I will fully admit, I love Facebook. I am an introvert, so I have always viewed the social media platform as a way for me to maintain relationships without the energy investment that other forms of connection would require. In many ways, it has proven to be more than I could imagine…part journal, part portal to the world, part opportunity to connect with others. While it can still be those things for me, it is also clear that it can exact a far greater toll than I ever realized.
I have become somewhat known locally on a few of the Facebook pages. What I view as providing a foil to bigots, assholes, and bullies, is viewed by others as being an arrogant, fat, lazy troll in my mother’s basement. I have a come to the realization that assessment is false; my mother passed away years ago, and I unfortunately do not have a basement.
There is no question that the platform is full of horrendous people. Living in a heavily conservative community, the entitled disregard for others oozes from the pores of many of my fellow citizens. I guess when I looked back to the pre-internet days, it was not always a bad thing that the world was frequently a mystery. Sure, I would not likely know about COVID19 death rates in Sweden, monoliths in Utah, or Trump’s latest infantile tirade, but I would also not know just how prevalent assholery is in my community.
As I progress through a better understanding of myself, it is becoming increasingly clear that I share some traits with those on the Autism Spectrum. I am early in this effort, so it is still unclear where I am, but there is no doubt that I share many of the characteristics that those with Aspergers exhibit. I rate everything, am prone to frustration when plans change, have an exaggerated view of right/wrong, and am extremely tenacious when it comes to addressing inequities, among other similarities. I have always pondered why I am weird or different, why people cannot understand my view, and why I struggle to understand theirs. People have always wanted to know why I fight so hard with complete strangers on a wide variety of issues, and I think I may know the answer.
I have always enjoyed a good debate. I invest a lot of time in being informed, and I love learning about things. In particular, I have always enjoyed political discussions. There was a time, seemingly a lifetime ago, when various political views could be discussed with respect and some semblance of understanding. That changed early this century, when it seemed we started to see a radicalization of views that exited the far corners of society and became more mainstream, likely due, in part, to the presence of the internet and platforms like this. With the more polarized discussions I found a new passion for not only standing up for my beliefs, but for others who I felt were being disparaged or marginalized in the process. Facebook was a tremendous tool for access to those conversations and the opportunity to exact revenge against my enemies.
As someone who has always been clearly different, it has become second nature for me to try to prove the validity of who I am and what i believe. I compose cogent thoughts quickly and can type pretty fast, meaning that I can produce a substantive argument with little effort. I am also extremely tenacious with my views, so I will leverage my prose to hammer a point home, frequently leading to exhaustion in my opponents. I have developed a reputation for this online, with a fairly large number of people absolutely despising me. I have sliced through many faceless entities online because of their local or national politics, or malicious religious, cultural, or racial views. People have always asked why do I bother arguing with them when I know they won’t change. I fully understand that someone who hates Obama because he is Black or laughs at Elliot Paige for coming to grips with who they are will likely never change, but what I despise is the idea that people in those communities hear those comments while others who could be allies comfortably sit aside and watch. I just cannot stand the idea that bullies get to win.
Recently, I caught myself in a conversation where my aggressiveness had consequences. It was about the most mundane of subjects – whether a water tower should be painted. The current iteration is deteriorating, but the tower is no longer in use, so the question is whether the paint should be maintained. Some of those commenting were aghast that there was a suggestion of allowing the situation to remain unresolved because the tower lists the 1993 State Championship football team. Being particularly annoyed by the way high school football has driven some of the efforts to normalize life during the pandemic, I spoke up, dismissing the call to maintain the tower as is, instead suggesting other, more recent accomplishments be recognized. I proceeded with my effective argument while, unbeknownst to me, people were grieving the violent death of the player who scored the winning touchdown in that very championship game. My comments were leveraged by those who despise me to indicate that I was actually mocking this athlete’s death.
Despite my efforts to apologize to those who were offended, particularly a teammate of the player, the anger grew. The racist involved in fanning the flames was far more effective at stoking these fires than I as at putting them out. In the end, it resulted in him sharing a photo of me with the player and other teammates, with the implication that they will consider doing me harm.
This is most certainly not the first time that I have faced this type of reaction to my views. I have been threatened with physical violence, doxxing, damage to my property, and other forms of attack. I know that people who fail to measure up intellectually frequently resort to these actions to intimidate or silence others. I never cared, because I felt I was doing the right thing in standing up.
I cannot completely pinpoint what it has been about the most recent issue that triggered a different view. I am always in several contentious discussions, and I have joined a new group that is astoundingly awful, giving me wide berth to deliver magnificent amounts of damage to a very worthy contingent of the populace. Any of these may have been the decision that allowed something to click – I have to reassess the value of these activities to my life.
When I think back to my discussions on Facebook, I can see why people would wonder what in the hell am I thinking. What could I be getting from the experience? Why would I invest that time in something so fruitless? I am starting to understand the questions. While I mentioned the fact that I felt justified in my actions because I was being an advocate for others, there was no question I was also building something within myself based on the pain of others. Sure, the vast majority of those receiving the abuse from me thoroughly deserved it, so inflicting that on them was not the problem. The issue is that I was building some sort of confidence or self-esteem on the shoulders of people I found despicable. It should always feel great to enrage a bigot, but if part of my purpose is to prove I am better than those people, have I set much of a bar for myself?
Now, some may view this as “love everybody” or “be best”, but that could not be further from the truth. I think we should always take every opportunity to shut down and embarrass bigots and bullies. It seems like measuring a cup of milk using a thimble. I can splash a lot of thimbles milk into the bowl, but I have no accurate measure of where I stand when done. This helpless feeling is further exacerbated by lack of feedback from like minds. The assumption that a silent, supportive audience exists seems like a myth. If we are to encourage supportive behaviors for those who are marginalized, we have to, you know, support that behavior. I can see the people who hate me clearly, every day, but the support, the backup, is rarely there. I try to lead by example, by jumping in and backing those who are getting beat up, but rarely is that favor returned. This leads me to believe that my efforts are not as meaningful to others as I had hoped.
The most painful realization I had is that I have neglected those who do love or care about me. I may not ever understand what drives me to want to exert time lashing out at enemies with no tangible reward, when it is abundantly clear that those I love will bring me so much more joy. For this, I apologize to them. Somewhere in my brain I struggle to understand why people would care about me. I cannot tell if it is part of being somewhere on the spectrum (if I actually am) or if it is a result of never actually feeling “normal”. Rather than bother and annoy those with whom I cannot fully understand why they care about me, it seemed more logical to slice apart assholes. Yes, that makes no sense. I write it and it makes no sense. When you grow up with this belief that you are normal but few seem to agree, not a lot makes sense. Anyway, enough of the excuses…for those who know who they are, I deeply apologize. I do not care if there is something wired in my brain to allow me to behave in a manner that is hard to understand; I am certain at some point my treatment has been hurtful. If I were a blind man and knocked over a vase in someone’s house, I wouldn’t necessarily be something that I was able to prevent, but I would still owe the owner an apology and be responsible for the outcome. So, if I start bugging you more than usual, it is probably just my mental pendulum swinging too far the other way. I am more than happy to be told that a correction is in order.
I have a game plan to ease this transition. As mentioned, I will make myself more available to those who consistently make my life a better one. I am going to funnel my efforts towards more personally beneficial ventures – Cricut projects, coding in something like Python, photography, writing, woodworking…Tik Toks? I am also going to see what I may be able to offer charitable causes with my newfound free time. What I will refrain from doing is expending my talents and remaining time on people who are not worthy.