Got into a brief conversation this morning with some fellow rats about self-defense, and everyone’s assumptions about how much it was necessary to prepare yourself for violence. One participate said that it rarely occurred to him that violence was a risk he’d be facing, in the cultural context of middle-class Britain. I realized over the course of that conversation that I have a lot of habits and assumptions about my personal safety that I haven’t examined for a while. So I’m going to lay out the important factors here (or at least the ones I consider important).
I. Personal Background/Culture
I grew up in Eastern WA, and spent a large part of my childhood in southern Idaho. My maternal relatives were Southern Baptists, lower-middle class, and fairly devout. My biological paternal relatives were also Southern Baptist, of the Louisiana flavor. My adoptive, paternal relatives were a mix of Catholic and Mormon. Grandpa's side of the family is Hispanic. They were more firmly middle class than my mom's side of the family, but are also from Idaho and shared a lot of that pull-yourself-up-by-bootstraps" attitude.
I was exposed to guns at a young age. The safety talks started when I was really little, and I think I was nine or ten the first time I got to shoot a handgun. I wasn't that interested in shooting, myself, until I met my husband-to-be and he took me on a few dates to a range. I'm still nowhere near the hobbyist he is, but I like target shooting and carry a small Ruger LCR that I got for Valentine's Day. Despite all the guns I spent time around, random gun violence wasn't really a thing.
My dad was a pretty serious martial artist, and practiced a number of styles. From age four onward, I was periodically involved in one martial arts class or another. He also did occasional drills with me at home, and talked to me a *lot* about practical self defense.
Most people I grew up with were exposed to guns and martial arts as kids, too, and nearly all of my hometown friends have looked into self-defense to some degree.
II. Some Assumptions I Have About Defense
The steps I take to keep myself safe depend on my environment; if I'm going to be in a dangerous area, or around a lot of aggressive people I don't know well, I'm going to think a lot more about how to project a "don't fuck with me" vibe. I'm not necessarily preparing for violence, which I don't think is a well-understood concept when some people hear the phrase "self defense." I'm putting inconvenience in the way of bothering me at all. It would be a failure of self-defense to permit escalation up until the point where I have to use my gun or pepper spray.
Making myself too inconvenient to mess with is one strategy, but another would be to fly under the radar entirely. I don't have to posture to keep people from messing with me; I just have to do whatever it is the locals to that results in their general safety. If a British friend says "In my town, you can walk down the road totally wasted in the middle of the night, and no one will bother you," that falls into the range of acceptable safe behavior. Preferably, I would be able to confirm this with more than one person. Sometimes, it's enough to be with a local. Sometimes you just avoid the place entirely.
An example of something I might actually do where I live: if I'm going to a bar, alone, and don't want to have to fend off drunk dudes, I won't drink enough to get intoxicated and I might throw up the bitch shield a little harder. I have to accept that I'm going to a place with lots of drunk people, and some of those idiots are going to bug me. I know from experience that dropping my murder-face means I get bugged more often, so I don't. I will make a note of exits and any bouncers, and make friendly conversation with the bartender. Now I have a friend, and I look like a cunt to any dumbasses who might get ideas. This is a fairly safe situation to be in. If I have other female friends with me, I usually take the role of "scary friend." I'm not a small woman and I apparently scare people shitless with my resting face.
If being a bitch isn't a credible deterrent in some situation or another, that is a bad option for personal safety. Some environments, the bitch shield is an escalation in itself, I so avoid it.
Obviously, avoiding dangerous places would be the safest option, but that's just no fun.
This all sounds like I'm in Constant Vigilance mode, but I'm really not. Again, if I don't have a reason to believe that a risky situation will arise, I let my guard down a lot. But I do think about this, fairly often. It seems naive or negligent to not do a quick scan of your situation and see how risky it is.
One last time for emphasis: violence is much rarer than potentially violent situations, and it's the latter that I'm really trying to avoid. I don't want to shoot people, I don't want to run from attackers, and I don't really expect to. But I treat it much like driving. Car accidents are way more common than car accident deaths, but I still wear a seatbelt when I'm in a car.
Monday, March 13, 2017
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Indefensible Friendships
I posted this on Facebook today:
It's true, and it means that I often find myself in the middle of two friends who really, really hate one another. Or at least see the other as useless, stupid, dangerous...you get the idea. I also often find myself unable to defend them. It's not because I don't think the friend under examination isn't worth defending, obviously! It's just that the reasons I keep them around aren't taken seriously by the questioning party. I don't need people to have all of the qualities I want in one person. Those qualities aren't universal throughout my social group, even the ones I find very important.
Recently, I was in of those mildly uncomfortable situations. I've changed some details about the values involved, but it went like this:
Alice is a high-energy, aggressive individual who believes in truthseeking and agency above all else. She also believes that it's important to see how people behave in stressful situations, and gets accused of trolling while attempting to incite that reaction over social media. I like Alice because, in addition to just enjoying her, her communication style helps me practice not being defensive in response to criticism, because she is very insistent on calling out dishonesty among her friends. Even when it's implicit.
Bob is a kindhearted individual who values truthseeking as well, but also loving-kindness in their social circle. He has a lot of compassion for people who've had hard lives and advocates for lots of accommodations for the disabled. He has been known to hide some things due to his anxiety, and is not very resilient to disruptions in his life. Bob is useful to me as a source of compassion and caregiving, and is in favor of more social accommodation than most of my close friends are, so I get to see a viewpoint that I'm not exposed to that much.
Alice and Bob hate each other. They've both asked me independently why I put up with the other, or implied that I shouldn't. I didn't go into extensive detail about their value systems, but I gave enough to illustrate that while I find them both valuable, I can't defend one to the other. The reasons I keep them as friends aren't enough to overcome their distaste for each other. And I don't think there's much wrong with either of them. At least, their flaws are the sort I can put up with well enough.
I started writing this to brainstorm ways to present my reasons in a way that's palatable to the offended parties. This particular situation is one I've just ignored, but one of the individuals has recently reduced the amount of contact we have, and I feel like this may be why. This is frustrating. It makes me think that I should add a friendship criterion: When I say that I do get something out of a relationship, and they aren't hurting me, just fucking trust me.
It's true, and it means that I often find myself in the middle of two friends who really, really hate one another. Or at least see the other as useless, stupid, dangerous...you get the idea. I also often find myself unable to defend them. It's not because I don't think the friend under examination isn't worth defending, obviously! It's just that the reasons I keep them around aren't taken seriously by the questioning party. I don't need people to have all of the qualities I want in one person. Those qualities aren't universal throughout my social group, even the ones I find very important.
Recently, I was in of those mildly uncomfortable situations. I've changed some details about the values involved, but it went like this:
Alice is a high-energy, aggressive individual who believes in truthseeking and agency above all else. She also believes that it's important to see how people behave in stressful situations, and gets accused of trolling while attempting to incite that reaction over social media. I like Alice because, in addition to just enjoying her, her communication style helps me practice not being defensive in response to criticism, because she is very insistent on calling out dishonesty among her friends. Even when it's implicit.
Bob is a kindhearted individual who values truthseeking as well, but also loving-kindness in their social circle. He has a lot of compassion for people who've had hard lives and advocates for lots of accommodations for the disabled. He has been known to hide some things due to his anxiety, and is not very resilient to disruptions in his life. Bob is useful to me as a source of compassion and caregiving, and is in favor of more social accommodation than most of my close friends are, so I get to see a viewpoint that I'm not exposed to that much.
Alice and Bob hate each other. They've both asked me independently why I put up with the other, or implied that I shouldn't. I didn't go into extensive detail about their value systems, but I gave enough to illustrate that while I find them both valuable, I can't defend one to the other. The reasons I keep them as friends aren't enough to overcome their distaste for each other. And I don't think there's much wrong with either of them. At least, their flaws are the sort I can put up with well enough.
I started writing this to brainstorm ways to present my reasons in a way that's palatable to the offended parties. This particular situation is one I've just ignored, but one of the individuals has recently reduced the amount of contact we have, and I feel like this may be why. This is frustrating. It makes me think that I should add a friendship criterion: When I say that I do get something out of a relationship, and they aren't hurting me, just fucking trust me.
Monday, January 9, 2017
My husband and I recently had a very serious talk about communication issues. Apparently he'd been under the impression that every time I was enthusiastic about something, I was seriously planning to drop everything and do it. This led to a model of me as a horribly impulsive person he had to hold back from disaster all the time, whereas I saw him as constantly shooting down everything I wanted to talk about. For no reason!
Last night, he explained that he doesn't have strong, positive emotions about things until he's already decided they're realistic and probable. I, on the other hand, have strong enthusiastic emotions about things without any sense of commitment at all. Basically: I prefer everything remain on the table as an option until I might actually want to do it, at which point it will be evaluated for risk and viability. He prefers that things not even go on the table unless they've been evaluated for risk and viability.
At first, when we were trying to figure out how to fix this in conversations, he asked "Can you just tell me when you are or aren't being serious, and then I'll know how to respond?"
I replied, "That sounds exhausting, having to decide right then if I'm serious about the thing every time. Like, having to decide if a small desire or interest is worth the effort, I'll usually decide it's not. But then little ones will build up, and it's not like I can batch them all in one conversation, since they're all different." It's obvious to me how this can turn into festering resentment over time; no matter how many little ideas and "maybes" accrue, the effort of resolving them the way he's inclined to would always be larger.
The work of evaluating how serious I am, or how risky something is, doesn't belong that early in my cognition. I do the work, but not until much later in the decision making process. I use conversation and hypotheticals (and what apparently looks like enthusiastic, committed planning) as exploratory world-building. Unknowingly scaring the shit out of my husband.
The exploratory world-building itself is an exhausting time investment for him, so why would someone engage in it without being serious? He thought every time I was excited about a new career idea, I was actually going to drop my current job and pursue it, or every time I saw a cool house on the market that I was playing with the idea of, I was actually going to try to move there. I thought he was just being a wet blanket, ruining my fun by bringing up worst case scenarios for everything I wanted to talk about. It took about...ten hours of conversation, all told, to find the crux of the issue.
I might generalize this to: different cognitive processes take different amounts of work for different people. Deciding how serious someone is about something based on how hard their actions are for you can lead to a lot of confusing resentment and fear, not to mention bad predictions about their behavior.
Last night, he explained that he doesn't have strong, positive emotions about things until he's already decided they're realistic and probable. I, on the other hand, have strong enthusiastic emotions about things without any sense of commitment at all. Basically: I prefer everything remain on the table as an option until I might actually want to do it, at which point it will be evaluated for risk and viability. He prefers that things not even go on the table unless they've been evaluated for risk and viability.
At first, when we were trying to figure out how to fix this in conversations, he asked "Can you just tell me when you are or aren't being serious, and then I'll know how to respond?"
I replied, "That sounds exhausting, having to decide right then if I'm serious about the thing every time. Like, having to decide if a small desire or interest is worth the effort, I'll usually decide it's not. But then little ones will build up, and it's not like I can batch them all in one conversation, since they're all different." It's obvious to me how this can turn into festering resentment over time; no matter how many little ideas and "maybes" accrue, the effort of resolving them the way he's inclined to would always be larger.
The work of evaluating how serious I am, or how risky something is, doesn't belong that early in my cognition. I do the work, but not until much later in the decision making process. I use conversation and hypotheticals (and what apparently looks like enthusiastic, committed planning) as exploratory world-building. Unknowingly scaring the shit out of my husband.
The exploratory world-building itself is an exhausting time investment for him, so why would someone engage in it without being serious? He thought every time I was excited about a new career idea, I was actually going to drop my current job and pursue it, or every time I saw a cool house on the market that I was playing with the idea of, I was actually going to try to move there. I thought he was just being a wet blanket, ruining my fun by bringing up worst case scenarios for everything I wanted to talk about. It took about...ten hours of conversation, all told, to find the crux of the issue.
I might generalize this to: different cognitive processes take different amounts of work for different people. Deciding how serious someone is about something based on how hard their actions are for you can lead to a lot of confusing resentment and fear, not to mention bad predictions about their behavior.
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