the scene: mid-morning on a wednesday. the north end of the ground floor of our building. i sit at my open-cubicle desk next to the scan/print station, barcoding applications. my coworker stands at the station, waiting for a fax to come through before she can use the copy machine.

both are silent. the sky is darkly overcast and the climate system whirrs loudly.

after several moments, she declares: “i wish…”

pause.

“i wish i could use the system.”

i look up.

at the moment, our intranet is down. i am assuming she means “i wish i could do my work.” but she continues.

“i wish i could get something. everybody seems to get something out of it. when we’re just trying to get by on our own, you know. they get something for free. i wish i could get something.”

and now i know what she’s talking about. i take a breath and try to maintain a conversational tone.

“i actually grew up on welfare. and it’s pretty hard. there’s so much you have to keep up with. it’s much better when you can make it on your own and don’t need that help.”

pause.

“when i was little, we actually got our food from food banks. you know, stale cheese and cans of evaporated milk, that was all we had. it was more trouble. i like it much better when i can do things for myself and don’t have to rely on that stuff. struggling with all that. it’s not easy at all.”

silence.

her copies are finished and she returns to her desk. i go back to my applications.

***

edited to add: if you want more on the things poor people are put through to get a few crumbs worth of help, read this old post from kactus, a poor single disabled mother whose presence on the internet I miss very much. um… in fact (looking at my comment there), it looks like it was but a few days before I started this blog!

I am really not well lately, very overwhelmed, so tired from work, stressful doctor appointments, other medical problems, that no, I don’t have much time to entertain discussion in every forum about this whole Feministing mess. Honestly, I wish I’d left well enough alone, because apparently all it does is open me up to more and right now? Sorry, don’t have the energy for it. If you aren’t happy with that, I don’t really care, because my health has already been compromised for this whole ordeal and I’m not going to make it worse to make internet commenters happy (… and wouldn’t even make them happy, anyway).

So. There you go.

Everyone else, maybe if I remember I’ll try to get some Friday  Catblogging up day after tomorrow. How about that?

Consider this an open thread for not serious and/or Feministing-related things. Will convert URLs to pictures if you want to post them. Hint: I love hedgehogs.

(Cross-posted at FWD.)

I wrote this yesterday in an extreme fog and do not have the spoons to rework and polish it. Apologies for the brainspill, but these days it’s the only option I have.

***

For background, see Ouyang Dan’s post on the problematic aspects of the TV show House. Don’t tell me that people realize this is fictional. Don’t tell me that people know how to maintain that separation. Some do. Many don’t. And they’re everywhere. At the bottom of the totem pole… and in positions of power over the very people they are prejudiced against.

***

I was called back to work two weeks ago. I work at a government office that provides certain assistance programs. (Once you go to work for one government agency, you realize there are a whole lot more of them than you ever thought before.) I really don’t want to go into it any more specifically than that.

It’s been very rough on me. Last winter, work was physically draining. I basically have two whole hours every day that I am awake and not at work, preparing for work, or traveling to and from work, and semi-conscious. Not only am I so physically exhausted that I go to bed three hours after work ends, I am so physically exhausted that my brain just cannot be pushed any further. I have trouble comprehending the blogs and news sites I normally read; writing is usually out of the question. Of course, we won’t even talk about anything more physical than that — even preparing a boxed dinner for myself is too difficult. My apartment is even more a mess than usual, because I don’t have the energy to pick up the clothes that I shed as soon as I get the front door shut, the mail and personal items that trail after me from the couch to the bedroom…

Unfortunately, so far this year, it hasn’t just been physically draining. I’ve been dealing with a sudden onset of severe migraines, and not the type of migraines I’ve had since childhood and have an intimate knowledge of — these are more classic migraines, the nausea, the aura and vision distortion, the intense pain and pressure behind the eyes… The pain is not as overwhelming as my normal migraines (where a twitch of the toe makes me want to scream or cry or at least moan, but the movement and force of emitting any noise at all would hurt even worse, so I just curl up and remain frozen in misery), but the experience is just as miserable because it block’s my brain’s ability to function, even to process the smallest of information. I’ve been having trouble writing six-digit numbers on the top of each application. And normally I work faster than the worker next to me, but the past two weeks she’s been cranking out work three times faster than me.

It’s frustrating. I’ve been doing everything in my capacity to do to fight these headaches off. Everything. And no, I don’t want any helpful suggestions. But regardless, even with all the desperate measures I have been taking, they persist.

On top of it all, my endometriosis has decided to flare up at the same time. So I get double nausea, extreme abdominal cramps, persistent pelvic pain and other symptoms.

I’ve been in a lot of pain.

I take a lot of medications. For pain. I take medications that have no effect on people who do not have a specific type of pain disorder. And I take medications that people who are not in pain popularly take to get high. (I do not, for the record, take anything to get high myself.) And I put up with a lot of shit to continue taking one of few medications that works and that enables me to work.

(I guess I could give it up and therefore be putting up with less shit. But then I’d, you know, not be able to work. And for so long as I have the option to be able to work, I’m taking it. Because I may not even have that option forever. Situations change, bodies change, and bodies change how they react to medications over time. I’m doing what is necessary for myself and my family at this point in our lives.)

So, at work today.

I sit on the far side of the first floor of our building, along with all the other people working in my particular program, the people working on another program, and a couple stray general clerks across from all of us. The other program’s supervisor and one of the other program’s workers (OPS/OPW hereafter) were talking about a certain case, a woman who was being denied medication and needed help obtaining it. This was before lunch, it was a general talk in a work context, that is how to get the problem solved.

My husband and I went home for lunch, as we do regularly, given that we live less than five minutes from our workplace. It takes half the lunch period but it is worth the spoons because it makes the workday so much more bearable — two four-hour chunks rather than one long nine-hour one. We sit around, watch The People’s Court reruns, eat our lunch and laugh at the cats who get in silly, hyper, meddling moods around that time.

I returned from lunch, feeling a lot better having had a break from the fluorescent lighting and ambient noise of the HVAC system. And a few minutes after I got back, sitting next to the OPS scanning documents into the computer system, OPW wandered back over and began talking again about the client from before.

The medication? Oxycontin. Her doctor has been prescribing it to her for over 15 years.

And the conversation? Went like this. (As typed soon after in an email to my husband, as close as I could get to what they actually said, given how stunned and hurt I was while it was happening.)

OPW: do you watch house?
OPS: no not really
OPW: well he has some sort of leg injury, but he takes that other one, what is it? vicodin
OPS: uh huh
OPW: and they sent him to rehab, and he just had to find something to occupy his mind so he wouldn’t think about it
OPS: yeah they get addicted so easy
OPW: and now they put him on regular pain killers and he’s doing just fine
OPS: yeah a lot of the time tylenol or advil works just as well, people just want the high
OPW: exactly, and their doctors prescribe it to them and they hand it out to family members…

And the conversation went on like this for a couple minutes, with the two of them walking back and forth fetching printed documents, attending to the scanning etc.

I just… I’m not terribly private about my condition. I don’t bring it up, but if it’s relevant I talk about it. I do try to avoid telling my coworkers that I take narcotic medications (as opposed to just “medications”) but I have gone over it specifically with HR as it can be a security issue in some agencies.

I was sitting right there. OPW sits on the other side of me, and had to walk around me to get to where OPS was at the scanner. I was sitting right there.

They were talking about me.

They weren’t thinking of me, of course. They’d never make that connection. I’m young and thin and pretty enough. They know I work hard. Most of my office loves the hell out of me.

But if I had spoken up — rather than sitting there holding my breath trying not to cry — how would that opinion change? Would they start seeing me as lazy, as slacking off? Would they whisper about me every time I went to the water fountain for a drink? What was I taking? What was I doing with it? Would they start taking certain behaviors as symptomatic of addiction? If I passed too well one day, appearing to be just fine (to them; I am good at covering up my pain) — would they take that as evidence that I couldn’t actually be in pain and couldn’t really need that medication? And if I didn’t pass well one day — especially these days, when I’ve been stopped more than one time as someone remarks on how deathly pale I am and asks if I’m OK and tells me to take a break — would they see that resulting, not from my pain, but from the supposed addiction?

They were talking about me. They didn’t even know it. But I am that person on that medication. Pushing through the pain to keep working.

The difference is, Dr. House is a character.

I’m real.

And that woman. These were the attitudes of the people who were helping her resolve an issue. As much as I wish otherwise, workers do have some degree of latitude in deciding how they are going to approach a case, and can apply the law in different ways for different people, even if it appears pretty strict on paper.

I am that woman.

I have been there. I am there. I have to deal with unsympathetic figures in obtaining my treatment. Doctors, nurses, office staff, pharmacists, insurance reps, welfare reps, other reps. I have issues I have to call to have resolved. I have that person on the other line who’s promising me on the one hand to resolve the issue — but on the other hand …? How can I ever know?

I don’t know what was going on in this woman’s life. I don’t know if she’s dependent (there is a difference). I don’t know if she would be better off on another course of therapy. Or whether she’s tried all those other courses and they’ve given her awful side effects or they’re contraindicated given her particular condition or they’re unavailable to her due to income or access. I don’t know.

Maybe she’s abusing. Maybe she’s handing it out on the street corner.

Maybe she’s just like me. Just one person trying to power through this world as best she can. And this is the best way she’s found to do it.

It has been a rough several weeks for me. I was called back to my job on October 7. Around the same time, I developed an awful headache whose symptoms were entirely unlike my normal headaches (in kind; severity was … severe, but so are my normal ones) and only in the past two days has that faded — leaving in its wake a severe fatigue that actually came close to preventing me from writing six-digit numbers on applications at work yesterday.

Of course, when I am emotionally burned out, my body crashes. Serotonin screwup, adrenal fatigue, other stuff? I don’t know. And it has been a very emotionally turbulent two weeks. The temperature dropped without a warning, and the sudden winter weather has been an unfortunate sensual reminder of the awful personal events I went through last year, starting in October. It’s like I’ve been dropped into my own life one year ago, even as things have resolved or improved or smoothed out on that front… it ties only with my summer stuck in California as the worst events of my life, intense and injurious, dropping me into suicidal periods that (fortunately) ended up only scaring the hell out of me, rather than killing me.

And it has been a pressure of intense, high stress. I don’t know why I thought it would be safe for me to raise my voice in concern on very high-profile matters. Maybe the outrage finally got to be so strong it couldn’t stay quiet any more. But I did, and I can’t take it back now. It makes me wonder why I bother, ever, becoming involved in any space, rather than remaining in the background, quiet and invisible, slipping just out of notice. I can protect myself that way. It’s safe there.

Several people in my life, including at work, over the past several weeks who have been like watching flashbacks of my own life during its worst periods. Echoes. There’s the major and severe, mimicking the deeply abusive behaviors I could never escape from. And there’s the passing, the minor, the couldn’t-possibly-be-their-fault — speaking habits, common phrases, facial expressions — though, to be honest, even those wouldn’t be triggers if they didn’t come immediately after the behind-the-back scheming, theorizing about conspiracies, the twisting, the lying…

Why did I ever think I could do this? Why? What could I ever criticize? I am not just imperfect, you must understand. I am broken. Broken, broken. How can I ever expect to speak critically and not have that eye turn back on me? Why do I? When did I lose those self-protection skills? I used to know how. I used to remain highly disciplined.

But something gave me strength and security. And sometimes, that’s the worst thing a person can be given.

I don’t even know who my real self is. I never have. I’ve walled her off, time after time, building stronger and higher and deeper, covering my tracks, looking over my shoulder, making sure that nobody even knows she exists… if she doesn’t exist, she can’t be harmed.

I don’t even know whether she exists anymore.

There’s this new thing we’re doing. It’s a group blog called FWD (Feminists With Disabilities).

It’s pretty cool. Check it out.

But keep in mind, it’s our secret…. the kind of secret you immediately run out and tell everybody you know!

Oct 28, 2009 NOTE FOR NEW VISITORS: Please visit this post first (it’s short). Thanks.

***

[The amazing abbyjean sent me annotations. Annotations! So now: Open Letter To Feministing With Links. We proceed.]

This includes the contributors and the commentariat.

We have a problem. We have had a problem for a long, long time.

You traffick in ableism. Your entire site reeks of it. I have spoken with many disabled feminists who find it impossible to read and participate in your community. They feel excluded. The culture is thick with unexamined ableism. We encounter common slurs and problematic cultural concepts at every turn, and are met with hostility when we bring it up. Some people have wasted energy on emailing you, requesting that you address it, so that they might safely participate in the community. You never bothered to respond. To any of them.

You’ve lost a lot of readers this way. But I’m sure, because that’s the way it usually goes, you lose less readers due to ableism than you gain due to same — because you never challenge their privilege, in fact defend it, passively and actively.

That’s nice for you and all, but the rest of us would, at best, like to play too. As for the worst — we would deeply appreciate it if you would stop deliberately (and don’t you dare say otherwise, you have heard our complaints and ignored them, making your actions deliberate) reinforcing a culture which marginalizes us, leaves us vulnerable to violence (including sexual violence), ostracization, institutionalization and death.¹

I viewed enough of this happening at your site — (years ago, when I was just getting into the feminist blogosphere; disappointingly, you haven’t changed a single bit in the intervening years) — that I never even bothered trying with your site. I’d love to have been able to. But your site has never felt like a safe space for me. Ever. Exactly the opposite. Your site has felt like a hostile and scary place to myself and other women.

W-O-M-E-N.

You can read, right? Spell it with me.

You cannot claim to care about my condition as a woman if you refuse to address the discrimination I face as a disabled woman.

As far as “what issues affect women”: I am a woman. Presumably, feminists care about the oppression women face.

But you cannot address the oppression I, a woman, face, without addressing the oppression so graciously given me on the basis of my disability.

For example, I face discrimination in the workplace. But if we are only to address the male-female pay gap, and ignore the obstacles I face because I am disabled, then you are not helping me as a woman. I am still left behind, still oppressed, as a woman. All you have done is alleviated the issues which affect you. Which means you aren’t helping women; you are helping healthy, abled women exclusively.

This is the basic framework I work from in my feminism. I am not helping women if I am not also out there addressing classism, transphobia, racism, homophobia, and all of the other oppressions that women face.

The reason “Sean Bell is a feminist issue” is because you must address the oppression which killed him to be able to address the oppression of women. If you cannot address that oppression — even though it affected a man this time — you cannot help the women who are also facing that oppression.

And if feminists are ok with not helping women on that level, then feminism isn’t about helping women, it is about helping white women. (me@tumblr)

And I am sick and fucking tired of having to explain this to the likes of all of you. If you are not there to help me in the problems I face because of my disability, you are not helping me as a woman. I am a whole person, not fragmented little bits. You have to help all of me to help any of me.

And if you aren’t all-in, for helping ALL of me, you are therefore declaring that you are only interested in helping ABLED WOMEN. You can cut out this bullshit about being “feminist,” as though you are working on behalf of “women.” Because you aren’t, at that point, working on the basis of gender: you are working on the basis of women with a certain ability status. Period.

A few days ago, meloukhia at this ain’t livin’ heard us complaining, and got sick of it herself. So she posted her Open Letter to Feministing and began promoting it. And it got some attention.

Apparently, Courtney has emailed her back, as of this writing. They are “in the generalities stage.”

I have absolutely zero interest in personally emailing with any of you, but I want to make sure people know that we — disabled feminists — aren’t stupid enough to be placated with a generic private apology. And I want you to know this. What it is that I, one particular disabled feminist, want from you.

1. Just posting about ableism-in-general, while a huge step for you (considering you never engage with disability in even a token capacity), IS NOT ENOUGH.²

2. Feminists have a long history of only ever speaking the dreaded d-word when it comes to reproductive rights, particularly (almost exclusively) the right to an abortion. Yeah, I know, you thought this would be easy. THAT WILL NOT BE ENOUGH.

3. As far as I’m concerned, you are dead to the cause if you never put up a post addressing your own ableism. Not ableism-in-general. THOSE POSTS ARE STILL NECESSARY. BUT THEY ARE NOT ENOUGH TO ANSWER OUR CRIES. You must put up a post examining your own personal ableism, and particularly the ableism you deliberately condone in your comments section.

In your comments section, a few disgusting, prejudiced, DANGEROUS memes are repeated with not an ounce of pushback:

* that health can be obtained by Doing The Right Things (eating right, exercising, being upper-class privileged enough to live the perfect little high-class life that is correlated with that definition of “health”) and that if you don’t Do The Right Things, any conditions that come up are Your Own Damn Fault, Don’t Come Crying To Us For Help

* attitudes expressed that fat people, smokers, and sick people should be paying more for healthcare because their illness is dragging the abled world down

* that disability is an awful tragedy and disabled people deserve only your pity, never your respect, and who knows why disabled people are segregated away in decrepit institutions, it couldn’t be connected to the way we regard disability as the end of meaningful life as we know it, nuh uh

* that having a disabled child would be such an abomination they must be screened out at all costs, and there is nothing at all problematic with this oh no oh no (DISCLAIMER, FOR GOD’S SAKE, I DO NOT PROPOSE LIMITING WOMEN’S REPRODUCTIVE FREEDOM, BUT I DO THINK YOUR PRIVILEGED ASSES NEED TO CONSIDER YOUR COMPLICITY IN OTHER PEOPLE’S SUFFERING) ³

* that Disability Is Objectively Bad, everyone knows that, duh, who would ever want a disability, of course life is going to be worse with one, and that is just because disability is (of course) inherently awful, and could never (of course) be because we make it worse by the way we treat disability[4.
* Even more frightening, the number of women who are on antidepressants ... why the hell are they having children anyway ... fuck if you can't cope with life, how the hell does one expect to raise a child! http://www.feministing.com/archives/005359.html#comment-47387

* I do think that for the sake of society, people who's severe disability roots from their genes should be prevented from reproduction. I'm not sure what that means, and I know the slippery slope that kind of thought can lead to, but I think somehow it's the most utilitarian thing to do. Not to put a blow against the I Am Sam or anything, but I think some people really don't have the capacity to raise their kids (certainly there are plenty of non-disabled parents who fit this description), but my main concern is that the children are more likely to have those same disabilities. I think society's attitude should be to respect and accept the disabled but not to encourage its increase. Certainly we don't want to always be making decisions for people who can't make them for themselves, right? http://www.feministing.com/archives/007889.html#comment-107733]

* words like “lame” and “retard” and “cripple” and “crazy” are totally ok to use — and their conceptual meanings as well — because disability is objectively bad so it makes sense to use something objectively bad to say that something else is bad, or because no one ever uses that word that way anymore (that I hear, because I as an abled person am the ultimate arbiter of how often certain things are said to certain people, the vast majority of whom I never encounter because they are segregated away from me) and it has lost its derogatory connotation, or that I have a cousin who’s retarded and I love him to death so that means I’m allowed to use the word because that totally eliminates my abled privilege, or it’s just too much of an imposition to change my language and have to lose that one concept to express that is based on harmful prejudice, or or…[5.
LAME

* God. Jennifer's body looks soooo lame. The stupidity dripping from the trailers is so overwhelming, I can't even imagine too many dumb and sexist stereotypical males going to see it. http://www.feministing.com/archives/017815.html#comment-298306

* lame. So fucking lame. http://www.feministing.com/archives/011318.html#comment-182734

* Samhita, 11/07: “Forget immigration, reproductive rights, health care or any other issue we feminists are reading up on for the upcoming election. It is all about getting a hot chick in the white house as first lady. Does that not count potential first dude, Bill? Forget you men.style.com, you are totally lame.

In that thread, someone raises the problem, and another commenter dismisses: “It's been so long since "lame" was used for people with disabilties that I really don't think it's an issue anymore. Besids, it's used as a synonym for "loser", not "defective" (which also isn't a synonym for people with disabilities anymore).” http://www.feministing.com/archives/008086.html#comment-114144

* 1/07, Courtney headlines an article “Can I Get a L-A-M-E”. again, someone calls it out in comments but no response from mods, although mods respond to other posts. http://www.feministing.com/archives/006368.html

* “LAME. Excuse me while I barf in the corner.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/015410.html

someone calls it out in comments and response: “Please don't spread prescriptivist poppycock on any site.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/015410.html#comment-257102

* “Lame-ass beer ads are a dime a dozen.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/017741.html

RETARDED

* Victoria Beckham is so retarded, I think she almost belongs in that shopping bag. http://www.feministing.com/archives/008985.html#comment-144542

* Commenter asks “Am I retarded, or can't you reverse a tubal ligation?”http://www.feministing.com/archives/007454.html#comment-93573

response is “No, you're not retarded. There are two types of ligations…” later in thread, commenter raises, no mod response though mods active in thread.

* One commenter uses the term: “It's like when you try to control a teenager and shelter them from reality - when they go into the real world, they often rebel and make a lot of retarded decisions.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/014575.html#comment-239116,
only response is another commenter pre-ridiculing any response: “Uh-oh, you said "retarded!" Get ready to duck the flying tomatoes! :P” http://www.feministing.com/archives/014575.html#comment-239125

* “Lindsay Lohan doesn't have curves like Marilyn Monroe did so to even do this shoot was a retarded idea in the first place.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/008637.html

* “So still being able to marry but being offended by something has the same impact as two gay people not being able to marry? What are they, retarded?” http://www.feministing.com/archives/011095.html#comment-179668

CRIPPLE

* “but the idea of marriage cripples my aspirations in life.”  http://community.feministing.com/2009/07/what-to-do-when-you-want-to-ma.html#comment-282211

* “When you use satire against powerless people, as Limbaugh does, it is not only cruel, it’s profoundly vulgar. It is like kicking a cripple.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/006861.html#comment-73327

* Canadian reactions are a little different from American ones, very negative or hostile actions can really ruin you (Do not make fun of a cripple, or call someone a Kitten Eater, for instance). http://community.feministing.com/2009/04/women-prefer-polite-politician.html#comment-244108

* “I'm not sure this guy built a robot just to sexually abuse. I think he's an emotionally crippled individual who can't relate to the opposite sex.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/012670.html

CRAZY

* Jessica titles post “Fun with feminist flickr (crazy billboard edition)” http://www.feministing.com/archives/006229.html

* Vanessa titles post “Randall Terry’s Crazy Road Show” http://www.feministing.com/archives/017413.html

* Vanessa titles post “Sen. Tom Coburn's chief of staff reaches new level of crazy” http://www.feministing.com/archives/017876.html

* Jessica titles post “What Double Standards Drive you Crazy?” http://www.feministing.com/archives/007551.html

* “I would be all for the feminists for life if they weren't so schizophrenic about their positions. They won't take a position on birth control but they don't want women to have abortions.” http://www.feministing.com/archives/002804.html#comment-13883

(amandaw's note: good Lord, I can only imagine what you'd find if you searched for "insane" "loony/loonytunes/etc." "unhinged" "psycho" and so forth - again, it's not just the word that's the problem)]

* that if one person, especially a person who has a disability, says something isn’t hurtful or problematic, you can call the whole thing off, because all those other people who DO have a problem with it and have suffered the consequences of it just cease to exist, poof!

* the sense of supremacy over others because you are (choose any or none, thin, abled, upper class, pretty, educated) and fully abled, which makes you totes better than everyone else, but you never CONSCIOUSLY think that so it’s totally ok that you still avoid Those People whenever possible because they scare you or squick you out, almost like they make you uncomfortable realizing your position in life is never as certain as you like to pretend it is? — nah, couldn’t be, just because they’re weird and gross and like, different and stuff

That’s just to start.

This is all shit that goes down in your comments regularly. And it makes women (spell it with me, W-O-M-E-N) feel uncomfortable and unwelcome, especially when they speak up and have other people jump back defending the exclusionary language and concepts, stating that they don’t have a problem with it and therefore there is no problem with it, saying or implying that the challenger must be oversensitive, have an agenda, looking for things to get angry about, or just doesn’t understand that the person committing the exclusionary behavior is a Good Person and that should be good enough.

Well. It’s not good enough. You are not good enough. Your whole site is not good enough. It is going to take some major changes. You are going to have to put yourself on the line, do some serious reading, reflecting, digesting, and actually change how you think and act (and not just by saying “I believe it now!” — we aren’t stupid, we can tell when there has been a true change). You are going to have to criticize yourself and your fellow writers. And –  this is the fun part –

4. you are going to have to change your comment section. You will moderate and fight back against ableism (which you will recognize, because you have actually been making an effort to learn more than you do now, right?) from your own commenters. You will delete offensive comments and tell commenters to stay the fuck in line. And not just once. Every time. EVERY FUCKING TIME.

And don’t you dare cry that it takes up so much time. Because you’re already spending that time watching your space to protect the abled women in it.

We would love it if you would give us the same fucking courtesy.

See also: meloukhia: Open Letter to Feministing; Anna: Dear Feministing: Answer your email; Annaham: Confessions of a Reluctant Young White Feminist; Anna again: Anti-Oppression Linkspam; Chally: Feminism that doesn’t advance women is no feminism at all.

All annotations abbyjean’s except where noted in parenthesis.

Melissa wrote “The Terrible Bargain We Have Regretfully Struck,” which resonated deeply with many in the feminist blogosphere:

Not every man does all of these things, or even most of them, and certainly not all the time. But it only takes one, randomly and occasionally, exploding in a shower of cartoon stars like an unexpected punch in the nose, to send me staggering sideways, wondering what just happened.

Well. I certainly didn’t see that coming…

These things, they are not the habits of deliberately, connivingly cruel men. They are, in fact, the habits of the men in this world I love quite a lot.

All of whom have given me reason to mistrust them, to use my distrust as a self-protection mechanism, as an essential tool to get through every day, because I never know when I might next get knocked off-kilter with something that puts me in the position, once again, of choosing between my dignity and the serenity of our relationship.

Swallow shit, or ruin the entire afternoon?

Now a couple months later, she has followed with a clarifying piece, “The Bargain, and Its Alternative.” And this post struck me much more deeply than the first, because in this one, Liss turns around to the other side of the bargain — the behavior of the privileged person in question. And remember, here, that Liss is speaking mainly about men she loves, men who are important to her; her husband, father, closest friends — not about some random jerk who presumably “doesn’t matter” when he treats her poorly — but those closest men who on occasion say or do something that really stings, that brings to mind the power imbalance hovering over them:

Even though, intellectually, he knows I’m not accusing him of deliberate maliciousness, and knows I understand he doesn’t intend to hurt me, and knows I’m telling him because I want to be able to trust him, and because I already do, and knows down to his very bones that I wouldn’t even bother if I didn’t already believe and know him to be decent and good and capable of even more, despite all that, being challenged on his male privilege, when it’s such a rare occurrence, makes him viscerally defensive.

And it’s taken a good long time for him to wrap his head around the fact that another part of that privilege is having control over which direction we go when he says/does something sexist and I point it out to him.

There are infinite possibilities of how to react: He could be defensive. He could refuse to hear me. He could try to insist I judge him on his intent, rather than the actual effect of his words/actions. He could accuse me of imagining things. He could imply that I’m crazy. He could turn it around on me. He could behave belligerently, childishly, furiously. He could storm out. He could stand in one place and stomp his feet. He could shout. He could demand a divorce. He could buy a one-way ticket to Rio. He could throw spaghetti. He could challenge me to a duel.

Or he can listen. Take on board what I’m saying and acknowledge how I feel. And then we can get on with the day.

It is a privilege that he gets to decide. And it is a privilege I recognize, because it is also operative for me, when my privilege is challenged—my white privilege, my straight privilege, my cis privilege. I have the same privilege, just in different situations.

Listen, or ruin the entire afternoon?

Here, it is not the unprivileged person’s responsibility; it is not on hir shoulders to decide whether to speak out, and if so, how. It is, instead, the privileged person’s responsibility to decide how sie will react to the challenge — no matter how phrased or presented, whether meek or forceful, whether diplomatic or accusatory — it is on hir shoulders to determine the course of the rest of the afternoon. It is hir privilege to decide.

Until our focus in a conflict turns first to the nature of the privileged party’s reaction and not the unprivileged party’s challenge, we are going to have a very difficult time righting this unjust world.

I have been organizing old files and stumbled across this. Written during my second and final attempt at attending university, July 2005.

Purpose Statement: I want my audience to understand fibromyalgia.

Organizing Question: What is fibromyalgia?

Introduction: When I woke up in the morning on October 5 last year, I couldn’t even lift my head. My neck hurt so bad that I couldn’t stand to move it in any way. That day was the day of my midterm in this same class, but because of extreme pain and exhaustion, I hadn’t been able to bend over a book to do my reading since mid-September. I was in no condition to walk to class, much less bend over the exam—and I had been this way for three weeks. The reason I was having so much trouble? I have a condition called fibromyalgia.

Preview Main Points: Today I will be going over the symptoms of fibromyalgia, some misunderstandings about the condition, and finally the biochemistry as we best understand it today.

1. Fibromyalgia is a condition that causes widespread pain and fatigue.

   1. Chronic pain: It’s everywhere, and it never stops. There’s a constant, dull, all-over background pain. Overexertion pains—random pains. Stabbing pains, shooting pains, throbbing pains, aching pains, searing pains, burning pains—think of every pain you’ve experienced in your life, and cram all that pain into a month. That’s probably a light case of fibromyalgia.

      1. Dr. Devin J. Starlynal, a fibromyalgia/chronic pain specialist, published her book Fibromyalgia & Chronic Myofascial Pain Syndrome: A Survival Manual in 1996. She says, “Chronic pain states are quite different from acute pain states. When you know the pain is eventually going to end and that you will recover and the pain will be gone, it is easier to tolerate the misery…. You do not ‘get used’ to the pain if you have a chronic pain condition. It becomes harder to endure.”

   2. Fatigue. When you think of fatigue, you think of being tired. The fatigue that comes with fibromyalgia is far more than just “tired”—it’s a state of near-absolute exhaustion, feeling like not one bit of energy is left in your body.

   3. Other symptoms and related conditions: Migraines, cognitive difficulties, Raynaud’s (extreme sensitivity to hot and cold), depression and anxiety

2. Fibromyalgia is often misunderstood.

   1. FM is often cited as a musculoskeletal condition, an inflammatory condition, or rheumatic. All three of these descriptions involve actual injury or dysfunction within the muscles, bones, and joints. Fibromyalgia directly affects none of these.

   2. FM is not the same as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. The two syndromes are related, but continued research has begun to separate their causes, their functions, and their effects. FM has been called a condition of “physiological hyperarousal” while CFS is described as the exact opposite.

   3. “It’s all in your head!”

      1. Dr. Bernard R. Rubin, Professor of Medicine and Chief of Rheumatology at the University of North Texas Health Science Center, says in his 2000 book Handbook for Fibromyalgia and Chronic Muscle Pain, “Traditionally, Western physicians have divided medicine into two areas. In illnesses, there is either a physical problem—infection, injury—to the body, or a psychological problem. If no evidence of abnormality shows up on lab tests or x-rays, then the problem must be psychological. Therefore, according to traditional medicine, when a person comes to a doctor complaining of fatigue and widespread muscle pain, along with a number of other vague problems, and nothing can be found on the usual tests, the person is obviously suffering from a psychological disorder.”

FM is often dismissed as being psychosomatic—when physical symptoms show as a result of mental ones—hypochondria, imagination, or otherwise not real. This is simply not the case. Mental illness can exist alongside fibromyalgia, but that does not imply a causal relationship. Despite all of the misunderstandings of fibromyalgia outlined above, there is evidence established that fibromyalgia has real physical causes.

1. Fibromyalgia is a disorder of the central nervous system.

   1. Central pain amplification: In its brochure about fibromyalgia, the National Fibromyalgia Association says, “Most researchers agree that [fibromyalgia] is a disorder of central processing with neuroendocrine/neurotransmitter dysregulation. The [fibromyalgia] patient experiences pain amplification due to abnormal sensory processing in the central nervous system.” (http://fmaware.org/fminfo/brochure.htm)

      1. Substance P: “pain feeling” chemical; higher levels cause a sufferer to feel more pain

      2. HPA Axis: Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Adrenal Axis, has to do with regulation of stress

         1. Adrenal Fatigue: “fight or flight” feeling, overproduction of adrenaline, then the body overcompensates by underproducing it, meaning very low levels of energy

      3. Serotonin has to do with depression but it also acts as a screening agent for pain—higher levels make a better pain filter , so lower levels mean more “bad” signals get through.

   2. Despite knowing this, we are still unsure of the cause of fibromyalgia. A great deal of theories exist. Not nearly enough evidence has been established to conclusively prove any of them.

Conclusion: I hope that in informing you about fibromyalgia’s symptoms, misinterpretations, and biochemistry, you have learned more about the condition today.

In closing… Fibromyalgia has often been called the “invisible disability.” It is invisible, as it causes no physical deformity, so you can’t tell that someone has it until they tell you. It is a disability, as the central amplification of pain can grow so bad as to prevent someone from being able to work—or attend school. To those who don’t know about the condition, a fibromyalgia sufferer just seem lazy or inactive or to complain too much—in fact, they may be pushing themselves beyond their limits; their limits are just lower than yours.

Thank you.