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Oct. 23rd, 2010 10:56 amThe latest post in Helen Lowe's series on why SF/F rocks the world of writers, is up, and it's by me. All cheeky comments will be answered in kind.
Oct. 23rd, 2010
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Oct. 23rd, 2010 03:54 pmToday I'm working. Miracle of miracles, the work is working, too. The missing review book has mysteriously discovered itself and I can write my piece by Monday (which is when I need to have it written by) and I've been re-reading my favourite book on exclusion and the excluded in Medieval literature. It examines how exclusion is codified in certain texts (mainly in Old French) and how society develops the tools to think about the excluded and to categorise the excluded and even demonise the excluded. The form of the discourse forces choices on individuals: seeing this stripped back and examined has made me think about the subject of the very recent internet discourse on exclusion.
For weeks I've been tussling with that which makes us unseen. I've been noticing the pressure around me that is intended to make the unseen seen and also that judgements take place once the unseen is seen. I've remarked upon how we've been encouraged to speak up in certain ways about certain subjects. I've been wondering if I should bow to pressure and make statements on my views and positions on these various matters and move from unseen to seen. Then I re-read this scholarly study and thought about it some more. And now we have Weather and I hurt. The aches brought by oncoming thunder turn everything personal.
The public pressures are interesting pressures. The judgements are important judgements. Nothing, however, is simple. Nothing is safe.
The literary pressure in much of the twelfth century was to ensure that differences showed and that action on differences was clear. In fact, difference was obvious, whether it was the difference of the vile peasant or the difference of an evil Jew or the difference of a pagan (read 'Moslem' - we get our biasses from our ancestors on all three fronts). The excluded. It all comes down to exclusion. Class-based exclusion, race-based exclusion, religion-based exclusion, gender-based exclusion, sexuality-based exclusion, exclusion for reasons of health of mental condition of physical condition. They're all exclusion.
Some of the texts (and some of the studies of the texts) point out that death is preferable to exclusion. That choice is not a new one. And yet we still say to each other "Speak out." And we're right and we're wrong.
We're right because if we change the discourse of exclusion then death will no longer be an option for as many people and being treated badly for who we are will no longer be an easy option for people with small souls.
We're wrong because speaking out on why we ourselves have been excluded must always be a personal choice. Those who are excluded are the only ones who should have the right to decide if their private selves are a matter for public discourse.
When a meme travels far enough, it becomes a pressure to announce "I have been bullied - I also suffer." "I have experienced racism." "I hurt because..." That pressure is subtle and insidious and can be dangerous. It excludes those who cannot or will not or ought not make their private selves public.
Right now I'm seeing a welling up of support for people who have hurt through exclusion. This is wonderful. It's a move towards more of us enjoying the company of other people who don't necessarily share our background or interests or religion or sexual preferences or health or a bunch of other things. This growth in understanding reminds me that humanity is fascinating and complex and that being different doesn't have to lead to exclusion. That exclusion or death are not the only choices.
It's good to be reminded of this. That exclusion or death are not the only choices. Those two words, exclusion and death, as choices, go back to that study of twelfth century literature. In fact, I was quoting from the second article. They were seen as clear options. You are of us, or you remain unseen, or you are to be excluded, or you must die. These were the specific choices for Jews in 1492. This is a very human way of creating a society. Not nice, but humans aren't always nice. So it's good to see so many people who want to change and live in a better society.
Right now, however, I'm also seeing an even bigger swelling up of enthusiasm for the public identification of differences. It implies that those who have been excluded should say so. That solidarity is the cure-all. That there is shame in not joining in.
There is no shame in being silent. The shame is in making decisions about silence for someone else. We all speak for ourselves. We don't have to speak up for ourselves or be public at all unless we choose it. We're the ones, after all, who have to weather the results if we speak up. What people volunteer is a special gift to the rest of us and should be treated with care and with honour.
For weeks I've been tussling with that which makes us unseen. I've been noticing the pressure around me that is intended to make the unseen seen and also that judgements take place once the unseen is seen. I've remarked upon how we've been encouraged to speak up in certain ways about certain subjects. I've been wondering if I should bow to pressure and make statements on my views and positions on these various matters and move from unseen to seen. Then I re-read this scholarly study and thought about it some more. And now we have Weather and I hurt. The aches brought by oncoming thunder turn everything personal.
The public pressures are interesting pressures. The judgements are important judgements. Nothing, however, is simple. Nothing is safe.
The literary pressure in much of the twelfth century was to ensure that differences showed and that action on differences was clear. In fact, difference was obvious, whether it was the difference of the vile peasant or the difference of an evil Jew or the difference of a pagan (read 'Moslem' - we get our biasses from our ancestors on all three fronts). The excluded. It all comes down to exclusion. Class-based exclusion, race-based exclusion, religion-based exclusion, gender-based exclusion, sexuality-based exclusion, exclusion for reasons of health of mental condition of physical condition. They're all exclusion.
Some of the texts (and some of the studies of the texts) point out that death is preferable to exclusion. That choice is not a new one. And yet we still say to each other "Speak out." And we're right and we're wrong.
We're right because if we change the discourse of exclusion then death will no longer be an option for as many people and being treated badly for who we are will no longer be an easy option for people with small souls.
We're wrong because speaking out on why we ourselves have been excluded must always be a personal choice. Those who are excluded are the only ones who should have the right to decide if their private selves are a matter for public discourse.
When a meme travels far enough, it becomes a pressure to announce "I have been bullied - I also suffer." "I have experienced racism." "I hurt because..." That pressure is subtle and insidious and can be dangerous. It excludes those who cannot or will not or ought not make their private selves public.
Right now I'm seeing a welling up of support for people who have hurt through exclusion. This is wonderful. It's a move towards more of us enjoying the company of other people who don't necessarily share our background or interests or religion or sexual preferences or health or a bunch of other things. This growth in understanding reminds me that humanity is fascinating and complex and that being different doesn't have to lead to exclusion. That exclusion or death are not the only choices.
It's good to be reminded of this. That exclusion or death are not the only choices. Those two words, exclusion and death, as choices, go back to that study of twelfth century literature. In fact, I was quoting from the second article. They were seen as clear options. You are of us, or you remain unseen, or you are to be excluded, or you must die. These were the specific choices for Jews in 1492. This is a very human way of creating a society. Not nice, but humans aren't always nice. So it's good to see so many people who want to change and live in a better society.
Right now, however, I'm also seeing an even bigger swelling up of enthusiasm for the public identification of differences. It implies that those who have been excluded should say so. That solidarity is the cure-all. That there is shame in not joining in.
There is no shame in being silent. The shame is in making decisions about silence for someone else. We all speak for ourselves. We don't have to speak up for ourselves or be public at all unless we choose it. We're the ones, after all, who have to weather the results if we speak up. What people volunteer is a special gift to the rest of us and should be treated with care and with honour.
(no subject)
Oct. 23rd, 2010 10:20 pmI'm eschewing paper. This has nothing to do with the two foot high stack that I started exploring to find some missing certificates I need to fill in university paperwork. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that the two foot high pile is now only six inches high and my floor has a soft new carpet. I rather suspect that the migraine I weathered earlier hadn't gone quite as far as I thought. I can think of no other reason why paper would slide so simply and spread itself so very finely. None.