Nice and mean: Getting beyond what people think of me

Posted on November 25, 2018

I often fault myself for being too nice—for avoiding conflict and staying safe rather than calling people out when they’ve been inappropriate.

So I was a little taken aback when I received an email from a professional colleague whom I don’t know in person (I will call him “S.”) saying that I had made him cry when he read my “incredibly hurtful and mean spirited public attack” on another professional colleague (whom I will call “P.”).

Wow. I had been so harsh in my response to P. that I had made S. cry. Wow. And I had been that harsh in public. Wow. And I had done it in a professional setting—on a listserv populated by people I respect, people whose work has helped me and inspired me. Oh, wow. Oh, no.

***

What led to this moment? I participate in a professional listserv, the WPA-L, populated by college professors and grad students who teach and research and lead in the field of writing studies.  You can check out the long initial thread if you want, but here’s my synopsis of my initial role in the listserv conversation.

1. Three men mansplained a female colleague who requested sample rubrics. One of these men was P.
2. That woman called them out on mansplaining, and 2 of the 3 men apologized. It clearly wasn’t intentional, so that should’ve been the end of the story.
3. Then, P. mansplained again. After he had apologized. It was horrifying.
4. I was angry. I answered that post-apology instance of mansplaining by using P.’s email to create a parody poem, using his words as a kind of template in case anyone had trouble identifying the mansplaining dynamics.

Many people responded to this found poem in positive ways. I’m childish enough and honest enough to admit that I found the positive responses gratifying. I had been a good feminist! I had been clever! I had stood up to the patriarchy! People I respect seemed impressed! Colleagues in my department seemed proud of me rather than embarrassed by me! What more could I ever hope for?!

But then, the thread about mansplaining went on and on, and in addition to S. emailing me privately to say he had cried in response to my mean spirited poem, several listserv posts referenced inappropriate / unprofessional / overly harsh responses to the mansplaining emails (and to P. in particular). I should note that P. is a very nice retired man who publicly and privately wrote that my parody poem did not offend him because he tries not to take himself too seriously.

Still, every time I read a claim that the responses to mansplaining were contributing to negative dynamics rather than addressing the problem productively, I thought,

I messed up the argument for all the other feminists. They are all writing these smart, coherent, well-reasoned arguments about mansplaining dynamics. But, because I wrote an angry parody, people are dismissing the entire conversation.

Ha! You can see that I sometimes believe I am the center of the universe, just like I sometimes believe I don’t matter at all.

Still, in the midst of ongoing listserv messages that spilled into multiple threads and simultaneous conversations on Twitter and Facebook, I didn’t have enough perspective to reflect in useful ways. I felt both pride and shame in that parody poem. I was used to being a not-good-enough feminist and a sneak-under-the-radar-where-people-might-be-more-likely-to-hear-me feminist by being too “nice.” I wasn’t used to being both a stand-out feminist and a ruin-it-for-all-the-more-rational-feminists feminist by being too “mean.”

I was uncomfortable.

***

Part of me wants to stop right here and say that a feminist may respond in a host of ways to moments or patterns of injustice, and no response is ideal. Any response may be read as “too nice” or “too mean” or “too blah blah blah.”

I could go on about that, or I could end with that point, but I have something more to interrogate regarding my discomfort. Until now, when anyone has brought up that parody poem, my response has been to answer with an expression of mixed feelings and a desire to spend more time thinking about it.

I’ll give myself a little bit of a break for claiming mixed emotions. I tend to measure the effectiveness of communication based on the fruits: Is the purpose met? is the job getting done? But any communication with multiple audiences becomes more complicated because the purpose may be met and not-met all at once. People who tend to be frustrated by mansplaining felt validated by my poem, and many laughed at a time when laughter was sorely needed.

Yet it seemed like people who didn’t recognize mansplaining prior to my poem were probably not suddenly enlightened but instead more resistant to noting such dynamics, so that’s a fail.

My mixed feelings are also based partly on my belief that it’s easy to rationalize being a jerk if I position myself as a kind of victim who’s reacting to a situation. I’m not interested in being a jerk.

***

But mostly I think my ongoing claim of “mixed feelings” is due to the uncomfortable feeling of being perceived as “mean” on the one hand and, on the other hand, feeling kinda smug about the positive responses I received.

Do you see how both responses—shame and pride—are rooted in others’ perceptions of me?

Of COURSE I would have mixed feelings when I care so much not just about the effect of the poem but also what others think of me. And, again, I find that I’ve positioned myself at the center of the universe. Egads.

So maybe I can see if I can make this not all about me?

***

When I think about the parody poem without caring so much about what people think of me, I get a little mad about some of the reactions.

Why did S. contact me with so much concern about P. but no concern over the woman whom P. had mansplained—in a public forum, where her colleagues and students could witness the demeaning way she was spoken to, not once but twice? Why did others on the listserv call out uncivil behavior in the responses to mansplaining without recognizing that the mansplaining at the root of the conversation was itself rude and inappropriate?

So this is where I’m ending up. Once I let go of concerns about what people think of me, I feel really good about that parody poem. Yes, it was written in anger, but it did what it was meant to do: It used P.’s own words to expose the incivility and condescension in his message. And it did it in a way that was not so much about P. as it was about a speech pattern that negatively affects too many people (mostly women and others in vulnerable positions) all too often.

Those who didn’t (couldn’t? wouldn’t?) hear the message are invested in a worldview that protects P. (all men? certain men with secure professional standing? P. in particular?) and his reputation. These folks are thus not able to hear any message that calls P. (or men in general?) to account for writing in disrespectful ways to others. If these folks were open to hearing rational arguments, they could’ve heard the rational arguments and ignored my angry parody.

Yes, they will say that P.’s intentions are good. I believe that. And if the situation had ended with the apology, there wouldn’t have been a parody poem and a public reckoning. But intentions, hell, etc. If P. (or anyone, because we are talking about patterns…) is not willing to learn and adjust communication even immediately after apologizing, well, let’s spend time worrying about the people victimized by good intentions.

So that poem isn’t about me being a cool feminist or me being a mean jerk. That poem is about a problematic dynamic—mansplaining in professional spaces—that we need to recognize and change.

I’m owning it. I wrote that parody poem. I posted it to the listserv. It made some people uncomfortable, including me.

The question is, what do we do with our discomfort?

If you’re at all like me, you’ll look at your discomfort, see where it’s coming from, and decide how to move forward.

(Or if you’re at all like the less mature side of me, you’ll either run and hide from your discomfort or lash out at whatever seems to be the immediate cause of the discomfort. But let’s try not to be like that less mature Laurie!)

In my case, seeing my tendency to care too much about how others perceive me allows me to shift my focus so that the poem I posted is not about me but instead is about a communication dynamic. I can use my discomfort as an opportunity for growth. I need to decenter myself.

I’m actually laughing now because I’ve written an entire blog post about my perspective in order to reach the conclusion that I need to decenter myself. Ah, the irony. But I’m going to share this anyhow because even this story is not so much about me as it is about patterns. Maybe in the future I’ll be quicker to recognize my tendency to care too much about others’ perceptions of me. Maybe others will see similar tendencies in themselves.

Maybe we will be quicker to acknowledge our feelings of shame and pride and then let those feelings go as we turn our attention back to the good fight.