When I announced the Backbone Project two weeks ago, I expected to get some practice at writing essays that weren’t terribly conciliatory, at responding to people who disagreed with me, and at addressing subjects that I might normally hesitate to talk about. And I was right, to a point; I did in fact get practice in all of the above. But I learned a lot more than I anticipated.
First off, I learned that Ferrett is right (which probably doesn’t come as much of a surprise to many of you). Here I’ve been spending all this energy softening the expression of my viewpoints and trying my hardest to keep everyone happy, and it turns out that’s not so interesting. People respond more when I’m less nice, less perfection-geared, and less careful, as you can see from the amazing comment threads on all three of the Backbone Project essays.
Also, when people disagree with me or even dislike me, I don’t spontaneously combust into flames. Instead, I have a feeling of strength. There’s something bracingly exciting about saying: This is who I am, and this is where I stand. You don’t have to agree with me, but here I am, like it or not.
In a small, private-ish corner of the internet, I even stirred up a tiny hornet’s nest. Yes, indeed, there were all sorts of strangers saying, among other things, how judgmental and smug I am, how if I’ve had problems with not drinking, it must be because of my attitude (otherwise known as victim blaming, but whatever), and that it is completely not a big deal to not drink. At first, I felt terrible. I should have chosen my words more carefully. I was an awful person, both to write such an essay and to not want to drink in the first place. That second assertion snapped me out of it and instead I felt defensive. They hadn’t read my essay! They definitely hadn’t read the comments following it. They didn’t understand. For awhile, I yo-yoed between the two states.
And then I realized it wasn’t a big deal. The conversation wasn’t even about me. Anybody who no longer liked me or no longer wanted to read my blog probably wasn’t my friend or ideal reader in the first place. “Congratulations,” my husband said. “Having people tear you apart on the internet means you’ve leveled up. You have more influence now.” Oh. Who knew?
Meanwhile, I was busy being educated, and the remaining small rough patch of alienation caused by not drinking alcohol was being healed as I found solidarity in a completely unexpected way. As all of you shared the ways in which you are different, told your stories about being child free or hating to be photographed, not wearing shoes and being vegetarian/vegan, not driving and being polyamorous, I began to feel not so much held apart by my differences as brought closer to all of you who have had similar struggles. Indeed, our differences became something we have in common. I learned so much from all three conversations, and I’m looking forward to many more.
Of course, while my goal for the Backbone Project was to write three essays, in reality the project is ongoing, which is great, because it supports what I’m doing in the rest of my life as well. I’m going to keep trying to avoid the wishy-washy and to write strongly and bravely. I know I won’t always succeed, but my guess is that the more I do it, the better I will become.
And remember, you have until tonight to send me links to your own Backbone Project essays. There have been some really awesome posts going up this last week, and I can’t wait to share them with everybody!
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Attracted your own set of trolls. 🙂
I’ve loved these posts; not only were they interesting, but the conversations that they sparked and the comments people left were fascinating.
I know, the comments were top-tier, weren’t they? Amazing conversations.
YAY Amy!
I loved the Backbone Project posts too. Congrats on such a successful event!
Thank you, Danielle! It made it easier to have my friends cheering me on!
I just caught up on these blog posts (I’ve been slacking lately!), and I must say that I’m really happy that it all turned out so well for you. Not that I thought it wouldn’t, but because it’s always nice to see something that you were afraid to do actually turn out to not be as bad as anticipated. This happens to me all of the time–fear of the unknown results in just falling back onto my comfortable ways of dealing with things (i.e. not confronting them). However, I’ve been deliberately trying to be more assertive lately, and I’ve found that in more cases than not, things turned out well for me in the end.
So thanks for doing this! I’m thinking about what I might write about for this project. I’ll probably be too late for your compilation, but I feel like I want to write something anyway. I usually don’t post publicly in my journal anymore, but maybe I will for this one. We’ll see.
It happens to me all the time too! For being a self-identified optimist, I sure do fear the worst a lot. I’ve decided, though, that when I settle for less or am willing to accept the mediocre, then that’s what I get, so it’s worth it to challenge myself to aim for more.
I’d love to read whatever you have to write!
“…and the remaining small rough patch of alienation caused by not drinking alcohol was being healed as I found solidarity in a completely unexpected way. As all of you shared the ways in which you are different, told your stories about being child free or hating to be photographed, not wearing shoes and being vegetarian/vegan, not driving and being polyamorous, I began to feel not so much held apart by my differences as brought closer to all of you who have had similar struggles. Indeed, our differences became something we have in common.”
But you can only be freed from this alienation if you find solace in the struggles of others who are alienated in other ways, that we are alike because we all struggle to be different in our own ways. You have to embrace this liberal mindset that we are all whatever we all are and that is whatever we should be.
But those of us of a conservative slant (and I use liberal/conservative in an ethical sense not politically) find no solace in these things. That unless you are absent an opinion on the ‘rightness’ of all these things they are all dividers. The communist who struggles against capitalism is not a brother to the democratic revolutionary struggling against totalitarianism – though they both struggle ultimately they cannot both coexist. Their existence makes the world less the world you want to live in, how you think the world “should” be.
And it drives not only a wedge between any given person and their better world, but between any potential future person at a close friend or relationship. That I could meet an otherwise amazing person, only to have the interpersonal relationship sundered by their drinking habits or their wanting our relationship to be poly or their militant anti-meat-eating casting a scornful eye every time I order a hamburger (FWIW I dated a vegetarian once who was non-militant).
Ever had a painful relationship breakup? Did it feel better to be reminded that others have felt this way and that this too shall pass? It never made me feel better. To know that others suffer as I suffer only reminds that there is suffering.
This is a complex comment and I am going to try to respond in kind.
I don’t know that I’d say I find solace in the struggles of others who are alienated as much as I find a sense of community. Yes, that doesn’t make any of it “right,” but I’m inspired by other people who are brave enough to be different and not cave into society’s expectations. Perhaps this is made easier for me by the fact that I don’t necessarily have strong opinions on which is “right” in many of these cases. I don’t care if people don’t eat meat, or don’t wear shoes, or don’t drive, if that’s what works for them. Of course, I’ll still have a problem if *they* care that I do the opposite, but the general tone of the comments left me thinking that this was often not the case.
As for the painful relationship breakup, I’d say that knowing others have felt that way too generally doesn’t make me feel better. Knowing that it will pass, on the other hand, DOES make me feel better, and other people’s experiences can be a valuable reminder of that fact. And barring the first breakup, knowing I’ve gone through it before and come out on the other side makes me feel better too, because through prior experience I have more confidence in my strength.
I think it is genuinely sad that I could meet an amazing person with whom I can’t ultimately have much of a relationship because of insurmountable differences. But that doesn’t mean I won’t meet more amazing people with whom I can share mutual acceptance. And that’s what I felt coming from many of the comments on my blog. (Yes, I’m an optimist, and we can see it shining through here.)
My most favorite of your posts is the drinking part. It reminds me why I don’t drink often (like thrice a year or less).
It sounds like you felt liberated! That’s fantastic! (I, er, still have a hard time with criticism, but I think it makes sense with my abuse background.)
so…remember you told us to tell you when we made posts where we we using our backbone? I created two this past week that for me took a lot of backbone/guts–because Gurdon in a WSJ article slammed my book Scars, suggesting that it would make even teens who had never wanted to cut, cut.
I wrote a blog post in response, which you can see here: http://wp.me/p1yz4O-Um
It helped me a ton to have so much YAlit community support; it took me from silenced to empowerment. (Er–does that still count? 🙂 )
And then, when Gurdon said that self-harm is almost trendy–I had to speak out again. I know a LOT about self-harm, since I cut for years and years to deal with the abuse. So I wrote another post….http://wp.me/p1yz4O-Va
I felt a lot better having written them! Especially because I had support, though–that helped so much (especially for the first post). I hope you don’t mind me sharing!