It’s a thing. It’s most definitely a thing when it comes to not being a douche about diversity.
I was pondering this morning why some people feel the need to weigh in – particularly in a personal, attack-y kind of way – when someone shares experiences different to their own. There does seem to be one consistent pattern. And it’s all about knowing.
It’s also about demonstrating that knowing. And then, sadly, often using that knowing in a weirdly competitive, challenging way.
Towards the end of last year I was posting a fair amount about my gender journey, about my top surgery experience and about gender diverse topics generally. In some quarters it was well received and lead to all kinds of great conversations and connections. But it also lead to a tonne of hate. And when I say a tonne, I mean there were some days where the hateful comments were coming in faster than I could delete them.
I’ve not been posting about these topics so much since. That was actually a pretty sh*tty experience to go through and although I do have a fairly thick skin, I’m still human.
In the weeks since I’ve been pondering why some people seem to get so triggered by that kind of content, because I really do want to keep sharing it and talking about it. I know that it makes a really positive difference for a lot of folks and that matters.
So in true autistic form I’ve been thinking my way through it all, trying to work out what is actually going on for folks who react so strongly to this stuff. One of the conclusions that hit me over my morning cuppa today was that it all comes down to knowing.
What I’m referring to here as ‘knowing’ is very different to ‘awareness’. In order to not be a douche about diversity you need to be OK with not knowing stuff.
This ISN’T me giving you permission to stick your fingers in your ears, bask in your ignorance and call it being progressive. You DO need to be aware of all of the bigger picture stuff. You – we all – need to educate ourselves about different experiences and identities. We need to recognise our own prejudices and biases – because we all have them. We all need to be keyed in to make sure we always use appropriate language and that we are sensitive to cultural and societal differences.
But awareness is different to knowing. Awareness – in this context – means understanding, right to your core, that you do not and will never KNOW what someone else’s experience is. Not being a douche about diversity requires you to accept what other people say about themselves, even if you don’t understand it fully, or at all.
For example some people seem to get really fixated about genitalia. But let’s be explicitly clear on this: what’s going on in someone’s underwear is only ever relevant to you if you are the person wearing said underwear or if you’re planning on getting personally acquainted with the contents of someone else’s underwear. I’d probably argue that if someone else is wearing your underwear then you do have the right to know some of the intricacies there, but each to their own. You do you.
Needing to know what is in someone’s pants before you are willing to treat them as an equal, or permit them to X, Y or Z, or be willing to refer to them by their name/pronouns is full-frontal douche.
It’s none of your business mate.
The same for other physical things.
The people who say things to me like: “Chopping off your breasts will never make you a man. Stop trying to pretend you’re something you’re not.” are quite determined that their rules about what defines a person’s gender are absolute. They know better than me what my gender is based on their clear and defined knowing of the subject.
To continue with this example for a moment – because it’s a genuine example – first off, I’m not a man. But even if I did identify as a man, my body is my business and their definitions don’t apply. In the same way my definitions don’t apply to them.
Regardless of my actual gender identity, I wouldn’t be seeking validation from strangers on the internet in order to confirm it’s truth for me. And I certainly wouldn’t be rethinking my whole identity just because Wesley from Woking had worked out ‘what I really was’ and blown my cover. Damn! My ‘stealth man’ mission is officially over. You win, Wes!
Why does Wes think that saying a thing like that is going to help anyone, anyway?
Not knowing is beautiful. Becoming comfortable with – and revelling in – not knowing what other people’s experiences may be opens up a delicious opportunity for curiosity, connection and growth. It’s a glorious thing!
When you believe you know something, you feel certain in it and that’s a comfortable feeling. Then, when someone or something comes along that doesn’t fit it, you are suddenly faced with having, maybe, been wrong. Being wrong about something can feel pretty pants. It can be challenging. And one way that people deal with that is to become defensive about it.
Lots of people do.
For some folks it somehow seems much easier to suit up in their armour and wade into a battle over how they are right and there couldn’t possibly be any other way. As if accepting that a different experience exists somehow diminishes their own.
It can take humility and grace to accept and move through having your world view shifted, and these skills don’t always come easy. But they come a heck of a lot easier if you haven’t already tied yourself into absolutely and definitively knowing what you know.
I’d argue that every single experience of prejudice comes down to a variation of this. It comes down to someone deciding they know a certain thing, and then having to deal with having that knowing questioned. Sometimes it feels easier to build a wall and say ‘No. You’re wrong! Let me now use my knowing of your wrongness to beat you into submission.’
But it’s rarely the right way to go about things.
Not knowing is beautiful.
I recommend it.