On Defending an Asshole

When I was in about seventh grade, I scared my brother so much that he peed his pants.  Isn't that the best opening line of all time?

At the time, we lived in an old house that we rented and it had a narrow steep staircase that wasn't well-lit.   He and my mom were coming up the stairs and I heard her make a spooky "Oooooohhhhh" sound.  My brother replied with fear in his voice, "Don't, Mom.  I'm scared."  A kind big sister would have called out something supportive like, "Don't worry, Evan! You're safe!'  I was not a kind big sister.  Instead of being kind, I seized the opportunity to hide behind my bedroom door and then leapt out at him as soon as he reached the top of the stairs.  I screamed loudly. This caused him to scream loudly and sit on the stairs and wet his pants.  I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe.  This was not my best moment as a human.

Understandably, my brother was upset.  He was embarrassed and angry and did not find the same humor in the situation that I did.  He screamed some things at me.  I ignored him and I thought that was that.  Evan, however, plotted his revenge.

When I went to bed that evening, I crawled in to find my sheets sopping wet.  Evan had decided to get back at me by pouring a pitcher of water on my bed.  He was hoping that my mom or someone else would believe that I had wet my bed.  Of course, it didn't add up.  I was in seventh grade, hadn't had incontinence issues since I was a toddler, and no human would ever urinate that much at one time.  His ruse quickly fell apart and mom made him make amends.  

A picture of my brother, sister, and me.
This was not the day I scared him.
I wasn't always a horrible big sister. 

Most people, when they hear this story, would have some empathy for my brother.  If I'm honest, I have empathy for my brother.  The desire for revenge when people do us wrong is a pretty human feeling.  When we feel slighted or rejected or mistreated, it is a normal reaction to wish that the perpetrator of our pain would suffer in a similar or worse fashion. We see it all the time from sibling squabbles to more serious situations when people want murderers and abusers to "pay" for their crimes. 

I'm all for accountability.  When my students make mistakes, we make amends.  We discuss how their behaviors impacted their friends and their teacher and our school community and I help them "fix" that. Most kids want to just fix it with a simple apology, but I like to press them further.  My favorite question to ask them is, "How will your teacher know you mean you are sorry?  What will you do to show that you really understand that you need to change?"  I'm a huge fan of accountability.  Revenge? Not so much.

Yesterday, our little town had an election.  We have been having a community wide discussion about our high school facilities.  Most people, I think, agree that there are problems with that facility. However, there have been lots of ideas and opinions about what the problems are, how bad those problems are, and what the solution should be.  Our school board has proposed building a new high school seven times and on that seventh try the referendum passed.

As in all things, especially things involving taxes, there were strong voices and perspectives on either "side" of this conversation.  One gentleman, who was not in favor of building a new school, was quite vocal about that opposition.  He created yard signs. He created websites. He formed a committee and created a facebook page.  He consulted with experts on how to defeat school referendums and organized door to door efforts to 'get out the vote.'   Some of his tactics were controversial and upset a lot of people, including me.  I wrote about one of those tactics in a previous blog post.  In summary, he did not endear himself to those who were in favor of building a new school.  Not even one little bit.

Yesterday evening, when the results made their way to Facebook where all things become official, people were celebrating.  That's to be expected and completely understandable.  Many people have worked very hard for many years for this outcome.  Some were moved to tears of relief and happiness.  In the midst of all of that celebrating, someone brought up the gentleman I described above.  They said, "I wish I could see his face."  This prompted others to jump in to speculate about how he was taking the news of his defeat and eventually a group of people were proposing driving by his home to honk and taunt him.  That didn't sit well with me.  

I'm going to be 100% honest.  I do not like that guy either.  He makes me feel angry and frustrated and the things he says deeply offend me.  I have been so upset by his words that I blocked him on Facebook.  I've never interacted directly with him; just seeing the abusive tone of his words upset me so much that I decided to eject it out of my life.  I'm not his biggest fan.  Not by a long shot.  

Still, it didn't seem right to poke fun.  Underneath all his meanness and insulting language are probably real concerns.  He has a right to an opinion, just as any of us do.  He also had the right to organize those who shared his opinion to impact the outcome of that election.  I may not like him, but I know that it doesn't feel good to lose.  I also know that revenge doesn't look good on anyone.  So, I said something about it.  I'm kind of annoying like that.  I said, "That's not nice. You gotta rise above." And that was, I thought, that.

A few minutes later, my oldest daughter came into my room and said, "Mom.  Look at what [Gentleman's name] posted on Facebook."  True to his form, he was not handling his defeat well.  He was hurling accusations and positing various conspiracy theories.  He also chose to  dredge up all sorts of awful things from the past.  Things that, unfortunately, were somewhat true.  Things that, also unfortunately, involved the darkest days of my life. As soon as I read the words, my stomach soured and I felt shame and embarrassment.  The past hurts weren't my fault, but I felt shame and embarrassment all the same.  My heartbeat quickened and I looked at my precious daughter and my feelings shifted from embarrassment to anger.  I. Was. Mad.  So very mad.  This man, without any care or concern for my feelings or the feelings of my daughter, brought up the scandals from which we have worked so hard to move on.  To be fair, he probably doesn't even know that we exist and if he did, I'm sure he doesn't care.  Still, I was truly mad.  My very next thought was, "I defended that asshole."  

Yes.  I did.  I defended that asshole.

And today, I'm glad I did.  

I am still angry that he portrays educators as horrible human beings because a few have betrayed the public's trust. I am angry that he spreads lies and disinformation about things in an effort to get his way.  I am angry that my daughter had to see that and feel any amount of pain.  I am angry that I had to be plunged, even if for just a moment, back into the experience of the worst trauma of my life.  I do not like him.  Not one bit.  I don't agree with pretty much anything he says.

But, I am still glad that I reminded people to be nice and to rise above.

In the worst of the worst of my life, I decided that I was going to somehow navigate that hurt and pain with as much dignity and self respect as I could muster.  I didn't want my anger and despair to cause me to lose the very best parts of myself.  I wanted to be remembered as someone who was kind, grace filled, merciful, forgiving, and respectful.  I wanted to model those characteristics for my children.  I wanted, in the end. to be proud of how I handled myself and how I responded to hurt and betrayal. I wanted to follow Michelle Obama's lead.  She said, "When they go low, we go high." I wanted to soar in the clouds.  I'm not saying that I've always been successful in reaching these aspirations, but I can say that I've really, really tried. 

I do not regret that.  It was hard.  So very hard.  But, I'm proud of those choices.  

And today, I'm glad I defended the asshole.  

I can think of zero situations when meanness worked out in the end.  I can think of zero situations when retribution or revenge permanently filled a void left by pain.  In contrast, I do know in a very real and visceral way how empowering it is to retain one's own dignity by not meeting disgusting behavior where it's at.  I'd defend that asshole again and again and again.  Because, in the end, I don't want to be known as an asshole, too.  

Being human is hard.  But, as Glennon Doyle says, "We can do hard things." Even be respectful when responding to assholes.

Love you....