There is always a certain degree of anxiety before I click the little blue button that sends my words out into the internet ether. It comes with the territory of demonstrating vulnerability, of opening myself up to disagreement and criticism. Even with the knowledge that I hardly have all the answers, there is still the fear of being shown that the point of view I thought was logical was based on a faulty premise. There is still the fear of being proven wrong and, its close cousin, the fear of being ridiculed or shamed as a result.
Certainly, I feel reassured by the fact that the overwhelming majority of my readers are supportive. They – you, really, since you are reading this – are my family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances or some combination therein. I believe that my readers are interested in the stories I tell and the opinions I express. To that end, I believe that they want me to succeed in growing this blog and in using the platform I have created to continue communicating my thoughts and experiences.
Still, to say that I do not have reason to be afraid or anxious would be naive. There may not be any way for me to safeguard against every potential extreme reaction to a post; the only way to prevent any and all reactions would to avoid writing anything in the first place. But, last week, not only did I choose to write, I chose to tackle the most intensely personal of topics. I chose to offer an opinion about a matter that some might argue I shouldn’t be allowed to have an opinion on in the first place (remember – no uterus).
I was afraid to publish last week’s post about adoption and abortion because the most personal subjects usually bring out the most severe reactions. I obviously am not privy to the intimate details of all of my readers’ experiences with either of these topics and I was afraid that writing about them would trigger emotional attacks rather than thoughtful responses. Plus, in recent years, the political and media landscapes have become so polarized that any acknowledgements of nuance or complexity are often dismissed automatically as the enemy; “If you’re not with us – in every single way – you’re against us.”
I was looking to spark conversation but I was worried that I was going to ignite controversy instead.
Fortunately, my readers – again, that includes you – showed me that the trust I place in them by revealing my inner thoughts each week was not misdirected. I received more comments on that post, both publicly and privately, than just about any other post I’ve ever published. My breath caught in my throat as I read through each one; I only allowed myself to exhale once I realized that the writer was accepting my invitation to conversation, rather than lashing out in anger. There were no personal attacks, no mentions of my lack of a uterus and no recommendations for places I should stick certain objects or body parts. Even the people who disagreed with me did so by hearing my points, bringing up theirs and continuing the discussion.1
It was exactly what I had hoped for.
I don’t know how often I’ll continue to grapple with these topics on my blog in the future. I enjoy telling stories more than opining about the current state of our union but there have been a number of times recently when I’ve felt that political events were too important to pass up. I will say that, after seeing the responses to last week’s post, I’m optimistic that any future complex topics I decide to grapple with won’t lead to quite as much anxiety as this last one did.
1. My ego remained intact throughout the process, which is critical, of course, because a cis-gendered white man’s ego is always the most important – and, often fragile – part of any debate.↩
Featured image by Jonny Lindner from Pixabay
