Tag Archives: relationships

Imagine All the People

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Breakdown of a Facebook Breakup

Someone emailed to tell me she had quit following my personal Facebook account in order to save our real life friendship. Her letter was carefully, thoughtfully written. I could tell she was being as gentle and sincere as she could be.

The news took me by surprise – awful surprise. I replied, saying I was very sorry to hear it. I told her what I liked and would miss about her Facebook presence. Her feelings are what they are and I didn’t argue their validity with her. We stayed friends and signed off and I rose up with great strength of character and immediately let it go.

I tried to, anyways. The exchange was warm and civilized but troubling. I didn’t sleep well, and decided I’d better take a hard look at what I post if it’s having a negative effect on people I care about. I logged into my Facebook account and scrolled through the last four months.

My friend was already gone from my online world (it’s safe to say she won’t read this blog post) but as a consolation I had a chance to learn what’s distasteful about myself on social media. It’s important to know professionally and as a human being. I settled in for a lesson in the mysterious, sometimes counter-intuitive art of not being horrible.

The Results

Thank my sociology training for this table of all my Facebook posts between September 2014 and January 2015:

Number of Posts Subject of Post Details
18 Family 9 posts about my kids

5 posts about my husband

4 links to articles by the press (not me) about family members’ achievements and activities
15 Professional 7 links to press coverage and publishing announcements about my novels

4 links to blog posts and an article written by me

4 posts about my activities at school
11 Personal 7 horrendous old photos posted by my very bad little sister

4 attempts at self-deprecating humour

What Wasn’t in the Results

Dirty Laundry As I’ve discussed elsewhere, I don’t post bad news very often, particularly when it comes to my career. For me, Facebook is mostly a good news ticker.

Dirty Dishes Facebook isn’t part of my domestic routine, meaning there are very few posts about housework, recipes, decorating, or similar topics often found on the Facebook pages of people managing busy households. I don’t fault anyone else for using the website this way. I actually find it charming in my friends. But my domestic life is not the focus of my account.

S*%t Kickin’ I purposely avoid controversial links and statements that might read as attacks on anyone else’s way of life. Polemics on politics, parenting, nutrition, public health, social justice, religion – they don’t appear in what I post. I sometimes participate in that kind of discourse on other people’s pages, but I never start it on my own.

The Lesson

Despite the table, I couldn’t tell what exactly was bothering my friend. Self-awareness is hard but nothing in my news feed stood out to me as particularly inflammatory. It was probably nothing and everything all at once. The effect was likely a gestalt (thanks again, sociology).

Or maybe I just missed something — careless comments made on mutual friends’ posts, repeated miscommunications of tone, a hundred little somethings here and there over years and years.

I remember an article from the Huffington Post about what makes a bad Facebook post. The author says posts used for “image crafting” are not good. He argues Facebook shouldn’t be a tool for sculpting our lives into the form that’s most pleasing to us. In his perfect Facebook, good news is out. Bad news is out. Overly specific is out. Vague is out. Sensational is out. Boring is out. Complaining is out. Gratitude is out. Love is out. Hate is out. Vapid is out. Clever is only okay if there’s no way someone might feel like we’re showing off. Essentially, any Facebook post that elicits an emotional reaction outside a narrow, neutral sense of benign, unremarkable amusement is out. Does that leave anything? Maybe really solid knock-knock jokes…

I’m not sure the Huffington writer was aware of it, but his denouncement of actual social interaction within a social network is awfully ironic. That doesn’t mean it’s not inevitable. I approach Facebook like a cocktail party where everyone is toasting each other. I suppose there must be people out there who hate that kind of party. No one tells us when we register with Facebook that all 500,000,000 users may be assuming we’re at 500,000,000 different, somewhat incompatible parties.

Here’s more irony: if I consciously craft an image middling enough for every single one my friends to like it, I’m still crafting an image — only I’m crafting an even less authentic image than the one arising naturally from my character and values. I’m not talking about whether I should behave respectfully, use good manners, and not attack people on Facebook. I’m talking about whether I’m obligated to pursue things that don’t interest me or that make me feel bad in hopes of walking a neutral, narrow, benign line that goes nowhere.

Here comes sociology again, patting me on the head, telling me not to fret. All selves are crafted, negotiated within social contexts. That’s what humans do. Everything we see of everyone we know can never be more than a complex image in our minds. Literally, that’s how the visual cortices in our brains work. Figuratively, that’s how social life works, even on the Internet. We can try to quit it, but when we turn away to look at something else, what we see there will be just an image too.

6 Ways Men Can Talk About Feminism Without Sounding Like IDIOTS

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I want to help.

There’s a lot of ignorant talk about feminism in my social media feeds lately. And I want us – no, I want you, men — to be able to talk about women and feminism with all the good will you intend and without the whole thing backfiring, blowing up in your face, biting you in the butt — whatever ironic disaster metaphor best describes that awful, idiotic feeling of trying to speak respectfully only to find you’ve botched it.

“You crazy! I’s just tryin’ a help!” My favourite line from Glen in “Raising Arizona”

I’m not talking to depraved, deliberate “Hey Baby” misogynists.  And I’m not addressing domestic sexism where men talk about “babysitting” their own kids or “helping” with housework in the places where they live and eat. I’m talking to grown, educated men who attempt egalitarianism and make a mess of it. All of the following faux pas come from my own experiences. I’ve heard them said, often directly to me, by men who should know better. Sometimes they’re said combatively, sometimes just clumsily, but always ignorantly. So let me help.

Men, do not say:

1)      “I’m the only man here so I’d better be careful.” This statement, spoken by men when they’re outnumbered in a group of women, says you are behaving differently than you would if you were surrounded by men. It implies you fake deference for women in our presence but will speak more freely and truthfully when we’re absent or properly subdued by the unspoken threat latent in an abundance of male bodies. Don’t be careful. Be kind. Don’t be fake. Be honest. And if your honesty is going to offend us, fix it in a genuine way, not simply by censoring yourself. Definitely don’t expect us to be charmed or grateful you’ve put on your bogus lady-manners for us.

This “outnumbered” statement is doubly offensive because it implies women are volatile and violent and it’s only our typical lack of ability to physically dominate men that keeps us sweet. It suggests we’ve been waiting to indulge in violence against men. The further implication is that the standard male-dominated power structure is needed to preserve the peace.  The same “logic” has been used to justify racist regimes. It doesn’t apply to women either.

2)      “I wouldn’t dare have an opinion on that…” This statement is often meant to be a jocular, humble approach to women’s issues. It’s a man admitting he’s not an expert. While that’s nice, it also effectively ends conversations where women have more relevant or detailed knowledge and experience than men. Just because men may not be experts in an area, just because in the end they may have to defer to women on a subject, they are not excused from participating in discussions of these issues. All women’s issues are human issues important to all genders. Refusing to risk talking about them is not respect. It’s marginalization.

3)      “Can you explain to me how this is sexist?” Even when this is an earnest question, it’s problematic. To some of us, this question sounds like you’ve pointed to the sky on a nice day and petulantly demanded, “Explain to me how that’s blue.” Sexism is so vast and pervasive, so much a part of our worldview, it can be hard to address. We do want to talk to you about sexism. We want to help you understand the sky. But it should take some effort on your part. Do some research. Prepare yourself to talk with us about feminism. It will take time. I can’t explain decades of social theory and a lifetime of discrimination in one pithy quip you can carry in your wallet and pull out to test if things are sexist. The key to understanding sexism is empathy – looking at things the way someone else, someone of a different gender, would see them. Though empathy can never be perfect, it is a skill that can be cultivated. But no one else can do it for you.

4)      “I have a mother (wife, daughter, sisters, etc.) so it’s not like I don’t know anything about women.” Hey, everyone is related to females. That’s how our species works. You are no more of an expert on women for having a mother than anyone else born on the planet. So don’t expect us to be impressed or to add any weight to your claims just because you’ve got close genetic or legal ties to women. We can already tell you’re related to women by the way you, you know, have skin and guts and breath.

5)      “My lady-friend says feminism means XYZ and you don’t XYZ therefore you are not feminist.” There is no Feminist Rulebook, no Feminist Gestapo that storms our houses, inspects our feminism, and revokes our title if we don’t adhere to strict, narrow guidelines. Feminism is like any complex, big-tent idea system – like communism or capitalism or Islam or Christianity or other ideologies loosely shared by huge, varied groups of individuals.  One of the things holding feminism back is in-fighting between women. If you foster those schisms, you are an opponent of feminism, not an ally. Don’t think we don’t know what you’re doing. Let us agree to disagree without fomenting more discord. Especially since we don’t recognize a central arbitrator of what’s good feminism, you’d better not dare to cast yourself in that role. A woman is a feminist because she says she is. She does not have to negotiate her feminism with you.

6) Don’t talk about our gender as if it’s a magic power. Good women are good people — nurturers, caregivers, etc. — because of choices they make, not because there’s any magic determinism in our sex organs forcing us to be good. Give us some credit. Don’t understate and diminish our free will or our humanity. Just like you, we can always choose to be bad. Some of us do. An angel acting angelically isn’t all that special. A real person choosing to act angelically is and it deserves respect, not a bunch of sentimental, simplistic mumbo-jumbo.

Bonus (So I don’t have to rename the post): Enough with “beauty.” Unless you’re judging a beauty contest, it’s not appropriate to comment on strangers’ appearances. Especially when spoken to a group, it comes across as insincere, patronizing, and placatory (see item 1). It can even seem creepy. A good rule is if you wouldn’t tell men they’re beautiful in the same setting, don’t tell women they’re beautiful. Too much is said about how we look anyways. Set it aside and appreciate other things we bring to social life.

There now, back to the social media fray.

Marriage Tips of the Angels of Death?

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My Mr. and Me

My Mr. and Me

I wrote a novel about marriage.  It’s a novel, not a manual.  It’s meant to start conversations about love and relationships, not necessarily to resolve them.  Recently, I had one such conversation.  It was a discussion about whether the marriage I wrote is truly a happy one.  Would my main characters actually love each other if they had to live in the real world?

My position, of course, is that they would.  Most of my reviewers agree — but not all of them.

I’m not a marriage counselor.  When I’m writing, my job is not to lecture but to describe what I see in life and in my imagination.  That’s where the marriage I wrote came from – not from relationship theories but from inspiration found in things I’ve seen, heard, felt, and (as one reviewer pointed out) smelled.  And, since this is the Internet, I’ll write some of what I see in happy marriages in a list.  Maybe everyone’s list would be different.  But this list is mine – and ya won’t find anything on it about toothpaste caps or crapping with the bathroom door open.

Quick Disclaimer: I’m speaking of marriages where both partners are fairly healthy emotionally and socially.  I don’t mean situations of abuse or flagrant craziness where self-preservation demands a different list entirely.

What a Good Marriage Looks Like To Me:

1)      It’s Not Dating.  And thank goodness.  During his dating days, I had a miserable conversation with one of my brothers.  He didn’t want to live alone but at the same time he was worried marriage meant being trapped in a never-ending date – having to keep up a stream of witty conversation, fussing over the etiquette of opening car doors or not, orchestrating lavish events – all those company manners stretching on and on until someone in the couple mercifully dies and the other can relax.  Married people can go on dates but we are not dating.  Even if we aren’t holding hands at the movies every night, romantic moments can arise out of daily life – moments much more natural and genuinely loving than stunts copied out of hackneyed, soap-opera-inspired cultural scripts.

2)      It Maintains Physical Contact.  Look, it’s hard to stay mad at someone when she’s sitting in your lap.  The power of physical affection shouldn’t be underestimated.  Between people who love each other, it can take the edge off just about anything.  It can change fighting into flirting.  And it’s easy to use.  Slather it on.

3)      It’s Generous With the Benefit of the Doubt.  Everyone makes mistakes.  In a good marriage, mistakes are handled by thinking, “There is no way he meant that to sound so awful.  We must be missing something.”  When attributing motives to a spouse, it’s best to use a deductive approach – one that begins with the premise that the loved-one truly loves us.  From there, we assume the most basic motive is love.  We may be clumsy and unsuccessful in showing love but we try to see it underlying behaviours anyway.  We use humor and affection and warm, open communication to let partners know when there’s a glitch. We also use tenderness.  Frankness is not always a virtue.  Sometimes, it’s just laziness, malice, and thoughtlessness dressed up in a goofy costume made of 1970s self-help mystique.  Ironically, frankness can sometimes foster more misunderstanding especially when an issue calls for slow, delicate defusing to keep it from detonating and devastating the relationship.

4)      It Doesn’t Keep Score.  A good marriage has no tally sheet.  It doesn’t worry about “love banks” or throw down rules about how love must be proven or earned.  Marriage isn’t a corporation.  Instead of keeping balance sheets weighing good deeds against bad behaviours it just forgives and forgives and forgives.  It’s like a soccer game for 5-year-olds.  Try your best, have fun, concentrate on teamwork, forget the score, and it’s okay if everyone wins.

5)      It’s Not Preoccupied With Boundaries.  Individuality is the human condition, okay?  We’re all different and separate from one another.  Nothing anyone tries to do to us can change that.  For a romantic sap like me, the greatest challenge of our lives – including our married lives – isn’t to find ourselves but to find someone else and make them as much a part of ourselves as possible.  Marriage is one of those transcendent paradoxes about losing ourselves in order to find ourselves.

6)      It’s Open to Miracles.  This item on the list is important enough for me to break the Internet convention of limiting lists to five points.  Like I’ve said before, I don’t really know what makes marriage work.  It just does.  I have a good one.  Without much effort, I’ve been happily married to the same man for eighteen years.  But it’s not because we’re any better or smarter than anyone else.  There’s got to be a lot of luck – or something like it – involved.  A good marriage is not unlike a miracle.  And a miracle, by definition, demands faith that something unlikely can actually happen.  So believe in marriage.  Hope in marriage.  On many levels, marriage in the twenty-first century doesn’t make much sense.  But here we are.