Sarafina Bianco found out the hard way. Sometimes saying you’re sorry is the best thing you can do.
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Admitting guilt or fault is difficult. It’s something we all strive to do gracefully and, often times, fail. But more often, we need to focus on the value of being wrong, the lessons we’re able to learn from our faults are so much more valuable than being right all the damn time.
Here’s what I mean:
Last week I wrote a post on a women’s site, a new(ish) place that’s pushing itself next month, and one where I’ve only submitted three posts. Every so often they get a lead and send out a mass email, asking the writers for a quick turnaround if they are free and want to write. Last week, the Freeza article on the Forbes website was quickly pulled because of the implications made in the article. I, having read it once, responded on a visceral level, instead of rereading and rationalizing the argument being made.
The male readers ate me alive.
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The male readers ate me alive.
They said I misused the term slut-shaming and attacked a man who was, potentially, trying to reduce rape on college campuses and in fraternities’ houses. While most were cordial, and participated in a respectful conversation, others were not. One man even said I was too dramatic to be a young woman and perpetuated the stereotype of weak women from decades ago. I was “a crazy feminist” who “hated men” because “one bad dude hurt me.”
I did misuse the term, although there were slut shaming undertones (in the headline phrasing, a few remarks within and the article’s image choice). But Mr. Freeza doesn’t directly make statements that qualify.
My point? One slip of the tongue got me eighty-eight comments from dudes who were pissed that I used a term inappropriately. And, lucky for me, it was on a small site that won’t terribly ruin my reputation.
Ouch.
Instead of lashing back in defense, I sat and tried to empathize. There has to be a gray area, right? The place where we come together and engage in civil conversations when we think someone is wrong? Yes, there should be.
But I didn’t give that to the other guy, either.
The term I should have used was victim blaming, because he says drunk women who are raped (or regret a late-night decision) are the downfall of frats. In my mind, he was more concerned about keeping the fraternity open than he was making the party-goers safe (even though he gives suggestions on how to do just that). And I think, if I would have said just that, I probably wouldn’t have been lambasted publicly.
But that’s not what I said.
I tried to navigate the minefield of comments without furthering the damage.
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I tried to navigate the minefield of comments without furthering the damage. And I humbled myself to the fact that my intentions can’t be read, but my words can be read as mistakes.
What I’ve learned through all of this is simple. Men and women appreciate a simple “hey, I was wrong.” Even if I don’t think I was entirely, completely, without the shadow of a doubt incorrect, I was a little off. And it’s okay for me to say it. Plus, once I did, every person in the conversation (except for a small minority) actually continued debating the post in question and we all contributed equally intelligent points to an argument that was so black and white when I had a gut reaction to it.
If we don’t learn to apologize, how can we communicate and move forward?
We can’t.
So tonight, as I sit and type this, I am humbled by my mistakes. It brought me down a few pegs, but I’m still breathing.
And I feel like a genuine human being. Which is way better than being a know-it-all.
Photo—Azlan DuPree/Flickr