SATC: Snail Mail
When I posted my most recent article, I received a comment that set off all my internal alarm bells. It was disturbing and strange, and I hope it was computer-generated. (“I felt like a prairie dog,” the comment read, among other, more explicit things. “POP POP.”) But I had no idea where the comment came from, and I don’t really want to know. I left the email in my read inbox and continued with my day.
Had it been delivered in a different context, would I so easily have moved on? If I knew where it came from, or if it had been written as a text? What if it came through the mail? What if someone said that to me in person?
There are a lot of ways to communicate: body language, speaking, texting, writing, etc. It’s interesting to think about the different contexts of communication. The different ways we receive messages impact the very content of the message way more than I ever give credit to.
I recently posted a survey form as a new extension of SATC. Last week, I asked you all about the kinds of things people say in different situations, the ways in which the context of communication has affected you.
One person told a story about cat-calling. Recently, she had been walking outside her dorm and heard one of the construction workers say something in Portuguese. As a Spanish speaker, she understood the intention of what he said, if not the exact meaning. She turned to give him a skeptical look. He said it again. When she turned once more, he caught on, and said, “Oh, do you speak Portuguese?”.
She was angry but slightly bemused. It was obvious, she said, that the man had not expected her to understand his comment. It was anonymous, momentary, and the man did not intend to really interact with her. Cat-calling is usually like that: as one friend told me, “it’s not like a man yelling out of his car expects any response. I’m not going to, like, chase after his truck in a fit of passion.” When someone doesn’t foresee any consequences to their words, it becomes much easier to say them.
Someone else told me they sometimes write letters when they’re trying to work out their feelings. I’ve done that before, too. It helps to write a letter to someone that I’m never going to send. I can say what I mean without fearing their response; I can try to figure out what I mean so that, when I see them in person, I can articulate it. Well, I can approximate what I mean -- I usually don’t have the courage to be as honest as I wish I could.
It’s kind of like writing these articles. I write them in a void, sitting cross-legged in my bed or at a table in the corner of Coffee Exchange. I write them with an intended audience in mind, but I don’t get instant feedback, so it almost feels like writing to myself. When I posted my very first article, I didn’t realize the implications. Of course, I imagined there would be some response, but I didn’t quite understand that those responses would be directed at me. Then someone told me I was the new Taylor Swift of Brown. I found out that people discussed my articles without me there. Someone tried to hit on me by using a line from my article. I wanted to write that article, and I’m glad I did, but I didn’t really think anyone would read it. I didn’t think I’d be writing another one the next week, or the next. Or today.
Writing for an online publication is a bit strange. The response can be almost instant, but it feels more intangible because I can’t hold my writing in my hands. I sometimes feel removed from the things and people I’m trying to write about and for. Since I’ve been writing, this lack of honesty and vulnerability I was initially trying to address has morphed. SATC has made me more comfortable with these kinds of personal topics, and it has prompted some really great conversations with friends and, now, with the people filling out the SATC survey.
I forget, though, that people read these articles. People who are not my close friends. People who know who I am, even if I don’t personally know them. I’m not writing an anonymous comment, and I do hope you all understand the messages of my articles. When I think about that, the fact that I’m communicating with people through my laptop, it reminds me about the consequences of my actions, and the context of my communication. It’s one thing to write about all this, but it’s another to start real conversations.
The bravery I feel when I’m typing fades a bit when I’m face to face with people. That’s the bravery of anonymity, of writing without an audience. I can say anything if you don’t know who I am. I can talk to myself all I want. When I started SATC I was absolutely not being brave. Now, I feel a bit more courageous, like I can take some of this bravery into my actual relationships. It’s almost like I’m writing a letter to everyone, to anyone, to myself. (This sounds like a plug for snail-mail. It’s not.)
Maybe the only way to get better at talking to other people is simply to talk to myself more. To write letters, articles. To let myself think honestly, at least internally, so I can try to be more honest when I talk to other people.