Last year, not long after the Season 7 finale of Game of Thrones, I had one of those epic conversations with friends that lasted late into the night and kept me up later writing about it. I never posted… Until today.
Image source: http://clipground.com/group-conversation-clipart.html
Our conversation started with a disagreement over the #MenAreTrash movement, then it took the scenic route through the difference in freedom of speech between Rwanda and Uganda, followed by debating if it’s a good idea to tell your partner you cheated on them, to how to parent your child in the information age, but I think the conversation we were having was about communication. We were trying to figure out how to handle aggressive confrontation of different worldviews, which can be uncomfortable – hurtful, even.
I am a feminist, but I have argued on both sides of this “not all men” debate. I believe that #MenAreTrash is a slogan that invites defensive criticism, because all generalizations have to be wrong in some cases, but I am also grateful that we have been incited to engage in this conversation. #MeToo I have been disrespected and abused by powerful men more times than I can count or care to remember. Thank-you Twitter Feminists for creating a space where I can share that vulnerability with confidence. I also know so many men who have never done any of these things and are really good people, so I don’t want to say that all men are garbage. On the other hand, it is satisfying to see a woke man talk his bro out of liquoring up a chick with intent to take advantage. If the objective of #MenAreTrash is to make people realize that we have social problems that we must change, then I think it is effective. To see my friends arguing about #MenAreTrash though – it was combative, chaotic and infuriating. The communication was devastating, like breaking ice with fire!
At some point the conversation turned to Rwanda. One of my Ugandan-Rwandan friends was complaining about how difficult it is to criticize the status quo in Kigali compared to Kampala. Another friend with roots in both countries talked of the paranoia over spies listening in, that it was a police state, and anyway, they said, the memory of genocide is still fresh. It turned out that one of our group identified as Hutu and the other Tutsi, though they both said they were Ugandan. They agreed that in Rwanda, to say “he is Hutu” or “she is Tutsi” could make a person recoil and correct you that “no, we are all Rwandan.” In Kampala, we can sit around a table decorated with empty bottles and speak freely about politics, complain of tribalism, disagree and make a scene, but my friends said that in Kigali it’s not the same. You may have to shut down that conversation before you get yourself in trouble. That is communication with consequences.
Then someone asked: is it better to get caught cheating, or would you rather confess to your partner first? Eh, now this is a situation where communication has consequences. We did a survey of the half-dozen as-yet-unmarried people in the discussion, and in almost all cases, whether the cheater confessed or was caught, the relationship ended. Preemptive confessions saved the relationship sometimes, temporarily, but mortally wounded the relationship anyway (leading to a slow death). Finding out that your spouse is cheating on you hurts. It is information that nobody wants to receive. The blowback is severe. It’s not a message that any guilty person would want to deliver. Yet, it is morally right to be honest (of course, it is also morally right to be faithful). We need our partners to be honest with us. Much of the pain of being cheated on is unraveling all the lies you’ve been told and suffering from the realization that you cannot trust this person whom you love. Loved. Done. To the left.
But can you have too much honesty? How much hurtful information can the mind handle? And what of the minds of our children: the undeveloped minds who grow up on our Facebook pages, learn to dance like music video vixens on YouTube at five years old, and cyber bully each other through school. Children these days can borrow an auntie’s phone and access all the information on the internet. Wholesome values can get lost in the information overload. I have a little girl at home and I’ve been honestly talking with her about all the deepest topics of social political philosophy since before she finished potty training. It started like an inside joke with myself, but by age six she started leading the conversation. We discuss the Ugandan news, money, love, hate, sexism, racism, religion, power… She tells me all her secrets, her insecurities and questions about life. She asks me about sex and politics and death, and I give her honest answers. Sometimes I worry that I say too much. She is growing up in a safe home where we can make up yoga moves, explore and express ourselves so freely, but the world we’re raising our children in now is not safe.
One of my friends pledged that when his children turn 16, he will lay out all the forbidden drugs in front of them and explain how to use each one, what to do and what not to do, and even offer to try two of them together just to give them an informed choice. Mind you, he doesn’t have children yet. I’m not sure I could go that far with mine, but my father did give me some sage advice about drugs that he learned in the 60s, which may have helped me avoid a drug overdose in my own life. Other parents would have preferred to avoid the drugs subject entirely. Some would say that talking about drugs with your children just makes it Ok for them to do drugs. Others could argue that they will be faced with the choice to take drugs anyway, so you might as well prepare them. Is it possible to be too informed or too free?
Coming from a Canadian point of view, I think back to times since the Second World War when the UN was formed, the civil rights movement swept across the globe and people more or less agreed to have liberal, democratic peace. It didn’t last, though. The collective unconsciousness became restless, opened pandora’s box and let out all our demons. Maybe the trauma of war can keep one generation peaceful, or two, but then the next comes out with No Fucks Left To Give. Enough of liberalism – Make America Great Again! We are tired – Togikwatako! Down with The Patriarchy – #MenAreTrash!
I have been told by many Ugandans that they believe Uganda needs a dictator like Idi Amin, or else they will destroy themselves and each other. Idi Amin said something like: “you have freedom of speech, but freedom after speech – that I cannot guarantee.” He may have been speaking of a deeper truth – a law of nature.
I believe that with creation comes destruction. To build, we break. Maybe it goes around in seasons, with intermittent periods of painful conflict and growth. My parents’ generation enjoyed a pleasant harvest season, but now winter has come and we are here fighting ice with fire!
And yet, some of our minds have been stretched to accommodate more than someone who is not so exposed, or is traumatized, or whose mind is still developing. We must not forget that there is a place for aggressive confrontation, but also there are consequences beyond our understanding, and not everybody has the same level of tolerance for debate, or the ability to engage in it. Our elders may be traumatized with good reason, as they remember why it’s not always the best strategy to fight. Our children may not be ready to handle some ugly truths. Some people just had a bad day and can’t even with your lugezigezi.
The world also needs peacemakers, empaths and bridge builders. We all need to learn how to accept different views and approaches, to listen, and to express ourselves freely but carefully. Be real, be honest, but also be thoughtful of others, because you won’t be triumphantly flying away on the back of a dragon after you burn your fellow humans to ashes. You will look up from the screen and face the reality of the destruction you caused. We all wish for safety, health, prosperity and happiness. We all want the best for our children. So let’s disrupt to create a better world, not destroy it. But feel free to disagree.
I am a feminist, but I have argued on both sides of this “not all men” debate. I believe that #MenAreTrash is a slogan that invites defensive criticism, because all generalizations have to be wrong in some cases, but I am also grateful that we have been incited to engage in this conversation. #MeToo I have been disrespected and abused by powerful men more times than I can count or care to remember. Thank-you Twitter Feminists for creating a space where I can share that vulnerability with confidence. I also know so many men who have never done any of these things and are really good people, so I don’t want to say that all men are garbage. On the other hand, it is satisfying to see a woke man talk his bro out of liquoring up a chick with intent to take advantage. If the objective of #MenAreTrash is to make people realize that we have social problems that we must change, then I think it is effective. To see my friends arguing about #MenAreTrash though – it was combative, chaotic and infuriating. The communication was devastating, like breaking ice with fire!
At some point the conversation turned to Rwanda. One of my Ugandan-Rwandan friends was complaining about how difficult it is to criticize the status quo in Kigali compared to Kampala. Another friend with roots in both countries talked of the paranoia over spies listening in, that it was a police state, and anyway, they said, the memory of genocide is still fresh. It turned out that one of our group identified as Hutu and the other Tutsi, though they both said they were Ugandan. They agreed that in Rwanda, to say “he is Hutu” or “she is Tutsi” could make a person recoil and correct you that “no, we are all Rwandan.” In Kampala, we can sit around a table decorated with empty bottles and speak freely about politics, complain of tribalism, disagree and make a scene, but my friends said that in Kigali it’s not the same. You may have to shut down that conversation before you get yourself in trouble. That is communication with consequences.
Then someone asked: is it better to get caught cheating, or would you rather confess to your partner first? Eh, now this is a situation where communication has consequences. We did a survey of the half-dozen as-yet-unmarried people in the discussion, and in almost all cases, whether the cheater confessed or was caught, the relationship ended. Preemptive confessions saved the relationship sometimes, temporarily, but mortally wounded the relationship anyway (leading to a slow death). Finding out that your spouse is cheating on you hurts. It is information that nobody wants to receive. The blowback is severe. It’s not a message that any guilty person would want to deliver. Yet, it is morally right to be honest (of course, it is also morally right to be faithful). We need our partners to be honest with us. Much of the pain of being cheated on is unraveling all the lies you’ve been told and suffering from the realization that you cannot trust this person whom you love. Loved. Done. To the left.
But can you have too much honesty? How much hurtful information can the mind handle? And what of the minds of our children: the undeveloped minds who grow up on our Facebook pages, learn to dance like music video vixens on YouTube at five years old, and cyber bully each other through school. Children these days can borrow an auntie’s phone and access all the information on the internet. Wholesome values can get lost in the information overload. I have a little girl at home and I’ve been honestly talking with her about all the deepest topics of social political philosophy since before she finished potty training. It started like an inside joke with myself, but by age six she started leading the conversation. We discuss the Ugandan news, money, love, hate, sexism, racism, religion, power… She tells me all her secrets, her insecurities and questions about life. She asks me about sex and politics and death, and I give her honest answers. Sometimes I worry that I say too much. She is growing up in a safe home where we can make up yoga moves, explore and express ourselves so freely, but the world we’re raising our children in now is not safe.
One of my friends pledged that when his children turn 16, he will lay out all the forbidden drugs in front of them and explain how to use each one, what to do and what not to do, and even offer to try two of them together just to give them an informed choice. Mind you, he doesn’t have children yet. I’m not sure I could go that far with mine, but my father did give me some sage advice about drugs that he learned in the 60s, which may have helped me avoid a drug overdose in my own life. Other parents would have preferred to avoid the drugs subject entirely. Some would say that talking about drugs with your children just makes it Ok for them to do drugs. Others could argue that they will be faced with the choice to take drugs anyway, so you might as well prepare them. Is it possible to be too informed or too free?
Coming from a Canadian point of view, I think back to times since the Second World War when the UN was formed, the civil rights movement swept across the globe and people more or less agreed to have liberal, democratic peace. It didn’t last, though. The collective unconsciousness became restless, opened pandora’s box and let out all our demons. Maybe the trauma of war can keep one generation peaceful, or two, but then the next comes out with No Fucks Left To Give. Enough of liberalism – Make America Great Again! We are tired – Togikwatako! Down with The Patriarchy – #MenAreTrash!
I have been told by many Ugandans that they believe Uganda needs a dictator like Idi Amin, or else they will destroy themselves and each other. Idi Amin said something like: “you have freedom of speech, but freedom after speech – that I cannot guarantee.” He may have been speaking of a deeper truth – a law of nature.
I believe that with creation comes destruction. To build, we break. Maybe it goes around in seasons, with intermittent periods of painful conflict and growth. My parents’ generation enjoyed a pleasant harvest season, but now winter has come and we are here fighting ice with fire!
And yet, some of our minds have been stretched to accommodate more than someone who is not so exposed, or is traumatized, or whose mind is still developing. We must not forget that there is a place for aggressive confrontation, but also there are consequences beyond our understanding, and not everybody has the same level of tolerance for debate, or the ability to engage in it. Our elders may be traumatized with good reason, as they remember why it’s not always the best strategy to fight. Our children may not be ready to handle some ugly truths. Some people just had a bad day and can’t even with your lugezigezi.
The world also needs peacemakers, empaths and bridge builders. We all need to learn how to accept different views and approaches, to listen, and to express ourselves freely but carefully. Be real, be honest, but also be thoughtful of others, because you won’t be triumphantly flying away on the back of a dragon after you burn your fellow humans to ashes. You will look up from the screen and face the reality of the destruction you caused. We all wish for safety, health, prosperity and happiness. We all want the best for our children. So let’s disrupt to create a better world, not destroy it. But feel free to disagree.
