The internet may have felt particularly full of garbage this past week, but I have been extra appreciative of personal bloggers, and how their stories have helped us communicate during the worst and most necessary debates.
The Ghomeshi sexual violence scandal began to break a week and a half ago, and immediately made social media a particularly fraught place to run into your friends. Whether the topic was guilt without prosecution, the complicity of the CBC, the role of gender or the responsibility of the accusers, big solid lines were drawn, emotional sides were taken, people… surprised (and dismayed) each other.
It has been a fascinating read, watching how the focus and vocabulary of the conversation has changed by the day. I have been super charged to see how personal blogs have fundamentally affected the conversation.
You wrote the script out
The story initiated and then advanced in segments — you can read a recap here or here or a dozen other places — as the media navigated very treacherous early territory. While Ghomeshi slandered his accusers and launched an exorbitant lawsuit, media outlets were extremely careful to itemize events and attach “alleged” to nearly every word written. The nature of innocence-until-proven-guilty in a scenario where guilt may never be proven means that free comment is particularly vulnerable to defamation claims. Such claims are extra expensive when celebrity is involved.
That’s all fair, but it doesn’t help the rest of us. So much of this discussion is not about guilt, innocence, or how Ghomeshi himself got away with it. The scandal has brought up awful, sickening questions about abuse in general, how it affects the victims, and how our communities react to it, especially when positions of power are involved. The debates have had many, many sides.
- How does a predator manage to go unchecked for so many years?
- What makes some so quick to discount survivor stories, in the absence of physical proof?
- What does it mean if a victim doesn’t report?
- How do the abused end up blaming themselves, and not their abusers?
- What past abusive events have we glossed over or not taken seriously, in our own lives or those around us?
- Were our initial reactions valid, or informed heavily by gender bias and misplaced trust in celebrity?
- What do we do now?
These are questions that the newspapers can’t answer with a scandal play-by-play, but they can begin to be answered by individuals — maybe never as a whole, but in small pieces that hopefully form a bigger picture made of (often brave, chilling, insightful) personal stories and reactions.
All my life is right before you
Often, those stories are told in the scope of a blog with minimal niche readership or personal traffic. It might be an expression of outrage, a personal abuse story, or a reflection on one’s own reactions. It might even be a story about Ghomeshi himself. The writer may not have expected to make a statement or a difference for anyone but themselves, but some posts hit the nail more precisely than others, and become quick, accessible shorthand for a certain viewpoint or experience. This is where the vocabulary of sharing comes into play.
The conversation on Facebook and Twitter has been painful, sometimes inspiring, often demoralizing. These are hard things to discuss with our communities, because the issues are super volatile, people are quick to judge and feel judged, and discussion brings the danger of making private experiences public.
‘Cause you have seen some unbelievable things
This is where I have been heartened to see blogs act as conversation segments for circulation and reuse. As more blog content reacting to the scandal emerged day by day, people shared blog post links in the comments on articles, feeds, or threads. In the midst of a media event that was adamantly all about the facts, some of those personal or opinion posts were viewed hundreds of thousands of times.
I can’t count how many times I saw links shared in a thread of Ghomeshi-related comments, during painful, sometimes hugely emotional debate, prefaced by “This says things so much better than I could.”
The links became shorthand for longer discussion, where space constraints or personal privacy prevented a lengthy reply. As the top posts emerged, they crystallized certain arguments and kept them from being muddied by unfocused repetition. They acted as proxy stories, shielding commenters from having to outline their own awful, private stories of abuse. They functioned as a spacer to bring breathing room between the people disagreeing and the explosive topic they were disagreeing on. They provided guidelines on how to speak to each other, and outlines for further discussion.
Even some CBC staffers, who couldn’t give specifics when the first news broke, expressed themselves by posting a careful link to the xojane article with a cautious I’ll just leave this here.
It was not a great article and it didn’t even scratch the surface of what would follow, but it was the best thing they had in their hands at the time, the only safe vocabulary available. Sharing a link in a charged situation like that, even publicly, can allow the (legally-important) distance of suggesting that an idea be considered, without having to outline or assert that idea ourselves.
So I want to thank all the personal bloggers who shared their experiences and their opinions this week, and let us use their words as our own. You might not know what a difference you made.
And the rest of the commenting world — if you need some shorthand to help you express yourself, here are some posts that might help you say any of the following:
- “We need to confront the fact that there are abusers in our circles.”
- “Please understand the difference between kink and consent.”
- “Recognize patterns of behaviour” and “this is how we warn each other.”
- “Dear Men, this is not news to us.”
- And “Ideas for what you can do next.”
- “Please consider the many powerful reasons that someone might not report assault.”
- “Please consider that it is none of your f—ing business what I decide about reporting an assault.”
- “I didn’t believe the victims, and I am ashamed.”
Header image by B Furnari used under Creative Commons: https://www.flickr.com/photos/furnari/120726413