Terrible Things People Say

As a child, I was bullied on a regular basis. This is a sad reality for far too many adolescents, as you may have noticed over the past two or three years. Coming of age as the Internet started to gain ground, I experienced cyberbullying on two occasions I can recall, but thanks to the limited access afforded by dial-up, I was not plugged in constantly, which no doubt reduced my risk of attacks.

In more idealistic days, I assumed that people became more civilized as they grew up, and that bullying peters out as a result. Now I realize that this rare bit of optimism on my part was misguided. I'm almost 28 years old, and I've learned that bullying never goes away. It may get even more vicious.

You may recall my post from last November about the woman who referred to me as "the weird girl." This was a passive sort of bullying, since she didn't say it to my face; instead, it trickled down to me. I've also been torn apart via e-mail by people who were unable to mask their identities yet managed to keep the shield of the screen between us, which is somewhere between passive and aggressive. These occurrences, while bothersome, allow for at least some control on my part: all I have to do is cut off communication, or keep things professional if I must interact with the people in question.

However, one of the more prominent forms of bullying today is anonymous cyberbullying, taking place in online forums, on social networks, or in comment sections below articles/blog posts. I don't know that I've ever experienced this myself, since for various reasons I don't engage in online discourse to a large extent.

This is not the case for everyone. Popular bloggers might get a thousand comments in a single day. Authors of articles for online news magazines are subject to both editorial scrutiny and public response. Or, in the case of Andrea Wrobel, a person may be promoting his or her work on the Internet. Wrobel recently recounted her experience over at SheWrites, saying that anonymous commenters were the worst of the group, sometimes making rape jokes or otherwise disparaging her. 

This undisguised misogyny is not uncommon. If any thread on a forum continues long enough, eventually one of two things will happen: someone will compare another person to Hitler (Godwin's Law)/accuse a person of Nazi-like thought (Reductio ad Hitlerum), or someone will tell a woman she deserves to be raped. This is what happened to Wrobel, along with, I'm sure, tens of thousands of other women who haven't shared their stories. It even happens when discussions appear about someone having been raped, as in the Texas gang rape case or the Steubenville allegations.

I have to wonder what happens to people that makes them lose their humanity and social graces, particularly when they log on. Since I'm not a psychologist or sociologist, I may never know the answer. But I do know that this kind of bullying has to end. It's backward and dangerous to continue encouraging both verbal abuse and rape culture via this kind of "discourse." It is time for us all to grow up and start supporting instead of threatening each other, don't you think?

-Cate-

Selfie-Obsessed

I have to be honest with you: I'm not sure why so many people are such vocal opponents of the selfie. Self-portraits have been A Thing in art since, oh, forever. And it may be true that my self:other ratio lists too far to the self side, but there is a good reason for it. The fact is, I'm always available as a subject.

 Hey there, hi there, ho there.

Those of you who know me recognize that I'm a hardcore introvert, and I spend so much time alone--even at work--that it's natural for me to look inward for inspiration. This is why I take pictures of myself, write poems about my life, insert aspects of my personality into fictional characters. Think of it as a literal interpretation of the long-dispensed Creative Writing 101 maxim: write what you know.

And don't mistake it for narcissism. In America, we tend to place our emphasis on the individual, which means that, to an extent, we've taught ourselves to regard ourselves highly. But I don't think that's the same as being so self-centered that we are unable to look around and recognize that others exist. For me, it's a sort of self-actualization tool: the more I examine me, the more I am able to adapt and become a better person for the sake of society.

Yes, being a better person means showing the world my feet.

Perhaps this makes me unusual and everyone else is actually as self-obsessed as the critics say. But I'd like to think that we're all in the same--albeit large--boat, trying to understand and express ourselves via ourselves. And that's not such a bad thing to do, is it?

-Cate-

On Hiatus

Dear Readers,

As we shift gears into a pretty action-packed time of the year at work, I'm going to have to take a couple of months off from blogging to take care of business. I'll see you again in May!

-Cate-

Just a Girl?

"Just a Girl" has been popping up on my iPod often recently. Every time I hear the song, two things happen:

1) I'm thrown right back to high school, when Gwen Stefani was one of my role models (to be fair, she still is).

2) I think about how deadly accurate the lyrics are.

Let's have a listen, shall we?

There are so many great lines to choose from. Maybe you relate when Stefani sings, "What I've succumbed to is making me numb." Peggy Orenstein, author of Cinderella Ate My Daughter, may have felt that way, so she pushed back against the princess complex springing up in our culture. Or perhaps Stefani speaks to you when she says, "Oh, I'm just a girl--my apologies." Madonna expressed a similar sentiment with "What It Feels Like for a Girl" several years after "Just a Girl" debuted. For me, it's a different line, though.

At the heart of "Just a Girl" is the observation that "they all sit and stare with their eyes." Presumably the "they" in question is men, and the male gaze is often a topic of discussion in pop culture, from the recent controversy surrounding Blue Is the Warmest Color to Cate Blanchett questioning a photog about his pan of her dress on a red carpet and much more, stretching back to time immemorial. It even has its own portion of a Wikipedia page.

I won't lie: I like attention as much as the next person, and sometimes I've been known to seek out the male gaze. This is natural, I think. But there's a difference between wanting to show off and being leered at. The first arises from my own power. The second arises from someone else claiming power. This is unacceptable.

There is a great deal of advice on the Internet about how to regain your power and stop being a victim. While I admire those trying to empower their fellow humans, I feel we need to change the system entirely. Teach your sons not to gape at girls walking past. If you find you do it yourself, look away. Smile politely but don't freak us out, because we live in a world where women often do not feel safe. Louis C.K. has a good take on this:

Sure, he's wrapped this truth in comedy, but it is still a fact. Note that C.K. is NOT saying that all men are violent rapists, but that when it comes down to statistics, men are more of a threat to women than women are to men in a physical sense. Women are trained to always be on high alert around men they don't know--or even men they do know--because our society refuses to teach everyone the same thing: don't hit, don't rape, don't abuse. When we stand on more equal ground on that front, C.K.'s comments will fade into irrelevance. Speaking of which, I think now is the proper time to point out that "Just a Girl" came out in 1995, and not much has changed in the intervening 18 and a half years. As a woman--nay, as a HUMAN--that bothers the shit out of me.

You've all been put on notice. It's time for us to change.

-Cate-

Looking Into the Past

I am 27 years old, and I work (and live) among college students ranging from 17 to 23. I was one of them not so very long ago, and when I listen to them--sometimes eavesdropping in the cafeteria, sometimes counseling them--I'm thrown back into the past, confronting my early-20s self. That girl, she is me and is not, and I keep learning from her.

There are things I know I should never do again, and things I still have time to do that I put off for various reasons (valid or not). Thanks to the mistakes I made in my most unstable days, I am a better, stronger person now, simply for having survived them. When it comes to writing, I have an abundance of source material at my disposal because I lived through those years, even if I did not thrive.

I'm hardly the first writer to take this approach, whether it's a memoirist or a historical novelist. After all, so many people give the advice to write what you know (which is a flawed instruction, but still). I invite you all to reach into your memory and see what's there to discuss today.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Sticking with It

Remember back in November when I told you about that poem I submitted 22 times and had rejected 15 times? It was pretty intense. But I've broken my own record: a poem of mine called "Naître" went out 29 times and was rejected outright 19 times. In fact, the first time I sent it anywhere, it went in tandem with "Thursday." Then the day came when I had a beautiful e-mail in my inbox from Hillary-Ann Crosby, editor of a zine called Vagina.

Fun fact: I've never been so proud of myself in my life as I was when I realized I could now put the word vagina in my résumé. That's probably (definitely) the twelve-year-old boy in me rearing his head. Better fact: after awhile, I stopped keeping a mental note of all the places "Naître" had gone. Like "Thursday" before it, I believed in this poem strongly enough to try again and again. But After the lesson I learned from "Thursday"--that you have to persevere--I relaxed about the process. 

I still send out submissions like crazy, at least three sets of work per week. And, of course, I have my trusty Excel file so I don't forget about any of my babies out there in the world. These things are important, because I know I can't give up. While the rejections still sting and sometimes make me very cranky, my experience with "Thursday" and "Naître" has proven that silly old maxim true: "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

-Cate-

Dear Diary

After using it for quite some time, I'm running out of pages in my diary. I wondered how long I've been utilizing this little green notebook, so I flipped to the front and checked the date: October 27, 2011 (coincidentally, Scott Weiland's 44th birthday). I re-read the first seven months' worth of entries, and for the first time, it struck me: I could track the decline in my mental health through those words.

I wrote about how overwhelmed I was, and mentioned that I was convinced I would break soon. On June 1, 2012, the entry I wrote crystallized the moment when I knew I wasn't okay: my handwriting resembles my own and does not--the basic shapes are there, but its lines are shaky and erratic; my words freak me out a little even now when I know I'm much better.

So I finally realize why diaries are useful. Yes, some of the entries are painful to read, not always because of the trauma but sometimes because of the mistakes and immaturity recorded. Yet because they capture moments when we are, perhaps, at our most confessional and open, these paragraphs can help us learn from the past. Not to get all Rafiki on you, but he was right when he taught us that while the past can hurt, "you can either run from it or learn from it."

Here's hoping I can take a few lessons from the words I felt compelled to write.

-Cate-