Sunday is a day of rest

Peggy Orenstein's very thoughtful short piece about the Clinton candidacy, I think, gets it exactly right. (And fwiw, I think the exact same piece could be written about Obama and the monkey tshirts, the West Virginia vote, and yes, obviously, the Clinton campaign's own race baiting. Maybe such a piece has already been written; if so, please link.)

Orenstein pins down the thing that's been frustrating me so much about the Clinton/misogyny stuff: it's very simple, and yet it seems so difficult to say or see it clearly. It isn't that the misogyny is the only reason people oppose Clinton, or that it's inherently misogynist to oppose her, or that people pointing out the misogyny of most opposition to her are saying that opposing her is inevitably misogynist--nor is it that that misogyny is a good reason to vote for her (it's not, although it's very understandable why people would have that reaction).

It's that people seem by and large unable to express opposition to her without resorting to misogyny. And that this is terribly, terribly depressing--and offensive, if you happen to be a woman. (Or if you are one of those very rare men who is offended by this sort of thing. I have to admit that I don't think I've spoken to a single man like that this election season, I'm sorry to say.)

And maybe it's true that, given the astonishing amount of misogynist crap that's been mixed in with opposing Clinton, that some of us women have indeed gotten to the point where iffy things, like Powers's "monster" remark, read to us as unarguably sexist when, if we weren't so sensitized, they wouldn't. Maybe. But the fact is, that pile of misogynist bullshit *is* there, and having "well-meaning" people force you to trot patiently through explanations that "no, it's not a Big deal, and mmmmmmaybe this one instance could be said not to be sexist, but" every single time is *itself* part of the problem with sexism: that you have to prove that you're not just being all knee-jerky, that you're not "irrational" or "oversensitive," and by the way, "irrational" and "oversensitive" are sexist dismissals too, you realize, etc. etc.

It's just a huge, huge burden, seeing and hearing this crap. It sucks when people you love and respect don't notice that you're carrying it around. It sucks more when you say something about it and get told that it's not there, or that it is there but you're wrong about *this* being part of it, or that it's not *their* fault. Always, always, some version of "that's not what's important right now." Which is itself, of course, part of the burden.

That kind of thing is hard to explain to daughters *and* sons. I've been futzing with a conclusion to this post for about half an hour now, and it seems sort of pat, but I think it boils down to teaching kids--and ourselves--how to express, and accept, expressions of empathy and regret. How to say "I'm sorry" when it's not your fault, and how to hear "I'm sorry" when you're hurt or angry. Strangely, kids do usually seem to be pretty good at this: "Mama, I'm sorry you're so tired." I think we tend to blow them off when they do that--"thanks, honey, but it's not your fault." And when they're upset, we tend to run right past "I'm sorry" into "let me fix it" (or tell them how to fix it). When they make a mistake, we tend to demand that they apologize, immediately: "I'm sorry" becomes basically a public acknowledgment of being shamed. No wonder it becomes so hard to say. No wonder having your feelings hurt tends to become hard to separate from anger.

I feel like I should be able to sum up what this means, or what to do about it. Or that I should go back and edit to more carefully draw out the stuff I see hanging around in the subtext.

But I think instead I'm going to shut up and letting you draw your own conclusions.