Insults, name calling, and shaming others
It's time for me to retire calling people assholes
Content warning for briefly mentioning suicide ideation, violence against women, rapists, and murderers.
I’m going to start by saying this might not be my best, most coherent writing. My kneecap slipped out of place this week. Not a full dislocation, but what’s called a subluxation. It was easy enough to pop it back into place, but it is still painful. That lead to a cascade of pain in my back mostly, but also my ankles and hips as I move differently to compensate. I don’t know why exactly it happened this week, but it is common in people with hypermobility.
On top of that body pain, this weekend my town is hosting the annual fall fair, which is located directly behind my home. It is noisy and dysregulating and I feel like I’m white knuckling it until Sunday evening.
What is interesting is that for the first time, I’m fully aware of why I don’t like Fall Fair Weekend. I’m not as angry as I usually am, even with the additional pain from my knee injury. Okay, I was quite angry on Friday and Saturday night when the swarms of loud drunk people walked past my house, just as I was trying to fall asleep. I sleep better with fresh air from an open window, but that meant their noise was very loud. For the most part though, I’ve kept to myself, listened to music through my headphones, and focused on what I can control. It’s only one weekend per year, and a highlight for so many people. It helps to think about the happy kids at the petting zoo. I would say I’ve been able to reduce my suffering in both cases, but not my pain.
So, I’ve managed to figure out a way to deal with this overwhelming weekend that has worked better than in years past, but it’s still stressful and my brain isn’t working at its best. Let’s see how writing this goes.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about insults, punishments, name calling, cancel culture, and shame. One of my strongest beliefs, and a core theme of this newsletter, is that we all would be better off with less shame. But, I realized that when I’m angry at someone, I often insult them in a way that shames them. I think it’s been established that shame is not an effective motivator, so what do I accomplish if I call someone an asshole, for example, when I’ve been hurt?
If they are already filled with shame, I’ve just given them more “proof” that they are a worthless person. When I’ve felt the most worthless, I’ve considered suicide. I don’t want to be a person who nudges someone in the direction of suicide. If they aren’t filled with shame, they will likely defend themselves. This derails the conversation that ideally would be resolving our conflict, but instead, I’ve added fuel to the fire. Telling someone they are an asshole, or even just thinking it about them, isn’t going to help me get my needs met.
I must admit that when I first made this realization, I felt annoyed. I don’t want to give myself more “work” by requiring that I become more careful with my language. Plus, it sometimes feels satisfying to speak aloud an insult. Why would that be the case? And if it helps me feel a little bit good after being hurt, can I justify silently thinking it?
When I call someone an asshole, I’m implying they are a bad person. That’s the core of shame, right? So, if I feel good when I tell someone else they are bad, it must mean that I feel superior in my “goodness”. I don’t want good feelings about myself to be based on comparing myself to others; I don’t want to think, feel, or believe that I’m superior to anyone. My worth is woven into my very existence and doesn’t need to be earned by being “good”. But if I instinctually compare myself favourably to others, I think I still need to work on believing in my own worth and dignity.
I don’t want to encourage shame to grow in me because it keeps me small. It keeps me from expressing myself, from following my dreams and desires, and from believing I deserve kindness. It also encourages me to be mean to feel better. Shame is basically a psychic poison. For all the same reasons, I don’t want to encourage shame to grow in others. It doesn’t serve the other person to feel shame and ultimately, it doesn’t serve me either.
But what can I do when someone causes pain and refuses to change their actions?
In my introduction post, I wrote about the months after my ex ended our relationship and how I was convinced it was a break and not an end. I thought our love for each other was strong enough to weather the storm we were in and once he dealt with his grief and we put in better supports for both of us, I would move back in. He made this seem like a possibility, which is why it took months to move all my belongings here.
Living in that limbo was excruciating for me though, and there were practical implications I needed resolved. If we were never getting back together, I wouldn’t be able to afford living in Toronto and I would need to find a new doctor. I needed an answer from him, so I pulled a “Meredith Grey” and asked him to choose me. I wrote him an email that said despite everything, I still loved him, and I wanted him to love me. He responded by saying that he was not in love with me anymore and “That's probably classist and ableist, but it's where I am at this moment”. To say I reacted by losing my shit would be an understatement.
I don’t regret my anger. I am very glad I reacted with the amount of anger I did; I think it’s the correct response when someone tells you they think less of you because you have less money and more disability than them. But, I did say many things to him with the hope he would feel shame and the intention to hurt him as he hurt me.
I’m still extraordinarily disappointed that after he was put in the position to witness how I was dismissed and demonized after I became severely disabled and he chose not to stay by my side, but instead decided he would dismiss me too. I think he made a cruel choice and I will never change my mind on that. But, given everything I’ve learned over the past year about shame, would I respond differently if I could go back in time? I wouldn’t try to change his mind about his feelings for me, but I would change my focus from casting him as a bad person to one who made bad choices.
In the spring, after a few friendly emails, I learned that he’s unable to have a friendship with me as he “realized that in order for me to move forward in life in a healthy and sustainable way, I have to do a better job of not carrying my entire past with me and make more space for growth”. I think he realized he can’t be my friend because I remind him he’s not living according to his values. With me in his life, he would have a continual reminder of his cruel choices. He was always very eager to be thought of as a good person and I don’t think he can think of himself positively when he remembers how he treated me. I don’t think he’s a bad person, but I don’t think he’s a good person either. Like everyone else, he’s a person who makes choices. I hope his future choices align with his values as this would mean both that he’s treated others respectfully and at peace with himself.
All of this brings me back to thoughts I first expressed in my post on shame and guilt.
I feel shame for the ways I participate in and benefit from oppressive cultures, although I’d prefer a better term though because it is different than the shame that tells me I’m a bad person. For example, I don’t think I’m a bad person because I was born with white skin and I don’t think I alone can fix the problems of colonialism or white supremacy. But I also can’t ignore the fact that I’m typing this on a computer I own, in a large house that my parents own that I will likely half-inherit in the (hopefully far) future. I’m lucky to have the safety net I have, and I never want to take it for granted. This knowledge makes me want to participate in creating a world where everyone has at least the safety net I have. It is utterly unreasonable and tragic for anyone in Canada to be forced into homelessness and it angers me that not enough people are doing enough to solve this problem. It is shameful, for lack of a better word. But how can I convince the people who can change laws and policies to recognize this as their shame to fix? How can I convince anyone to look the problem in the eye, sit with the guilt, and decide to work towards change, rather than choose to ignore the problem so they can “move forward in life in a healthy and sustainable way”?
Similarly, I don’t have patience for men who react by defending themselves when they hear women talk about our fears or experiences of violence. I would much prefer they (you) listen to us, sit with their uncomfortable experiences, brainstorm ways they can make the world safer for us1, and then take action on some of their ideas. Don’t tell me you are a good person; show me the good choices you make.
Again, I think it comes back to shame. I need to get rid of my own shame so that I’m not tempted to think I’m better than anyone else and directly or indirectly shame them. I also don’t want to be tempted to think I’m less than anyone else and deserve disrespect. I can try to help those around me feel less shame so that they can, perhaps, make a similar transformation and continue spreading waves of compassion that smooth out shame from our world. Can you even imagine a world where we didn’t try to compete for love and respect because we all had it in abundance? That’s the world I want to live in.
Thank you for reading to the end as I wrestled with my thoughts. Next week I’m going to expand on this and see if it still applies when people make more harmful choices. Can I send compassion to rapists and murderers? Or are there some people who are simply evil and incapable of change? How do punishments fit into this model?
I am curious to hear what people think. How can we collectively reduce our limiting feelings of shame? Can the world become a better place for everyone - can we raise the floor on quality of life - if enough of us transform our shame into compassion?
like telling a friend it isn’t cool to talk about women in a derogatory way when hearing “locker room talk”