Sometimes the internet blows my mind

This weekend, there was a tragedy at UCSB. A man named Elliot Rodgers killed seven people, truthfully because he was mentally illl, but in his mind, because the world was unfair to him, in that he had a nice car and still couldn't get laid.

Subsequent to the news of this breaking, I learned that there are a TON of men online who gather in virtual communities to commiserate about similar things.

Now, I already knew about Men's Rights Activists. If you haven't heard of them, their party line goes something like this: women get the better hand dealt to them in society, because child custody cases are often found in their favor, because they don't have to register for the draft, and because fewer of them have died in wars over the last couple centuries. Also, men are hurt by women's suspicion of them: a woman's fear that a man following her might rape or kill her is less important than the man-following-her's being unfairly judged.

Sometimes one of these MRA guys will show up on a feminist blog I follow, and someone will respond empathetically but reasonably: "Hey, we care about the custody issue, too! Feminism is about equality." And then generally one of these guys will shoot back with "Well, it won't be equal until as many women die in wars as men have, so let's start lining up all the women and shipping them to combat zones."

And then most everybody goes like this.

But this community was new to me. These guys call themselves "wizards" (apparently there's an in-joke that if you get to 30 as a virgin, you become a wizard) or "incels" (short for "involuntary celibate"). 

The feminist blog was sort of... visited by a bunch of these guys after reporting on the Rodgers killings. And their philosophy seems to go like this: Women label them as "creeps" simply for being shy. Once a woman decides you're a creep, all women are alerted to this, and they create a vast conspiracy wherein no woman will sleep with you. Women are denying them the sex they are owed. Further, rape is really not that bad, because women sometimes have intercourse voluntarily, and they can recover from it. Whereas these men suffer in their loneliness daily, and it is therefore much worse. A few of them take that to its logical extreme: it would make sense to rape women.

Obviously, that's a pretty mentally ill standpoint. But that's where these guys live: they are owed sex by virtue of being alive, and the fact that it's not happening is an active denial on the part of those nefarious women.

Here's the thing they can't see -- if they're being called creeps, it's probably because they're CREEPY.

I'm going to say some things about my husband for a second that may sound negative. He's a D&D playing, Dr. Who-watching, introverted G.I. Joe collector with no car who would not/did not make the first move. By their logic, I should never have married him.  He should be one of them! He's (in their minds) just like them!

But I never thought for a second that he was creepy. Without knowing these guys personally, here's what I'd guess they lack that he has: he's well-groomed (clean, non-smelly, face and head hair are attended to, clothing is clean and cared-for). He's charming, and can make conversation with basically anyone (though he doesn't love to). He's funny. He's savvy about politics and world affairs. He's well-read. He's smart. He is fit. He's polite (and has good table manners, etc.). He appears at ease with women (me included/especially).

I started thinking about many of the other men in my life -- various degrees of nerds, cyclists, metal-heads, etc. And pretty much all of them ended up with attractive, talented, funny, normal women. Because they're NOT creeps. And they don't believe they are owed anything. They were looking for connections with women based on common interests, and they treat those women respectfully.

I watched one of the Elliot Rodgers videos. In it, he seems angry that a woman is with another man. Where is *his* woman, he wonders? That other guy isn't even very good-looking! But the whole time, he's speaking with an affect that would be chilling even if you weren't aware that this is the guy who killed seven people.

I don't think these guys could actually listen to reason -- they're so immersed in their own worldview that it's too late to try to convince them otherwise -- but if I could, I'd make a few suggestions. First, if someone calls you a fedora-wearing neckbeard, ditch the statement hat and shave. It's not a super-attractive grooming choice that others are spitefully shaming you for, it genuinely looks weird and unkempt. Second, make sure your clothes fit, are clean, and are, if not "in style," at least somewhat timeless. Third, shower daily, brush your teeth, and get your hair cut every six weeks or so.  Fourth, get out of the house. If you spend hours a day in your internet community, that is valuable being-in-the-world time you're missing out on. Go play tennis. Or go to a whiskey tasting. Or adopt a dog and take it to the dog park. Take a class in something. Not only will all these things probably improve your life by themselves, but sometimes WOMEN go out in public too, and you might meet one you have something in common with. You don't have to have a nice car, but it does have to be free of fast-food bags and smell clean. You don't have to have a great job, but you probably should have one. Or be in school.

The world owes you nothing. But you can bend the pathways of your life to make it more easy for things to come to you. And you can be happy, to an extent, with what you have instead of seething with anger (which generally gets you nowhere). It's like "The Secret" but with less woo-woo. If you have a positive attitude and work towards some goals, people will tend to want to be around you more, women included. If you're angry and hateful and resentful, no, a woman is not very likely to fall into your lap.

Update-y

Well, I haven't posted much about the in utero kid, because there hasn't been a lot to tell. I did have a 6-month appointment, and it all went smoothly. His heartbeat sounds great. I had just a couple questions, and we made my next appointment. I'm supposed to go have another glucose test next time. The doctor said I should go drink the goo before my appointment, then go back for the blood draw after, and that I couldn't eat or drink anything in between. But that before, I could do whatever I wanted. I said, "So I can pound a couple Pixy Stix right before?" He perked up. "Sure! In fact, it would probably help, because your body starts processing them immediately, so you'd already be making more insulin before you drank the glucose drink." He seemed kind of stoked on the idea, but I assured him I wasn't planning to throw the test.

I'm pretty huge. I keep opening doors and forgetting where my belly is, so I'll open a door right into it! Sorry, kid! Until very recently, I could look down and see boobs, but not belly, and now I can generally see belly too. One funny thing is that the old wives' tale is that you carry girls low and boys high. But I carried Z VERY high, like, the belly extended horizontally from just below my bra strap. Whereas this guy is very low indeed. In fact, he has started to kick a lot, and about half the time, the kicks feel like they're below that little crease where the top of your panties sits.

I'm really looking forward to meeting him. I'm not nervous, but I do hope I have a better labor this time. In two weeks, I'll be in the third trimester. I don't know if it's because I'm older, because of our loss last year, or for some other reason, but it seems kind of miraculous and surprising that this has all been so easy and is progressing so normally.

I haven't done anything towards re-painting Z's room or buying baby stuff, but there's always the summer.

Oh! Last thing. We have reached the stage where I can see the baby moving from the outside. It is very freaky. But so far, I'm really the only person to have seen it, because whenever I call Sweetie or Z over, he stops.

The love-fest.

Zadie has been a little difficult lately, so I'm going to focus on a positive story instead.

On Thursday at karate, it was a student's turn to bow the class out at the end. They asked, "Any comments or questions?" Several hands shot up.

"Yes Connor?"

"I thought you had really good side kicks today, Ma'am."

"Thank you, sir. Yes, Azadeh?"

"You looked really focused during attention stance, Ma'am."

"Thank you Ma'am."

They've been instructed to only take two to three comments at the end, otherwise this could go on all day. The student dismisses the class, and another parent leans over to me and whispers, "How did all this positivity start?"

"Well," trying to answer honestly but not without pride, "I think it was all my kid's fault."

It's true: a little over a year ago, the resounding answer to every "any comments or questions" was dead silence.  Until my kid came along. One day, her hand shot up. The kid in front was so surprised they had to look at their sensei for what to do. "Call on her," he said. Still a little nonplussed, they had to be prompted again. "Say, 'Yes, Zadie.'"

They did, and she had a compliment. At that time, it was less focused than it is now. She would often compliment, say, the color of their belt. This started when she was four, so I remember her complimenting a young lady's purple belt more than once. Hey, she likes purple. But pretty much a class never went by without her raising her hand for a comment at the end. As it was always complimentary, I decided to let it go. If her sensei found it disruptive, he could handle it. He didn't seem to. As time went on, her compliments drifted toward the performance-based. "I thought you did a good job leading the class today."

After several iterations of this, one day another hand shot up. They had a compliment, too. And now it was as if some kind of wall had been broken down. The students all wanted to say something, to be called on, to share what they had noticed.

It started taking a long time. The sensei at that point instituted the "two or three quiet hands" rule, and now it's a standard part of the end of class to hear a few compliments.

I know I'm a big ol' hippie, but I like it. I think it's sweet to see a bunch of 4-6 year olds sincerely complimenting one another's performance. And I think it's one of the best examples of leading by example she's ever done. She effected change in a positive way, and I think that's really cool.


NB: Not that the dojo's atmosphere was negative in any way before. Sometimes things that are good can still improve.

Just a quickie

I'm super-exhausted, but I need to remember to write down this story.

Zadie went to skate camp over Spring break. I was nervous to leave her. Even though she had been to music camp last summer, there seemed somewhat less risk of injury there. Given that she had been on her skateboard about twice ever, I was concerned. Plus, I was leaving her with a bunch of skater boys in a concrete and plywood skate park down by the river.

I shouldn't have worried. First, the skater boys were consummate professionals. They were great with the kids. I'd often return to find one holding her hand and helping her skate up a small ramp, or letting her borrow his board so she could do a move more easily.

But the second reason is that she's the most self-assured kid I think I've ever met. The first morning, I stayed for about 15 minutes and took some pictures while they introduced themselves, went over the rules, and split into groups. They were doing that, "My name is X/ Hi X!" thing. When kindergarten started, Zadie decided she wanted to go by her full name Azadeh. Most of her friends now call her that, and we go back and forth. So when it came time to say her name, she said "Azadeh." They needed her to repeat it. She did. They asked again. She said, "It's okay -- I have a nickname. It's Zadie." They said "Hi, Zadie!"

A couple hours later when I came back, one of the first things I heard was her instructor calling her. "Azadeh," he said. "Let's try over here."

I have no idea when or how she corrected him on her name, but she did. And she did it without me there. It was something that mattered to her, so she got it done.

I just feel like that's pretty cool -- when I was a kid, I think if someone had pronounced my name wrong, I'd have just rolled with it. But not her. She knows who she is and how she wants to be addressed, and she'll make it happen. That feels like it bodes well for the future.