Contempt for self and planet, an insider’s view

I often dislike myself.  She complains about tiredness or pain too much, not ambitious enough, not improving her surf skills quick enough, not achieved anything, CV looks shit, blames her childhood for all the above, no clear life plan, too many ideas and no follow through, spends too much time thinking about herself… etc.

Contradictory and messy: it’s a hoot!  Then yesterday I read something by Jacqueline Rose: patriarchy thrives by encouraging women to feel contempt for themselves. Boom.  The perfect resource-saving weapon: self-contempt.

To be clear, this isn’t a “just love yourself and you can be all you want” moment.  The forces that generate self-contempt are real and external.  Social, personal history, genetic evolutionary pressures: they are truly debilitating. To women, but more so to black women, Asian women, immigrant women, LGBTQ+ women. This is instead an acknowledgement of relief.  Do we have to  despise ourselves for not meeting those expectations? Because it’s not us, it’s you. Carry on.

The climate crisis is looking about the same.  We’re being led into a guilty spiral where apparently no one individual is doing enough to make things better.  I use too much plastic, I didn’t separate that piece of recycling, I take planes sometimes, I drive once a week, it’s selfish to have children, a particularly wonderful western accusation.  The contempt for self flows.  And then you read that over half of global industrial emissions since human- induced climate change was officially recognized can be traced to just 25 corporate and state producing entities.  

Here I am, bogged down in self-disgust by my tiny piece of un-recycled litter and in the meantime there you are, shitting all over the planet. It’s not me, it’s you.    I’ll keep taking my jars to fill with oats and cycling and rejecting plastic bags for frozen items at the supermarket checkout (they’re already IN plastic?) like a smug eco-cotton-vegan-potatoskin-bag lady. I don’t eat mammals, guys! (Ok, chorizo once a year and bits of saucisson.) Oh, whip, whip! No. No self-contempt. I’m not eating  sausage, what are you doing, big guy? Those responsible are bigger and uglier and squatting over the rest of us like that thing from Spirited Away.  I SEE YOU.

Image result for no face spirited away

 

NO MORE WORD SPACE

Words are out, the emoji reigns; it’s a universal language. Image is everything. NETFLIX! NETFLIX! NETFLIX! we chant. I’m conflicted.
In such visual times, why does the internet feel so full… of words? A bit like 8 people at a dinner party around a table that´s designed for 4.
Blog! Online magazine.  Subscription monthly weekly daily hourly minutely. Regular bulletins.  Special bulletins.  One-off newsletters.   Triannual bilateral newsfeed.  Guest post! Letter to the editor’s mum who lives next door.  Quick slow long reminders. And we won’t even mention the petitions.
Even Instagram stinks of words.  The dynamic relationship between image and caption quickly disintegrates into hashtags.  And then there’s clickbait. Here you are, reading your fascinating article about this terrible thing and it’s really interesting and informative.  Before you know it, 2 hours have passed, because every five words is a link to another article, or a pdf, and some of these pdfs are 412 pages long and it’s wonderful because we can all check our references, right? I can actually read the judge’s report on the state of the grass in Wheathampstead.  Jokes aside, this is important. I should be able to read all this stuff and check these things.  NO BLIND FAITH: EMPIRICAL EVIDENCE ONLY.  So why am I overwhelmed? How can I possibly know all stuff about everything?
And you suppose (apart from when your Google account tells you you’ve reached your limit) that the internet can never really be full. There will never be no more space, it will go on and on expanding in this messy spiralizing vomiting hacking spying beast.
Claustrophobic? full of words words more words more more words.
My conflict? It is totally unnecessary to add any more words to the universe.  But I like words! But there’s no space left! I like space! How can I justify feeding this monster? I should just shut up! It’s not like I have anything important to say! Dilemma ongoing and unsolved.