that time dr. phil managed to victim blame in 140 characters (or less!)

when i was in high school a group of my friends and i used a website called Deviant Art.  it was a pretty artsy-farsty little cyber corner where we would journal and post poems, stories, drawings, paintings, photos...you name it.  aside from instant messaging like ICQ and MSN, DA was my first real encounter with using technology as a means to communicate with people.  interestingly, in comparison with all the mass technology that we are borderline #obsessed with today, DA required a high level of communicative skills in order to "fit in".  people were actually posting full chapters of novels they were working on, and complicated and convoluted poetry.  the comments that a photo might generate would go on and on, and back and forth, and were deep and verbose.

it makes me quite sad to think of that platform as my introduction to a broad, internet medium of communication when i compare it with a lot of the technology of today.  although i am quite readily able to see the timeliness and fun of Twitter and apps like Snapchat, these devices obviously encourage people to think quickly and haphazardly.  literally - that Snapchat picture or video will disappear in ten seconds!  whatever it is you're going to think, you better think it NOW.  As for Twitter, you're limited to 140 of your favourite characters INCLUDING whichever trendy hashtags you desire to include.

of course, it's not only the mediums on which we're socializing on that encourage us to think fast and short.  i'm sure my most recent text messages and BBMs were filled with "w/"s and "tgt"s and "tmrw"s instead of real, full blown words.  and for what?  what am i gaining here?  what crazy delusion am i under that i will somehow actually save a meaningful amount of time cutting down on the other 15 characters it would require to spell those words out in full?  it's like people who drive 130 instead of 120 on the 401.  you know no police are stopping you at 120 and that going 130 will only get you to your destination, 10, 15, 20 minutes faster, MAX, and you MIGHT actually get a ticket.  there is no way those are minutes are so valuable!  it is simply not a meaningful amount of time!  but we are a society obsessed with getting where we're going and sending that super important text message RIGHT NOW.

tonight i think our hyper-techology-obsessed culture hit an all-time, bottomed out, depths-of-despair kind of low for me.  next in the not-at-all-comic tragedy suffered by the family of Rehtaeh Parsons: Dr. Phil - a man obviously completely devoid of any knowledge of human nature, empathy or background in psychology/psychiatry.  

the CBC writes that Rehteah's mother will be appearing on Dr. Phil after the socially unaware talk show host tweeted "If a girl is drunk, is it OK to have sex with her?  Reply yes or not to @DrPhil #teensaccused".

first, i will give you a moment to vomit.  

secondly, although i'd like to give you a complete description of the black out rage that hashtag induced in me,  i will instead focus on the import i believe needs to be placed on Dr. Phil's encouragement of using a yes-or-no answer to deal with this question.  that's it.  that is the correct response.  you should have no further thought than that - one syllable is all you get.

as an adult with a fully functional brain, social conscious and vocabulary, Dr. Phil's question for me read as follows:

"In a society where rape culture and victim blaming are extremely common, should we blame the girl who gets drunk and raped?  Reply yes or no."

according to Dr. Phil's bitch - oops typo, i meant spokesperson - Dr. Phil does not condone victim blaming: 

"Dr. Phil believes that the position of those incapacitated in any fashion - be it drugs, alcohol, age or mental illness - cannot and do not have the capacity to give their consent to anything, especially sex, which could have life-changing repercussions."

what a weak, futile, pathetic and (once again) vomit-inducing statement.  first of all, it's a poorly worded and grammatically incorrect sentiment.  second of all, according to this silly ol' thing called the law, if a person is unable to give consent, having sex with said person is a crime.  it's sexual assault.  probably rape!  so, i mean, i hate to be the girl who gets up in your face and endeavours to use reason but that makes it NOT "OK" DR. PHIL.  NOT "OK" AS IN ILLEGAL.  so could everyone please just tweet "no" in response to Dr. Phil's question?  if you want, you could probably even tweet just "N".  actually, are there emoticons on Twitter?  can i tweet a thumbs-down to Dr. Phil?  that's even better - no words at all.  no letters.  just a symbol.  that would really make things much easier for everyone.

although i have been a fiend for social media, seeing this today really did tell me we've taken it too far.  somehow this deep conversation, which should properly be about the ramifications of victim blaming and rape culture, has been boiled down to 140 characters: 18 words, one handle and one hashtag.  my contribution is meant to be one word long.  is this how far we have come?  we have computer scientists' and nobel prize winners' amazing technology at our fingertips and on a question of huge social importance i am meant to say one word.  well, i suppose it's at least #efficient.

oh, and by the way, #teensaccused?  i'm not sure where this social embarrassment of a man has been for the last six months, but this conversation is not about how bad we feel about high school football heroes who lost their scholarship.  in lieu of #teensaccused, i would suggest #victimblaming, #rapeculture or #DrPhilGTFO.

actually, that last one might be the best technologically-apt, modern day use of short form i've ever used.  perhaps it will trend later.

"Oh my god, you're actually really smart!"

A boy who loved me once told me that the novel I was writing was a well-written little something that lots of women would like.  I thanked him for taking the time to read my little something.  After all, he was a busy person, always with a plan running through his mind, always with a list of things that were flashy and important.  Well, not everyone's taste is the same, I thought.  And, perhaps it really is something only a woman could appreciate - who else would really want to read my minimalist, quasi-utopian society, piece of feminist prose?

I am obviously no longer with this boy.  It shouldn't have been the story that gave it away - the past tense use of the verb 'to love' ought to have given you the first clue.  This little anecdote about my little something had very little bearing on my relationship with the aforementioned boy-of-before.  No, I'm not reciting this tale today as a means of bettering you and I, or bashing the boy-of-before.  This story is just one of many I have, one of many that many have, about the backhanded compliment, a loathsome piece of shit comment that I'm quite sure actually slithers sideways out of mouths before it nestles firmly behind the self-confidence of the children we were with the childish fancies we had.

The backhanded compliment is obviously a friend to no one.  Some brief research has led me to understand that the insult-disguised-as-compliment was originally referred to as a "left handed compliment".  In her article, "A Left Handed Compliment: A newly discovered, early nineteenth-century litograph by John Lewis Marks", Janet Snowman writes "A major interest of A Left Handed Compliment is what it tells us about the perception of left-handededness at the beginning of the nineteenth century" and notes that some artists at this time would work with mirrors while creating their etchings in order to avoid hatchings (sloping lines) providing evidence of their left-handedness.  Snowman comments that the litograph in question is likely an insult of some kind, stating that "left-handed means a reversal of normal properties and an inversion of sense and relationship..." So, first and foremost, on every occasion of uttering a left or backhanded compliment, a slur against the subdominant hand in society was made - obviously at the time a trait thought to make one weaker - and furthermore against homosexuality (Snowman writes that left-handed was "a term for homosexuality").

What's more, Snowman tells readers left-handed compliments allegedly quite often had a sexual undertone.  This ought to come as a not-too-great surprise to us - consider the library of anti-female compliments that women have been subjected to over the years: being able to throw like a girl, or being smart for a girl, for example.  The nature of such an affirmation of one's abilities is obviously firmly rooted in patriarchy.

Who woulda thought the origins (of which Snowman writes there is very little to go by) of this everyday, off-the-cuff slight of a phrase would be so loaded?

Of course, in modern society we rarely, if ever, whip out a good zinger and first consider all the many and varied subtexts we could also imply if we wished.  Instead, the backhanded compliment is simply one of two things: a funny turn of phrase between buddies, or an asshole move when one really could have something nice to say.  You may have guessed I'm unconcerned with the witty banter friends get on with.

I find myself perplexed, troubled, some might say bewildered with the backhanded compliment between people that doesn't act as a source of joviality.  I question how far one gets with a parade of masqueraded insults.  Do you believe this girl or that boy or he or she didn't catch that?  Or were you hoping to set up your great escapade into your future interactions on such a douchebag riddled trajectory?  Can someone just explain to me the gain one might see when telling me "oh my god, you're actually really smart!"

Yes, the quote in the subject line is not but a figment of my wildest imagination.  This is a gem I stumbled across earlier this summer.  Being that I am a flirt and was enjoying being doted on in the form of drink-buying and being told I was pretty, I didn't tell my flavour of the week many of the things that were running through my mind.  It's my honesty, you see!  I find it troublesome to deliver a cleverly disguised slight in a perky voice, either for fear of what karma might do to me or with worry that my nanny can feel my complete disregard of the "you catch more flies with honey..." maxim that she worked so tirelessly to teach me.  So, when the glasses of wine are free flowing I tend to keep many of my real thoughts to myself, but yes I know I am actually smart - I mean, I know I technically bought these law and music degrees, but like, actually, I had to study and learn to sing opera and all that, ya know?

A friend of mine at law school relished in a good backhanded compliment - the kind you pass between friends, the kind that even symbolizes you ARE friends in the first place.  But my friend would vigorously defend such tongue-in-cheek comments as "growth chirps", they're just to make us better people!  Seriously!  Thus, when faced with a backhanded compliment I like to size up the other and say to myself - could this person be better?  COULD they, Emily?!  Suddenly I realize, my silence...just as heavy-laden as my novel being great for women or my actually being smart.  Let's just call it a growth chirp, shall we?

the error of our ways: on mental unwellness six months later.

In february, Bell's Let's Talk day took place and what a day it was!  Advocates of mental wellness everywhere texted and tweeted and Facebook'ed all day long, sharing the #BellLetsTalk hashtag and Bell Facebook pictures as often as possible.  The creative corporate social responsibility initiative to stick it to the stigma surrounding mental unwellness was inspiring and invigorating.  What a clever idea, a communications company making a play on our inability to communicate about mental wellness.  So great!  So witty, charming, commendable!  I texted 'til I could text no more.

At the time, I wanted to write something about mental wellness here in this little blogspot of mine.  But what was I to say?  The issue has become a topic of great fervour and passion for so many people I know.  I had no great story, no careful words of wisdom to offer.  I decided I'd sit on it, write about the subject in six months.

Well, here it is: six months later.  With horrifyingly eerie timing, it was less than a week ago that I read about the Winnipeg mom whose death and children's deaths are being mourned as a result of the 32 year old mother's postpartum depression, and, perhaps more importantly, the attached stigma (it ought to be noted that whether or not the tragedy is actually due to postpartum depression is still a matter of speculation).

The National Post writes that "postpartum depression can occur after a woman has given birth and is a serious health risk for both women and their babies.  The symptoms are more intense and longer lasting than the typical baby blues and may equally interfere with a mother's ability to care for her child".  Today, a study has been released by the Canadian Medical Association Journal detailing the correlation between living in an urban centre (i.e. Toronto, Vancouver and Montreal) and a heightened percentage of women suffering from postpartum depression.  According to the study, the major risk factors for postpartum depression include "history of depression, social support and immigration status".  

I understand my connection between mental unwellness on a general level and postpartum depression might strike some as reaching.  After all, postpartum depression ought not to be lumped in with bipolar disorder, just as bipolar disorder ought not to be lumped in with postpartum.  I suggest the self-perpetuating troubles of postpartum depression, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, ADD, and so on are all related to that same stigma that we tried so hard to tweet away on February 12th.  A lack of social support, to me, suggests a woman feels she has no one to talk to.  Immigration status could very plausibly mean that your support system is even smaller than the average woman's, if existent at all.  What of cultures where a woman vocalizing a complaint is culturally unacceptable?  In that case, the ability to speak out about one's mental health following the birth of your child is likely even more significantly decimated.  These elements which encourage silence remain the same whether the depression or other mental unwellness one is experiencing is a result of one's post-birth or general physiology.  

To be strong and silent; to stand in the front of the line when work is handed out and in the back when praise is given; to not air your dirty laundry - these are mantras we have been reared with.  With these obscure lessons that silence is somehow golden firmly embedded in the formative years of so many of us, it is unsurprising that to speak out when the thing which ails ye can't be seen with the naked eye, nor under a microscope.  What's more surprising to me, though, is the inclination that this path might make sense.  

Just as teardrops, when they are large and round and compassionate, can leave a long strand washed clean of discord, the summer rain as it washes away the motionless dust can bring to a person's soul something like endless breathing. (The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery).

in february of this year, Bell's Let's Talk day took place.  it was a day of talking about mental illness, an historically super taboo subject.  for every text a Bell customer sent, a donation was made.  for every tweet or facebook status update sharing the Let's Talk pictures and #bellletstalk hashtag, a donation was made.  for a person with a deep interest in mental wellness, as a i believe we as a society are all becoming, it was an exciting and moving day.

of course, like all things, momentum was high on february 12th, but slowly and surely the keenness towards talking about mental wellness was left as