Showing posts with label language hypersensitivity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language hypersensitivity. Show all posts

Thursday, July 31, 2025

Of Left-handedness, Sydney Sweeney, and Empathy

 

A typical evening at home for Curmie and Beloved Spouse consists of watching a couple of episodes of television shows—some new, some long since cancelled.  We can access a fair number of different streaming services, so we’re pretty well stocked with options. 

We’re particularly fond of mysteries, and that was last Saturday night’s fare.  Curmie won’t mention the program or the episode, except to mention that it was fairly recent, so he won’t risk spoiling something for you, Gentle Reader, but one of the shows featured our central character pretty much solving the crime by noticing that a photograph of a left-handed woman showed her holding a drink in her right hand.  That meant that she wasn’t really sentient when the photo was taken and that the culprit was creating a false alibi. 

As this moment was unfolding on our TV screen, Curmie, who is left-handed, was holding a glass of iced tea in his right hand.  He laughed at the incompetence of the writers; the general story line was pretty good, but that single moment spoiled the entire episode for him.  Beloved Spouse noticed the error, too, but was less upset about it.  We’ll come back to this in a moment.

This wasn’t the first time that we’ve experienced this phenomenon—there have been a couple other variations on the theme that we’ve seen in the last couple of months alone.  Of course, there was even a moment early in a Sherlock Holmes story in which our hero is showing off for a prospective client, deciding which was the man’s dominant hand based on which side of his face had been shaved first.  Curmie had actually thought of that bit of story-telling earlier in the day, when he realized that he had started to shave on the other side of his face from usual practice.

Which hand we use to do things isn’t absolute, in other words.  Curmie is a leftie in the things that make one a southpaw: writing, throwing, cutting, etc.  And if he ever tried to shoot a gun or play the guitar, he’d do them left-handed.  But for two-handed things: swinging a baseball bat (the one place that being a leftie is actually a small advantage), a golf club, or an axe, he’s right-handed.  He’s a little more right- than left-handed with a hockey or lacrosse stick, but is pretty close to ambidextrous in those areas.

And he drinks with his right hand more than with his left.  Part of this is situational: his accustomed seat is on the couch, with a TV tray to his right as he faces the television.  Part is cultural: if you want to see what’s printed on your mug, you’ve got to drink with your right hand.  This, of course, is reasonable given that about 90% of the population is right-handed.  But part is probably natural inclination.

Of course, there are many other ways in which there is a subtle but clear indication that right is right, and left is wrong.  (We’re not talking politics here, of course.)  The fact that words like “gauche” and “sinister” are linked to “left,” whereas “dexterous” is “right” is more than accidental.  But there are pragmatic considerations, as well.  Curmie sometimes has to use his “wrong” hand to take the cap off a bottle of water, for example:  more strength is generated turning the hand towards the body than away from it.  Again, perfectly understandable.  But left-handed spatulas, scissors, etc., are often hard to come by, or are considerably more expensive.  Curmie is only a couple months short of his 70th birthday, and has literally never seen a left-handed catcher’s mitt or serrated knife. 

But, Gentle Reader, you’ve no doubt already figured out that this essay isn’t really about which hand you drink with.  Rather, it’s about the thought that formed in Curmie’s mind as he lay down to bed: that the writer of that television episode must have been right-handed, because no leftie would possibly suggest that only right-handed people could possibly drink with their right hand… and that the reason Beloved Spouse wasn’t as upset as Curmie is because she’s right-handed.

Both of those suppositions are questionable at best, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that they formed in Curmie’s mind.  And that is what this piece is about.

When it comes to privilege in this society, being a leftie is about the only place Curmie is behind the curve.  Among the things over which he had no control but seem to have worked out in his favor are the facts that he’s a tallish cishet white male, born into a middle-class family with two loving and supportive parents who stayed together until his mom’s death when Curmie was already 37.  He had some control over his success as a student, but he was able to attend the colleges and universities of his choice without fear of going into deep, long-term, debt.

Like most theatre people, he got his start as an actor: in an arena in which there are more roles for men than for women, and more good women than good men at the amateur level.  In other words, he didn’t need to be as good as his female friends were to gain the experience that led to opportunities in other theatrical disciplines than acting.  That doesn’t mean he’s ashamed of what success he’s had, or that he didn’t earn it, but he acknowledges that he had fewer and lower hurdles to clear.

But he is left-handed, and suspects with some reason that people who aren’t don’t fully understand.  Sure, Gentle Reader, if you’re right-handed you’re still fully capable of intellectually appreciating some of the points made above.  But you don’t understand viscerally unless you live it day-by-day.

If you think about it, Gentle Reader, you’ll know why Curmie is reluctant to sit in the middle of the table at the restaurant or why he doesn’t use a lovely fountain pen he was given as a gift lest he smear ink all over the document.  But you probably won’t think about it unprompted.  That doesn’t make you a bad person, or even someone lacking in empathy.

By the same token, Curmie can simultaneously understand and not really understand what it’s like to be female, or LGBTQ+, or black, or Hispanic, or to have grown up in poverty, or in a foster home, or with an alcoholic parent, or… well, you get the point, Gentle Reader.  Curmie is unlikely to be grabbed by ICE unless he actively interferes with them (that could change in the future, but we’re not there yet).  Beloved Spouse’s best friend and several of my favorite former students might not be so lucky.  Our lawn guy, who has a pronounced Mexican accent, is probably at active risk.

The point is that virtually all of us are advantaged in some ways and disadvantaged in others.  And we’re all going to do stupid things: both failing to appreciate the consequences of what we say or do, and imagining ill intent where it didn’t exist.  The recent brouhaha over Sydney Sweeney’s ads for American Eagle is a prime example.  It takes a peculiar mix of paranoia and virtue signaling to get too upset over a play on words to link “genes,” which are what make this conventionally beautiful young woman blonde and blue-eyed, with “jeans,” which is what she’s selling.  To suggest that AE and/or Ms. Sweeney are advocating white supremacy or eugenics is, quite simply, daft.  The whole point is that she, not to be confused with all blue-eyed blondes, has great jeans/genes.

And stop the presses!  A clothing chain is using sex to get people to buy their product, an event never before seen in the history of advertising.  😉  Indeed, one suspects that the folks at AE knew their ad campaign would generate a response, which is precisely why they went with it.  Those ads have been seen by a lot more people a lot more times than a more conventional series would have received, and AE didn’t have to pay for most of it.  This is a variation on the phenomenon that got DJT a lot of free publicity back in 2016.

There’s a lot of noise about how Sweeney’s career may be in jeopardy because of the backlash, and that the Trump administration’s mocking of the uproar will work against her.  Curmie doubts it, but it could happen.

But here’s the thing: maybe Curmie just doesn’t get it.  He’s blue-eyed, after all, and was quite blond as a wee lad.  If his melanin count were higher, would he respond differently?  Again, doubtful… but maybe.

There are indeed some racists, sexists, homophobes and assorted other creeps out there.  But even this crusty old fart refuses to believe they are in the majority, even if they seem to be in charge of an increasingly authoritarian and intentionally cruel government.  What we need to do is three-fold.  First, spend a little time contemplating our collective tendency to conflate the specific and the general.  Second, consider the possibility that what we say or do isn’t what other people hear or see, or that what we see and hear isn’t what other people intended to do or say.  There’s a lot of communication theory about this, which Curmie, in an unaccustomed fit of empathy, with not bore you with, Gentle Reader.

Finally, we need to pick our battles.  One of the things Curmie talked a lot about as a director and occasional acting coach was the need to “have a place to go.”  If everything is highlighted, then nothing is highlighted.  Similarly, detaining specific illegal immigrants is different from rounding up everyone who “looks Hispanic” and sending them to a concentration camp.  And there’s enough actual racism out there not to get caught up in hypersensitivity. 

By the way, Curmie is well aware of the irony of posting about over-reaction on a site which is pretty much devoted to that kind of response.  He’s working on it.

Saturday, July 10, 2021

Black [Somethings] Matter

Regular readers of this blog will know that Curmie loves putting two or more stories together, finding a common theme.  This time, it’s the apparently sacred, not-to-be-trifled-with words, “Black Lives Matter.”  Curmie has already weighed in on that phrase and both its connotative and denotative meanings.  The short version is that whereas black lives unquestionably matter (and there are some areas of life in America in which this concept has not always been made manifest), the Black Lives Matter movement is not above criticism.

Curmie has often observed, both in this blog and in his classroom, that the ability to laugh at oneself is a signal of strength in a system.  We can trace this phenomenon back at least as far as Athenian Old Comedy two and a half millennia ago.  The best recent example came in the aftermath to 9/11.  That event shook us all.  (It may have affected me in a variation on survivor’s guilt: my brother-in-law was scheduled for a meeting high in one of the Twin Towers that morning; it was called off shortly before the attack.)  For a few days, the country reeled, and everything was solemn reportage.  We knew we as a nation were emerging from the metaphorical if not the literal wreckage when David Letterman went back on the air in New York; we knew we were really going to be OK when he started telling jokes about President Bush.

Curmie, of course, is very much fond of humor in general and wordplay in particular; that, along with “Black Lives Matter,” is the subject of this essay.

Item #1:

This is either a foul on Joakim Maehle (#5 in red)
or a flop by Raheem Sterling (#10 in white).

The Euro 2020 (still called that, despite the pandemic-necessitated delay) semi-final match this week between England and Denmark was de facto decided by a questionable foul call, resulting in a penalty kick for the home side, England. Raheem Sterling, one of England’s leading goal-scoring threats, went down “in the box” after some very slight contact with a Danish defender. Was it a foul? Maybe.

Watching the replay, I thought that it would be impossible to overturn the call, but it would also have been impossible to overturn a no-call.  BBC announcer Gary Lineker, who in his playing career earned 80 caps and scored 48 goals for England in international competition, saw it the same way I did.  There is perhaps a reason he has the extremely impressive record of never receiving even a yellow card in any type of game.  (Hey, if you can’t believe Wikipedia, who can you trust?)

What the video review did not do, contrary to the article linked below, was “confirm” the call. It didn’t overturn the call; there’s a difference. Plus, of course, there’s one of those unwritten laws that referees don’t call penalty kicks late in a game unless there’s absolutely no question.  So much for that idea…

Anyway, there’s a standing joke in Ireland that when it comes to international sporting events, an Irishman’s favorite team, of course, is Ireland. His second favorite team is whoever is playing England. So it’s not surprising that Bernard O’Byrne, the CEO of Ireland’s basketball program, viewed the episode, shall we say, through green-colored glasses. And Sterling is black, so when the BBC posted on Facebook about the English victory, O’Byrne responded “BLACK DIVES MATTER!!!”

Curmie thinks it’s a pretty clever line, especially since the call was so marginal.  Moreover, Sterling has something of a reputation for, well, diving.  Needless to say, there was predictable outrage from humor-deficient Woke Folk, and consequent groveling from O’Byrne and his employer.  Sigh.

This situation seems to Curmie to be a rather impressive tempest in a demi-tasse cup, but at least we are talking about an episode in which the race of an actual human being becomes at least indirectly the subject of a gag. 

Not so with Item #2.

It will probably not surprise you, Gentle Reader, that Curmie has an appreciation for, shall we say, offbeat humor.  He came across the cartoon you see to the right here in a Facebook post on a humor site… it seems to have been taken down now, for reasons less than entirely clear.  Anyway, someone suggested that it’s racist (!) because, you know: black ink, white out… obviously the cartoon is about race.  WTAF?

But, as they say on the late-night infomercials: Wait, there’s more!  Someone commented “Black Lines Matter,” and there was a Disturbance in the Force.  Again, good line, yes?  And to say there’s anything offensive about the quip is to deny even the possibility of literally anything humorous having the slightest connection to current events.  Count Curmie out of that mindset.

None of the foregoing should be taken to suggest that all proponents of Black Lives Matter are humorless sloganeers.  (“Not all [fillintheblanks]…”)  Nor is this a defense of the deliberately offensive, or even of tastelessness (Curmie would defend the latter, but that’s an issue for another day).  But just as it would benefit us all if the nation were to more fully uphold the notion of “liberty and justice for all” promised by its rhetoric, it would also be a boon if some of the more hair-triggered of the SJWs and BLMers paused for a breath, a thought, and perhaps even a smile before opening the spout of righteous indignation.