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As somebody with a double consciousness, I assume that every interaction I have with the world is going to be problematic to one degree or another. I don't think that's unusual; I have more trouble imagining what it's like to be someone who doesn't have to worry that a certain number of strangers (and occasionally friends) are going to thoughtlessly (or deliberately) express contempt for you anywhere you go. Which sounds crazy when it's written out, but it isn't, really - I think we're each the center of our own world and are obsessed with figuring out how everything relates to us to a higher degree than the other people we meet. Ciro may love me passionately, but I suspect that when he says "I like this coffee," he isn't thinking "what's Romie's opinion on this coffee? Has she tried it? How does she feel about coffee generally, and also about coffee this morning?" Whereas Romie definitely is.
Point being, there are a lot of opportunities to get your feelings hurt by people who aren't trying to - who are sometimes actively trying not to. A lot of times, it will be based on groups or hobbies they don't even know you're part of. Relationships are complicated, and they stay complicated even in places that are supposedly fun and casual. It's something we all deal with. We can minimise the frequency, but we can't make it go away.
That said, I assume my relationships with the world are going to average out as more problematic than they would be if I weren't female, socialist, queer, and a boundary-pushing artist actively engaged in the culture war, which I go around calling the culture war and being highbrow about. Cost of doing business. Also the cost of not doing business. You're born female, you don't really get to opt out. You just make a calculation of which lifestyle is going to be least psychologically damaging, and you run with it.
You decide it's worth watching the news even though a lot of it is going to be violence against people who look like you, and most of the "important" stories are going to involve rooms full of people who don't, and who don't want to let you in.
You decide it's worth joining social networks so that you are not invisible, and on those social networks, you decide that rather than having to spend every day fighting about things that have a measureable effect on your wellbeing with people who approach it as an academic exercise, you would like to post quippy non-sequitors, because aside from being a woman, you are someone who likes quippy non-sequitors. You will nevertheless see lots of posts, even from people you like, that have a subtext (or even text) that the most important thing about you is whether you give good blowjobs, or that accuse you of being a murderer-in-waiting.
You will meanwhile be lambasted by the people who think you are not a murderer and are more important than blowjobs for the fact that you don't spend more time talking about non-murder and blowjobs. You will be criticized for belonging to the social networks because their founders oppressed women, or because other women use them as dieting tools. You are assumed to hate your body, either because you post pictures in which you look good or because you don't. You will be criticized if you leave these social networks for being a coward or a luddite or for deserting the other women.
You decide you will go ahead and enjoy articles and television shows about traditionally female spheres like fashion and home decorating, even though they are problematic, because you like color and shape and textiles that move, and because the alternative is to avoid most of the shows and magazines that are edited or produced by women. You decide that you don't think the best way to support a marginalized group is to agree they shouldn't be heard. When you point out the problematic content, you are called a no-fun idiot who doesn't get it. When you point out the great things about the content, you are called a deluded idiot who doesn't get it.
You decide you will enjoy articles and television shows that are not in traditionally female spheres, which is most of them, even though they are problematic. People get irrationally angry with you when you disagree with them, and also sometimes when you agree with them. Some people get angry with you just for showing up. Or for not showing up. Other people are not angry, but are convinced you don't like the things you show all evidence of liking, and will helpfully opt you out of them.
When you are given advice, asked for or un-, you are told not what you should do, but what all women should do. Sometimes the people giving the advice will say "not you, obviously" and continue to talk about all women instead of you, even though you are the only one listening.
You accept that in a worldwide misogynist culture, there is not a discussion that takes place outside of misogynist culture. You keep participating, because the alternative is to not exist, and you like you, amazingly. It is not lost on you that there are people who find the fact that you exist disgusting. It is not lost on you that some of your harshest criticism will come from your allies, who will be disgusted because they expected more of you, even if you are doing better than anyone else.
It's not a bad life. You don't get shot at or starve or struggle with chronic illness. In terms of wellbeing, you are easily in the top .0001% of everyone who has ever lived. When you're put in charge of things and you're nice, people describe you as vascillating and tell you you're too accommodating to ever get ahead. When you're in charge of things and you're aggressive, you're told you need to take better care of other people's feelings and they shouldn't have to do what you say. You do your best to find this funny. You do your best to diversify your interests and your social groups and your talents, so that when one area of your life starts hating you more than usual, there's room for you to live in one of the other areas until things cool down.
But there are some days when, by coincidence or design, almost all of the comparitively non-problematic spaces and topics you visit to relax hate you at once, or subject you to enough disdain that you can't enjoy them. Days when "all women" succesfully eclipses actual you, and you can either agree you and all women are stupid or agree that all women are stupid but that you don't count as a woman (which does not let you count as a man or as a non-gendered person).
There are some days when, by coincidence or design, somebody makes an academic argument about something personal that tears you down to nothing, and there is no place you can go without feeling your gender shimmering around you, so that the world can't see you and you can't see anything but you, distorted and all by yourself. On those days, you spend all day shaking. On those days, you avoid eye contact. On those days, you hope there aren't too many days strung together.
Point being, there are a lot of opportunities to get your feelings hurt by people who aren't trying to - who are sometimes actively trying not to. A lot of times, it will be based on groups or hobbies they don't even know you're part of. Relationships are complicated, and they stay complicated even in places that are supposedly fun and casual. It's something we all deal with. We can minimise the frequency, but we can't make it go away.
That said, I assume my relationships with the world are going to average out as more problematic than they would be if I weren't female, socialist, queer, and a boundary-pushing artist actively engaged in the culture war, which I go around calling the culture war and being highbrow about. Cost of doing business. Also the cost of not doing business. You're born female, you don't really get to opt out. You just make a calculation of which lifestyle is going to be least psychologically damaging, and you run with it.
You decide it's worth watching the news even though a lot of it is going to be violence against people who look like you, and most of the "important" stories are going to involve rooms full of people who don't, and who don't want to let you in.
You decide it's worth joining social networks so that you are not invisible, and on those social networks, you decide that rather than having to spend every day fighting about things that have a measureable effect on your wellbeing with people who approach it as an academic exercise, you would like to post quippy non-sequitors, because aside from being a woman, you are someone who likes quippy non-sequitors. You will nevertheless see lots of posts, even from people you like, that have a subtext (or even text) that the most important thing about you is whether you give good blowjobs, or that accuse you of being a murderer-in-waiting.
You will meanwhile be lambasted by the people who think you are not a murderer and are more important than blowjobs for the fact that you don't spend more time talking about non-murder and blowjobs. You will be criticized for belonging to the social networks because their founders oppressed women, or because other women use them as dieting tools. You are assumed to hate your body, either because you post pictures in which you look good or because you don't. You will be criticized if you leave these social networks for being a coward or a luddite or for deserting the other women.
You decide you will go ahead and enjoy articles and television shows about traditionally female spheres like fashion and home decorating, even though they are problematic, because you like color and shape and textiles that move, and because the alternative is to avoid most of the shows and magazines that are edited or produced by women. You decide that you don't think the best way to support a marginalized group is to agree they shouldn't be heard. When you point out the problematic content, you are called a no-fun idiot who doesn't get it. When you point out the great things about the content, you are called a deluded idiot who doesn't get it.
You decide you will enjoy articles and television shows that are not in traditionally female spheres, which is most of them, even though they are problematic. People get irrationally angry with you when you disagree with them, and also sometimes when you agree with them. Some people get angry with you just for showing up. Or for not showing up. Other people are not angry, but are convinced you don't like the things you show all evidence of liking, and will helpfully opt you out of them.
When you are given advice, asked for or un-, you are told not what you should do, but what all women should do. Sometimes the people giving the advice will say "not you, obviously" and continue to talk about all women instead of you, even though you are the only one listening.
You accept that in a worldwide misogynist culture, there is not a discussion that takes place outside of misogynist culture. You keep participating, because the alternative is to not exist, and you like you, amazingly. It is not lost on you that there are people who find the fact that you exist disgusting. It is not lost on you that some of your harshest criticism will come from your allies, who will be disgusted because they expected more of you, even if you are doing better than anyone else.
It's not a bad life. You don't get shot at or starve or struggle with chronic illness. In terms of wellbeing, you are easily in the top .0001% of everyone who has ever lived. When you're put in charge of things and you're nice, people describe you as vascillating and tell you you're too accommodating to ever get ahead. When you're in charge of things and you're aggressive, you're told you need to take better care of other people's feelings and they shouldn't have to do what you say. You do your best to find this funny. You do your best to diversify your interests and your social groups and your talents, so that when one area of your life starts hating you more than usual, there's room for you to live in one of the other areas until things cool down.
But there are some days when, by coincidence or design, almost all of the comparitively non-problematic spaces and topics you visit to relax hate you at once, or subject you to enough disdain that you can't enjoy them. Days when "all women" succesfully eclipses actual you, and you can either agree you and all women are stupid or agree that all women are stupid but that you don't count as a woman (which does not let you count as a man or as a non-gendered person).
There are some days when, by coincidence or design, somebody makes an academic argument about something personal that tears you down to nothing, and there is no place you can go without feeling your gender shimmering around you, so that the world can't see you and you can't see anything but you, distorted and all by yourself. On those days, you spend all day shaking. On those days, you avoid eye contact. On those days, you hope there aren't too many days strung together.
