An odd drive-by comment hit my blog yesterday. It’s made me think about this wide information divide that has many of us living in separate realities and how that shades every interaction. Like most people, I have close relationships with people who share my values and arms-length ones with people who don’t. Whether you call it an echo chamber or just being human is up to you.
For anyone who has read my blog, I’m quite obviously not a conservative and my readers are generally agreeable or silent. It seems pretty pointless to seek out a blog post just to be disagreeable. I don’t even know how a person finds their way to this dusty corner of the internet, but for context, here is the full comment (unrevised or edited):
Boys in girls lockers, sports and pageants is supporting women’s rights. Makes perfect sense to a hypocrite. And your “pro tip” about “good people” don’t acquire grotesque piles of money and unfettered power—I guess you think the Nancy’s and Chuck’s of your party are just that brilliant, superior, class-act, law abiding individuals of ALL time. Making $300K a year for the last 2 decades and now their worth is in the millions. That’s just good budgeting and investing. Makes perfect sense to a hypocrite. You can’t make up this stuff. Common sense isn’t as common for some. It’s a hard reach for many. Thank GOD not for the majority in this country! #maga
Now a lot of people would say just ignore it and if I were not so cursed with critical thinking and a writer’s brain and just self-conscious prickliness, I might. I wrote a long reply to the commenter, interrogating some of her beliefs, explaining why I disagreed and asked her to move along, before blacklisting her (I am nothing if not deliberate in my boundaries). Then I deleted both the comment and the reply, because I like my readers and I like my blog and I don’t need someone pissing propaganda on it.
But I am also human and can be petty when the moment takes me.
Her profile pic is of someone who presents as a white, middle aged lady. I know nothing else about her, except her full name and email address, IP address, voter registration, and street address. If I spent more than two minutes on it, I’d know her workplace, social media accounts, and probably the full force of her opinions. This is not a threat, but an observation. Humans are curious creatures by nature – overthinking writers even more so. Many of us are fantastic internet sleuths and spend a lot of time procrastinating writing. Because friends, we are not anonymous in this digital landscape. I am not either and that awareness informs how I conduct myself online (as well as, you know, decency). I try to remain authentic without giving air to my more pernicious thoughts. The election and politics and state of things has had me toeing that line a lot lately, but the gift of writing and editing is that you can find your way around to less combative ways to engage with people.
Finding my way around or through these times means dealing with my own anger. It’s taking all my energy at the moment, so I’m not willing to deal with anyone else’s – especially if they’re churning out rightwing talking points and coming at people with bile as first contact. I try not to deeply dislike people until I’ve spent some time with them and/or their work.
It’s a challenge, because the power of bigotry is a power of division. Us versus them. Stacking up our egos and self-esteem and privilege against “others”. We learn to spot the cues, the phrases, the hats, and immediately withdraw into our shells. I don’t have the energy to deal with misinformation and cultish devotees. Talk to me like I’m a person and I won’t treat you like you’re a social contagion. Comment online as if you’re writing to a real person and not an inanimate object for your derision.
Since I’m also a reader and would want the full story arc, here was my response:
Hypocrites reside everywhere and no, I don’t think much of anyone who accrues power and money and does little good.
It seems weird that you’re coming here to attack me, a tiny little blog in a world of places to go where everyone will agree with you.
I don’t agree with you. I don’t think persecuting people is a good thing. I don’t think cutting Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security is a good thing. I don’t think firing veterans is a good thing. I don’t think removing women from military leadership roles is a good thing. I don’t think rounding up people and putting them in concentration camps is a good thing. I don’t think lying about Ukraine is a good thing. I don’t think allowing children to die of measles is a good thing. I don’t think not having clean food, air, and water is a good thing. I don’t think incompetency in the form of unelected arrogant billionaires is a good thing. I don’t think stripping away civil and human rights is a good thing. Mostly, I don’t think telling people who to hate while their pockets get picked is a good thing.
Which of these things have you decided is worth supporting? And what does making America great again mean to you? What’s “again”? When you were a child? When our mothers couldn’t have bank accounts? When there were “Whites Only” establishments? When people were dying of preventable diseases? If you’re willing to spew all that propaganda at a stranger on the internet, I think it’s important to think about what you are parroting and if it is indeed a reflection of who you are as a person. That being said, there is no need to return here. Our first interaction didn’t need to be like this. You could have talked to me like another living, breathing, caring human being. We could have disagreed, but been decent humans. Instead, you chose this.
I know, I know. Petty. Self-righteous. Indignant. But again, I am a real human being. I interrogate myself daily about my interactions and reactions online and off. There are people blithely walking this planet as if anything they say or do doesn’t matter – just thoughtlessly spewing bile online and getting on with their day. Sometimes they stop by here. But see, Tracy, you DO matter. After all, I wrote a whole blog post about you.
Moral of the story: Don’t come at writers. They never stop writing.
Leave a Reply