother would get up and fill it. Later my brothers would adopt this strategy as well, and to be honest I’m sure I did as well. But I also have a very vivid memory of deciding to refill my own glass once and my father telling me to “sit your ass down, your mother does that.” And because I was terrified of him, I did. And because she was terrified of him, she did. (While I understand and sympathize with the position she was in, my mother also taught us to fawn over abusers. It doesn’t work.)
This was my role model for how to be a man growing up. And even as I began to realize that his behavior was awful (It was written all over my mother’s face.) The realization that something is broken isn’t the same as being given the tools to fix it.
I did my fair share of apologizing as a child, but it was always to my father, and it was always with the hope that the hits would stop coming. Apologizing and shame became linked. And you promise yourself that you will never feel like that again. It would take years in therapy to undo this connection that my younger self made. And it would cost me many relationships.
I am saying these things not to build empathy for white men, but as a warning.
We don’t have to be the people we were raised to be. It is a miserable way to go through life. And when we are unwilling to do the work, we are forcing that work on everyone we interact with, be it at home, be it at work, be it on social media, be it on the bus. (You paid for ONE seat, Brad.) Everyone is walking on eggshells around us, and it is exhausting. It may also eventually become lonely.
I will never forget one of the first things my therapist said to me. “You never learned how to love.” I was over 40 years old. So we sat there and we did the work, and it sucked. And it was worth it. Because when you love someone you don’t want to hurt them. And because we are imperfect rotting sacks of flesh filled with feelings and biases and pain we will hurt people. Try as we might not to. The lesson is what we do next. Do we see that we’ve hurt someone? Does it matter to us? Do we want to comfort someone we’ve hurt more than we want to protect ourselves from the shame of having hurt them?
“I’m so sorry I said that.”
Know that I love you. Know that you are capable of love.
🙋 Got a question? Ask it. (As a reminder, you can ask anonymously. And I can assure you that all questions asked anonymously are real.)
📖 Want to buy a zine? Get it!
I’m late to this, but Naomi Klein’s Doppelganger is worth your time. (…and the story of how Naomi Wolf took a right turn due to the shame of being exposed for a massive mistake fits well with our topic today.)
🎃 October is coming, and that means horror movies. A few years ago I got together with some friends and we made a zine with 31 perfect horror movies. Want one? (It’s donationware.)
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