Friday, March 25, 2022

Honestly

Months ago, when the uproar about Spotify and stupid Joe whatever-his-name-is and his stupid podcast still seemed worthy of attention, I started writing something about it. The thing that I was writing started out as a sort of on-the-one-hand and then on-the-other-hand acknowledgement that what’s-his-name’s approach to COVID information is stupid at best and dangerous at worst and then a further acknowledgement that artists have every right to remove their music from the platform because that’s how the First Amendment works. That’s what it’s for. 

But then I was also going to write about how I was not planning to cancel my own personal Spotify subscription just because they give a platform to one stupid chucklehead. After all, there’s no law against stupid, and even chuckleheads have First Amendment rights. But then I found out that The What’s-His-Name Experience showcased the n-word in SEVENTY episodes and that what’s-his-name and one of his stupid dudebro guests yukked it up about sexually harassing and abusing women and then it was no longer a First Amendment issue; it was just an issue of simple human decency and my responsibility not to support a company that gives a huge platform to this kind of message and this kind of messenger. So I had to cancel stupid Spotify (and I really liked stupid Spotify) and also re-write a substantial portion of a thing that I had already written. I don’t have time for this nonsense, you know what I mean? 

But since we are on the subject of problematic podcasts and stupid nonsense, let’s talk about Bari Weiss. Yeah, Bari Weiss, I know. I used to sometimes listen to Bari’s podcast “Honestly,” including part of the episode that preceded her infamous appearance on the Bill Maher show. I didn’t actually see the TV appearance because I don’t have HBO and because I just can’t stand Bill Maher. Well, I didn’t see the entire show, but I did see the now famous “I’m done with COVID” clip that made Bari Weiss the Karen of the Week. That was ages ago, of course. I'm always behind. Don't come here looking for breaking news. 

Anyway, this isn’t really about the “done with COVID” moment, which is now largely overcome by events. It’s about another episode of “Honestly,” in which Bari and her psychologist guest complained about the word “trauma.” Shall I summarize this episode for you? Here’s the gist: These young people on the TikTok and the Twitter! They break a nail and it’s “trauma!” Hothouse flowers! Snowflakes! What do they know from trauma? The Holocaust, there’s some trauma for you! 

For God’s sake. 

Well, let’s back up a second. Part of me is OK with objecting to the clinical use of the word “trauma” in any way other than how it is defined in whatever medical textbook is regarded as the authoritative source. That was the position of Bari’s psychologist guest whose name I cannot remember and do not feel like looking up. His point, a valid one, is that misusing a clinical term that has a specific and agreed-upon definition muddles the term and leads to confusion and lack of clarity in treatment and research. 

And this objection would apply to the conversational everyday use of the word, too. How many times do I tell people that words mean something, and that it’s important to try to choose words carefully? All the time, I tell you, ALL THE TIME. 

So the word “trauma” means something, and if we want to know what it means, we can just  look at a dictionary. Here is how Merriam-Webster defines the word “trauma”: “(in psychiatry) An experience that produces psychological injury or pain, or the injury so caused.” That is pretty broad, is it not? All kinds of experiences, especially experiences of young people, especially the experiences of young people since March 2020, could easily fall under the heading of “trauma.” Who is Bari Weiss or anyone, really, to decide what qualifies as “trauma” to a person who is suffering? Is it not enough to know that someone is suffering, and to just show some damn compassion? 

The whole idea of Bari and her guest questioning the validity of other people’s feelings annoyed me. I was so annoyed, actually, that I almost turned off the show. Then I second-guessed myself. I thought that maybe I was being harsh and unfair. I decided to listen for a few more minutes. And that’s when I heard the mobile therapy app commercial, narrated by Bari herself. It wasn’t the existence of the commercial or the product that it was advertising  that bothered me. I bet that mobile therapy apps are very helpful. But then in her lovely and reassuring speaking voice, Bari listed all of the different issues that the app could help with. Depression, anxiety, sleeplessness, addiction issues, compulsive behavior, stress, and (wait for it), trauma. 

Something tells me that therapists who provide services through a mobile app probably have a pretty broad definition of the word “trauma;” a definition that would contradict the very thesis of the show, namely that young people should stop calling every little problem a “trauma.”  Did Bari Weiss consider this inconsistency as she narrated the commercial? I’m sure that she recorded it earlier and that it was intended for general use on her podcast, so perhaps the contradiction never occurred to her. Perhaps she recorded that commercial months earlier and then never gave it another thought. I do stuff all the time and forget about it moments later. So it’s possible. 

On the other hand, Bari Weiss is a smart person, and her podcast is professionally produced, presumably by lots of other smart people. Did NO ONE on her staff catch this? Did no one notice that this commercial might belie the premise of the whole episode? Did no one consider that there might be a disconnect? Or did they all notice it and think about it and talk about it among themselves and ultimately decide that there wasn’t a disconnect? I don’t know. I’m overthinking this, as I tend to do. The worst interpretation is that Bari Weiss and her producers are completely aware of the inconsistency of selling “Honestly” listeners a service that helps with “trauma,” while hosting a discussion in which Bari scoffs at the very idea that any 21st century middle-class educated American even knows what trauma is. Middle class educated Americans are probably the people most likely to use a mobile therapy app and they are definitely the only people listening to Bari Weiss. 

*****

For pundits and opinion writers and commentators and thought leaders, self-appointed or otherwise, integrity is key. Integrity matters almost more than rightness; or at least it matters as much as rightness. Say (almost) whatever you want, as long as it’s not obviously hateful or ridiculous, even if it’s wrong, and as long as it comes from a place of integrity, I will still respect you. I don’t always agree with Bari Weiss, but I always considered her a person who wrote and spoke from a place of integrity. The “trauma” episode made me question this. I seriously question the integrity of a person who produces a whole podcast episode that mocks and criticizes people who think of themselves as traumatized, sponsored by an advertiser selling a service targeted at those very people. 

My objection to this episode goes beyond the obvious contradiction between its content and the advertising that supports it. The whole discussion smacked of bad faith conservative outrage-baiting about snowflakery and safe spaces and emotional support animals. It came across as though Bari Weiss or some smart young person who works for her searched Twitter and TikTok for trending topics and keywords, and decided “Hey! Here’s an idea! This will drive engagement! This will push some buttons!” I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of phony outrage and concern trolling. I’m tired of performative petty throw-down gotcha one-liners substituting for thoughtful commentary. 

*****

So why was I listening to Bari Weiss anyway? That is a reasonable question. I admire her bravery and honesty on some topics, especially the landmine-strewn field of gender theory. She is a great writer who was hounded off the NYT’s editorial board and while we’re talking about stuff that I am tired of, I am profoundly tired of seeing fanatics left and right allowed to control the discourse. I’m tired of ratio-ing and subtweeting and I’m REALLY tired of book banning and curriculum control and dishonest equivalence between obviously unequal ideas. 

Still, I’m of two minds about Bari Weiss. There's a part of me that wants to defend her, just because I’m even more sick of the Internet He-Man Woman Haters’ Club. Call me a radical feminist if you want, but my spidey senses tell me that the real reason for the strong reaction to Bari’s Bill Maher appearance had little to do with COVID and lots to do with the very existence of women speaking out about anything with our high-pitched feminine voices and our overly emotional demeanor. The word “shrill” made frequent appearances in the furious anti-Bari tweets during this little kerfuffle. Omicron panic made it easy for the haters to hide their misogyny behind a veneer of public health self-righteousness and faux outrage on behalf of service workers and public school teachers and students and beleaguered healthcare workers. But you know what they say on the Internet: We see you. I see you. 

*****

I started writing this weeks ago, obviously. But after watching Senators Cruz and Hawley and Cotton and Blackburn posing and posturing through the two days of hearings for Judge Jackson, the topic of phony political outrage trolling with a side of misogyny seemed relevant again. I’m no admirer of Senator Ben Sasse but the man earned a tiny place in my stone-cold heart for referring to the Senators’ antics as “jackassery,” especially since that remark immediately followed Cruz’s “questioning.” Well done, Senator. You’ll never get my vote for anything, ever, but you might have a little bit of my respect. 

*****

I haven’t listened to “Honestly” since the “trauma” episode. I haven’t found a new podcast home yet; but even when I do, I probably won’t listen to Bari again. It’s not ideological, although I do disagree with much of what she has to say. I just don’t want to consume any more of the tiresome content rolling off the fake outrage industrial complex’s assembly line. It’s an integrity thing. 


Sunday, March 6, 2022

Project planning

Last winter and spring, I started work early every day, and I usually finished my day at 4. (I still start early but I don’t finish early). I would go for a walk outside, returning home by 5 when it was still deep winter and a bit later as the days grew longer. My sons and I would reconvene after we finished our remote work and school days from our desks in various corners of the house. Then my husband, who was no longer working remotely, would come home. I would make dinner and we’d spend the evening in the family room, sometimes watching a game or doing an online crossword puzzle together and sometimes entertaining ourselves separately. 

Weekends were completely unscheduled. As restaurants began to re-open, my husband and I would go for sushi at our favorite local place. We’d go together to pick up groceries or other supplies and then we’d return home for a quiet evening in semi-lockdown. There was a lot of reading. There was a lot of Netflix bingeing. Someone was always napping on a couch. 

The thing was that I knew at the time that this state of suspended animation was artificial and temporary. And I wanted it to be temporary. In fact, despite how pleasant it sometimes was, I really couldn't wait for it to end. I wanted to go places and do things and see people. I wanted to take the mask off. I wanted my normal, busy, over-scheduled life.

*****

Now, of course, in a case of “who could have predicted this,” I am nostalgic for early 2021. But this is not just me being neurotic and ridiculous, and it’s not just “be careful what you wish for.” I’m not just missing the slow pace and lack of scheduled obligations. It’s something else. 

In the early spring of 2021, things seemed to be taking a little turn for the better. The vaccines promised an eventual end to pandemic restrictions and a return to whatever constituted normal pre-COVID. TFG was gone from the public spotlight, or at least he was no longer the center of attention. He couldn’t even tweet. I walked around my neighborhood in the sunny early spring chill, and the cherry blossoms seemed to promise a new beginning. 

Last week, my son’s high school sent an email about a coming delivery of free test kits, and I was like “what? COVID tests? Still?” I know that the pandemic is not over yet. As a matter of fact, when I called her on Wednesday to get her shopping list, the old lady I shop for helpfully told me that I should be careful because there’s a new variant coming because of course there is. Still, COVID seems like a dim and distant memory now. Even the dreaded Omicron surge of late 2021 seems ages in the past. And amid 24/7 coverage of the dreadful war in Ukraine and the worsening humanitarian crisis and the growing danger that we’ll end up in a bloody ground war or nuclear war with Russia, the quiet mid-pandemic languishing of early 2021 seems like the gosh darn good old days. 

*****

Two years ago, on the first Saturday in March, my son played in his first high school baseball game, a scrimmage against a Middletown school. Middletown is in Frederick County, about 30 miles north of Silver Spring, and according to Google, about 200 feet higher in elevation. I remember that it was chilly when we left our house in Silver Spring and that it was absolutely freezing cold in Middletown. The other Rockville mothers and I huddled in our folding canvas chairs, bundled in winter jackets and wrapped in blankets. Later that evening, I shared pizza and spinach-artichoke dip and a bottle of wine with two other mothers while our gang of young teenage boys, who weren’t yet able to drive on their own, celebrated a friend’s birthday at the Stained Glass Pub. That was the very last normal Saturday before March 13, 2020, when Maryland and most of the rest of the United States shut down.  I remember almost everything about that day. And now it’s Saturday morning and the sun is shining and although it’s cold, it will warm up today to a spring-like 60 degrees. Rockville will play its first scrimmage later today, against Winston Churchill. We have Capitals tickets. I have errands to run. The cherry blossoms are starting to bloom and I have even started to see a little bit of yellow on the forsythia bushes. It’s a prototype of a normal early spring Saturday. 

Spring used to be a time of crushing anxiety and panic attacks for me. Part of this is related to an old trauma that happened in the spring. Part of it was just over-scheduling and over-commitment and too much to do. The trauma part is long in the past now, so far in the past that I hardly ever think about it. The spring onslaught part is very different this year, because my younger son now drives and has his own car and so all I need to do is show up at his games and cheer with the other parents. I don’t have to drive him back and forth to practice, and I don’t have to get him to his games 90 minutes before they actually start and then try to fit as many errands or to-do list items into that 90 minutes before I return to watch the game. I just wave goodbye and watch him drive away. 

That’s it, I guess. Other than the worry and sadness about the state of the world and the plight of Ukraine, I am acutely conscious that I’m almost done with all of this, the school concerts and sports and PTA and all of the other mom things that have made my life very busy and very good for the last 21 years. Pretty soon, I’ll wave goodbye and watch them drive away knowing that it will not be hours, but days or weeks or even months before I see them again. Last spring, when the world was on hold, my children seemed years away from adulthood. Just one year later, and they’re already 80 percent out the door. I guess I just don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when they’re out on their own. I guess I’ll need a project. 



Wednesday, March 2, 2022

Day one

Once I had a Wordle streak

Now it’s gone

Motherfucker

That will be my single attempt at poetry this year. Don't wait for my chapbook, because it's not coming. 

******

Yesterday’s word was “rupee.” What? Wordle, can you give us a topical word just one time? I mean, with the R, U, and E in the first, second, and last positions, we went with “rupee” rather than “ruble?” Is that Wordle’s feeble show of support for Ukraine, to boycott the Anglicized word for the Russian currency unit? A 26-game streak, kaput. 

Wait, “kaput” is actually not a bad starting word, right? My strategy is to start with a word with two vowels, a very common consonant, and two less common consonants. “Kaput” fulfills all three objectives. 

My winning streak is kaput, but today is another day. It's day one of my next winning streak.