"Microaggression"

It's not my fault that I'm positive, I just stuck a needle in my arm
And nobody told me that sixty a day would do me any harm
My liver's shrivellin' like a leaf, but it's not the whiskey that do's it
Call me irresponsible and I'm really gonna lose it

--The Proclaimers, Everybody's a Victim

Surely I'm not the only one offended by everybody's offence.

I wrote a post about trigger warnings last year in which I was sharply dismissive of what The Atlantic  has called "The Coddling of the American Mind". Since I wrote that piece, the trend has broadened and deepened, and the word "microaggression" has entered the language.

Microaggressions are "everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, which communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership." Put into plain English, they are "the things we say and do which people insist on being offended at." The list grows every day; if this goes on we'll all be rendered deaf and mute at birth, the better to avoid giving or taking offence (my apologies to Deaf people; I do not mean to suggest they are in any way inferior to the hearing community, nor that various sign languages are any less capable of being offensive).

This rebuttal piece, also from The Atlantic, makes the case that "Microaggressions matter". Or it tries to: the specific microaggressions used are trivial bordering on ridiculous.

It starts off with an arresting sentence:

When I was studying at Oberlin College, a fellow student once compared me to her dog.

We quickly learn something the author doesn't grasp, even though she notes she "wasn't particularly offended": the fellow student didn't actually compare her to a dog, she merely noted that the dog and the author happened to have the same names. If you tell your friend John that you are going to the john, you are not suggesting your friend is a toilet.

The writer, an immigrant whose name is Simba, goes on to note other microagressions she has suffered that "cut deeper". Some of them are actually phrased as compliments. She, an immigrant, is often asked "how come your English is so good?" and she immediately jumps to the conclusion that the questioner is suggesting eloquence is "beyond the intellectual reach of people who look like" her.

Guess what? There are plenty of melatonin-deficient fifth-generation Americans whose English is terrible. Further, many (not all) people are ignorant of history and culture outside their own immediate areas; they may not know, for instance, that many people from India speak impeccable English because India was a British colony for a very long time. Being ignorant is no sin unless it's willful.

Her next example, by my lights at least, is an aggression, no "micro" about it:

An African American friend once asked an academic advisor for information about majoring in biology and, without being asked about her academic record (which was excellent), was casually directed to “look up less-challenging courses in African American Studies instead.”

There is no possible way I can think of to construe that as anything other than deeply offensive.

That's the thing, though. There is a line. On one side, there are trivial utterances that may well unwittingly expose prejudices, but are not intended as insults and should not be perceived that way. On the other, there are blatant examples of racism, homophobia, misogyny, and other offensive behaviours that are unmistakable. It seems to me as if the line is moving, such that last year's innocent remark is this year's scandal.

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I have, on occasion, brought what would be called microaggressions to light myself. When I've done so, it has invariably been a systemic condition: not a single innocuous remark, rather an example of something quite pervasive but largely unnoticed. For instance, I once had this to say on the subject of pop music:


Listen to popular music and ask yourself how much of it speaks to gay people. Not a whole hell of a lot of it. Quite a bit of it pretends gays don't even exist. "The Game Of Love" (Wayne Fontana, 1965, later covered by a multitude) is a prime example.

 "The purpose of a man is to love a woman, The purpose of a woman is to love a man..." 

Imagine being gay and hearing that. Kind of annoying. Imagine hearing that message and variants of it every time you turned on a radio. Not annoying any more--depressing instead.

I can easily imagine "The Game of Love" being banned from airplay on campus radio stations because of blatantly heterosexist lyrics. Which is too bad, really: it's a good tune, and you can't fault a product of its time for being a product of its time.  Or at least, you shouldn't.

It's happening everywhere, though, especially with literature. Apologies to any atheists--God forbid we read something set in 1960s Mississippi that contains, horror of horrors, racism. I've been reading Greg Iles' trilogy that starts with Natchez Burning. It's a deeply uncomfortable read, because the racism in it seems so over the top: supplementary research has convinced me it's entirely authentic. Is writing a work about racism prima facie racist? I should hope not: we can't learn from our past, or present, if we're prevented from depicting it truly.

It boggles the mind to find out that two of the most controversial, often-banned pieces of literature over the last century are Huckleberry Finn and To Kill A Mockingbird.  Both striking examples of racism overcome; both objected to because of the racism in them. Crazy. These days, any college English major who has somehow escaped one novel or the other in high school will be presented with "trigger warnings" due to disturbing content. That's if Huckleberry Finn is presented at all: it was written by a white male of privilege, after all.

It goes on. Read this the next time you find yourself craving sushi, or anything else that comes from a culture that isn't yours.

Today I learned it's offensive to seek out "authentic" ethnic food, because -- I am not making this up -- in doing so, you are reducing an entire region and its people to a foodstuff. You are (yikes) "fetishizing the sustenance of another culture".

Really? I'd have thought, if anything, UN-authentic ethnic food would be offensive. I had a housemate of Italian descent who would become apoplectic over my Kraft Dinner consumption. I mean, mortally offended, to the point of screaming at me.  Tell a Mexican about the great Mexican food you had at Taco Bell and prepare to run away fast.

Even more problematic if your ethnic food of choice comes from a culture that has been colonized or otherwise oppressed. Banh mi (sandwiches) and banh ex (crepes) are relics of cultural colonization and you are supposed to know this and avoid ordering them in Thai restaurants.

And don't go looking for recognition for trying exotic foods. That means you're calling those foods bizarre or weird.

Um, yeah, I am. And people from whatever culture are perfectly within their rights to call my poutine, butter tarts and maple-flavoured everything bizarre and weird if they want to. TO THEM, IT IS.

As if all this isn't enough to digest before you digest something, you are cautioned to avoid 'loving the food, not the people". You must be deeply mindful of the oppression faced by Mexican labourers as you blithely consume your enchilada, and forget that falafel if you aren't fully up to speed on your Middle Eastern cultural appropriation.

Fuck me. Pardon my French. Wait, that's not French at all. Sorry about that.

Look, I'm not into giving offence. But grow a damned spine.