Female: beep motherfuckin' boop.

Remember how I was going to take a break from feminist arguments on the internet? Whoops...

Granted, this one looked hopeful. This one looked civil. This one didn't even look like an argument, at first. Or maybe it did, a little. Maybe I really am more of a masochist than I give myself credit for.
Part of why I started in the first place is because my counter-debater was a moderator of the subreddit I enjoy so much. I'd seen his writing and I'd seen his arguments, and aside from his sometimes arrogant tone, he's pretty spot-on most of the time.

We talked about feminism, the definitions of feminism, how political ideologies affect personal relationships and how theories like feminism affect personal sexual identity. I cited (as many feminists have before me) the "personal is political" quote, and took it one step further (or rather, put in the context I've always thought it's sort of implicitly in anyway) in saying that I think the political is personal as well, that there isn't a clean-cut line, and that there is a reason why so many people write about this. Hell, that there's a reason we care about politics in the first place; the world is not, in fact, populated entirely by isolated libertarian hermits. Although sometimes I wish that were the case.

The argument devolved. I held out hope for a long time, and there were a lot of good things that happened along the way. But eventually, I had to let it go, with a comment that made some final points, and stated very simply that I thought the conversation had run it's course, that I would think about what he said and that I hoped he would think about what I said.

And then he replied with more arguments, to which I did not reply, which as an action in itself is so fucking hard. My partner was with me, and it was with his unbelievable support that I shut the computer, that I went to bed, that I tried and tried and tried to forget about it. Just breath. Just let it go.

I went to bed feeling that way, with an undertone of this:

And then in the morning, the undertone became the overtone became the only tone, so of course, I come here and write about it. Because I can't let it go, not totally. Because having an argument like that always results in me wanting to point, specifically, where the problems with each side fester. Or rather, my problems with his side, as it were. They're two fold.

1) He states, basically, that he doesn't let things like racism or sexism affect him, and that allowing those things into his personal sexual life just doesn't do any good.

"You go looking for things to be upset about and you'll find it. I choose not to look, but to address as it happens."

It's the verb choice here that exemplifies our essentially different perspectives, and life experiences. "Allows"? "Choose"? Do you think, if I had a choice in all this, I would voluntarily intertwine these two inherently complex things? (I mean, maybe I would, for like, an interesting exercise. But everyday? Hell no). I don't mean that in a victimized sense; I mean that in an essentialist sense. As in, these two things, for me, and for many people out there, are inherently linked. Because of their linkage (sounds dirty... "ooh baby, I wanna see your linkage"), the need to parse out the intricacies of their interaction becomes a calling. Or if not a calling, at least a point of interest. For more than a day. For more than a class or a paper. For me personally and for me politically.

2) I called him out some misogynist language. It wasn't a big deal, but I asked about it in a comment. He didn't reply about it (but addressed everything else in my comment), and so I asked again. And it was here that he got defensive, that the argument devolved, and that was when I let go of it.

The second problem isn't really even about the language (in brief, he used the words "females" and "men" as equal in a sentence), but about the reaction I so often encounter when I call people out on their use of language, or their comments, or their actions. I see it when it's not me doing it; it's obvious in arguments... in general. And "Call out" isn't even the right verb phrase to use, either; I pointed it out, I addressed it, I inquired about it; I did this in a calm and reasonable manner, making it clear I wasn't angry or trying to involve hostility. I did this because I wanted to my best, without just letting something go, at having a constructive conversation about misogynist moments.

Which is, of course, where the conversation got defensive and hostile. Where I got called a looking-for-trouble angry feminist. Or rather, to pull a quote directly:

"I can't see you there looking at your screen wagging your finger saying "That's a BAD word! You're a BAD word!" As amusing as such a scene may be :)"

(Just how I like my put-downs served: equal parts condescension, insult, and belittling. Yeah, those might all be kind of maybe synonyms. But I like them all anyway).

And this is what gets me, more than anything, about this. There is no humility. There isn't even a shadow of "hey, I might have been wrong in using those words; no, I'm not a misogynist, and she's not saying that I am, but everybody makes mistakes. Sorry I made it. Here's a correction." How hard would that be? How hard would it be, not even an apology, but a recognition of a mistake?

There's a hubris that seems to be everywhere when I argue feminism, and it seems to go in a predictable cycle:

Person A: I am a feminist. Here are some of my beliefs.
Person B: I don't agree with feminism. Here are some of my beliefs.
Person A: Counter point, also, do you recognize your language/framing/insinuation there?
Person B: Good counter points. Counter point. Counter point. Counter point, here's why you're wrong about my framing.
Person A: Good Counter points. Framing is still a bit off though. Nothing personal, I promise, but maybe take another look?
Person B: Feminists always do this. Fuck you.
Person A: Misogynists always do this. Fuck you too.

And even in the most civil of discourses, this happens.

I'd like to think that I'm better at taking criticism in this way. I'd like to think that if somebody called me out on my language, I'd stop and think about it, I'd give credence to their experience, I'd take responsibility *at least* for being a part of something that was offensive/hurtful/perpetuating a [insertcrappythinghere]culture. And even if I kept it in that non-apology-apology zone, that would be okay. That would be better than this.

And what's crazy, and almost funny, about the whole thing: I wasn't offended. It wasn't hurtful. I actually just saw this instance of language (which I'd seen before many, many times on reddit), and thought I should point it out. I didn't even want a real apology. Although I think I did want, a little bit, a confession. An admittance. And I think it's okay to want that.


But maybe I'm not better. I don't know. Maybe people are never better when they're on the criticized side, no matter what the argument. Maybe I expect too much.


When's that break I'm supposed to take again?