It wasn't meant to be

Many little pieces of "wisdom" seem (to me) to be kind of selectively blind. Take this old chestnut: "it wasn't meant to be." That's always flung around in reference to something that—for whatever reason—ended. It wasn't meant to be? What do you think it was?? It was as real as anything, for as long as it lasted.

Just because something doesn't last forever, doesn't mean it wasn't worth your while.

And just because something doesn't last forever, doesn't mean it wasn't meant to be. Nothing is meant to be forever. Let's savour what is, while it is. And when it ends—maybe soon, maybe almost never (but never quite 'never')—let's not pretend that the ending negated the experience.

The Ruins of These Thirty Years

They say that if something doesn't matter in ten years, it doesn't matter now. They say this to take the pressure off of present stresses, to bring "perspective."

But there is another perspective, equally true. If it matters now, it will matter more in ten years. It will gather 'matter' like a snowball, and in ten years, twenty years, it will be just as sharp a sting, but with the interest of decades of festering.

They don't tell you that you can spare yourself years of distress and possibly permanent sorrow or harm. Fix the foundations when you can, so you don't find yourself in ruins down the road.

Meme-mongering

My last post's rant against the viral goddess-attitude opened up a tangent that I wanted to to explore a bit more: memes.

The ephemera-oriented humanities scholar in me is fascinated by memes. They rapidly disseminate culture, they evolve quickly as they do so, and they very soon become subjects of their own discussion. They're a very relevant medium (among many others) by which we write and read culture, and for that reason alone I have always felt that it should go without saying for the literary humanities approach to encompass this kind of cultural artifact.

First, a digression is necessary to set up a bit of backstory:

Year Zero

Quite a few years ago, I had a significant passion for the then-current Nine Inch Nails Year Zero ARG that was taking shape through the combined efforts of people all over the world. The multimedia, immersive, global, self-creating nature of it was exactly the kind of thing I felt compelled to focus on in my graduate work (though that was still a few years down the road), and it felt like an exciting new direction that the humanities' literary branch (best known by restrictive terms like 'Literature' or 'English') could follow. Later, when I started to dabble in the literary-theoretical side of the more ephemeral and digital textual experiences that today's human culture is rich with, this ARG inspired the strongest scholarly passion inside me that I've ever experienced.

It was particularly captivating to my twenty-something self, highly susceptible to resentment-mongering and eager to protest against the political injustices of the oughties. Participating in the ARG was more than interacting with a textual experience: it was being part of a real movement with real objectives for achieving a better world. It became a cause that both grew and spread its message in the methodology of our time: virally. The catchphrase of the movement was "Art is Resistance," inspiring people to realize their voices could be heard, and that these voices could be powerful.

Year Zero: Art is Resistance

The indignance seemed to be about the voice and opinion of "the people" being ignored, and the movement was for taking back power, taking back the democratic voice. But the hype became more about the hype than the message, or more about the idea of a message than any actual message substance. People saw the phrase "Art is Resistance" as an epiphany-in-itself, as some great truth unlocked and now known. But the phrase was meant to inspire action, not serve as an action on its own. "You have a voice: use it, be heard." Okay... great? What's the actual message? The struggle was for the voice, but there was no message in the voice. It was a movement without awareness of its own meaning, a rallying cry without any semantic logic.

Malevolent Virus

Art is Resistance is essentially an example of a well-meaning meme with ambitions of positive social impact, that had limited success due to the very nature of memes as shallow signifiers whose meaning (if any) becomes stripped away in viral transmission.

The bitchess meme, though, has the thinnest of well-intentioned(?) disguises. Its unselfconscious fight-injustice-with-injustice approach merely replaces the perceived problem with a rephrasing/redirecting of that same problem. It's another arena where one group is elevated through degrading another—the old privilege quandary. Again, if we worked toward a society that measured the value of things objectively rather than relationally, far fewer people would be irrevocably damaged.

It's easy for causes to go viral these days thanks to the internet. But in practice, the things that are most viral become memes that are unencumbered by any real substance. Just take any meme, suppress the automatic omg-so-true response, and strip it down to its essence.

Saying that hard-to-handle women know their worth, for example, is pretty much like saying "You have worth; claim it, be respected."

And the ones demanding loyalty: "You deserve blind and unquestioning loyalty. You can do no wrong, and whatever attitudes and ideals you hold [which, incidentally, are irrelevant for some reason], all people everywhere should espouse them."

It's like a TL;DR without the TL even being offered.

The whole concept of "deserving" in these memes (which isn't explicit in the two examples I've used but certainly appears abundantly enough) is a non-sequitur. Memes have a universal appeal, but the idea of deserving is a context-dependent concept specific to the individual.  You deserve this implies that Somebody is malevolently trying to prevent you from having it. That's just not the case. There is no such thing as a unilateral interaction. Where there are humans, there are always multiple perspectives and sides.

Memes are like a virus: they replicate themselves, spread quickly, and can be more resilient than facts. Don't be that person.

Translation: Men's feelings mean nothing, women are infallible,
and the onus of making things work is purely the man's responsibility.

Privilege

The following story recently cropped up on my Facebook feed (see the full comic):

The Pencilsword: On a plate

I do appreciate the point that the comic makes, but there are two problems that I think are important (enough to compel me to blog about it).

Firstly, it's a work of art with an agenda to express and inspire a particular emotion/reaction. It has a clear protagonist, and focuses on detailing her life experience to the exclusion of the other life experiences in the story.  This isn't to say that the message is unimportant—but it's not the whole story. The 'antagonist' is, quite frankly, monstrous; his own humanity and feelings have been removed from him. The comic is highlighting a particular inequality between the two characters, but relies on equivocation/elision to do so. The situation it depicts does not objectively exist in the real world; there is no such thing as an antagonist, and there is no such thing as an uncomplicated or single-faceted human. Manufacturing one certainly strengthens the artist's argument, but it also strengthens a culture of comparison and disrespect for the Other. And, it's the kind of artificial tug-at-your-empathy story that feels morally right, and as such becomes cultural currency that informs how we feel it's appropriate to treat others.

Secondly, the comic's side-by-side comparative depiction goes against every anti-inequality fiber inside me, and upsets me on a fundamental level. The insinuation is that people's feelings matter in comparison to other people's feelings (or are irrelevant/unimportant by the same token). That some people's lives, troubles, triumphs, experiences, paths, and feelings are more precious and worthy than those of others. Why can't they matter in their own right, on their own merit? Why create antagonism and resentment? And why, for god's sake, are the antagonist's feelings and hard work illegitimate? (And don't make the mistake of believing the one-dimensional portrayal of his life as perfect and free of hardship.) It's nothing short of a fallacy.

Privilege is an ugly thing when it comes into focus. Nobody likes a privileged person if they flaunt that privilege gracelessly. But how often do we even realize how visible our privileges are to others?

White privilege. Thin privilege. Pretty privilege. Rich privilege. Gender privilege. Maternal privilege. Age privilege. Social privilege. Popular privilege. Academic privilege. Athletic privilege. Opportunity privilege. Language privilege. Emotional privilege. Peace privilege. Religious privilege. Connection privilege. Relationship privilege. Health privilege. Geographic privilege. Occupation privilege. Privileges we don't even think of as privileges unless we don't have them.

Nobody has a monopoly on privilege, or on hardship, or on virtue. There's not some limited reservoir of compassion, where it's necessary to divert the flow of compassion away from one person in order to receive a portion for yourself.  Compassion can only come by recognizing how very similar we are to each other, and how every struggle is real in its own right. Carving out victims and antagonists is destructive rather than productive.

Holding a person's privileges against them is akin to the thin-bashing that undermined Dove's Real Beauty movement, which manufactured its own curvy-love legitimacy by belittling skinny women as unattractive. Isn't this the nature of bullying? To gain your own sense of worth through diminishing someone else's? To measure something via comparison and establishing a hierarchy or spectrum?

The truth is, we all have some kind of privilege, and privilege by its very nature sits in our blind spot when we possess it. It's easy to see other people's privileges, and difficult to recognize our own, or its impact on our lives. We resent people who have certain things—things we want—"handed to them on a silver platter." But we don't acknowledge the things we ourselves have had handed to us, and these can take many forms (see my examples of privileges above, which excludes the ones I'm blind to myself). None of us is an island, and we are all who we are through the actions and help of other people: family, friends, strangers, predecessors, ancestors, passersby.

We all exist in our own bubbles of world-view and experience that begin to grow from the moment we're born. A lot goes into the bubble, and it informs the way we relate to the world outside for the rest of our lives. It's hard to see outside the bubble, and harder to see that other people have bubbles of their own—but they're there nonetheless. Like everyone else, I'm woefully inadequate in this respect. But human experience is one of few true passions in my life, and reading the world as if it were a textual artifact is the most important thing I gained from my brief years in academia.

What's the solution? You can change your own reactions, but you can't really change other people. It's demoralizing to cling to ideas of emotional equality when the world loves to pick sides. Ask yourself: what are my privileges? Those are the areas where you should be particularly compassionate towards others. Toward the people you resent: realize that they are human at the core, that they are just like you, that they have fears and troubles and dreams and triumphs, and that those are just as beautiful and mysterious as your own. Don't measure yourself against others; and don't measure others against yourself. Yes, recognize privilege and talk about how it affects others; but don't deny the humanity inside every person.