I Love Cancelling People

Forget forgiveness, but don't forget the Emmys 📺

Sep 20, 2020

Cancel culture has seeped into my personal life. An old friend forgets my birthday? Cancelled. A former classmate posts an annoying Instagram caption? Cancelled. My neighbour gives me a judgmental look? Cancelled. It’s a fabulous time to be someone who likes to hold grudges and has exceedingly high standards for people. I’ve cancelled so many friends that I can now count my inner circle on one hand, my logic being that I’d rather be alone than be surrounded by people who don’t enrich my life.

As a kid, my silent treatments would last for days, now I can hold them for weeks, months, even years. This week, I broke a silence that had formed after months of conflict with a close friend. Two months ago, I was ready to cancel a lifelong relationship—my hurt boiled, erupted, and then cooled and hardened into apathy. I figured I should walk away rather than attempt to change the person or face my own pain.

momowelch

#Blair comics #catsofinstagram #quarantine

April 21, 2020

It’s easy to be the one doing the cancelling, but what happens when you’re on the receiving end? A couple weeks ago, a reader called me out on Instagram, they described my use of a Black hand emoji in my profile bio as digital blackface. I apologized and we had a productive conversation that ended well. I knew my intentions had been good but in the week after I couldn’t shake the feeling that my bad action made me a bad person. I spiralled down a tunnel of shame and quickly yearned for absolution, to be freed from my guilt.

But is forgiveness even possible in our current quick-to-cancel climate? According to professor Jeffrie Murphy, as reported in The New York Times, forgiveness is “a change of heart toward someone—overcoming the feelings of anger and resentment that typically come from being wronged by another.” But when someone gets cancelled, they don’t seek forgiveness because they value their “relationship” with the person doing the calling out (fans, listeners, followers), they crave forgiveness because they want to salvage their reputation. Herein lies the danger of both cancelling and being cancelled, instead of focusing on transformation, we get too caught up in determining whether the person is good or bad.

Art: Eloise Magoncelli

In a helpful two-episode special of Unlocking Us with Brene Brown, apology expert Dr. Harriet Lerner says an apology is a gift the apologizer gives, not just to the victim, but to themselves. “Although we may feel vulnerable and small in apologizing, it’s the opposite, I will be more respected with a good apology,” she describes. Similarly, forgiveness seems more a gift to the apologizer than the victim. In both cases, transformation is potentially stifled by the more pressing desire for forgiveness; for the reassurance that the wrongdoer isn’t a bad person.

It’s like when you’re a kid and you sense you’re in trouble so you blurt out “I’m sorry!” before you even know what you’ve done wrong. For grown-ups, it can look like empty corporate statements that commit to improving staff diversity after accusations of racism in the workplace. Apologizing and seeking forgiveness have become shortcuts to get back to “business as usual,” because it’s too uncomfortable to face the reality that we’re capable of hurting others.

Implicit in an apology is the awareness that the apologizer made a mistake, that we all have flaws. But so often I think we accept our wrongdoing as an out-of-character blunder and move on, without sitting in the discomfort of guilt and letting it change us. “We want forgiveness but a true apology doesn’t ask for anything back,” says Dr. Lerner. “If I apologize to you and then I too quickly, ‘do you forgive me’, I’m cutting the process short to sit with it, to see if you have leftover pain.” I need to slow down, allow time for digestion, reflect on past behaviour, and most importantly, envision a path forward.

brenebrown

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had to apologize A LOT over the past six weeks - which makes this the perfect time to lean into Dr. Harriet Lerner’s work on apologizing.⁣
⁣
This two-episode podcast special is based on a course that @harriet_lerner and I did together on her groundbreaking book, "Why Won't You Apologize: Healing Big Betrayals and Everyday Hurts."⁣
⁣
When you listen, you can expect authentic, hard conversations (and one helluva role play) about making mistakes, healing hurts, and being brave.⁣
⁣
During a time of deep uncertainty and anxiety - when many of us have struggled to be our best selves all of the time - apologizing has never been more important.⁣
⁣
Listen to the full episode at the link in profile!

May 6, 2020

Cancelling someone can feel like you’re asserting your self-worth—you refuse to tolerate being treated poorly by that person ever again. But perhaps the more daring route to cultivating self-worth is to return to the wounded relationship but this time, boldly asserting how you deserve to be treated. We can’t change people, but we can reimagine our relationships. In the case of making a mistake, rather than simply apologizing, perhaps the more courageous path to reconciliation is to let go of the desire for forgiveness and put into practice what you’ve learned.

A friend of mine recently let someone back into their life who I don’t think they should ever forgive, but this time they’re going in with boundaries. My friend still loves this person but now has different expectations. They don’t have to absolve their friend of any guilt by offering forgiveness and they can grieve the relationship they once had, all while moving forward with a new one. The penalty for the wrongdoer, in this case, is that they won’t have the same closeness with their friend; they lost a part of their relationship when they lost their friend’s trust.

“An apology isn’t an end to the conversation,” says Dr. Lerner. “An apology is what de-intensifies the situation so that two people can move forward and have room for further conversations.” Even when the dialogue is between two strangers, as in the case of my being called out on Instagram, making “room for further conversations” is key. Rather than reduce the public apology to a weeklong trajectory that concludes with either cancellation or forgiveness, both sides need to sit with the uncomfortable feelings that come with being hurt or hurting someone else. A quick apology, a pressured “I forgive you,” or simply cancelling altogether is a missed opportunity to recognize the multi-dimensional nature of human beings.

I don’t want to keep telling myself, “I’m not a bad person because I did a bad thing,” whenever I feel guilty. It only reinforces the notion that we’re all intrinsically “good” and worthy of forgiveness. What if we flipped the narrative: “we’re all bad people who do good and bad things?” Would the apology become more than just a fast track to resolution? Would a default-as-flawed rather than default-as-perfection mindset allow more room for learning from mistakes? Maybe if we let go of the desire for clear cut, right-or-wrong answers, comfortable conversations, and perfect relationships, we will be less inclined to walk away when we get hurt or hurt someone else.

Best,

Anna

P.S. Read Lerner’s 9 Rules for True Apologies if you want to prevent your next conflict from escalating.

Reading 📖

I finally finished Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning by Cathy Park Hong. I’ve been nursing it since January because it’s been both a crash course in identity politics and therapy. It’s essential reading for anyone with Asian ancestry, but feels relevant to everyone this year—all the essays are, in their own unique way, an examination of racial consciousness in the United States.

I dog-eared so many pages that at a certain point, I had to give up on jotting down all the quotes I relate to, but here’s a sample:

“Racial self-hatred is seeing yourself the way the whites see you, which turns you into your own worst enemy. Your only defence is to be hard on yourself, which becomes compulsive, and therefore a comfort, to peck yourself to death. You don’t like how you look, how you sound. You think your Asian features are undefined, like God started pinching out your features and then abandoned you. You hate that there are so many Asians in the room. Who let in all the Asians? You rant in your head. Instead of solidarity, you feel that you are less than around other Asians, the boundaries of yourself no longer distinct but congealed into a horde.”

Articles:

🙎🏻‍♀️Yes, the Emily Ratajkowski sexual assault story lives up to the hype. The question of ownership and control interests me as a photographer, but even more so as a woman, “What does true empowerment even feel like? Is it feeling wanted? Is it commanding someone’s attention?”

⚖️ The RBG fandom shouldn’t be taken lightly. “The personal is political; the memes, like the person they celebrate, insisted that the personal is also judicial,” writes Megan Garber. What will we do without Ruth Bader Ginsburg?

🧹 Housekeepers out of work because of COVID-19 are facing a “full-blown humanitarian crisis,” but their precarious position is not new, it has racist roots.

🐄 Is lab-grown meat really more virtuous than factory farming if it relies on the same monoculture farming that exploits workers and the environment? Is DIY cellular agriculture, like Shojinmeat in Japan, a scalable solution or will it just get Uber-ised?

📖 Concerns over how COVID-19 is impacting children’s education must not forget those with special needs.

📸 The work of photographer Heji Shin questions the responsibility of the artist in challenging systems of power.

👩‍🎨 Or does anyone who makes anything creative online these days just consider themselves god? (I feel embarrassingly seen).

Watching 📺

In an ideal life I’d be south of the border, watching the second season of PEN15, released this week on Hulu, snacking on all the new pumpkin and maple products from Trader Joe’s. But I guess I’ll settle for free health care… and the virtual Emmys.

Image: Hulu

Without the red carpet, the celebrity reaction shots, or the energy of the audience, the award show won’t be the same…but I’m still excited to cheer on my favourites. (I know, my obsession with movie and television award shows makes me a hypocrite given last week’s critique of “best” lists).

The playing field would be more even without Watchmen (a record-breaking 26 nominations) and Succession (18 nominations), but both series were so brilliant I don’t mind if tonight’s winner announcements start to sound repetitive. My predictions:

Watchmen will sweep the limited series categories (best series, lead actress, supporting actor, supporting actress, etc.).

Succession will own the drama categories except maybe supporting actress because they love Laura Dern (Big Little Lies) and Helena Bonham Carter (The Crown).

As for comedy? The predictable Emmy choice would be The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, but I’ll be annoyed if they win (although I did enjoy the latest season more than most ). Insecure deserves the win but Schitt’s Creek might take it.

Image: Emmys

It was such a great year of television, it will pain me to see award-worthy performances (ummm hi, Cate Blanchett) and taboo-challenging stories go unnoticed: Mrs. America, Ramy, Dead to Me, Unbelievable, Pose, Euphoria, Unorthodox, Little Fires Everywhere, and Hollywood, were my favorites.

What were yours? Are Ozark and The Crown worth watching?

Listening 🎧

Image: Time To Say Goodbye

Time To Say Goodbye is one of my go-to pods lately. In this episode they talk about racial passing, the intersection of race, class, and health in the COVID-19 context, and representation in pop culture. A highlight was learning how the media scapegoats other countries when American companies get called out for their exploitative practices (in the case of Mulan, Disney plays dumb and the focus shifts to looking down on China’s genocidal practices).

Best, is free! If you like what you read, please share. Thoughts or feedback? Email me!