Okay, skip this one if you aren’t interested in self-absorbed introspection.
In his latest e-newsletter, Glenn Sacks is quite charitable. Under a heading entitled "Giving the Devil His Due", he writes:
Hugo Schwyzer is many things to many people but whatever one’s opinion of him, he certainly is gracious and a good sport about receiving criticism.
I’m pleased by that. I am well aware that one classic stereotype of feminists and their male allies is of humorlessness. When I speak publicly about feminism, or lead workshops on gender issues, I find that both men and women expect me to be uptight, serious, and entirely devoid of playful good nature. I have a friend who teaches English; when he tells folks at parties what he does for a living, they often get just a bit on edge, making feeble jokes about their own poor grammar. (As if they expect him to interrupt them mid-sentence, crying "Stop! You just split your infinitive!) I run into the same sort of thing all too frequently — people seem to expect someone who works in gender studies to be tiresomely earnest and perpetually grim.
During the debate on Sunday’s show, I made it a point to make regular eye contact with Glenn and Amy, and to smile as often as possible. When we went to a commercial break after one vigorous exchange, I took off my headphones, grinned at them both, and said "That was a good segment, wasn’t it?" I suppose I wanted to make it very clear that being a pro-feminist advocate does not mean that one has to be unpleasant to one’s critics. I was also following an old family script of mine. I was raised to "disagree without being disagreeable." Folks in my family don’t shout. Ever. We try and avoid getting red in the face. We may verbally skewer each other, but when the argument is over, we were all taught to hug (or at least shake hands) and go about the business of life together. In a family that often included Marxists and strict Reform Calvinists at the same dinner table, that kind of "good sportspersonship" was essential to our collective happiness.
But it’s in this area that I also fall short. My own sin is clear: I’m sorry to say that I still tend to view those who personalize political and cultural disagreement as being "less evolved." When I get really nasty hate mail (and boy, do I get a lot of it in my inbox these days), I read it, chuckle, and delete it. I was taught that outer expressions of anger and the accompanying use of profanity was vulgar, and that folks who behaved in such a fashion were not to be emulated, or, for that matter, taken seriously. When I am confronted with a "shouter", my fighting style is to become ever more soft-spoken. I don’t back down, but I confess I do start to patronize my opponent. A big part of me believes that in any disagreement, he or she who first loses emotional control has also lost the argument on its merits. I’ve worked hard to change this about myself, but it isn’t easy. (Is it now becoming obvious why I’ve been divorced three times?)
It’s easy to confuse a commitment to calm and civility with the absence of real convictions. I do have passionate core beliefs, though I freely confess that many of those have changed and shifted over the course of my life. (My family motto is "Often in error, never in doubt.") But as I’ve written before, my belief in politeness and civility is deeper than my political commitments. I long believed that this commitment to good manners was a sign of virtue, but I have begun to wonder if it isn’t simply a rather unpleasant (and passive-aggressive) way of trying to assert dominance. I’m still struggling with that one.
At the same time, I continue to believe it is always and everywhere a good idea to be cordial with one’s opponents. I have to admit, I like Glenn Sacks. I liked Amy Alkon. I think they’re wrong on the issue of Choice 4 Men, and they obviously regard me as deeply misguided. But even profound disagreement ought never trump warmth and affection for God’s immensely loveable creatures.
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