I think that we all knew I was going to take issue with Mr. Vance at some point or another, right? I have to. I have no choice. The thing is, this decision is not one I came to easily, by any stretch. Strange, right? Why not? He’s exactly the kind of turd that I love to address. Truly. He’s the prototypical clearly insecure, misogynistic creep that I’ve had the displeasure of examining over the years. And yet, I paused. There are a few reasons for that pause, as follows:
1. He doesn’t deserve any more attention than he is already getting (good, bad, or otherwise).
2. I don’t think his insane, unhinged and insulting remarks really warrant defense or a meaningful response.
3. So many people have already commented on or responded to a variety of his public vitriol.
And yes, I think you know where I am going with this post because it’s a common theme. Mr. Vance recently made himself the center of the circus by sharing that he believes the United States is being run by “childless cat ladies who are miserable in their own lives and the choices that they’ve made,” and “want to make the rest of the country miserable, too.”
I’ll tell you that my first thought, sadly and unironically, is that I’m highly allergic to cats. Throat closing, skin welts, sneezing my head off kind of allergic. Also, they perplex me. I know that every single animal is different, but most of the cats I’ve met are mildly unfriendly. Or at least disinterested in a good deal of human contact. Please, those of you who have and love cats, do not take offense. I know that you likely have a cat or cats that you adore, and they are friendly and loving. Truly. This has just been my experience. And, if I’m going to get something to take care of, outside of my plants, it’s likely going to be something that wants to give me hugs, or at least receive them, happily.
Anyway, I’m sure you’ve seen people come out of the woodwork. I’m sure that there are some who are defending Mr. Vance, but they are not on my feed (I know, shocking). I do know that Megyn Kelly, a disgrace to intelligent women, allowed him to claim his comments as sarcastic during a horrifying and mind-numbing interview.
I don’t think he was being sarcastic. I think he was allowing all the dumb shit that floats around his brain to exit his mouth. I think he was speaking his unvarnished truth. And on that level, I commend him. I wish more people would just say what the fuck they are thinking instead of allowing some nonsensical polished version to emerge. It would actually be refreshing if people (including those in my direct vicinity) would just be honest. Sure, I’d love some consciousness of social norms and some measure of couth, and maybe a dab of respect, but then, I think, why? Let someone show you exactly who they are, right?
I think we’ve been taught to tailor our words to our audience. I don’t just mean delivery. I don’t just mean being mindful with our words and tasteful and maybe even kind. I mean that we literally say things that we don’t mean in some effort to please the people around us, or at a minimum, avoid controversy. This feels fucking crazy to me, but maybe that’s just because I’ve been the victim of people’s bullshit too many times. I’ve had too many people say things to me in an effort to protect my feelings or save themselves a certain interaction. Of course, most of the time (if not all), I’ve seen through this charade, and leave the exchange feeling frustrated and confused. Sometimes I’ve been conned and then the truth comes to light and then I just feel duped. Either way, and in all instances, all I’ve thought is- just be HONEST. Just say what you mean.
I think most people would be surprised at the reaction they get. I don’t mean to say that the reaction is always going to be fantastic, but I think that consequently, things will resolve as they are meant to in a much more efficient fashion. There is no dragging out. There are no miscommunications. Sure, there might be hurt feelings. There could be a little drama. But assuredly, the fireworks will be smaller (most of the time). It’s a ripped bandage and done.
But that’s not how it usually works. People are so accustomed to lines, they are so accustomed to putting on a certain face, to avoiding, that they bring to the table someone who is not quite their authentic self.
But Mr. Vance? Well, until he decried his statements as sarcastic because an angry mob came for him (rightfully so), he was just putting out into the world how he felt about something. How he felt about women. How he feels about women who do not fit the white, Christian paradigm that he clings to like his life depends on it.
This baffles me. Well, it doesn’t. There are so many humans, men and women, and perhaps those who do not identify with either gender, who are like Mr. Vance. There are so many folks who firmly subscribe to this antiquated paradigm that women who have not married and reproduced are concurrently dangerous and also, useless.
In my current state, I am both terrifying and rubbish where JD is concerned.
That’s a lot to swallow.
A lot.
And not because I give a fuck what that small-minded piece of trash thinks about me. Not even because there are loads of people who listened to the garbage that spewed out of his pie hole and mouthed ‘amen’ at the television.
But because for a moment. A breath. A heartbeat. I felt badly. I felt called out. I felt like I needed to defend my life and my choices. I needed to defend my experiences and my trauma. I needed to explain. I needed to describe. I needed to rally. I needed to fight back.
Fight back? Against what? Against a life that doesn’t include something that others have? Well, there’s a lot I don’t have. I live in a small apartment. I don’t have a house or a yard and I certainly don’t have any pets. I don’t drive a fancy car. I don’t belong to a church or a temple or a mosque. I have hobbies, but I’m not an expert in anything, really. But, I have a family who loves me and good friends and food on my table. I have a job that can be difficult, but it pays me and I’ve gotten the knack for it over the years, mostly. I have a body that allows me to bike and walk and run and do yoga.
Whatever. None of this matters. Except that this man, this horrible man, said something and suddenly, I was conscious of myself in the world in a way that maybe I haven’t been before. A new awareness. A thought that other people who maybe never judged me, saw me. Not as someone to judge or even pity, but saw me as the subject of something. Of a rant. And I don’t want to be the subject of a rant. I just want to exist in the world. That’s the truth. I just want to be. I want to be able to work through everything- all the tough stuff, in a way that’s quiet. Really, very quiet.
And now I don’t necessarily have that luxury, because it’s meme central. And that feels exhausting. But maybe, it’s also refreshing. Because now, it’s out there. And whatever claims Mr. Vance is making about his sincerity, there’s no climbing that back. And now, I have something I need to work on. And it’s not getting rid of a cat I don’t have or finding a husband I don’t need. It’s carrying less of a burden where Mr. Vance and his followers are concerned. It’s making sure that it doesn’t really matter. Never has. Never will.
Now it’s out there and I just have to deal. Period, end of story.
For now…
x
L.
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