Last Sunday, I posted an amusing anecdote on my blog and social media.
At least, I thought it was an amusing anecdote. Instead, a whole bunch of readers disagreed with my thoughts and actions, as described in the post. The context isn’t important, but suffice it to say:
I noticed and said something to a stranger that I thought was funny.
Many people did not find my comment funny at all. Many thought it was insensitive, unkind, and mean-spirited.
And so, what I thought would be a nothing-burger of a post resulted in many comments on my multiple social media accounts and a flurry of emails in my inbox.
In addition to reading my blog via social media, about 20,000 people read my blog daily on my website or via an email subscription, so email is often how these readers communicate with me.
They certainly communicated with me a lot on Sunday.
A few thoughts about the enormous response to the post, which was, for the most part, not positive:
As someone who, in the words of one friend, “lives out loud,” these things happen from time to time. They actually happen less frequently than I would expect, given the amount that I write and my level of contrarianism, but they sometimes do. There are times when I suspect that a post will create a stir, but many times, like this most recent one, I have no idea.
But this is what happens when you express an opinion, relate an anecdote, tell a story, offer advice, or attempt to be funny online and publicly every single day without fail for nearly two decades.
Some things don’t land so well.
A handful of especially empathetic readers often worry about me when this happens, writing in support even when they vehemently disagree with the actual post. They see people calling me names or using derogatory words to describe me and worry that I may be upset or wounded. Every time, I assure these kind-hearted angels that I am fine.
These things happen.
I’ve become quite accustomed to criticism and attack. As an author, columnist, storyteller, and blogger, I know that it comes with the territory. You can’t create in a public space without some people noting their objections to your work.
I’m also an exceedingly, almost offensively optimistic person, even while under verbal assault. It takes a whole lot to pierce my armor and draw blood.
I also receive more than enough positive feedback to counteract any negative responses.
More importantly, I genuinely enjoy the discourse. I love debate. I even adore criticism.
If I write or say something that offends, but my intent was not malicious, I know in my heart that it’s simply an example of my imperfect floundering through the universe.
It should not be shocking to anyone that I make mistakes.
I also love differing perspectives. I invite opportunities to reconsider my position. I admire people who are willing to express divergent views. I’ve never been opposed to push-back. I was a debate champion in college for a reason:
I like a good argument.
Even the name-calling is fine. It’s not the nicest or most effective way to approach disagreement, but I’m relatively impenetrable.
“Sticks and stones…” isn’t always true, but with me, it’s almost always true.
I also remind myself that when someone attacks me in a less-than-civil way, they are also imperfect. They are also probably less likely to share their imperfections with the world, which is fine and probably advisable, but I rightfully assume they say and do stupid things, too.
We just don’t hear about them as often.
I also know that people are far more likely to speak uncivilly online than in person. Very good people can sometimes sound really rotten online. The filter of the internet is a powerful and unfortunate thing.
It’s all good.
On Sunday, one of my readers pointed out that even as people expressed their distaste or even disgust for me and my actions, I did not delete or edit my post to make the problem go away.
This is true. I never do.
But those kind words were still appreciated. They are especially appreciated on days when everyone seems to disagree with you, and on Sunday, they were actually expressed by someone who also disagreed with me, making her kind words even more meaningful.
Readers also told me that they are sometimes afraid to come to my defense after a large number of people have spoken out against me. They fear the same kind of response I am receiving, which makes sense. Not everyone is wired for criticism. Not everyone is itching for debate. Few people are willing to gladly absorb abuse.
Also, my unearned privilege as a white, straight American man with no physical disabilities or mental illness makes absorbing heaps of criticism far easier for me than for someone from a marginalized group who is constantly under attack by monsters and dimwits.
I get this, too.
I know a lot of men who enjoy the same unearned privilege as I reject this notion, insisting that they have earned every bit of their status and success, but those little men are stupidly naive, tragically ignorant, sexist, bigoted, or pathetically fragile. Probably some combination of a few.
I also know that as upset as someone may have been with me on Sunday, these moments are often fleeting at best. As angry as a reader may seem, I’m an infinitesimal fraction of their life, and their outrage will often subside or be forgotten entirely in a week.
Sometimes in a day.
I also know this:
Defending my position in these circumstances is often unwise and foolish, and attacking my detractors is always wrong. Instead, I prefer to thank my critics for taking the time to read and respond. I may explain how I landed on my position, clarify something that potentially confused my readers, and offer reasons why I thought (and perhaps still think) that was right, but I try not to sound too defensive and make it clear that I’m more than willing to listen to alternative viewpoints.
I suggest this to anyone in situations like these. Gratitude, transparency, open-mindedness, and clarity are always the best routes.
While some readers call me names or describe me with unfortunate adjectives, I never respond in kind.
You don’t win those battles, nor should they ever be fought.
Ultimately, I see days like Sunday as positive moments for me, my work, and my engagement with my readers. Most were unhappy with me, but they read my words, processed my thoughts and actions, and responded.
This is always the goal, even if the response is not what I had hoped or expected.
I was watching Taylor Swift’s “Diary of a Song” on Sunday. It’s a New York Times feature wherein musicians, producers, and songwriters talk about the making of a specific song. She was describing her process in writing “Lover.”
The reporter tells Swift, “The word ‘lover’ is polarizing. For some people, it gives them the creeps.”
Swift’s response: “Anything I do is polarizing, so I’m used to that.”
That’s probably not entirely true for Taylor Swift, nor is it altogether true for me, but those words seemed to be sent from the universe to me on Sunday, reminding me that when people express their thoughts and feelings to the world on a regular basis, it’s not always going to be hearts and rainbows.
Polarizing, in many ways, is a good thing. It indicates creativity, daring, and engagement.
So thank you for your kind words, your decidedly less-than-kind words, and everything in between.
Mostly, thank you for reading. I can’t promise that I won’t annoy or even enrage you from time to time. I am, after all, tragically imperfect.
But I’ll keep writing, and occasionally upsetting you, as long as you keep reading.
