I’m thinking about social requirements to perform emotional work. If you’re a woman in particular contexts, it’s the not slapping away the hand at the small of your back, the necessity of kissing people upon greeting them, the suppression of discomfort, the timely frivolity. It’s the necessity of looking upset, crying, becoming incoherent, for people to believe that you’ve been badly dealt with. It’s the shut-up-with-your-emotions-you-hysterical-woman when your emotions are not convenient for other people.
It’s that double bind: you have to perform so that you’ll be taken seriously, sometimes, but that which you are required to perform isn’t taken seriously, sometimes. It’s the goalpost shifting that makes it the perfect way to train women to trap outselves.
And, in my experience, trying to follow those goalposts around drains one more than it benefits one.
Playing along is totally understandable under the circumstances, because that’s what you’ve been taught to do, because it might help. It’s ultimately a disservice to oneself, because one has to endure the effects of both one’s own emotions and the layer of suppression or required emotion. No one should have to sit tight when they’re feeling threatened, and no one should have to play up the experience of being badly dealt with, as if your own story and response isn’t enough.
It’s also being the first one to assist an upset co-worker, trying to be the one who helps everyone get along, being understanding and compassionate. Being bright and sparkly in personality. Being nice because unless you have something that allows you to be the ‘bitch’ you don’t last long.
I’m sorry, Chally. Don’t let the bastards get you down.
Oh, Kez! You are sweet, but this was about nothing recent or particularly personal.
The way the oppressed are interpreted by those who oppress them reminds me of the fable by Lafontaine concerning the wolf and the lamb. To quote Wikipedia: “A wolf comes upon a lamb and, in order to justify taking its life, accuses it of various misdemeanours, all of which the lamb proves to be impossible. Losing patience, it says the offences must have been committed by someone else in the family and that it does not propose to delay its meal by enquiring any further about the matter. The morals drawn are that the tyrant can always find an excuse for his tyranny and that the unjust will not listen to the reasoning of the innocent.[2]” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wolf_and_the_Lamb
I am so glad I don’t live in such a touchy-feely place like Australia. Anyone who tries to touch me (except in very crowded areas where avoiding touching someone is impossible.) would be greeted with a half-smile and ‘a please remove the hand?’ before I broke their finger. And kissing anyone upon greeting is totally out of the question. First of all, eww. Secondly, I’m contagious for most of the winter.