An Attitude and Culture of Victimization
I think the things that happen to you are less important than what you do with them.
Today a friend of mine kept sending me texts about this article he was reading. Basically the article, and hence the texts, were about how royally F-d up his life was destined to be because his family hadn't been supportive of his sexuality when he was younger. Now don't get me wrong, I care about my friend very much and I'm deeply sorry for all the painful things that have happened to me, but one strong message kept coming through again and again in each of his texts, "I'm a victim!"
It's not just this, if it were I'd probably have more patience with it. He also plays the victim because of health problems. Also financial problems. As well as on-going problems with various friends and family members. Basically it's victim, victim, victim! I swear sometimes I just want to shout, "GET OVER IT!" I have repeatedly done the much nicer equivalent of letting him know that if the situation is something he can change he should work toward it and if it isn't he should accept it and make peace with it. See, that sounds way nicer than "Fix it or deal with it, but quit the damn whining!" I think it all pretty much boils down to the same thing though.
It's just the perpetual helplessness that gets tiring. I'm all for acknowledging, analyzing, and expressing one's feelings. Indeed, I've talked with him in depth about these things many times, and exclusively made the focus of my efforts sympathizing and simply listening. It's just that, it doesn't seem to get better after we're done. Instead everything just keeps getting dragged back out again and again and I feel like I'm supposed to act shocked and terribly supportive and sympathetic every time. I kinda feel like I've done all I can here. I've offered a hell of a lot of emotional support and a hell of a lot of advice, several times, sometimes separately and sometimes together. I don't know what else to do. I don't think there is anything else I can do. I think at this point it's up to him to quit being a victim and do something about the situation (or accept that it will always be what it is and that dwelling and complaining aren't going to help).
I think it's primarily an attitude thing though. For example he dwells on my problems more than I do. A couple of months ago we went out to a club to meet some friends, I was driving, and on the way we got pulled over and I was given a ticket for doing a rolling stop at a stop sign. For the remainder of the night, every hour or so he'd bring it back up and ask if I was okay, or sympathize. It was nice, and I know he was trying to be supportive, the thing is, I was really fine. I was pissed and disappointed for like fifteen minutes, I bitched about it to all our friends, then kinda brushed it off. At that point I decide all I could do was pay it and get on with my life. The first time he brought it back up that evening I was having a lovely time and when he asked, "are you okay with what happened?" Or something to that effect, my reaction was an honest, perplexed, "what happened?" By the same token, I feel like very often he spontaneously brings up my problems and then sympathizes. As I said, I'm sure it's his way of being supportive, but the majority of the time I wasn't even thinking about my problems.
It's not really just him though. I mean, not just him. I know lot's of people who seem to use their problems almost like a crutch, at the very least as a permanent excuse. I think this sort of thing is often very prevalent in the GLBT community. There's almost a "culture of victimization." Homophobia is the scapegoat to everything isn't it? If someone doesn't like me, it's bound to be because he/she is homophobic. Couldn't be that they simply don't like my personality. Didn't get a promotion? Homophobia. Slow service at the restaurant? Homophobia on a plate please. Of course it's not really just the GLBT. One of the only prejudices I've ever had against minorities (and pretty much all minorities) is that I half expect them to be walking around with this victimized chip on their shoulder, hypersensitive to the tiniest, most unrelated thing. I think prejudice is a really terrible, ugly, horrific thing, but it's nasty little brother is most definitely casual, unsubstantiated accusations of prejudice.
Of course I think it goes beyond minorities too. I think that in many ways the whole country has a culture of victimization. It seems like everyone's just sitting around waiting for things to go wrong, and then as soon as they do they look for excuses instead of solutions. It's even better if the person is "blessed" with two or three problems that create a lovely cycle of defeat. That way if someone offers a viable option to one of the problems you still get to whine and say, "but that won't work because of..."
The psychologist Martin Seligman proposed the theory of "Learned Helplessness." Basically, the way it works is you get this dog, put him in a metal pen with short wall diving his pen from the neighbouring pen, then run a mild electrical shock through his pen. The dog will jump out over the wall and into the safe pen thereby solving his problem. In the second part of the experiment both the dog's staring pen and the neighbouring pen are electrified, or else a roof is placed over the pen so that the dog can't get away from the shock. Initially the dog struggles, eventually he just gives up and lays there whimpering. Next the roof is removed, or the neighbouring pen is safe or whatever. Guess what? The dog still just lays there whimpering instead of solving his problem which he could now do if he tried. The dog has learned helplessness.
I suppose my friend, the minorities, and America as a whole, have all just hit their respective heads on the roofs of their cages one too many times, and now they don't even try to hop out.
When I was a kid whenever we would go any sort of store or restaurant or something, even if the lights were off or the sign said "closed" I would insist on getting out of the car and pulling on the door. It frustrated my mom a lot, but after a few years she just gave up and allowed me to do it because taking the extra 30 seconds for me to jump out, tug on the door, accept that the place was truly closed and then shut up about it, was far easier than listening to me bitch and nag all the way home. On a few occasions I found that the door did indeed open; it only looked closed because it was poorly marked, badly illuminated, or just not very busy. Didn't happen often mind you, but even though I grew to expect that the door probably would be locked, I still felt better after I'd given a good hardy yank just in case.
Sometimes I wish I could convince the people around me to pull on a few doors they expect to be locked. You never know when one might open unexpectedly for you.
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