LJ Idol Home Game - Failure to Communicate
Once upon a time, more than half my lifetime ago, there was a girl who I shall now designate to be called Q. She features in too many of my High School memories to be believed. Sometimes these memories were positive, sometimes neutral, many were negative. It's peculiar how the negative memories appear to predominate, perhaps as if I felt I had to learn something from them at the time or was trying to fit them into some framework with cause and effect, justification and moral-of-the-tale.
Q was the Queen Bee. certainly she taught me a lot. One thing she taught me, in the long run, was that people do grow up, evolve and change. She did, I did, we all did. Most of what she did and the fury it engendered in me seems laughable now, but it's all a matter of perspective. Most of what she taught me was how not to stand out, worldly wisdom which I am still processing, analysing and rejecting in many ways: "Q will hoot with laughter if I wear those shoes."
"Q won't like it if I go to the fair. That's her turf."
"Of course Q was annoyed when you spoke up in class. Weren't you showing off? No wonder her crowd are whispering about you!"
Sometimes Q was merciful and I would be flavour of the month, recipient of letters, bubblegum, invitations, kudos. I naturally lapped up those scraps.
Largely Q was indifferent, sometimes insultingly so, insulting because she was, after all, the Queen Bee.
Sometimes Q was actively malicious: "You're a fat lesbian."
"You're stupid. You have nothing to contribute."
"You're a bitch and everybody thinks so."
and this would be backed up by the consensus of the inner circle. Nothing like the consensus of the inner circle made up of those who wanted to belong and didn't want to be next in line.
I wanted to belong and didn't want to be next in line. Also, who doesn't want to be a get along girl? I did.
Fortunately for me, since life had to go on and I was so very rarely part of the favoured group, I made life without the sanction of Q go on. I learned not to aggravate her too much and to go ahead with what I wanted to do even if it did. I could be the suspect rebel, prophet in her own country, the great freedom fighter who would be bought off temporarily by cinema tickets or a 'nice shirt!' but know it wouldn't last. I would dare to wonder why someone who was so popular felt the need to ostracise others, but not for too long and seldom rush to the aid of other victims. Q and her crowd were a force of nature, like the rain, and apparently insurmountable so I did not try after a while.
This went on until we were all 18, when there was finally a sea-change.
It wasn't much of a sea-change, since it took place right at the end of our time at school, before we would all be free. A large group came together at a watering hole and, in the absence of Q, lit into her.
The trustiest henchmen delineated her 1001 vanities, foibles and misdeeds. The second tier elaborated on the same. The next rank down shared anecdotes of Q's awfulness. The consensus was that no-one had actually liked Q for years. They didn't like the way she treated other people. They didn't like the way she had treated them. They didn't like the way she had expected a Greek Chorus of support every time she had done something monstrous or put someone else down.
I hate these situations. I hate having to be 'fair' when bleating along to the ad hominem argument, the postmortem bitchfest, which is in full throttle and when a particularly large and noisome wig is being knocked from a head.
Why had they all hung around with her? Why had they all supported her iniquities if they loathed them so? Only the consensus had given them weight. Q had her own problems and it looked as if one of them had been everybody nodding along for years whilst secretly despising her. That wasn't friendship.
The answer was obvious and self-fulfilling: everybody else had been going along with it. Quietism. Who wanted to be the outsider? It had been fun being part of the in-crowd. It had been safe being part of the in-crowd. Who was going to speak up against that? Who wants to be the bitch who speaks up and spoils the party? I could also add that, no doubt, humans being humans, it had felt good to have the upper hand, be in on the secret, be able to feel superior to other people however fleetingly. Haven't we all been there? Haven't we all fallen prey to this, perhaps to go on to feel ashamed of this? What ever else could be said about Q, she had been a natural leader and given the people what they wanted.
Failure of communication is what it came down to. If only A had confided in B and B had kept the flame of rebellion alive long enough to speak to C. Then all three could have extended help and support to D, E & F and perhaps taken them on their own merits or lack thereof. If Q had really been so nefarious, then that quality would have been diminished with lack of attention and support, tacit or otherwise.
Say no to bullies, people. Don't feed the RL trolls; pity them and take an adult step back. Think of the opportunities we have all missed to put wrongs right or else to let those wrongs wither away, starved of sustenance. Now that we've all been around the block a few more times, I believe we can learn from the past and laugh hard and out loud.
Q was the Queen Bee. certainly she taught me a lot. One thing she taught me, in the long run, was that people do grow up, evolve and change. She did, I did, we all did. Most of what she did and the fury it engendered in me seems laughable now, but it's all a matter of perspective. Most of what she taught me was how not to stand out, worldly wisdom which I am still processing, analysing and rejecting in many ways: "Q will hoot with laughter if I wear those shoes."
"Q won't like it if I go to the fair. That's her turf."
"Of course Q was annoyed when you spoke up in class. Weren't you showing off? No wonder her crowd are whispering about you!"
Sometimes Q was merciful and I would be flavour of the month, recipient of letters, bubblegum, invitations, kudos. I naturally lapped up those scraps.
Largely Q was indifferent, sometimes insultingly so, insulting because she was, after all, the Queen Bee.
Sometimes Q was actively malicious: "You're a fat lesbian."
"You're stupid. You have nothing to contribute."
"You're a bitch and everybody thinks so."
and this would be backed up by the consensus of the inner circle. Nothing like the consensus of the inner circle made up of those who wanted to belong and didn't want to be next in line.
I wanted to belong and didn't want to be next in line. Also, who doesn't want to be a get along girl? I did.
Fortunately for me, since life had to go on and I was so very rarely part of the favoured group, I made life without the sanction of Q go on. I learned not to aggravate her too much and to go ahead with what I wanted to do even if it did. I could be the suspect rebel, prophet in her own country, the great freedom fighter who would be bought off temporarily by cinema tickets or a 'nice shirt!' but know it wouldn't last. I would dare to wonder why someone who was so popular felt the need to ostracise others, but not for too long and seldom rush to the aid of other victims. Q and her crowd were a force of nature, like the rain, and apparently insurmountable so I did not try after a while.
This went on until we were all 18, when there was finally a sea-change.
It wasn't much of a sea-change, since it took place right at the end of our time at school, before we would all be free. A large group came together at a watering hole and, in the absence of Q, lit into her.
The trustiest henchmen delineated her 1001 vanities, foibles and misdeeds. The second tier elaborated on the same. The next rank down shared anecdotes of Q's awfulness. The consensus was that no-one had actually liked Q for years. They didn't like the way she treated other people. They didn't like the way she had treated them. They didn't like the way she had expected a Greek Chorus of support every time she had done something monstrous or put someone else down.
I hate these situations. I hate having to be 'fair' when bleating along to the ad hominem argument, the postmortem bitchfest, which is in full throttle and when a particularly large and noisome wig is being knocked from a head.
Why had they all hung around with her? Why had they all supported her iniquities if they loathed them so? Only the consensus had given them weight. Q had her own problems and it looked as if one of them had been everybody nodding along for years whilst secretly despising her. That wasn't friendship.
The answer was obvious and self-fulfilling: everybody else had been going along with it. Quietism. Who wanted to be the outsider? It had been fun being part of the in-crowd. It had been safe being part of the in-crowd. Who was going to speak up against that? Who wants to be the bitch who speaks up and spoils the party? I could also add that, no doubt, humans being humans, it had felt good to have the upper hand, be in on the secret, be able to feel superior to other people however fleetingly. Haven't we all been there? Haven't we all fallen prey to this, perhaps to go on to feel ashamed of this? What ever else could be said about Q, she had been a natural leader and given the people what they wanted.
Failure of communication is what it came down to. If only A had confided in B and B had kept the flame of rebellion alive long enough to speak to C. Then all three could have extended help and support to D, E & F and perhaps taken them on their own merits or lack thereof. If Q had really been so nefarious, then that quality would have been diminished with lack of attention and support, tacit or otherwise.
Say no to bullies, people. Don't feed the RL trolls; pity them and take an adult step back. Think of the opportunities we have all missed to put wrongs right or else to let those wrongs wither away, starved of sustenance. Now that we've all been around the block a few more times, I believe we can learn from the past and laugh hard and out loud.