Recently, I said the wrong thing.
It happens.
I apologized to the folks who I may have (inadvertantly) offended, and they at least seemed to understand where I was coming from and to accept my apology as sincere
What’s more interesting than what I said is how the reaction to having said it made me feel. I wasn’t addressed with disrespect or nastiness; on the contrary, I got a levelheaded talking-to that highlighted an area in which I have something to learn. A “talking-to” may sound like something that a parent gives a child. It’s also often how a teacher addresses a student. And sometimes folks turn out to be teachers when we’re nowhere near a classroom and are years past doodling in the back row. Sometimes grown-ups get talking-tos, too.
But my guilt at the idea of doing something wrong, of being “the bad one,” flared up, as it always does. And while it was perhaps warranted in this case, in other cases, it isn’t. Oftentimes, instead of standing up for myself in the face of unjust criticism, I’ve folded into myself and nodded mutely in order to “make nice.”
This isn’t because I am a lady, although we are generally raised to make pretty eyes at folks when we should be raising our fists in the air, protest-style. I know plenty of girlfriends who won’t take some of the shit I have, in the past, meekly taken. It’s because, oftentimes, my motivation has been to keep things pleasant rather than deal with what’s real. Sometimes it’s safer to pretend you’re in the wrong than to declare yourself an independent voice.
Now again, that wasn’t what happened in this most recent case. I said something dumb, and I apologized because an apology was warranted.
But it’s not always that cut and dry. And having seen Moe and Tracie from Jezebel pummeled on the blogs over the past few weeks, and reading in particular Tracie’s responses on her blog, and the alternately horribly mean and sickeningly worshipful comments on both Jezebel and Tracie’s blog, I’ve been wondering about words, and guilt, and responsibility, and the easy path of finger-pointing and blame.
No moral here. Just thinking out loud, or something like it, very late on a Wednesday night.
It’s time to get some rest.
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