Being an ethical fan and consumer

Rachael from The Social Justice League posted a fantastic guide called How to Be a Fan of Problematic Things.

This is pretty timely since I've been trying to marry all my various fandoms with my politics, and not entirely succeeding. The most important thing to take away from this is that you can be a conscientious consumer without actually give up the things you otherwise love:

After all, most texts have some problematic elements in them, because they’re produced by humans, who are well-known to be imperfect. But it can be surprisingly difficult to own up to the problematic things in the media you like, particularly when you feel strongly about it, as many fans do. We need to find a way to enjoy the media we like without hurting other people and marginalised groups. So with that in mind, here are my suggestions for things we should try our darnedest to do as self-confessed fans of problematic stuff.

Acknowledgment is key. It's pretty obvious I devote most of my energy to music, but if I removed every artist that has ever made a questionable statement, in song or elsewhere, from my iPod I've had not much left. I'm also a casual watcher of Glee, a show whose failures often outnumber its successes.  I still enjoy those things, but with a more critical eye. One thing I have noticed is the more I pay attention to what's being sold here, the more I am likely to seek out alternatives.

In Case of a Shitstorm, Grab an Umbrella

Every time there's some sort of blow-up at any of the blogs I regularly read, I'm there. Not as a participant, but as a rapt audience member. I vacillate between thinking this is somehow disingenuous of me, and I should participate, and silently standing by with a mixture of awe and revulsion. Mostly, though, I try to learn.

I'm not a big fan of call-out culture, not because I think it's unnecessarily "mean," or unwarranted. On the contrary, I think it's very necessary, but when calling out becomes piling up, as so often happens in the social justice blogosphere, it rarely leads to a change in behavior. Also, I think a little bit of self-protection is okay. I think it's easy to forget that while a lot of us have carved out our little niches online, but most of us don't have the backup provided by a large audience. I'm less likely to call out someone who for the most part is really trying, and does understand that her place in the world is, to a large degree, predetermined by race, class, sexual orientation or other circumstances out of her control, than I am the more overt forms of bigotry perpetrated by mainstream bloggers whose influence is wide-reaching.

I've thought about this a lot lately, especially now as I've made the feminist blogosphere kind of a "read-only" zone for now. I don't really feel empowered by it anymore, and frankly, one shitstorm after another is just exhausting. I have my own ground rules for staying rational when things online get heated. Granted, a lot of bloggers have made lists like these, and by no means do I consider my rules "universal," but this is what keeps my head on straight:

1. Know you'll make mistakes. No one is without privilege somewhere. Challenging various privileges isn't easy work, it's not fun, and you will fuck up.

2. That being said, apologize when you do fuck up. Don't fight it. The thing about privilege is it's invisible. If someone calls you on yours, apologize and learn from it. Also, apologizing doesn't guarantee that all will be right with the world.

3.  Sometimes the best thing -- nay, the only thing -- to do is walk away from the computer for a while.

4. Remember that everyone comes with their own, individual set of experiences. They may be vastly different from yours. Know that not everyone in your community isn't "you."

Where I Stand

I have come to the conclusion that I am, at the core, a pop culture blogger. One who maybe writes politically informed posts every now and then, but a pop culture junkie first and foremost.

It has to be okay, because I've become increasingly disillusioned with the feminist/social justice blogosphere. I'd been toying with take my blog in a more overt, activist direction, and instead of feeling empowered by that, I'm left with more questions.

I'm reading crabigail adams's three-part series on the some of the problems that plague the SJ blogosphere. While I can't say I agree with her on everything, I've been thinking a lot, a lot about where anti-oppression work stops and accommodation starts. And this comment, from a year-old post  on Pandagon, pretty much sums what I go through just leaving a comment:

I found the atmosphere of [popular blog] paralyzed my ability to construct coherent and straightforward comments. What I ended up with were impenetrable comments peppered with parenthetical qualifications—comments that I never submitted. [...] it was a space no longer safe for progressive feminists like me to comment because regulars began (and continue) to use language policing to bully newbies who express opinions with which they disagree. The dogpiling left a bad taste in my mouth and now I rarely read the comments

(Note: I removed the name of the blog  because it summarizes quite well how I feel about commenting on SJ blogs in general and not directed to any particular site.)

Being so conscious of my language, or how my words are going to be perceived really hampers my writing. I don't know. Maybe that's my trigger. (I never think I'm a good enough writer.) I hate resorting to passive voice, and qualifying everything just so I don't come off as an entitled ass. And there are other issues, too, like linking to another blogger, or quoting a well-known feminist, and feeling irresponsible if I don't list every one of her past failures first.

I want this site to be a "safe-space," and by that, I mean a safe for anyone to comment without fear. Safe from silencing or marginalization, but also safe from having every word picked apart and dissected. I watched another shitshow go down this weekend and some of the comments were painful to read, and not in the "lesson learned" kind of way, just mean. Accountability is not bullying.