Portrait of the Autist As a Young Man

Autistics are known for learning instrumentally, rather than socially. One implication of this is that, since learning is more about accepting propositions rather than persons, it may be easier for us to parse out the different components of what someone tells us, accepting the parts that make sense to us and simply dismissing the rest. In fact, at the Building Bridges conference, I saw a video of a researcher demonstrating a procedure for taking an item out of a box -- a procedure that intentionally included a superfluous motion. It was related that when neurotypical children who'd just watched this were asked to accomplish the same task, they often incorporated the superfluous motion in their action, whereas autistic children skipped it.

Since I learned in February 2019 that I'm autistic, I've reflected on many of my past experiences in the light of this new knowledge. One that stands out for possibly having gone differently because of my wiring occurred when I was ten.

Usually I went straight home (a 10 or 15-minute walk) at the end of the school day, but for some reason I didn't feel like doing so this time. Instead, I hung out near the school's front door, doing nothing in particular. After a little while a man came from across the street and started a conversation with me. As best as I can remember, it was largely him asking me about my family, and me telling him about how my parents were very interested in current affairs like pollution and the war in Viet Nam. I may well have also told him I had a particular interest in science, and perhaps mentioned my admiration for Albert Einstein, about whom I'd read a book (The Universe and Dr. Einstein by Lincoln Barnett) the previous year. Looking back, it's quite natural that I responded to questions about myself and my family in terms of my special interests and those of my family members. This is how autistics typically respond when asked to tell about ourselves.

After some minutes, the man asked if I'd like to take a ride in his car. I declined, explaining that my parents had told me that it wasn't safe to go places with strangers. Then, in the manner of making a friendly parting gesture, he offered me a little change (fifty cents if I recall correctly). I asked what it was for, and he said I could buy myself a soda with it. I had no particular interest in doing so, but I politely accepted the money. Then he repeated the offer of a ride in his car, and I simply repeated what my parents had told me. So he said goodbye, and I never saw him again.

Now you might think, from this account, that I'd never been told not to talk with strangers. You would be incorrect. My mother had, in fact, implored me not to, more than once, and I had wanted to know why. So she had told me that some people might want to hurt me. I again asked why, and she had said someone might kidnap me. So, of course, I asked "why" again! So she ended up telling me that I might be kidnapped and held for ransom, and that she and my father might not be able to pay it, and then I might not see them again.

This seemed like a plausible scenario, and I also clearly got the message that it was something that greatly worried her, and I wouldn't want to add to her worries. So I resolved to make sure I wasn't kidnapped.

These considerations were in the back of my mind when the man started the conversation with me. I wouldn't put myself in a position where I could be kidnapped, in case that might be his secret intent. But, equally obviously, he could only do that if I got in his car or went with him to some unfamiliar place. Simply talking with him wouldn't give him any power over me.

I suppose a neurotypical child might have responded in a more binary way to the parental message -- either "believe Mommy" or "don't believe Mommy." But for me, it was perfectly natural to analyze the message and just assimilate the part that made sense, chucking the rest.

I never told my mother about this incident, but I did once recall our earlier conversation to her, and she admitted that she hadn't been comfortable stating what she'd actually been worried about. More recently, I've become aware that it may not have been so inevitable that I'd have come to any harm if I'd gotten in the car, since many minor-attracted people won't do anything without consent anyway. But, since some do, there's no doubt that leaning in the direction of caution was the smart move.

Thank You, Mindy Brudno

As part of a job application today, I was asked to write about one of two topics. The one I chose was, "Describe the most important criticism you've ever benefited from. Describe the event and explain how it changed you."

When I was 16-17 years old I was part of what I now regard as having been a political cult. Perhaps the most critical moment during my membership was when I stood alone in objecting to a proposed change in line on an upcoming ballot measure. All of the other ten members of the chapter were ready to vote for it.

The group was nominally democratic, but didn't really encourage independent thought, and I was already struggling with social anxiety. And so, despite having just argued that the proposed line change was unprincipled, I found myself saying I would abstain on the question. Immediately thereafter, another member leaned over and whispered to me that if I thought the line change was unprincipled, I should vote "no" on it, not abstain. I realized she was right and, fortified, voted no.

Looking back on it, I recognize this as the moment when I was in greatest danger of losing my intellectual and emotional freedom. I thank Mindy Brudno, wherever she is.

In love

For the first time in about 14 years, I'm in love. Pretty hard and, for the first time, with someone I haven't even met in person. I don't want to give too much detail lest she see this and possibly be weirded, so suffice to say I've fallen for someone on account of an ever deepening admiration for her strong will, sharp intellect, and compassionate heart.

I've got to admit, I'm getting better...

And Saturday night was another breakthrough. I went to one of The Black Phoenix Club's Purgatory play parties, asked or told several people I was interested in playing with them, and exchanged contact info with a few. I hadn't done this with more than one or two people in the 8 1/2 years I'd been involved in the kink community. I also, before the night was out, developed the will to "dress down" in the hope of attracting more interest; it somehow hadn't occurred to me previously that I might do this even if I wasn't already playing with someone. It's also true I hadn't been to this type of party for a couple years, so this may reflect progress I'd been making incrementally over that whole period which only now had the opportunity of expressing itself.

Particularly nice was that, near party's end, I got in a conversation with a woman who turned out also to have serious social anxiety problems. It was stimulating to exchange perspectives and talk about coping mechanisms etc. with someone who shares this as a personal interest.

10,000 Stand Against Hate

Yesterday I was in New York for the march and rally for religious freedom called in response to protests of the permit for an Islamic Cultural Center a couple blocks from the World Trade Center site.

I made a sign the night before. On one side it says, "Magic Baby believers, STOP PICKING ON Magic Rock believers!" On the other, I inform the Used Tea Bags (as I like to call them -- because they're all wet) that we have this thing called the Constitution that guarantees freedom of religion and prohibits an established church. A number of people liked it; near the end of the event, someone took a picture of the first side, calling it the best sign she'd seen all day.

There were a number of other homemade signs, including "Atheists for religious tolerance."

It'd been a few years since the last time I came to an out-of-town demonstration -- since January '07 I think. As I've struggled with finding a way to fulfill my need to express myself politically while maintaining a strong sense of autonomy -- and, especially, avoiding association with anything too reminiscent of my past cultic involvement -- I didn't want to commit ahead of time to riding on a charter bus run by a sectarian group, which often seemed the only affordable way to get to NYC or Washington.

Fortunately, while making plans to get to the cultic studies conference in July, I became aware of how affordable the nonstop Chinatown-Chinatown buses are, and the fact that one need only arrive twenty minutes ahead to be assured of a seat. Round trip from Philly to NYC is only $20, about the same as a ticket to ride on a charter bus, even after figuring in a few extra dollars for the Metro. This knowledge freed me to save the date without having to make any commitments in advance; I just had to see if I could leave enough money in my budget to cover the cost, which I was able to do.

My new orientation meant that I was also trying to pursue the development of my interpersonal skills even at an out-of-town event like this. I made a particular effort to start conversations with attractive women; even though it seemed an outside chance, I entertained the idea that if I really hit it off with someone, I might be invited to stay overnight, and here again my new transportation option gave me the needed flexibility to take advantage of that. With this in mind I also brought a Red Bull shot with me, as I've used previously only in connection with clubbing.

As people were leaving the rally site, I did briefly consider going to the afterparty that had been announced, but I was reluctant to because I had only a few dollars left in my budget and there might not be sufficient free food at said party if I got hungry again. Not that I couldn't have gone over budget -- borrowing against future expenses -- but it seemed ill-justified for the sake of an outside chance. Was this prudence, or avoidance? I don't know, but I intend to have more to spare next time I face a choice like that, so that I won't need to second-guess myself.

Unfortunately, I don't have health insurance right now, so I can't see a therapist like I did last year. But I've found an alternative that may serve just as well.

I recently signed up to get free email newsletters from the guys behind fastseduction.com, and it turns out these include a twelve-week "boot camp" for aspiring pickup artists. The first was not very challenging; aside from abstaining from a couple things asserted to be bad influences (porn and sappy love music), the only positive action required was something to get over a recent obsession that I'd actually already done. (I hadn't really had that much of a recent obsession.)

There was a bit more to the next message, which I read Friday. Both parts involved starting conversations with women, and the first one was pretty simple; I accomplished it yesterday with a new neighbor I encountered on the elevator of my building. The second is considerably more complex -- a sort of multi-tier "nested set" of instructions on what thing (or kind of thing) to say in response to each of several possible contingencies. I had to read it over several times before I felt prepared to attempt it.

Nonetheless I did attempt it late this afternoon, three times, in a food court. I haven't yet managed to get through the whole script (not always through my own fault), but given my past troubles with approach anxiety -- especially in that setting -- I decided to reward myself with a box of lemon herb tea on the way home. I'd been doing without an evening beverage for a while.

Even though I think I have a pretty accurate idea of the things I need to do to continue overcoming social anxiety disorder, I know from past experience that I can get frustrated easily without some external prod to keep me going. Where a therapist's "homework assignments" have sometimes played this role in the past, Jay Valens's "missions" should accomplish the same thing now.

Gathering, Not Hunting

I recently hit on another way to take myself out of my mental comfort zone, and tried it today. I knew there was at least one item I wanted to buy at Rite Aid, but instead of going directly to where I might expect to find it, I made myself walk slowly along each of the aisles, simply scanning the shelves to see if there was anything interesting there. If I saw something, I would then consider whether it was something I ought to buy now or sometime soon. This may seem pretty quotidian to some, but for me it wasn't, because my whole life I've shopped exclusively in "hunter" mode, knowing what I planned to get when I went in and aiming straight for it. This fits into my general pattern of needing a well-defined purpose all the time and not easily getting comfortable with non-directive activity. I knew, therefore, that this exercise would be a stretch for me, one that I hope (especially with repetition) will help me learn to be less anxious and more able to live in the moment. The proof that this actually was a stretch lay in how I felt as I was doing it. It was a slightly heady feeling, a bit as if I were floating -- an appropriate metaphor in that I had intentionally let go of the "mooring" of being fixed on a purpose. Also today, in view of my clear pattern of procrastinating about clubbing, I decided that starting immediately I will set aside an amount from each pay deposit for that purpose, so I won't spend it on something else and then have the excuse, "Oh well, I can't afford it now." I intend by this means to ensure I get out to a club once a week, instead of only a few times over the past several months.

Well, I had a gratifying experience today. I recently had been thinking that if someone asked me for change, instead of simply giving them money I should offer to pay them for doing something, e.g., singing their favorite song. The first time I was solicited today, I tried doing this, but found myself unable to. My social anxiety was getting in the way -- the fear of my offer's being rejected -- and so I ended up just giving him change. Now, in addition to my original motives, I saw also the importance of achieving this as an "exposure" to an anxiety-inducing situation. A little later I saw a second opportunity approaching. This time I prepared by going into "trance" for a second so I could make the offer without thinking about it. Far from being offended, he readily complied, and sang an entire song ("Love on a Two-Way Street") that he evidently had committed to memory. It was very pleasing to be honored in this way with something he loved, and to be able to not only pay him but give honest praise too. Persisting afterward was a heady feeling from having done the "impossible," like that I first had on 2 July 2005 after introducing myself to several attractive strangers that day (with the difference that going into trance took more effort back then).

Another Test Passed

It's been a little while since I gave myself any major challenges to my social anxiety, and I'd started to feel I was stagnating/regressing. But I had occasion to change that today. I should back up and explain that on 10 March I received a notice from my landlord congratulating me on having my lease renewed as of May on new terms (higher rent) of which I'd previously been notified. Problem is, I hadn't received said prior notification. This made me very anxious as it activated the "bait and switch" trigger tracing back to my adolescent experience with a cult. Within a few days I met with someone at Community Legal Services. He could give me limited advice at that point since I had brought the lease renewal currently in effect, but not the lease itself from two years ago. I sent him a copy of that a day or two later. I then procrastinated a while. It took me a few more weeks to get around to actually reading the lease and start advertising that I was looking for a new place (since at that point I didn't think I had an alternative). Finally I talked to the guy at CLS again, who'd reviewed my lease and said that since I hadn't received the stipulated sixty days notice of a change in terms, it was renewed on the old terms. Of course the landlord could claim that I had received timely notice, but in any case, I was told, their position would be that a change in terms constitutes a new lease which has to be agreed to affirmatively and not just passively. It was advised that I meet with the landlord's representative to state this view of things. For a change, circumstances actually beyond my control delayed my doing so for another week. My employer was short-handed because a coworker's heart trouble was turning out to be worse than first realized. (I felt a little guilt since I'd encouraged his interest in switching from another employer; on the other hand, since his previous job was pretty similar, there's no particular reason to think I hastened this development, which now has had him out for a week.) But I already had this week scheduled as personal vacation (more on which below), so today I visited the management office and showed one of them the pertinent documents, and she said she'd research the issue. It was no big deal in the event, but that's just the point with exposures: you intellectually understand there's not much to be afraid of, but you have to go through the experience to prove that to yourself on an emotional level. The reason for the vacation is another bright spot in the picture: starting tomorrow, I'll be getting training to be a Street Enumerator for the Census. This will provide a quite considerable, if temporary, boost to my income that will be particularly handy if I find I have to move without receiving a refund of my deposit.

I've passed a tipping point.

Starting a few months ago, with the prodding of a therapist, I've been struggling to make a regular habit of going out to clubs and trying to meet people. It was a struggle chiefly because of the social anxiety disorder I've been coping with since early adolescence. I was extremely apprehensive about approaching strangers and trying to start conversations, especially with a sexual object in mind. A few years ago I did discover a technique for temporarily abolishing this approach anxiety, a sort of self-hypnosis, but I employed artificial-feeling conversation starters like, "Hi! My name is Eric. What's yours?" which were chosen not for their likelihood of leading anywhere, but simply to provide an immediate objective the achievement of which proved to me that I was capable of making approaches. They accomplished that, but didn't motivate me to turn this into a regular habit, and I only tried it on a few occasions.

While seeing Dr. Ross I came to appreciate the importance of being comfortable with small talk, which I'd long thought of as "stupid," and I started practicing it in casual situations such as elevators and subway stops. But it was still a struggle to get myself to a club and, when I got there, to talk to anyone; precisely because it seemed like a more "serious" setting for sexual possibilities, it was more intimidating. I'd managed to do it a couple times when my covered number of therapy visits ran out about a month ago.

For the next couple weeks I seemed to be backsliding, finding ways to avoid going out. But week before last I managed to do it again. Unfortunately the bands never showed up, possibly because it was the night of the game that put the Phillies in the World Series. But I did manage to make a little conversation, including with an attractive woman who turned out to be an office employee of the club. (I also got my cover charge back before leaving.) So it wasn't a total waste.

For a few days it looked like I was procrastinating again, but toward the end of last week my self-confidence revived. I think I can at least partially credit this to a song. I'd heard it before but only really noticed the lyrics a couple weeks ago, and found them very relevant to what I was struggling with. The song is "Somebody's Baby," recorded by Jackson Browne. If you listen closely you realize that the object of the narrator's desire is definitely not somebody's baby, because he, along with all "the guys on the corner," is intimidated by her beauty. They rationalize their approach anxiety by telling themselves that she must already be taken. But he overhears her saying something that demonstrates that this isn't the case; what the song seems to be suggesting is that she's alone precisely because her great beauty intimidates those who desire her.

From what I understand, this isn't a particularly common scenario. Most beautiful women get plenty of approaches; the problem is that the quality of those approaches rarely suggests that they have anything to gain by encouraging them. But leaving this quibble aside, the point for me was that the song casts the situation in a decidedly moral framework, where the narrator is in a sense failing both of them until he develops the understanding that the situation calls for his initiative, and the resolve to act on it. There have been a couple earlier instances in which a song somehow captured a similar sense of moral mission that briefly motivated me to do something courageous. Perhaps I just wasn't sufficiently prepared to make intelligent use of it then, but perhaps it also makes a difference that in this case the lyrics were very specifically relevant, unlike in the previous cases. (I've posted comments on them at both SongMeanings and SongFacts.)

In any case, by Friday I was eager to get out again, and went to a Halloween-themed "karaoke gong show." I'd been to one karaoke event before, last New Year's Eve. This time I wanted to sing "Somebody's Baby," but since it wasn't in the book, I fell back on "Imagine," written by John Lennon, which I'd sung the previous time. I think I'd gotten through the second verse before I was gonged. I stayed maybe another 45 minutes, having made conversation with several people of both sexes before and after my performance. I had a pretty good time.

Although I might have considered myself to have "filled my quota" for the week, I decided to go out again last night, partly because I wanted to do a more regular club scene. This was a hard rock show, but before it started and made conversation difficult, I made quite a lot with several women and men, including a good deal of playful repartee. Most of them also called my Halloween costume "awesome," but I think I'll keep it a trade secret.

The most remarkable part of the whole weekend was that, as I was going home last night, I realized that, after going out two nights in a row and coming home late, I wanted to do it again! Bare months since I could barely drag myself to -- er, "make time for" -- a night out, now I wished I could do it every night! What a change -- and a much happier kind of problem to have!

For most of my life I've called myself an introvert. Early last year, when I went off Paxil after taking it for 23 months and experienced no backsliding, I felt a surge of confidence at this proof that the improvement it had enabled had "taken" and become permanent. I started to suspect that I'm not naturally an introvert at all, even that I'm an extrovert whose natural propensity has merely been masked by my disorder. After all, I recalled, I had casually initiated many conversations with strangers as late as age ten. (In fact this had been the inspiration for my self-hypnosis technique, which used certain behavioral tricks to put myself in a "little kid" state of mind.)

That surge of euphoria after going off Paxil only lasted a few weeks, but I was reminded of those thoughts a couple months ago by a conversation with an old friend and fellow member of the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society. She'd previously mentioned that she isn't really the extrovert she might seem; as a child she'd had great trouble socializing, and had to learn to do it by a lot of practice. But she went further into it this time, explaining that even today, after a lot of socializing she's worn out and needs a couple days to herself. A light went on in my head: that wasn't me at all! I've never needed to be away from people; I've never wanted to be. I learned to get on OK without other people because I had to -- I felt intimidated by social situations. But I didn't want to be alone; I wanted to be comfortable with people.

So that's what a real introvert is like, I thought -- and it's not what I am! What I'd started to suspect last year was now confirmed. And what's happened this weekend has finally brought that inner extrovert out again, eclipsing the anxiety that had kept him hidden so long, even from me.

Recent experience seems to confirm something I'd observed before: I'm more motivated to take social initiatives when I have someone to "report back" to.

Today I attended the Sunday platform at the Ethical Humanist Society of Philadelphia, at which David Lindorff spoke. After initially sitting down next to a couple people I've known for a while and a relative of theirs (all nice, but not my generation), I made myself get up and sit instead with a younger, attractive stranger. I was able to resume conversation after the platform and then had some lunch with her, and exchanged contact info.

This was the third time I'd done something similar in the past few weeks. The first time was just the day before my first appointment with a therapist, having not seen one since 2006. And that was also the last time I had "asked out" someone in a general way (as opposed to inviting them somewhere I was already going), specifically as homework agreed with that therapist.

Even though no homework has been agreed with this new therapist yet, simply having one seems to have motivated me to take initiatives I likely wouldn't have otherwise. The same thing was true back in 1993, when I was being supervised by a psychiatrist in connection with a drug study, also in relation to social anxiety disorder.

This connection probably has to do with the roots of my condition, which I believe lie in a period of my childhood when I had trouble getting my parents' attention. This led me to start avoiding any effort to get people's attention under most circumstances, so as to avoid the pain of being refused it, as well as a low tolerance for frustration in general. I believe it also led to my motivation's being dependent on having someone who would notice and approve my efforts without my having to seek their attention. For instance, unlike most kids apparently, I generally dreaded summer vacation because I seemed to have nothing to do then. I would be impatient for the school year to begin again.

That said, I have also gradually improved during periods when I wasn't seeing a mental health professional -- but with a lag behind things I did while seeing one. It's also true that I've improved thanks to things I've learned from other sources such as the self-described seduction community. But I've also put these into practice mostly while seeing a professional.

This Should Be Easier Now

I hadn't previously had a home Internet connection that worked with Blogger, so I had to post from a library computer. Now that I do, I should be able to update much more consistently. I was at the National Equality Rally today (part of Equality Forum), along with a few thousand others who came out in spite of the rain. One man told me he was there from Michigan. Then I spent some time at the SundayOUT! street fest, where the Freethought Society of Greater Philadelphia had a table. They organize the local atheist meetups in which I often participate. When someone infected with the Repent America mind virus (of about three who'd been around the rally) came near, the group had fun displaying T-shirts like "Smile -- there's no Hell" and "I'm your friendly neighborhood atheist" and passing out Get Out of Hell Free cards. All in all, a satisfying day. 

Squeaky Voices 'R' Us

I just had the first occasion in quite a while to read a children's book -- and probably the first time ever that I read an entire book aloud, since the first book I was able to read. That's because, after attending a performance of The Vagina Monologues last month, I volunteered to read a book-on-tape as part of the Penn Women's Center's Week of Service. I just came from doing so. The book was Squizzy the Black Squirrel: A Fabulous Fable of Friendship, written by Chuck Stone with illustrations by Jeannie Jackson. It will be one of 35 books-on-tape to be donated by PWC to a women's and children's shelter run by Women Against Abuse. I volunteered this particular form of service because reading aloud is one of the things I'm good at. And I chose that particular book because squirrels were my favorite animals when I was little. (Although, when my mother told me she'd run out of bedtime stories and I would have to invent a character for her to tell new ones about, I made it a zebra named Stripey. Hence my username.) 

Stepping Up the Exposures

Over the past few weeks I've gotten more focused on exposing myself to potentially anxiety-inducing situations so as to learn to be less sociallyanxious. On ething that helped propel this was a card I received on Christmas Eve from my uncle Frank, who asked what I'd been doing with my life. I responded with a note telling of the progress I've made over the past few years, particularly noting my appearances at some open mikes and the hopes that this may lead to something that pays. Having written that, I then felt obliged to start getting more serious about it. So next day I busked for an hour in Suburban Station, after not having done so anywhere more than a few times and that at least a year before. I've busked several times in the days since, often before work, and mean to make it a regular habit. I'd already decided to forgo my usual New Year's Eve practice of attending the party at Lee and Diane Weinstein's for membersof the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society, in favor of going to a public party where there would be more new people I might meet. I went to McGillen's Old Ale House, where they were also doing karaoke. I sang "Imagine" -- having been reminded of how much I like it when it concluded the HumanLight event a couple weeks ago -- and the MC told me I'd done a good job. This feeling must have been shared by another partygoer who high-fived me as I was on my way out. High-fived by a total stranger! That ever happened before. But I'd earned it by having the courage to get in the spotlight like that, without even having any friends present. When I'd first thought I might like to do karaoke, visiting Sisters with other members of BiUnity nearly four years ago, I only tried singing along under my breath, being as yet to shy to do more. Now I sang under my breath only prior to my own performance, to save my voice, but sang out loud afterward, and with no self-consciousness to speak of.

Uploading My Art

The other day I decided to start trying to sell my art, most of which is mathematically inspired. I've just uploaded some of it to my flickr account. My user name there is stripeyseven, and you can find my work in the set called "My art."

Exchanging Languages

Relax! That doesn't mean I'm posting in Korean from now on. Not yet anyway. What it does mean is that I've started conversing with a Korean exchange student, with the object of learning each other's languages. Why am I doing this? you may ask. Well, a Penn undergrad I met at the ICSA conference in June, on hearing of my efforts to overcome social anxiety -- and especially my desire to get more comfortable in one-on-one interaction with people -- suggested I look for ads from people seeking English conversation. In the past month or two I've noticed a couple such ads on Penn's campus (where I use the library's computers for Net access) and responded to them. The first person had already found a conversation partner, but the second was still looking. After exchanging emails I got a call from her yesterday, and met her (with her sister) this evening. I'll be seeing her again Friday. I got that call while receiving a ride home from a HumanLight celebration in Horsham, hosted by the Humanist Association of Greater Philadelphia and sponsored by PhillyCOR, the Philadelphia Coalition of Reason. HumanLight is a humanist winter holiday officially observed on 23 December. The celebration featured food and drink,a speech or two, a storyteller, live music, and the gathering of all the volunteers for a group picture. The ceremonial part involved the lighting of three candles representing reason, hope, and compassion. The mother candle was red while the daughters were green, yellow, and blue, but I don't know whether these colors symbolized anything. The ceremonies opened with singing a song specifically written for HumanLight, and closed with John Lennon's "Imagine." I get rather emotional from that song. Today, I was pleased to see that PhillyCOR has its own display on the mall by the National Visitors Center, set a little further back than the Hannukah menorah and the Nativity creche. PhillyCOR's display is a giant globe on a pedestal, "brought to you by your friendly neighborhood atheists, humanists, and freethinkers."

Logo

Early yesterday morning, a college professor told me and my classmates to write an essay (don't remember what about), and that we each should put not only our name on it, but also something that would distinguish our work from others'.

I was worried that I wouldn't know what to write, but before thinking about that I made up this logo, based on my initials.

Then I woke up.

On Being Asked to Be a Spokeperson

Today I was confronted by an issue that I hadn't encountered for several years -- since before I realized that I had belonged to a cult.

A friend I encountered asked me to help her with something important. She said there's going to be a tenants' rights protest Thursday morning, and she asked if I knew anyone who could take part in it, or could refer anyone. This probably concerns her personally, since I know she was in court with a complaint against her landlord recently.

I was made very uncomfortable by her request. I hesitated in responding, and ultimately said I don't know anyone with a special interest in housing issues.

I understand where this is coming from. It's the same issue that arose in 2002, while I was preparing to volunteer with ISM. Another friend (Jewish) asked if I could take some item from her, such as a toy, to give to a Palestinian child while I was over there. I was similarly made uncomfortable by this request, and declined. At the time I couldn't really articulate why I felt this way; I only knew that for some reason it was important that what I was doing be entirely "my own," and that fulfilling my friend's request would compromise that.

More recently I've come to understand what this was about. In the cult, an effort was made to make me entirely into a vehicle for ideas and formulations that came from others, totally eliminating my autonomy. As a result, I'm made uncomfortable when I'm asked to act as someone else's representative, even though the context is no longer cultic. This was perhaps especially true in the 2002 incident, since a major motive for my volunteering to put myself in harm's way was to strengthen my sense of self, and overcome the fear that questioning any of the convictions I then held would just be a cowardly "retreat from revolutionary positions." If anything, my sensitivity to this kind of thing is probably greater now than it was then, as I've become conscious of where it comes from.

Once Again, Surprised When I Needn't Have Been

I got a letter in the mail yesterday from Jim Tayoun at the Public Record. Before opening it I worried it would be something telling me not to write them any more letters if I was going to question his faith. Or telling me that since the paper had moved its offices I wouldn't get it free in the mail any more. Or telling me not to submit letters for publication if I was going to publish them here at the same time. Instead it was a friendly missive respectfully disagreeing with me. Perhaps I should have expected no less from a former politician, yet I had. Like my recent encounter with Connie Willis, this again illustrates how I still tend to anticipate the worst in how people will respond to me. But I suppose the more I test this expectation against reality and find it false (and see that it doesn't kill me when it's true either), the less it will worry me. The text of Tayoun's letter follows. Dear Eric Your response was well thought out by you. But seeing is believing and that is not the only miracle I have witnessed while in Lebanon. You probably would not believe what the people who benefited from these miracles will say. Sorry for you. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts. Jim Tayoun 

Too Much Like Old Times

A situation has arisen that triggered unpleasant memories of my experience in the Socialist Workers Party's youth group as a teenager.

The director of a group I've been involved in the past few years has expelled one of the other board members. This was announced on the group's list a few days ago, but I only learned of it yesterday at the membership meeting. The director said that no explanation would be given because of the "sensitivity" of the situation. Unfortunately the expelled board member wasn't present to help explain things.

I don't make snap decisions, and the person who raised the issue at the meeting didn't have a very pleasant manner, so I didn't react immediately, but it didn't sit well with me. Early this morning I awoke with the certainty that this was not a situation I could tolerate. So I just posted the following message as a reply to the announcement of the expulsion on the list.


For me, this way of handling things is unacceptable.

Once before, I belonged to a group that -- without ever saying so outright -- expected me to accept what the leadership told me on faith. Because I didn't do so, I was driven out, and sustained considerable emotional damage in the process. On top of that, when I agreed under duress to resign (rather than face trumped-up charges) I found that I couldn't inform other members of the reasons for my decision since I was no longer a member and so could not attend meetings. I wrote a letter of resignation, but had no way of telling if it was actually ever read to the members.

I'm afraid the present situation just bears too much resemblance to that previous one for my comfort. To be sure, ----- says we can ask him questions off list, but in the end we'd still be in the position of having to take his word for things, wouldn't we? And that's simply not something I can do, especially where it appears that people's rights are at issue.

I'm not judging what happened, since I don't know what happened. What I do know is that I can't be part of a group that functions in this way. Consequently, I am resigning my membership in ---------.

To be fair, yesterday's meeting was at a public venue, so it wouldn't have been so easy to exclude someone. Still, there are ways of making people unwelcome. And it would be a moot point if the person responsible for the decision had explained it himself.

Update from Friday: Despite considerable anxiety, I did tell Connie Willis about what I'd found offensive in Passage (though I didn't make much eye contact while doing so). Her response was respectful, though I got the impression she didn't get the part about how the characters' stupid approach to advertising for subjects disrespected scientific method. I was also pleased that afterward, another person in attendance told me he agreed with my point about that. And, prior to the meeting, I'd run into someone I met at the cultic studies conference and found him readily agreeing with both points. So I'm glad I did it.

One thing that occurs to me, especially in light of my eye contact trouble, is that I probably need more to develop comfort in confronting people on a more strictly one-on-one basis, than in a group setting. So perhaps the next time I have an issue like this to raise with someone, even if I'll be seeing them in a group context, I should try to bring it up with them privately (e.g., in a case like this, expressing my feelings to Willis after the formal Q&A, when people were lining up to speak with her personally and get her autograph).