Blanket statements against cis, straight, white (often male) people used to make me uncomfortable.
Then I got into a fight with my (cis, straight, white, male) friend. We’ve been friends for almost ten years and we’ve gone through some rough stuff together, but that night he said that he didn’t understand why I got upset with people who supported companies with homophobic CEOs or which had homophobic policies. He tried to tell me that it wasn’t a big deal, and that I was “overreacting” for being angry about the fact that things like that make it harder for people who aren’t straight—people like me—to get hired and generally have basic human respect. He didn’t “understand what my problem was.”
I ended up retreating to the bathroom and pulling my hair, and out of my mouth came the words, “Fucking straight people!”
Then I realized why people used blanket statements like that.
That’s the story you’re not hearing when you feel uncomfortable about those blanket statements. You don’t understand that—today, yesterday, last week, their whole lives—they’ve been stepped on by those closest to them. Friends, family, loved ones, coworkers, bosses. All these cis, straight, white, male people who they love and cherish using the wrong pronouns for them, derailing them, gaslighting them, telling them “that’s just how it is,” telling them to get over it, telling them they don’t matter.
When you use generalizing blanket statements, it hurts less. It isn’t your best friend who’s jokingly using slurs. It isn’t your mother who says “how gross” when a woman kisses another woman on the TV and you’re sitting right across the table. It isn’t your brother who takes photos of trans* people walking down the street and then shows them to you like he’s proud of himself. It depersonalizes it, makes the people who hurt you into a nebulous group.
It’s just “white people.” It’s just “cis people.” It’s just “straight men.” For one second, you can pretend that it’s no one you actually know and love.
So the next time you hear someone use a blanket statement, stop and hear the pain and struggle underneath it. Think about all the personal stories of betrayal they must have. And then feel grateful, really fucking grateful, that you don’t need to use them yourself.This is such a good articulation of this thing!
Agreed!
I’ve been thinking a lot about self-care yelling lately (that’s my word for these kinds of statements), and this is not a thing I’ve thought of myself, and really helpful for my thinking.
It also helps me articulate a connection of my own.
One of the ways I phrase things about bad social systems is that they make people into weapons as well as making people into victims, and the weapons didn’t choose this any more than the victims did.
So on one hand, this means that many of the ways people end up hurting people aren’t because they’re horrible people and such - they come from the system (note: this doesn’t make them anymore OK or acceptable, and it’s still people’s responsibility to not do them. But it’s an important thing to have in mind). They aren’t being horrible as people, they’re being horrible as weapons of the system.
But on the other hand, it also means that some responses to them are going to be responses to them as weapons of the system, and not as people. And if you’re a person who’s been made a weapon (and most of us are), that’s also important to remember.
Yes. Yes, yes, yes.
Also, I love the term “self-care yelling.” I want to adopt that. :)
