I’ve been working on a short story – part of a New Year’s resolution to write a short story every month in 2016, regardless of whether I post them here or save them for possible eventual publication – and I tripped across a fact that I wanted to post here. Two reasons:
I’m using it in my story, and I want to have it on record as a fact without actually having to cite it in the story, because fiction does not footnote citations.
I think it’s interesting, and potentially very telling, information about society in general and my profession in particular.
Here’s the fact: As of 2006, 15% of Early Childhood Educators in Canada were newcomers, according to the Government of Canada. That’s slightly higher than the percentage of immigrants across all occupations, which is 12%.
I’m guessing we don’t have any more recent data on the question because the Harper government cut research way back after coming to power. To be honest, that doesn’t sound like a question he’d be interested in researching anyway. (“It’s about women? And childcare? And – shudder – immigrants? Just throw them a bit of money and get back to talking about trade.”)
I’m also guessing, based pretty much entirely on personal experience, that the percentage of ECEs who are immigrants has risen since then. In my graduating class in 2014, there were six people in the class who were not immigrants. Granted, that’s Toronto – but even now, in a smaller city elsewhere in Ontario, my colleagues include more immigrants than I expected in a town that’s always been overwhelmingly, blindingly white.
That sounds like a fact to cheer about: hooray for diversity! Hooray for inclusiveness! But it turns out it’s a little more complicated.
The debate about free speech on social media rages on. Does a complete lack of censorship create the conditions for meaningful discussion to flourish? Or does it just create a Wild West of opinion where only some people are able to participate without being abused and shouted down, regardless of the merits of their arguments?
I just had a frustrating exchange on Twitter. It seems sometimes like half this blog is about detailing frustrating exchanges on Twitter, and I have chores to finish, so I won’t go into huge amounts of detail. It was a short, incredibly trivial exchange. What’s worth writing about is how it made me feel. Here: you can read it yourself if you’re curious.
Screen capture by Sal Wilde.
I’ll give him this much: he is a master of the form. In only three or four interactions, this man managed to convey his contempt perfectly. I wasn’t particularly vulnerable today, nor all that invested in the discussion, but I still felt that all-too-familiar frustrated outrage that comes with being told you don’t know anything about your own experiences and perceptions, or even something as simple as drawing meaning from a piece of text.
Do you understand how incredibly frequently this happens on Twitter? Suddenly it doesn’t matter that I acquitted myself excellently during university-level English literature and media studies courses, demonstrating my ability to parse a wide variety of texts from many different cultures and contexts until ultimately graduating with a Master’s degree and the confidence of several professors. Suddenly I’m considered incapable of figuring out any implications beyond the literal meaning of a short snippet of plain-language text written in the idiom of my own time.
Because, of course, Twitter operates on subtext. In any medium, but especially in such a succinct one, you have to draw inferences from what’s being said in order to understand the parameters of the discussion. But then, when you call somebody on the logical consequences of their statement, they often want to deny having said any such thing, because they didn’t actually use the exact words you’re using to sum up the implications.
For example: in a conversation where a bunch of women describe circumstances where they feel strongly that they would need to avail themselves of abortion services, a commenter proclaims that he sees no reason abortion could ever be necessary. When others reply to him that he is telling women they cannot make their own choices responsibly, he insists that he never said any such thing. Technically, that’s true; however, his insistence that abortion cannot ever be necessary implies that women claiming it is necessary must be incorrect and making bad choices.
Having your perceptions denied over and over vehemently wears on you. You start wondering whether you really have any right to comment on anything, even your own perceptions. Maybe you perceived wrong. Maybe you just aren’t smart enough to understand it all. Maybe you should just shut up.
On top of that contempt for your experiences – the most surefire sign that someone’s there to talk over you, not to you – there’s the throwaway remark that’s more surprisingly damaging than anybody ever supposes. It’s not a death threat or a rape threat or any other kind of threat: it’s easy to see those are wrong and damaging. This is a lot more insidious.
“Just shut up. Nobody cares what you think.”
Maybe that’s not such a damning thing to say to somebody who’s a straight white cisman in the proper age category, who will find plenty of sources outside of Twitter to affirm to him that, so sorry to offend, of course we care what you have to say, please tell us more. The whole damn world is set up according to your opinions. If you’re a woman, or a member of any other marginalized group, your opinions are more likely to be marginal too.
You’re more likely to have heard that message before, that (like children) you should be seen and not heard, that nobody cares what you think.
How many times do you have to hear it before ultimately giving up? How many people have to tell you that you don’t matter before you start assuming it before it’s said? How many times must your opinion be shot down as trivial or uninformed or automatically stupid – even if it’s about issues that affect you directly, or about which you have some considerable knowledge – before you stop trying to express it? Because you’ve already been there before, and nobody has listened yet; why should this be the time that makes the difference? What’s the point?
That is not official censorship, technically. It’s not Twitter telling you you’re not allowed to speak your mind. But because people are allowed to speak their minds in bad faith, your voice will be shouted down and trampled. You may be exhorted to gather up your strength and keep on speaking, but there are still no consequences for bad actors trying to invalidate other perspectives.
And long after they have grinded your position to dust in a war of attrition, they’ll still be here, because they shave away a little bit of your voice each time they say your opinion doesn’t matter, and nobody’s shaving away their voices in the same way.
Keep reading for a transcript of the actual exchange on Twitter and a little bit of context surrounding it.
This video depicts one of the myths of my childhood that makes me most furious to think back on now: the myth of the self-made man. Simply put, it’s the idea that rich people are rich because they worked hard and are deserving, while poor people are poor because they haven’t worked hard enough to deserve riches. The carrot dangled before all those living in poverty is the hope that, given enough hard work and strong moral fiber, they too can work their way into the wealthy classes.
I try to give myself a break for having once believed it; it’s an appealing myth (at least if you’re well-to-do). It appeals to our sense of fairness to think that the people who get rewarded are the ones who deserve it most, while the undeserving are punished. It also implies that people who are dissatisfied with their current social standing have the power to change it . . . and that said power is independent of any outside forces like prejudice or structural inequality. It paints a rosier picture of humanity at large, too, by ignoring structures of bias and pretending we’ve all played fair.
The more I observe of the world, the more cynical I become about the myth of the self-made man. Continue reading →
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