Friday, February 16, 2018

The Massacres

I walked into each class on the first day of the semester and surveyed the room for potential hiding spots. Biology classes had those big tables they said would be great for hiding under, but we all knew those tables were so tall that anyone with aim could execute us all. The cabinets, though - I'd hide there. The art class had lots of cabinets too, and the desks were more solid and low which I found very important because art class was on the same floor as the principals office, two always-empty bathrooms, and it was quite an easy target. And on the first day of the semester, I'd fix my hair in the bathroom mirror and remember the orders that, if in the hall during a Lockdown (for school shooters) that I was to run in the bathroom and lock the door, opening it for no one.
My friends and I asked each other when we thought it would happen at our school - a large school represented by the Confederate flag in Louisiana - and who we thought would do it.
And we all agreed we knew people who would shoot us up in a heartbeat.

That was a decade ago. 



I no longer go to classes but I've got a small person rapidly approaching school-age and I adamantly refuse to put her into public school for many reasons, but the pure epidemic of school shootings definitely plays a part. I know that the mall, church, or musical outings are all now deemed likely places to get point-blank murdered, but schools are the worst. And, to this day, I know people who I'm shocked haven'tended up on the news and frankly, if they wanted any fame from the crimes of their urges, they're too late - we're so desensitized no one will remember the next guys name.
When my friends and I would gossip about who may be a culprit, there were common themes.
White. Male. Isolated. Often they'd never dated, or they had unusual sexual tastes. But to me, being a bit more of a chase-the-rabbit-down-the-hole type of girl who'd eventually major in psychology, it seemed like the common threads were woven even more tightly. And these threads have remained in the last decade.

They had the same walk. They often had downward cast eyes, poor posture, and other defensive body-language not unlike my own. But they didn't look bored or shy or even like they'd ever enthusiastically defend themselves. They looked ashamed.

Enjoyment and disgust are two of the most basic, primal emotions. If a one-year-old is splashing spilled milk on his tray and enjoying a new finding and then the father erupts into the room with "what in the world are you doing?!" that child shifts quickly from joy to shame in the reaction by the parent of disgust (or even anger.) Shame isn't something that magically came about due to the Abrahamic faiths like many of my atheist friends seem to believe. Shame developed for a reason - it keeps us in line with the rest of our social circle.

And this is where things get trickier. Not everyone has a social circle. I don't. Many of my online friends don't. There is a societal expectation in the west to be an extrovert. To have friends. To have at least three or four people to call for help or to hang out. When you don't have that, you're deemed weird, and that's not just by a few choice bullies - it's known and accepted.
 When shame comes from the very shunning from society itself, society is where the damage will be spread.



Some of these guys find solace online with forums and groups full of people who are angry and dejected. These places all have their reasons, but generally it's some form of white supremacist sexist garbage. They give impressionable, angry, isolated young men a reason for their bitter season. They put some fire behind that rage where it's really just a void. They find ways to place their sexual hangups at the fault of women. I read and analyzed Elliot Roger's Manifesto - it was one of the most painful things I've ever read. Rejected, spoiled little boys who were never taught how to be men are the ones murdering children.

It's not allowed to speak on this topic without offering a solution that will be shat on either way. I'm not going to say "just talk to lonely people" like one joke of an article I just read said was literally the solution to the issue - thinly veiled NRA propaganda. I'm not going to rant about healthcare. Stop teaching boys that they have to be loud to be masculine, that they need to be powerful to be masculine, that they need to compete to be masculine. Stop teaching boys that femininity is the opposition to their male identities, but that the two compliment each other. Stop teaching boys not to feel feelings and if they say they CAN'T feel feelings, help them learn to.


Stop.







You're Disgusting

The feeling of disgust. Not only is it a very baseline emotion which helps keep us safe individually and, at one point, as a species - it's also the only thing that stands between reality and rationality.
Ever had that "they're just off, something isn't right" reaction to someone who was very outwardly normal? That frequently comes from instinctual disgust.
And there's no reason to limit this disturbing feeling to the things that are "icky." Intellectual and emotional disgust are always here to pick up the slack.



Much like our pupils shrinking at the sight of a nausea-inducing dumpster truck full of feces, our instincts about the people we encounter, befriend, grow close to, and become arch-enemies of can be spot on even before we know why we're correct. The tiny pieces of the picture we paint when standing before another human being makes a tremendous impression. Small cues may make it hard for some of us with social issues, but if you take a deep breathe you'll soon come to realize that you're sending and receiving messages to everyone in the room. No wifi required.
Hence the social exhaustion you may experience if you found your way to this blog.



If I have a few days in which I feel any hopefulness towards my fellow man - and to be clear, by hopefulness, I mean a bittersweet sense that maybe not everyone is terrible - it will surely soon be ruined by an onslaught of gross from social media, short encounters in markets, and in my personal life. I can be as alone as I am, as reclusive as I am, and still, someone will disgust me.
I don't always know what to do when I feel this way. Often it's a waiting game. Or it's a quick revenge. But there's always the joy of existing in the same space as someone that makes your internal organs scream "get away, get the fuck away!"


The upside to disgust and the plethora of it that I deal with is that it's often the ticking before the bomb goes off. Revulsion lets me know that even if I haven't figured it out yet, something is wrong with you. You're a con man. You're a serial killer. You're a pedophile. You like mayonnaise.  Without the gut-wrenching antipathy, the loathing, the desire to punch and puke every time I look at you - the fact you're disgusting may catch me off guard!
And we cannot have that.
Dizzy