Gossip Drop #12: This may get me cancelled.

Some dangerous thoughts, apparently.

More than ever before, I feel like I’m watching world events where there is no shared version of the truth.

Last week, I saw a 22-year-old activist trying to deliver aid to a war zone. Other people saw a virtue signalling pain in the arse who, in the words of the President of the United States, is “strange” and needs anger management classes. Others called the boat a ‘selfie yacht’ and mocked those on board, saying they were carrying a frankly measly volume of supplies. I saw a group of people who were trying to offer something, anything to a starving population, who were attempting to draw international attention to the blockade - to show that humanitarian aid cannot get through. Who were doing it peacefully. Who didn’t harm innocent civilians in the name of resistance or defense or ideology. Who deserve to be criticised far less than the government who turned them away.

I saw the US President ordering raids on undocumented migrants - tearing communities and families apart, racially profiling Latino and Black immigrants, sewing fear and distrust, and using unconstitutional, unlawful and deceptive tactics in the name of deporting criminals to keep America safe. I saw almost laughable irony in all of it, given that Trump himself is a criminal, found guilty in a court of law of 34 counts of falsifying business records. I saw him targeting blue states in these raids - surely terrifying for democracy - then when citizens started to protest, I saw him deploying military forces. I saw an Australian journalist be shot with a rubber bullet while reporting the news. Others, however, saw protesters who ‘should be at work’. They saw leftie woke freaks pretending to be victims. They saw a leader trying to clean up the streets, to keep their country safe.

I saw a man going viral for debating students at Cambridge University, arguing that women are less happy post-feminism, that our freedoms took us away from our inherent purpose which is to bear and raise children. I saw him debate articulate, sharp, brilliant women, and look them in the eye while he told them exactly what their life should entail. I saw him ignore the bigger questions of fairness and justice and meaning, of dignity. Of choice. I saw his anti-intellectual stance that university is a waste of time, that people are now getting degrees in North African lesbian poetry. I saw him standing there, an ocean away from where he lives, ignoring the fact that the engineers responsible for designing and building the aircraft he flew on are university educated. That graduates of Cambridge University include Stephen Hawking and Alan Turing and Charles Darwin and Isaac Newton. Others saw a man going viral for ‘owning’ these indoctrinated students, who have been brainwashed by the education system. They saw a fast-talking American finally speaking the truth.

I’m sorry, again, for being quite dark, but these are the thoughts swimming around my mind at the moment. Bri Lee sent a newsletter last week with the headline Greta Thunberg is the Rorschach Test of the Decade and it got me thinking about how there are so many Rorschach tests in the zeitgeist right now. What do you see when you read about Greta Thunberg, or the LA protests, or watch that viral commentator on TikTok? And what does it reveal about you?

If you’re a regular reader of this newsletter, I’m changing things up a bit this week. The gossip/thoughts (I guess???) are above, and my recommendations are below. I have another post coming in the next few days that I’d ordinarily squeeze into this newsletter, but it was getting absurdly long. And felt somewhat… inappropriate… alongside my rather heavy political ranting.

Sorry.

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Recommendations

I listened to an episode of The Ezra Klein Show recently that was absolutely stunning, but there’s no satisfying way to describe it. The episode is called ‘Our Lives Are An Endless Series of And’, with writer Kathryn Schulz, who’s written a memoir called Lost and Found. Ezra describes it as an episode that explores “the difficulty of everything we’re supposed to feel in a day.” Schulz’s memoir is about losing her father and finding the love of her life, and her meditations on grief are remarkable. But it was a brief, simple part of the conversation that stuck with me. Speaking about motherhood, Schulz mentioned (and I’m not quoting directly here, sorry, I’m just imparting the vibe) the relief of obligation, or the relief of duty. Basically, the idea that caring for someone else, rather than feeling like a suffocating burden, can sometimes feel like an exhale. This goes for caring for a loved one, too. It limits your choices. You know where you have to be. Throughout my twenties I was sometimes paralysed by all the possibilities of my life, and all the decisions I had to make in a day. Having a child has, in some ways, put parameters around my life that feel comforting. I get up early because Matilda gets up early. I go to the park because she likes the swings. There’s something else dictating my decisions, and there’s relief in that.

Also on motherhood (and I know this kind of content isn’t for everyone, so I apologise), I stumbled upon this wonderful Substack post called Dispatches from Motherhood by Grace O’Neill this week that made me gasp in recognition. It’s perhaps the best piece of writing about new motherhood I can remember reading. I copied and pasted slabs of it to friends who are in the newborn trenches.

Grace writes of those weeks after birth:

When I eventually left the house, I found I imagined every person I encountered as a newborn baby. I saw what their faces must have looked like, how they would have stretched out and scrunched up their knees and made demands of their mothers.

Same. Since having a child, I’ve genuinely thought about the fact I have some sort of ‘empathy injury’. I find it really hard to hate anyone, because I picture them as a helpless baby, simply navigating the world the best way they can with what they know. I’ve gone very, very soft, but perhaps it’s a natural, normal part of raising a child. In seeing the innocence of your baby, you see a universal part of the human condition.

I also loved this:

Before giving birth, I found it refreshing—“cool” in the most literal sense— when women kept their children hidden from their digital presence. Now, I find it oddly Victorian, a tacit continuation of the patriarchal trend of hiding motherhood from public view.

I’ve contended with whether to share Matilda on social media, and to be honest, I go back and forth. I understand privacy concerns, and I understand the blurriness of consent. But I do think there’s a difference between sharing a baby or a toddler, when their life is tied to yours, when their visibility is tied to your visibility, and sharing a child or teenager who is clearly uncomfortable with being filmed or photographed. I also think that culturally we adore seeing dads publicly sharing their children, but when mothers do it, we shake our heads. Stop trying to commodify your baby you witch, and go back to making your caregiving invisible.

Finally, my husband and I watched Sinners last night and goodness. It’s strikingly original. It’s a musical and a horror movie and there’s supernatural elements woven in, and it’s deeply, deeply profound. Somehow, Michael B. Jordan plays two lead roles - as both Smoke and Stack, a set of twins. His mannerisms for each are so distinct that you can tell them apart, even without the subtle costume clues. Sinners was produced, written and directed by Ryan Coogler, best known for Black Panther, and it’s one of those films where you can feel the magic of having a single vision at the helm. If you’ve seen it I’d love to know opinions/analyses!

Let me know your thoughts below, and I genuinely am open to civil discussion about any and all of the above. Please don’t cancel me.

xxx