7 Ways Social Justice Language Can Be Abusive in Intimate Relationships
February 21, 2016 3:34 AM Subscribe
There aren’t a lot of things I know for certain in this life, but there is one thing I have known for a long, long time: What lives at the heart of abuse is fear – and the power to turn that fear into violence and control. When we live in fear, when all we have known for all our lives is fear, we are capable of transforming even the best causes and ideas into weapons of abuse – even the cause of social justice. Let me tell you a story to show you what I mean: A few years ago I took a deep breath, looked one of my closest friends in the eye, and told him that I thought he should stop beating up his boyfriend. He blinked at me in surprise. He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying. Then he said, “But it isn’t abuse if I hit him. I’m more oppressed than he is.”
Domestic Violence by Race & Ethnicity: Victim populations broken down by race and ethnicity.
No, We Won’t Calm Down – Tone Policing Is Just Another Way to Protect Privilege
"Have you ever tone policed someone in a conversation on oppression? Tone policing focuses on the emotion behind a message rather than the message itself – and you might think you’re helping by making the conversation more “comfortable.” But in this comic, Robot Hugs makes a great point about how tone policing protects privilege – and silences people who are hurting. This is no way to get justice, and this breakdown will help you understand exactly why."
10 Ways the Beauty Industry Tells You Being Beautiful Means Being White
"From television shows to commercials to magazine advertisements to celebrity culture, mainstream media has a big influence on how we understand beauty in the US. It’s an impossible standard for any woman to live up to – even models themselves don’t look like their photoshopped, heavily made up images in the magazines. The beauty industry gains a lot from convincing us that we’re too fat, or too flat chested, or we don’t have clear enough skin – anything to say we’re not good enough so we need to buy something to improve our appearance. Though anyone can wear makeup, regardless of gender, most of these products are marketed to women. And women get very strong messages that our value depends deeply on our attractiveness. Combine those messages with the toxic idea that only white women are beautiful (so it’s my skin color that’s wrong, not the limited selection of foundation colors), and you can understand how damaging the beauty industry is for women of color."
3 Things To Consider When Choosing Between Calling Someone Out Or Calling Them In
"This may come as a shock – because if you’re like me, you might like to think of social change activists as enlightened beings. But the truth is that sometimes, even those of us in social change movements participate in oppressive behavior. Okay, so maybe that’s not such a shock, because if you’re like me, you’ve also come across oppression even among activists working to create a just world. And lately, there’s been a lot of talk about which tools we should use to address oppressive behavior in our communities – and two options people have come up with are calling out and calling in."
10 Things I’ve Learned About Gaslighting As An Abuse Tactic
"Gaslighting is the attempt of one person to overwrite another person’s reality. There’s a good chance that you now know more about gaslighting than most therapists. And that is really unfortunate, because if you have experienced gaslighting, it’s going to be really hard to untangle it yourself. Unfortunately, you may have to, and I want to tell you that you are not alone."
9 Ways We Can Make Social Justice Movements Less Elitist and More Accessible
"In my first year of college, I stopped calling myself an activist. It took attending just a few meetings of the campus queer group for me to realize that I didn’t fit in with everyone else. Despite that the fact that I was definitely queer – a pre-transition trans woman at the time – I could tell immediately that I wasn’t “queer enough” to fight for social justice alongside these university-educated revolutionaries who spoke with such confidence and rolled their eyes every time I opened my mouth. I didn’t know what “trigger warnings” or “intersectional systemic oppression” were. I didn’t dress in ripped denim and black leather, or have a colorfully dyed, asymmetrical haircut. I wasn’t white, like most of the people in the room. I didn’t even know who this “Judith Butler” person that everyone seemed to love so much was. Simply being racialized, a trans person, and survivor of abuse had apparently not prepared me to talk or think about racism, transphobia, or trauma in any valuable way. Neither had facilitating workshops on homophobia in my hometown. And after a few weeks of feeling confused and invisible, I decided that I just wasn’t smart enough to be an activist. Six years, two degrees, one gender transition, and a bunch of published Internet rants later, I’m able to see that my feelings about those early forays into social justice weren’t so much about my personal capacity or value as they were about exclusion and accessibility."
5 Common Ways Our Communities Fail to Address Intimate Partner Violence
"A few years ago, I was at a party crowded full of left-wing activists, queers, and feminists (as I often am). There, I watched one of my best friends get drunk, lose her temper, and punch her partner in the solar plexus hard enough to make a sound like the air exploding out of a basketball. The partner in question staggered backward, clutching her chest. For a few seconds, it was clear that she was struggling to breathe. As Beyoncé’s ‘’Partition’’ played in the background, she fought for air. Finally, she recovered and walked silently out of the room. My friend followed, yelling at her to “stop being a baby.” I, like many trans women of color, am no stranger to violence between lovers. I have my own history of abuse (as both survivor and perpetrator), and am well acquainted with the fact that in any community – regardless of identity or class – intimate partner violence is a common dirty little secret. So I was sadly not shocked to see a dear friend – a queer, feminist friend – hit her partner. This is a reality that I have come to acknowledge, though not accept. What did surprise me (though in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn’t have) was the reaction of the people around me. They stared at the ground. They looked away. Some continued to dance and knock back their drinks, as though oblivious. “Hey,” I said, a little uncertainly, to no one in particular. “I don’t think that what just happened was okay.” Someone beside me nodded. “I know,” they said quietly. “It happens a lot with those two. I’m just trying not to worry about it. I don’t want to, like, get all up in their business, you know?” A few people around us murmured in agreement. And then the party continued, as if nothing had happened. I thought about this for a moment, weighing the emotions racing through me. And then I, too, tossed down a drink and went back to the business of having fun.
And we need to talk about this."
Domestic Violence by Race & Ethnicity: Victim populations broken down by race and ethnicity.
No, We Won’t Calm Down – Tone Policing Is Just Another Way to Protect Privilege
"Have you ever tone policed someone in a conversation on oppression? Tone policing focuses on the emotion behind a message rather than the message itself – and you might think you’re helping by making the conversation more “comfortable.” But in this comic, Robot Hugs makes a great point about how tone policing protects privilege – and silences people who are hurting. This is no way to get justice, and this breakdown will help you understand exactly why."
10 Ways the Beauty Industry Tells You Being Beautiful Means Being White
"From television shows to commercials to magazine advertisements to celebrity culture, mainstream media has a big influence on how we understand beauty in the US. It’s an impossible standard for any woman to live up to – even models themselves don’t look like their photoshopped, heavily made up images in the magazines. The beauty industry gains a lot from convincing us that we’re too fat, or too flat chested, or we don’t have clear enough skin – anything to say we’re not good enough so we need to buy something to improve our appearance. Though anyone can wear makeup, regardless of gender, most of these products are marketed to women. And women get very strong messages that our value depends deeply on our attractiveness. Combine those messages with the toxic idea that only white women are beautiful (so it’s my skin color that’s wrong, not the limited selection of foundation colors), and you can understand how damaging the beauty industry is for women of color."
3 Things To Consider When Choosing Between Calling Someone Out Or Calling Them In
"This may come as a shock – because if you’re like me, you might like to think of social change activists as enlightened beings. But the truth is that sometimes, even those of us in social change movements participate in oppressive behavior. Okay, so maybe that’s not such a shock, because if you’re like me, you’ve also come across oppression even among activists working to create a just world. And lately, there’s been a lot of talk about which tools we should use to address oppressive behavior in our communities – and two options people have come up with are calling out and calling in."
10 Things I’ve Learned About Gaslighting As An Abuse Tactic
"Gaslighting is the attempt of one person to overwrite another person’s reality. There’s a good chance that you now know more about gaslighting than most therapists. And that is really unfortunate, because if you have experienced gaslighting, it’s going to be really hard to untangle it yourself. Unfortunately, you may have to, and I want to tell you that you are not alone."
9 Ways We Can Make Social Justice Movements Less Elitist and More Accessible
"In my first year of college, I stopped calling myself an activist. It took attending just a few meetings of the campus queer group for me to realize that I didn’t fit in with everyone else. Despite that the fact that I was definitely queer – a pre-transition trans woman at the time – I could tell immediately that I wasn’t “queer enough” to fight for social justice alongside these university-educated revolutionaries who spoke with such confidence and rolled their eyes every time I opened my mouth. I didn’t know what “trigger warnings” or “intersectional systemic oppression” were. I didn’t dress in ripped denim and black leather, or have a colorfully dyed, asymmetrical haircut. I wasn’t white, like most of the people in the room. I didn’t even know who this “Judith Butler” person that everyone seemed to love so much was. Simply being racialized, a trans person, and survivor of abuse had apparently not prepared me to talk or think about racism, transphobia, or trauma in any valuable way. Neither had facilitating workshops on homophobia in my hometown. And after a few weeks of feeling confused and invisible, I decided that I just wasn’t smart enough to be an activist. Six years, two degrees, one gender transition, and a bunch of published Internet rants later, I’m able to see that my feelings about those early forays into social justice weren’t so much about my personal capacity or value as they were about exclusion and accessibility."
5 Common Ways Our Communities Fail to Address Intimate Partner Violence
"A few years ago, I was at a party crowded full of left-wing activists, queers, and feminists (as I often am). There, I watched one of my best friends get drunk, lose her temper, and punch her partner in the solar plexus hard enough to make a sound like the air exploding out of a basketball. The partner in question staggered backward, clutching her chest. For a few seconds, it was clear that she was struggling to breathe. As Beyoncé’s ‘’Partition’’ played in the background, she fought for air. Finally, she recovered and walked silently out of the room. My friend followed, yelling at her to “stop being a baby.” I, like many trans women of color, am no stranger to violence between lovers. I have my own history of abuse (as both survivor and perpetrator), and am well acquainted with the fact that in any community – regardless of identity or class – intimate partner violence is a common dirty little secret. So I was sadly not shocked to see a dear friend – a queer, feminist friend – hit her partner. This is a reality that I have come to acknowledge, though not accept. What did surprise me (though in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn’t have) was the reaction of the people around me. They stared at the ground. They looked away. Some continued to dance and knock back their drinks, as though oblivious. “Hey,” I said, a little uncertainly, to no one in particular. “I don’t think that what just happened was okay.” Someone beside me nodded. “I know,” they said quietly. “It happens a lot with those two. I’m just trying not to worry about it. I don’t want to, like, get all up in their business, you know?” A few people around us murmured in agreement. And then the party continued, as if nothing had happened. I thought about this for a moment, weighing the emotions racing through me. And then I, too, tossed down a drink and went back to the business of having fun.
And we need to talk about this."
This post was deleted for the following reason: Hey, it's not really clear what's going on here. Are these articles related to each other in some way, or just an arbitrary handful from everydayfeminism.com? We've linked to the site before (including three currently open threads), so if this is kind of "oh hey look, here's an interesting site," this isn't an undiscovered site for mefi. Please contact us if you'd like to discuss. -- taz
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