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[Oct. 16th, 2007|04:16 am] |
Am reading old Cary Tennis advice columns at Salon, and I came across one about a woman who has an evangelical vegan friend, one who is always pestering her about how she can eat meat. What interested me is the following quote:
I sometimes hear people say things such as this: "I'm not arguing with you or putting you down, I truly, truly want to understand you!" I do not believe that. I hear that as "I truly, truly want to know how you can be such a wicked person and still go about in apparently normal fashion!" And to such an assertion I would say, if you truly, truly want to know, then truly, truly don't ask me; instead, study closely and honestly the world of people who are not vegans and truly, truly ask whether they can all be classified as murderers or immoral people. But do not try to clumsily lure me into a veiled exercise in character assassination.
I love this answer, and think it can apply to so many things. In fandom, for instance, there are often the endless "I don't understand how people can like slash!" posts, the "are people who like het really that prudish?" posts, the "how can you possibly like X character?" posts. You know what I mean. And often there is attached to the rant/screed the concept that the people who are making these posts are really "just trying to understand" some behavior/concept that apparently is not only exceedingly puzzling, but frustratingly enticing.
If you truly, truly want to know, then truly, truly don't ask me
This is excellent advice, because of course, most of the people who make these kinds of requests don't "truly want to know." All they want to do is pontificate on why they are right and why everyone else is wrong.
I like this advice, because of course I myself am one of those ranty type people. I enjoy the fun of a good bitch sesh, all the while knowing that it's nothing more than cheap theater. It rarely is a way to explore new thoughts or connect with people. Having learning this, I have tried (painfully, I have to admit) not to rant about things, even when it feels so right, ESPECIALLY when it feels "necessary." And in the context of fandom, it’s been actually pretty humbling to restrict my rants: because it turns out, as a fan I don’t have much of substance to say. I mean, I have squee, and I’m actually kind of proud that I have a lot of dumbass unnecessary things to say on the topic of Scar… and yet, it doesn’t make for great writing to turn my journal into an updated version of marginal love-scribbles on school notebook paper. So I keep my Scar babbling to PM, or better, inside my own head (where it often turns into a goofy smile and a benign feeling of love and peace towards the world). But for my fandoms (of which FMA is but one), I don’t have a lot of philosophy. No fresh insight, no startling discoveries. Just… rants. Things that irritate, annoy, infuriate.
But what are rants, really, except for a way to isolate oneself from others? To separate from the very fans with whom it is more meritous to form cordial relations with? Wait… screw “meritous”… it’s just more fun to be friendly. To mean well. And for me, in the online setting, this means to do a lot more lurking than participating, a lot more following than leading. Admiring the cleverness of others is a lot less stressful than indulging my worst habits, but it’s not easy. Having burned my bridges, it’s easy to feel bitter about the friendships lost or never gained, and bitterness is easily translated into greater irritation and judgmentalness.
There are a lot of things about fandom that perplex me. Why people like certain things, why they don’t like others. But I don’t want to be that person, the one who figures out people by requiring an auto de fe for every inexplicable, irritating point of view. I really don’t. And I like reading quotes like the one reproduced above, because it reminds me of the goal I’m trying to reach: that of really understanding other people, not only in real life (I’m not half bad there), but online as well. |
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