WRITING AS THERAPY

One of my favorite quotes comes from the funny, irreverent, and brilliant writer Anne Lamott.

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

I often write when I need to process through my conflicted and confused emotions about difficult situations and experiences. I've heard writers say that they were afraid that what they wrote would hurt and/or anger the people in their lives. I, too, face this trepidation, which is why when I do write about someone who is currently still living, and who might happen upon one of my stories in which they may recognize themselves, I try not to mention them by name and use the "they/them" pronouns whenever possible if the story is, shall we say, less than flattering. It is not my intention to simply "oust" them, but writing truly is a form of therapy for me.

No one is a harsher critic of me than I am of myself. Often times when I've experienced a difficult situation with someone, I will relive the conversation/situation over and over again to try to ascertain whether it could have gone any better. Did I misspeak? Should I have remained quiet? Could I have behaved differently? Is there any way that I could have avoided the negative consequences of speaking up about certain things? I realize this is always an exercise in futility because of course none of us can ever go back in time to change things, but. . . I still do it nonetheless.

After George Floyd was murdered in May 2020, I vowed that I would never again allow myself to remain quiet in the presence of racism and microaggressive actions and/or comments. I knew full well that this would be terribly awkward and uncomfortable and might even cost me some relationships. Nevertheless, I was willing to take that chance because in the words of another favorite quote, which no one seems to be able to accurately attribute: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men (people) do nothing."

I was at a dinner party with a small group of what I thought were my friends at the time, when the hostess said something that I considered to have blatant racist overtones. It was precisely the type of microaggressive statement that makes it easy for people to dehumanize others, which I believe is at the root of prejudice and bigotry. As soon as I heard the words come out of her mouth, I thought, "Oh, shit. Okay. I'm gonna have to say something." Long story - short, it did not go well, and as I was the only person of color sitting at the dinner table with all white women, I got to experience first hand what author Robin DiAngelo describes as white fragility. I found out later that the other two women at the table banded together with the hostess to "support" her, while all three wondered, "What's up with Patty? Why was she being so awful?" All of them have pretty much fallen away from my life.

Now, one might say, "Good riddance! Why would you want those kinds of people in your life anyway?" Which is true, and I agree; but that doesn't mean that their misinterpretation of my intentions and their rejection of me didn't sting. And so, I spent months going over that evening in my mind ad nauseam, trying to construct a scenario where I could have made my point and not be left feeling like I was the one who said something offensive and harmful. Like I said, an exercise in futility.

Just ten days ago on Saturday, May 14, 2022, another terrible mass shooting occurred at a grocery store in Buffalo, New York, leaving a quiet residential community in shock and dealing with unimaginable grief. The shooter was an eighteen-year-old white male who left behind a hate-filled, white supremacist manifesto, blatantly detailing his motivations for attacking a community mostly composed of black people.

Don't tell me that the words we use do not matter. You hear me, Tucker Carlson???!!!!