It’s Blogging Against Disablism Day! There are many many awesome posts linked there, with more being added constantly! GO CHECK IT OUT.
—–
So, as you may have noticed, I haven’t posted in a while. There are a few reasons for this–sometimes life gets in the way, stuff like that. Some reasons I’m pretty sure I haven’t even articulated to myself.
But there is one reason, one in particular, that I want to talk about in this post. And that is that I have, frankly, been nervous.
Here’s the thing. I am, very much, a small-time blogger. The most hits I have ever gotten on any one day is in the neighbourhood of two hundred and fifty. When you’re talking blogs? That’s not a big deal. Really. It’s not. But despite that, I have gotten some…pretty unpleasant backlash in response to some of the things I’ve written.
I’m sure those of you who are bloggers know what I’m referring too. I’m too sensitive. I’m obsessed with finding offense. Gratitude is obligatory. People mean well, I should just let it go. And more, that I can’t or don’t want to link to (on account of it not making through mod, or being something I don’t want to invest the energy to track down).
I’m not too badly hurt by these comments, and I know many other people have it far worse. But they do inspire in me a certain reticence; a certain unwillingness to engage with some topics. And [here is where I finally manage to get on-theme] a lot of these topics have to do with me personally, and with my relationship to disability.
Let’s take an example. Something I’ve been considering writing about, but so far have put off. Last week, my counsellor suggested the possibility of my being depressed. I actually brought it up to her, because of my chronic melancholy and a couple of other factors. She administered a questionnaire that suggests I am in range for moderate depression.
This is normally something I would consider writing about. It’s personal [I love personal!]. I can tie it to larger disability-related conversations [I love those!]. It’s interesting [Yay!]. However, I didn’t write about it. And I can tell you exactly why, too. It’s because I was afraid of the responses I would get. Afraid they would be similar to the responses I got from a couple of people I mentioned it too offline, responses like “oh, I get bad moods too!” or “I think these things are overdiagnosed” or “you want attention!”.
Because I can’t handle responses like that. I’m extraordinarily tired of them. They are not productive and they are not welcome, and they are, therefore, not something I want to have to deal with on my blog. And I was concerned that would happen if I wrote about certain topics. I still am, to be honest; I’m just trying to push through it.
Because, you see, I know what those responses are. They’re an attempt to silence me. Not necessarily consciously so, but that’s their effect. And they have been used to that effect against people with disabilities the world over, likely word-for-word. They are akin to tactics used against, to pick another group I’m part of, queer people. You can draw a direct connection between “you’re making it up for attention” and “I’m fine with gay people, but why do you have to flaunt it?”. You can see the similarities between “I know how you feel” and “I think everyone’s a little bisexual, really”. These are patterns that occur over and over again, used against every marginalized group.
They are a way of telling us our concerns don’t matter, our struggles are less real. They’re incredibly pernicious, as a lot of the time they can masquerade as genuine concern. And they’re a big part of the reason I haven’t been saying much recently.
Because when the things you say are used against you, the impulse is to say nothing at all. But that’s exactly why it’s so important to resist–marginalized voices are valuable. Our experiences matter. And given the enormous pressure against our speaking up, sharing our experiences can become a really monumental form of resistance. It doesn’t seem like much, but sometimes it’s the smallest battles that count.
Speaking up, that alone, is a way of fighting ableism. Of fighting any form of oppression. And I think it’s important not to lose that.
It takes an enormous amount of courage to speak up. I turned my comments off for a few months once because I just didn’t want feedback after writing about a very controversial issue. The comments were hateful. I learned eventually that turning the comments off kept me from seeing the positive ones too, but I can sure relate to feeling the sting of the negative ones that you talk about. It just isn’t easy sometimes.
Someone once told me that when we speak up, we’re doing so for those who can’t. You really send that message in a powerful way here today. Thanks.
I agree that it is important to keep speaking up.
Comments which seek to silence you in the way you describe are effectively saying “you are not fitting in with my worldview and this makes me feel uncomfortable,” and there’s no possible response to such a ridiculous complaint than to ignore it.
First off – Absolutely! Speaking up is vitally important. But I can understand why you’d be reticent to do so in this case, considering some of those responses you linked to.
Next – I’m so glad to have found the disability blogging community, as well as other communities fighting -isms, because I didn’t know their were words that covered so many of my experiences. Finding out that I wasn’t just being ignored for the sake of being ignored, but was instead being silenced has been empowering for me.
(Oh, and is 250 hits a day a small number? Because that’s pretty much my all time high too… oh well, at least I’m saying what I want to say, and mostly troll-free.)
Have you considered turning your blog comments off? That way people could still hear what you have to say but you wouldn’t be worried about the responses.
I can relate to some extent. I don’t write nearly as many personal posts as I used to for the same reason, and there are some topics I don’t writ eabout for this reason. However, that in turn gets people to assume that since I don’t write about it, it mustn’t be there. That is really more reason to silence me.
I hope you feel able to write about what you feel comfortable to writ eabout and want to write about, and am very sorry to hear bad comments are making you uncomfortable with topics you otherwise wanted to write about.
*applauds you for writing this*
It is scary to write publicly about this stuff. And yet, I agree, it’s so important. Thanks for adding your voice to the mix!
“oh, I get bad moods too!” or “I think these things are overdiagnosed” or “you want attention!”
Just a guess, but have any of those folks actually *been* depressed?
Because I had major depression for a number of years, and got REALLY similar responses from non-depressed people. It’s like the RL version of concern-trolling.
Right there with you on the not-writing-about-certain-things, too.
I have been lucky that my own little blog has mainly opened me up to positive commentary: but I have had some similar responses too. When I write about mental illness, I always get some emails from people who do not have depression or any mental illness telling me things like ‘oh, I feel like that too sometimes, it’s terrible, but then I do X and feel better!’ and I know that they are doing this as a way of connecting, and they mean well. They are not deliberately undermining me (which I know may not be something you can say of people who have commented similarly to you, unfortunately). But regardless of ‘meaning well’, what these people do is erase and minimise. You are totally right – it is silencing. It is saying ‘if your experience is beyond the scope of mine, I don’t really believe in it.’
Anyway, I just wanted to say, I agree with you. And I hope that you are able to keep speaking out because it’s so important, and I like reading what you have to say.
The gains to be had communicating your experience far outweigh the odd negative comment, which you can just delete.
Try training your thinking so that these comments don’t affect you so deeply. In life we will always have to hear things we don’t like. But at least with blogging we can remove it from our sight. Don’t turn off comments, just hit delete.
I just saw a link to your blog on Bitch… This is fantastically relevant to so many things I’ve been thinking of recently. I have seen and internalized comments like that for the longest time, so that I never sought treatment for my depression, sure that if I did I would seem attention-seeking, while also angry at myself for being sad when so many other people had “real” problems. When I finally hit a breaking point, I called my parents from my therapist’s office to let them know what was going on, and my mom’s response (my mom is PSYCHOLOGIST) was “I find it hard to believe you’re depressed when (insert irrelevant points about my life).” It’s so invalidating when people you trust and care about question your own self-awareness. I’ve had similar issues with my sexuality, too. It took me a long time to come out, and my aunt still maintains that I only think I’m gay.
I’m trying to start a habit of calling people out on stuff like that though… I don’t like to be confrontational, but even just a gentle remark like “Oh yeah, you’re right, I’m glad you can instantly make qualified judgments about my mental state right now!” or maybe flipping it around with a silly statement about them.
I’m so glad that you’re seeking help! The way I see it, who cares where someone’s “issues” fall on the grand scale – the point is to live life in pursuit of health and happiness.
Best wishes!
Thanks to everyone for your awesome comments! I’m really grateful to be getting such lovely feedback.
Except, @seahorse, I really take issue with your suggesting I can just flippantly shrug off negative comments. Because, y’know, I’ve tried. Words can affect a person pretty strongly, as I’m sure you’re aware, and I think it’s important not to minimize the impact they have on people.
And yeah, I do delete negative/unproductive comments. The reason I didn’t follow your advice and just delete yours is because I felt it was important to make that clear. I do delete them, often, but it doesn’t mean they don’t affect me. They still do.
hi, got here from a link form bitch )which i got to from a link from FWDforward.
anyway great post. i empathise with your comments about depression – people who aren’t or have never been depressed don’t get it. I was, for a number of years, and (touch wood) am mostly alright now (barring the odd wobble).
anyway, this looks like a good blog, I think i shall be coming back.
“They are a way of telling us our concerns don’t matter, our struggles are less real.”
Yes, this.
And to expand on this … I think that some of the examples you gave can also be a way of erasing difference and reinforcing (as well as reflecting) the privileged assumption that, “My brain wiring is like X, so I can assume that basically everyone else’s brain wiring is more or less within the same range.” I don’t think that this is always done with malicious INTENT. But I think the EFFECT it has of erasure, of invisibilizing differences in experience, of silencing people, is still usually the same.
I think in many cases people (and ESPECIALLY people with neurotypical privilege) genuinely have a difficult time wrapping their heads around the idea that there is actually much, much, MUCH more diversity in neurological wiring than most people seem to realize. Some people have enough difficulty grasping what SHOULD be relatively simple, very very common variances such as, “Some people are just innately good at math and some aren’t” or “Some people are great at sports from their first exposure and some just aren’t coordinated.” I used to assume that basically everyone could at least manage to grasp these forms of variance even if they couldn’t grasp disability-related stuff … until I encountered people who seemed to blithely assume that because they found X easy (insert skill that very many people may find difficulty with, even without an associated impairment, such as car repair or learning English) then anyone who doesn’t must be either dumb or lazy or just not trying hard enough. Less common variances from the norm (such as someone with actual executive functioning issues, like me, who really struggle with housekeeping versus someone who simply doesn’t feel like taking out the trash one night) are even harder to grasp.
Speaking as someone with executive functioning issues, and who is bi, and has some other labels as well (though I think these are the two I wear that I think are more commonly targeted for this kind of erasure) … Yah, it irks me when someone dismisses my experience or even my existence by trying to reframe my differences as only a minor variant on something everyone experiences. (“Everyone has a little bit of ADD sometimes” … please don’t presume there is any kind of meaningful equivlance between your one distractable day out of the entire past year and my more constant, disruptive struggles … or “everyone is a little bi” … er, there’s a difference between a mostly hetro woman who maybe one time in her life catches herself thinking, “Okay, this one woman almost turns ME on” and feeling the urge to kiss individuals, at different times of your life, who isn’t necessarily the same gender as the last person you felt the urge to kiss. If I had just understood this at a much younger age then I would have come out to myself as bi years and years earlier than I did.)