On feminism and humanism
When I woke up yesterday morning, I had never heard of author Andrew Smith. I like to think I’m marginally well-versed in the world of Young Adult literature, but Smith’s work had somehow passed me by without any awareness on my part. Within twelve short hours though, the entire book world on Twitter and Tumblr would know the name Andrew Smith, while I would learn much more than just his name.
Following the release of a relatively mild interview Smith had given to the online publication Vice in the wake of his newest book, his answer to one innocuous question set the social media world afire with accusations of ignorance and misogyny. Tempers rose, tweets flew, sides were taken, and ultimately Smith removed all of his social media accounts leaving the rest of the Tweeting/Tumbling world to eventually exhaust themselves into a panting, trembling heap of pointing fingers.
I’m not here to talk about whether it was right or wrong to find offense in Smith’s words. I am a feminist. But like author/professor Roxane Gay who wrote an entire best-selling essay collection on the subject, I am an imperfect feminist. Earlier this week I slew a misogynist dragon that referred to me as “Little Lady” while threatening to “destroy” me with his keyboard, yet I saw no offense in Smith’s interview. I saw honesty, I saw truth. No offense, not even a twinge. That said, I also realize that my feminism isn’t everyone else’s feminism. Other feminists may well see offense and that is their right to which they are entitled.
Social media by it’s very nature demands immediacy. A tweet not responded to within minutes or seconds is lost and not relevant to any sort of “conversation” (using that word loosely since it is highly debatable whether it can be applied to 140 character limits). This immediacy denies the user any research or self-censorship that would be applied under other reasonable written communications such as blog posts, essays, or even Facebook posts.
Because I was not a part of the Gettysburg-like battlefield of Tweets firing back and forth across the screen yesterday, I was afforded the luxury of a 30 minute consult with Dr. Google regarding Andrew Smith. This is what I found: Aside from winning the prestigious Printz Honor Award, his books have consistently been named ALA Best Books for Young Adults over and over again. As a child, Smith was abused in his home growing up. He is extremely prolific, writing at least two new novels a year. He teaches at a local high school and works with immigrant children newly arrived in this country, English not being their native language. His books speak to countless teens, male and female alike. Ten pages of Dr. Google tells me he is universally beloved by all genders as he seeks to give a voice to the traditionally voiceless in his novels.
I mention this because my consultation with Dr. Google gave me invaluable information that, had others had access to it, may have changed the social media “conversation.” But who has time to gather such crucial background when the Twitter cannons are firing and the troops are forming their phalanxes? Smith was roundly criticized for cowardice when he closed down his social media accounts as the storm intensified and showed no signs of abating. Would cowardice still have been attributed had anyone known of his teaching position and understood that in most professions outside of the book world becoming embroiled in a Twitter battlefield is not seen as professionally acceptable by the people who control your employment? This concerns me.
We cannot change the nature of immediacy of social media. It is a large part of it’s appeal. But it’s a double-edged sword. In our need to swiftly respond in order to make ourselves relevant we risk exposing our ignorance. This pitfall is easily avoided with the application of empathy, a skill rarely seen in the social media world despite the fact that employing it covers a multitude of potential sins with zero risk to the user.
In a world where your relevancy is dictated by the number of people who read your 140 character missives, the concurrent rise in your social responsibility is often ignored. Tweet hard, tweet fast. Your followers will take over from there. On countless occasions this has inspired good social change and I love the power that social media has to enact this. I greatly admire people who use their social media influence to right social wrongs. I also accept that I won’t always agree with everyone on exactly what those wrongs are. So who polices the police? I offer no solid answers to this other than to suggest we not blindly follow even those we admire. Take a moment. Verify. Quick research. Never let anyone formulate an opinion for you.
Nearly twenty four hours after the incident - a veritable eon by social media standards - the argument has rather predictably digressed into the tedious who was right and who was wrong. Like the last holdouts in a battle who see the corpses littered across the field but aren’t sure what side has won or whether the battle is even over yet, the odd shot still rings out across Twitter. (Here’s a hint: if your sole argument is that you were right all along, you’ve lost.)
Undoubtedly there will be those who question my commitment to feminism after reading this. Some will question it not knowing a thing about me. (Again with the uninformed.) Not knowing that I work in a field where women represent just 4% of the workforce. Not knowing that every time I step inside the cockpit of an airliner I am subjected to derisive jokes, daily comments by passengers and fellow crewmembers alike, as well as subtle and outright insubordination all as a consequence of my gender. I understand misogyny. I fight misogyny every day. I am a feminist. But perhaps more important, I am a humanist. And human beings, regardless of gender, are deserving of more respect than the carnage of a social media battlefield.