In my younger years, I thought writing was something you did when you had something to say. You sat, you figured it out, you outlined your little five-paragraph essay, and you got to work. And sometimes, not often but sometimes, it does kind of work that way.
More often, though, writing is an exercise in trying to find your way in a very dark room, the confused mess of your own blind thoughts and feelings, working to get to a bottom-line truth that makes sense. And that’s sort of where I am today about recent events in U.S. politics and what is happening with the Trump campaign. Just trying to find my way, as I’m sure we all are this week.
Let’s start with “locker room talk”. In most demographic respects, I’m the white Southern male that should slavishly form the core of Trump support today. Instead, he horrifies me on so many levels, and just when I think that a racist, fascist, dangerously unstable imbecile can’t get any worse.. well, we drop off a new cliff. And the fallout from the “pussy” tape was a steep cliff indeed.
And not really the tape itself. What Trump said was shocking, saddening, horrifying.. but, really, could anyone claim that a previously-unknown Trump had suddenly appeared? We knew that this was Trump. We knew it always was. So even though I spent Friday picking my jaw up off the floor, I knew that this was the same monster who has spent years demonstrating that he was a monster. If you were shocked to see the fangs on Friday, it was because, for whatever reason, you weren’t paying attention before. Or thought it didn’t affect you.
Or thought he was your kind of monster.
But no. What’s had me cycling between outrage and psychotic fury since Friday has been the endless stream of justifications, rationalizations, even normalizations of his statements and actions.
Philosopher Susan Sontag wrote a wonderful essay long ago called “Against Interpretation”. I’m not going to attempt to fully summarize it here (she did a far better job than I could), but the essence of her point was that when we attempt to “interpret” art, culture, politics, whatever.. summarize it, pigeonhole it, rationalize it.. at heart, what we’re really doing is attempting to tame it. Make it not threatening, not something we have to feel or see, not something that means we have to change how we think or behave. And that taming process then ruins the power that events have to change us and the world. We interpret, in part, in an effort to re-impose our own blindness.
Been thinking a lot about Sontag’s point in recent days. There’s been a lot of interpretation going on regarding the “Trump tapes”, a lot of good and bad points made all around. But I find myself wondering if instead, we should just be experiencing the raw awfulness for a bit and not trying to tame it just right now.
Even so, I can’t let certain points go by without comment. Perhaps this is my own way of taming the issue in my own head. I don’t know. But again, sometimes it’s about having something to say, and sometimes it’s about finding your way, and occasionally it’s about both. Regardless of my own internal divides, the inner mandate is there regardless.
The big one: “all men do this”. On Saturday, Trump lackey Carl Paladino responded to media criticism of Trump’s sexual assault comments (which is what they were) with the statement, “All men do this, at least all normal men do.”
First off, no we fucking don’t, locker rooms or otherwise. If you don’t believe me, women of the world, I don’t know how to convince you. But truly and honestly – swear to God – most of us aren’t talking this kind of shit behind your back. We have wives, mothers, sisters, daughters, nieces, and friends. People that we care about and have to look in the eye with a clean conscience.
The problem for me, though, is the “at least all normal men do” addendum there, and this is something that DOES go on that many women may not be fully aware of. From the school playground to the corporate boardroom, there’s a male stigma against crossing the bully in defense of the girl. That if you’re a “real man”, you’re normalizing this crap. Justifying it. Protecting it from scrutiny. Denying it. Which is the reason why Billy Bush in that tape sat there and played along with it.
There’s an extremely vile cultural thread there – call it rape culture, toxic masculinity, whatever you like – that seeks to turn the sexual and emotional abuse of women into a socially complicit crime. Anytime you hear someone talk about “alpha and beta males” or “cuckolds”, that’s what you’re hearing. The core idea is that the most aggressive, least compassionate asshole male gets his pick from the spoils of war, and everyone else should get in line. And if you step out and say, this is bullshit, then well, looks like you’re not really one of the guys, are you? Probably a fag. Low-T. Can’t get any. You know.
THAT shit goes on all the time. And that’s what we’ve been seeing on display this week.
It takes other forms as well. One of my personal favorites is the “male ego”, and its cousin, the uncontrollable dick. They both basically mean that as men, we’re supposedly slaves to some underlying masculine drives that force us to be assholes, and so you really can’t judge us for what is simply in our nature. That’s horse shit, too, and more justification for being assholes. And we’re as tired of these guys as you are.
I can go on and on and on and on..
“Just”. It’s “just” locker room talk. It’s “just” something he said years ago. Minimize it, isolate it, and let’s pretend it has no meaning beyond the narrow confines of the immediate story. They’re “just” words. “Just” one of those things. “Just” my opinion. “Just” is a great taming word, and oh my god, it’s been used and abused this week.
And then we move on to “judge”.
As Americans, we have this underlying egalitarian cultural ethos that says that we’re all entitled to our opinions, and we don’t have any right to judge each other. Live and let live, forgive and forget, let bygones be bygones. “Not worth losing a friendship over” is one of my own favorite permutations, as well as admonitions to “not be rude or condescending”.
And I’m not making the case for being rude or condescending or disrespectful of someone’s beliefs. But as the saying goes, your right to swing your fist ends at someone else’s nose, and if you’re being an asshole, I absolutely reserve the right to judge you. So let me put this as crystal clear as I can, regarding Trump’s tape comments:
If you agree with, are giving cover to, are rationalizing, or are minimizing his comments about women, then absolutely I judge you to be a subhuman piece of shit and I have no respect for any of your other opinions.
That clear enough? Good.
Years ago, Kristi and I established a basic rule for choosing the people we work with in our business, and it was Kristi’s rule that I adopted: if she couldn’t justify the thought of her grandmother looking down from heaven and judging her on this decision, then that was a road we couldn’t travel down.
For me, the rule became about our young niece and nephew. If I couldn’t look this 8-year-old girl in the eyes and explain why I took the stances I did, I couldn’t take that stance. And never in memory had an event in presidential politics tripped that rule for me (sadly enough) until Friday. I never supported Trump, been Democrat all the way, and will gleefully applaud when he and the GOP come crashing down in flaming wreckage this fall. But this.. thing.. this interpretation.. this dialogue.. this cultural normalization of stupidity and sexual assault.. no. I can’t even begin to stay silent on it. Because the Niece Rule doesn’t trip on being the asshole. It trips on being silent about the asshole.
Not many men are Trump. But most of us have been Billy Bush on occasion, to our shameful regret.
And someday, my nephew will have to face these issues as a man, as well. Perhaps he already is. And I, as well as every other man in his life, will have to look him in the eyes and explain ourselves, and not in an apologetic bow of contrition, but as role models. And say that no, this isn’t acceptable. Ever. From anyone. And that sitting in silent witness is in itself a moral decision and an action with real consequences. And then maybe we’ll be able to start taking steps towards building a new world.
Words have their place. They have power, a lot of power. They matter.
But sometimes, you need to face judgment and just see. And keep seeing, even when you want to stop and get back to the safety of words. And that’s the paradox for me here.
I want to interpret. Sum up. Turn it into A Point. Use language to make it more about Look How Nicely I’m Writing This than to actually get anywhere with it. Because writing makes me feel better. A little better. It tames it a little. And I can’t be silent. Not on this.
But I do feel, increasingly, the mandate to just shut the fuck up and see.
Alas, that room is a dark one. And so much larger than I gave it credit for.