I recently read an article, which took a position on a notable incident, that I found well frankly infuriating. This article was by a wonderful and rightfully celebrated author. She is better than good, but in this instance, I felt that she was” eating the hotdog from the wrong end,” which is to say that from my point of view, her interpretation of events was not correct.
So instead of sighing with disappointment and scrolling on, I weighed in. I said a lot of things that no one asked me to say and I ended my comments with “This is a crap article.” This was not very nice, not even what I meant to say.. The article was well written, but I found the argument it made to be … well … crap. So that is what I wrote, and it can never be unwritten.
Lord knows a lot of us are stressed out by a never-ending string of traumatic occurrences. Tempers are short. Patience is thin. This is not an excuse, but it explains, in part, how I wound up typing angry words on a Facebook page and even using a damnable exclamation point. (Not all CAPs though. At least not that.) Thankfully I showed a teensy bit of restraint. If only I had shown more.
Oh to reword, rethink or just to refrain, but it’s too late. I took a seat in the clown car, which is the “Comments” section, and waved to the crowd.
I joined the circus.
I joined in the endless parade of opinion and snark that bombards us daily on Twitter and Facebook and in other mediums. I read some of the other comments on that piece and I was not alone in my sentiments. A whole lot of folks felt that the writer was off the mark and they were not nice about it. My opinion was not as harshly worded as others; there is no honor in that. Neither were they kind or persuasive or thoughtful. I did later apologize, but, no matter, the deed was done.
I am not saying that writers should be protected from dissenting opinions. That is part of the gig, but I know from experience that the way I addressed that article was not helpful. I used to write frequently for The Huffington Post. I was writing highly opinionated opinion pieces and I often triggered some pretty fierce pushback, most of which I ignored. When the commenter leads with:
“You should just shut up. You are a stupid bitch! Stick to acting!”
One is not inclined to delve into their reasoning. I had my defenders of course:
“You should shut up! She is a nice lady! You are the shut up!”
There were sometimes more thoughtful responses, but on the whole, I just did not engage with any of it. There seemed no point. Some writers do read them, though, and feelings can be hurt.
When a person puts himself or herself out there with a piece of writing or a bit of personal information, folks will respond. It will not always be agreeable. When one determines to start a conversation with the general public, one has to expect that not everyone weighing in will share the same point of view. One can hope for a higher level of discourse, but this is America in the digital age … so, well… good luck with that. I wouldn’t hold my breath.
I am writing about what I did because I have obsessed over my behavior for the last 24 hours. I cannot go into the details of the debacle because that would feel like re- litigating the case for my argument, which can only further my decline into the mud. In explaining I will have to paint a picture for you of what might have taken place. Here then is a possible scenario using myself as the example:
I write about aging quite frequently … the challenges and setbacks and joys of being an older adult. Paulina Porizkova, the still-gorgeous supermodel who dazzled us in the 80’s and 90’s, also writes about aging. She has accented this by posing nude on several recent occasions both in publications like Los Angeles Magazine and online. This has proven without a doubt that if you are stunning in the nude at age 20, there is a fighting chance that you will be stunning in the nude at age 55. This, I would say, is welcome news. She also addresses the fear and discrimination and wonders of life in the third quarter. Brava!
So now let’s say that I am invited to attend an exclusive party in Los Angeles. I am single but have wonderful pals there who are great dates for such occasions. Ryan or Jeff or Jeremy or Don. Surely one of them would be on hand for such an event. So let’s say I went with Jeff.
Let’s say that Jeff and I went to this lovely lovely, fancy-fancy party and were having a grand time. It was just so nice to be included. We were thrilled to breathe that rarified air. Now let’s say the host was making announcements and saw me in the distance and said, “Hey, Beth! You are really working that aging thing! Trying to be the next Paulina?” Of course, there is nothing offensive about being compared to one of the most beautiful women of my generation, so no biggie, right? What if something weird went down? What if, say, at that precise moment I felt a fart coming on and had squinched up my nose in an effort to hold it in? What if Jeff saw this and took it as a sign of me experiencing emotional distress and he stormed up to the host and whapped him upside the head? Of course, Jeff would never do that. Jeff is a gentleman and also, I never fart.
The whole thing would be ridiculous, but what if something like that did happen with, not me, but, say, some other folks and dozens of people wrote articles about it? What if many, many folks weighed in on who was right and who was wrong. Who was the real victim in all of this? Who should apologize ad nauseam? What if I read an article about such a thing happening that struck me as absurd and instead of shaking my head and moving on, I donned a big giant floppy pair of shoes and a red nose and waded into the muck?
The danger of joining the circus is that aside from making us seem like jerks, it distracts us from the real news of the day. There are issues that actually affect our lives and our futures. For instance:
The real danger of a sitting Supreme Court Justice being wed to a woman who has gone full nutter and who participated in capital crimes and that same justice weighing in on law that pertains to said crimes. That is worthy of some serious attention.
Then, of course, there is the maniacal dictator who is murdering women and children in a neighboring country, his armies reducing whole cities to rubble in the name of “liberating” them, and the terrible fact that most of his citizens believe this rationale. The prospect of a whole nation being this ill-informed, this gullible, this willing to empower a monster is terrifying--a cautionary tale. That is a story, which our recent history would indicate is worth worrying about.
The Chinese have a saying that is meant to be a curse, which is “ May You Live in Interesting Times.” Dang.
Seems we are definitely cursed these days. It’s not what happens but how we react that will determine whether or not we are also doomed.
On we go …
Well done and so true.
Nicely done Beth.