A Post on Privilege and Coming Out

When an acquaintance admitted to being very mainstream, part of the dominant Christian culture, and concerned about making others uncomfortable with her ignorance, a few of us chimed in to thank her and offer perspective and suggestions. Here are mine.

Some of the issues that are integral to who we are but that we feel we have to hide are sexual orientations, gender queerness, alternative romantic and sexual relationships, religious/spiritual beliefs and lack thereof, social and political beliefs and activism, and even our passionate support of everyone else in these categories.

Lead your questions with "May I ask ... ?" in a gentle tone. It's very respectful, and I, for one, respond very positively to it—eager to inform and comfortable with declining if I don't want to discuss it in that moment. If someone is brave enough to open up to you, understand that they may or may not feel up to giving you the full alt-lifestyle 101 lecture, and that you are not entitled to be educated by them. There are hundreds of blogs and articles and books about it; ask for reading recommendations if you want to learn more.*

We censor ourselves in front of our family, our coworkers, and new people we meet, ever wary of the climate in any group. Some of us have come out to people who we expected to love us unconditionally and received some traumatic fucking backlash because of their selfishness and close-mindedness. And it's scarier still to imagine how acquaintances and strangers might react.

I'm a very privileged, educated, intelligent, middle-class, cis-presenting, hetero-presenting, conventionally attractive, slim, and able-bodied white woman living in a safe neighborhood. What could I possibly have to complain about?

• But I am terrified to talk about my relationships at work or family gatherings. My family doesn't know that I've been with my boyfriend for nearly 2 years; they don't know about him at all. My coworkers know but not why we can't move in together or marry.
  
• I'm afraid in most spaces to share HAES concepts, because dieting is so firmly entrenched in our cultural narrative and I don't like it when people think me daft for espousing such ideas, no matter how much science backs me up. Or worse, many think me ignorant of reality and my own weight discredits me.
  
• I'm warming to the idea of coming out as atheist, at least in friendly spaces where the issue comes up, but I still kept fearfully silent at a Meetup event this week with an enthusiastic believer.

I admire those out there with the bravery to live fully open, and I try to be kind to myself and refrain from berating myself for not doing the same. I've discussed it with my boyfriend, and we're on the same page of not wanting to spark anger, backlash, and disappointment directed at us; we spend enough energy coping with life's difficulties. I choose my battles and closets carefully, and I still spend a large chunk of my time stressed out, anxious, worried, depressed, and sleeping poorly.

I'm not sure I'll ever feel safe enough to come out of all these closets, but I do think someday I will be strong enough.



*She did, and I led off with Skepchick and Queereka because they're very intersectional. Another friend recommended The Friendly Atheist. What resources would you suggest?

Fueled By Anger

In response to a private message that seemed somewhat concern-trolling and presumptuous from a generally well-meaning friend:

I’m fueled by a lot of anger at having spent most of my life swallowing the message that I'd have to spend the rest of my life battling my weight in order to be happy, healthy, wealthy, or loved, and so much anger that so many others continue to believe this. I’m really glad to hear that you think I’m preaching to the choir, but I receive enough other feedback to indicate the contrary. There are still men who prove the point of these articles when they comment on them.

Beyond just posting links on my own page and seemingly yelling a lot, I frequently engage in discussion in private groups about weight, health, and beauty with women who haven’t heard it yet and are grateful when they do. (And am also contributing a chapter to an anthology of perspectives on the fat acceptance movement.)

Personally, I’m bored to death of being told I’m physically attractive, especially by men who are often clearly expecting my gratitude for their thinking so. (This is not actually directed at you.) I know I’m conventionally attractive; it’s boring. I didn’t earn it and don’t feel complimented. I don’t want to settle for reaping the benefits of my privilege without a though and I don’t want a world in which women of different sizes, abilities, colors, etc., have to accept that bigotry either.

I can silently work to accept that I will never be a "normal" or a "healthy" weight according to the "experts." Or I can teach and remind everyone that BMI is not an indicator of health and should not be used to make policy, and I can influence the attitudes and opinions around me and ultimately convert everyone I know to the "Yay fitness!" party and not have to hear about diets and weight loss and body shame all around.

I didn’t always know these things or feel this way; I came to them by reading and learning, and others will, too.

Social Justice Hat is Heavy

I don't have a thick skin, a particularly strong mean streak, or the energy to sustain my righteous anger for very long. I'm just a soft and squishy gal. So yeah, trolls get me down. What I do have is a frustratingly strong sense of social justice and an overabundance of privilege, and lingering guilt tendencies from my Catholic upbringing. So I can't stop caring, can't take off the social justice hat, can't unsee the inequity, can't stand for bigotry or let it pass unchallenged even if calling out friends and strangers causes me more trouble personally than pretending not to care.

Some people don't own a TV and don't follow the news, preferring to live a life of blissful ignorance. I can't stand to be ignorant; I studied journalism at uni and I thirst for knowledge. Sometimes I avoid following a few stories--the Jodie Arias case and the Cleveland kidnappings, for example--because they're too dark and there is nothing I can do about them, nothing useful I can say about them, and the knowledge is more than I can handle among all the other tragedies and daily offal in the world.

But it's tiring. I can step away from the Internet or TV for a few hours, but I can't back down or let myself be silenced. Because the world is a hostile place, and one comment among the bilious hate can plant a seed into a closed mind or be a ray of hope for the others who wouldn't speak out. It's not always about the original post, more often about the hundreds of others who will read the comments below it, searching for a voice of reason, a word of compassion, or of indignation when needed.

I'm irked today because there's a forum thread devoted to discussion about why there are so few women in Amtgard (a national organization for medieval combat recreation), and several (usually lurker) women wrote of their experiences with gender-based harassment being a common problem, myself included. Subsequent comments told us it's our fault for putting up with it and for being women and for being attractive, we should appreciate the attention, GTFO if we have a problem with it, and calling me unattractive and therefore lying about my experiences. I think my misogynist tropes BINGO card is full, I seriously cannot make this shit up. *smh* And would-be male allies are silent because they're admittedly loath to be accused of white knighting. I wish I could say I am surprised at the direction the discussion took, but I never had that much faith in any significant number of members being interested in addressing the problem and changing the culture.

I've run out of sanity points to read or respond to the thread further today, though I worry what will happen in my absence. What matters is that most of my local chapter is pretty chill most of the time. In the real world, I can keep showing up, keep playing, keep existing, keep hanging out with people who treat women like full humans, and avoid the rest. Because I feel like my extra X chromosome keeps getting in the way of my being heard, all I effectively can do is avoid shitty people.

*And I am pretty hot, fuck you very much.

Healthism

The CDC and myriad other professional organizations recommend at least 150 minutes of moderate intensity aerobic exercise PLUS two days of strength training per week for adults. This has been touted all over the news and in innumerable health-ish news articles as an easy way to guarantee fitness and health, a magical number, the Golden Ratio, the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

And I'm all like:

But I happened to look up what is defined as “moderate intensity” exercise just now: walking (3 mph), water aerobics, slow bicycling, gardening. Um, what? Those don’t even register with me for exercise and I would always have called them low or zero intensity.

Have I been failing bare minimum recommendations because I pretty much ONLY do “vigorous intensity” types of movement? I should be elated because this knowledge makes perfect fitness more attainable, right?

But it makes me angry that I had to search for this definition and that there are so many other people who are alienated and feel themselves failures because they think they can't meet the same standards.

(This possibly should be two separate posts.)

On the path to knowledge, I learned about privilege including able-ism and that healthism is bad. I’m trying harder to learn what healthism isand why it’s bad and am discovering that I am probably a healthist prat myself. I found a very good explanation, though:

“No longer is health a normal state of equilibrium and no longer are doctors those to whom we turn only when this equilibrium is disturbed. 

Instead, our entire life, even in the complete absence of sickness, is implicated in the pursuit of more perfect health and greater longevity. We must not smoke or hang around smokers, drink too much, eat fat, breathe summer air in the cities, pursue dangerous sports and, of course, we must exercise to recapture some aboriginal state of fitness. Doctors have become the priests of this new cult of endless aspiration. They screen, check and warn the healthy, upbraid the sick and lecture us all on the multiple errors of our ways. Everything can be, as Skrabanek puts it, 'medicalised', every act can be shown to have health implications and can, therefore, form part of our lifestyle dossier being compiled by whatever recording angels inhabit healthist heaven.”

I've learned that healthism is problematic and some of the reasons why. Nobody is ever obligated to pursue health. But I haven't internalized it and may not agree with it . . . fully . . . yet. I like fitness and feeling good and I like having friends who do too, and we're pretty awesome and do awesome stuff, so I assume other people would want to, too. There it gets tricky. I see why it's a leap in logic, but I've been raised to believe that so much morality is based on the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you. Just a few weeks ago, I learned this is a terrible idea because other people might really DISlike what you like for people to do to you! The surface understanding is there; the seed is planted, but it doesn't yet go deep enough to shape my words and actions.

Must . . . learn . . . moar!

Privilege

I know about and try to recognize my thin privilege, white privilege, middle class privilege, university graduate privilege, the Christian privilege I had growing up, and so on. (And I just recently discovered ability privilege while writing this post.) The concepts are new to me, though, and I’m still learning. 

Sometimes I mess up and make comments intended to understand others better but effectively minimize a marginalized person’s experiences. I’m sorry. Really. I don’t always understand the problem. You can get mad, or you can help me do better by pointing it out. I prefer constructive criticism and probably willfully won’t hear anything accusatory because my heart’s in the right place and I can be pretty self-righteous.

It’s a tightrope walk.

My experiences and feelings are valid, too. I’m a thin fat activist and a feminist because even I’ve been a victim of size bigotry and appearance-policing and the commodification of women’s bodies as public property open to unasked-for public use, judgement, and scorn. This is my blog and my story and here I share my experiences.

My privilege means I can publicly admit I am not on a diet and am not a fan of diets, such as at work or among friends, and I won't be questioned or challenged. Most people around me know I enjoy exercise, so they'll attribute my figure to that without a second thought (never mind that I work out sporadically, at best). This came up at a dinner conversation once, but I didn't have the will to counter and explain the ill effects of dieting and intentional weight loss. I was at a table full of a dozen straight size women talking about dieting and weight loss. But they were my friend's friends, and who am I to rain on their parade? I felt ashamed and disappointed in myself for weeks after. Still do, truth be told.


My privilege means that when I submitted a photo on Facebook to the Body Love Campaign, my friends expressed support for my attitude based on my appearance, saying that I "have a nice figure and body . . . nothing to obsess about." Not because they support the cause or fat acceptance or even health at every size. So it wasn't complimentary but offensive to me, and I couldn't find the words to explain why or to rebuff the "support" they gave.

I do what I can, but I can't or won't fight every battle I'm invited to. I'm only human at the end of the day.

My privilege means my problems are often small fries compared to the widespread bigotry and discrimination against other groups and my experiences are often dismissed. No one wants to hear about how much I hate flying or have trouble finding clothes that fit comfortably or well because I won't be harassed at the airport and because I can shop for clothing in my size in most stores, even if I'm short, busty, wide-hipped, and can't wear popular fashions.*

However; dismissing others’ travails as the insubstantial whining of a privileged class benefits no one and amounts to ragging on others makes yourself feel better. 

I'm not the government, and I don't owe you anything. I'll moderate comments as arbitrarily as I please.

Provide an actual logical argument for why someone’s opinion is wrong or STFU.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Educate yourself about privilege. You will be a better person for it.

There will always be people invested in reaping unearned advantages from the seeds sowed by oppression. It’s much easier than actually trying to be a good person, cultivate talents, or do anything productive with their lives.

Let them think their ‘hard work’ spent chasing after thin privilege is the same as working hard to overcome prejudice, or raise a family, or pursue greater or higher knowledge, or survive in the face of challenges.

It’s easier to pant on a treadmill and think yourself better than someone else than actually do something that makes you a better person, friend, partner, or member of the community.  -Arte to life on Thin privilege tumblr

Suggested reading:

http://thisisthinprivilege.tumblr.com/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2012/09/30-examples-of-cisgender-privilege/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2012/11/20-examples-of-thin-privilege/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2012/11/30-examples-of-christian-privilege/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2012/11/30-examples-of-class-privilege/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2013/03/19-examples-of-ability-privilege/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2013/01/20-examples-of-age-privilege/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2012/10/30-examples-of-heterosexual-privilege-in-the-us/

http://tacit.livejournal.com/578925.html (couple privilege)

I’m partial to the Everyday Feminism blog because their lists are the most easily accessible examples of the issues of privilege.

*Funny story, totally off topic. One time when I went shopping, I pulled a pair of ordinary enough maroon jeans from the rack to try on and realized too late that they were skinny jeans. I got them wedged onto my calves and got stuck. In a teeny tiny Korean dressing room. It was hilarious, except for the part where it happened to me. I eventually, awkwardly wiggled my way out, hung the pants back up, and left the store too frustrated to shop any more that day.