I came across a very interesting story the other day, one where
the editor of Grantland apologises for running this. So I read the article in
order to have a context for the apology. After I finished the article (and
before I finished the apology) I must confess I was rather clueless about why
an apology was issued. It seemed to me a rather interesting article uncovering
the hoax and the personality behind the particular golfing equipment. True, I
did think it was a wee bit tasteless of them for sharing that Essay had died
but that’s about all that really stood out to me. It did not seem like a journalist
hounding her to death. Nor does it come across as sensational-isation of the
issue. In fact I thought it was almost
sympathetic towards the woman who had built the hoax.
Then I read the apology. And as it laid out plainly the
mistakes which the magazine (and I) had made, I must say I was racked with
guilt. I had always seen myself as someone was more than just sympathetic to
the LGBT cause. That I was someone who was sensitive to the discrimination. I
thought I could imagine what it is like to a part of the repressed minority,
extrapolating what I know as being part of the repressed majority (a.k.a
women). Extrapolating the fear and loneliness that seem to be part of even the
most extroverted gay person I know. Yet the fact remains that I was instead
part of the unknowingly callous when it came to Essay. It was not that I was
ignorant which surprised me. It was the sheer scale of it.
And it’s not just me. I’m sure more than half of the readers
who see themselves as liberal minded would have missed the implications. The
people at Grantland certainly did. And I could understand why they did. The
revelation of her transgender nature was not as much an emotional one, as much
as another fact disproved. It would have not mattered to them had they
discovered that Essay was a gay man or whether she was in fact Chinese. Because
in logical brains, these are merely facts to store about a person, along with hair
and height, not an emotional discovery. Which unfortunately is not the case.
And how did I miss that? Given I know how zealously my few gay
friends guard their secret and how carefully they decide with whom they will
share it. The months of torturous preparation they do in order to withstand the
possible rejection when they finally share. And how equally careful I am with their
secret. Though I might not always agree with them on whom it should be kept the
secret, I respect that the decision is theirs and theirs alone to make, who
they want to share that with.
And the evidence of her reluctance to share was there all over
the article. Yet it escaped me. Though a fraud she might have been, she was
after all a human. And this basic respect of her privacy should have been
respected.
That’s when you see the problem with ‘Live and let live’
policy. Because it breeds a certain type of insensitivity when you take for
granted that everyone feels the way you do regarding the matter; a certain type
of false security that everyone will react the way you do to the same; and the
most dangerous of all, a peculiar strain of ignorance which is all the more
difficult to detect because it breeds under the guise of liberal-ness.
The solution? The one I have could possibly be about as
effective as the cures for common cold but I willingly admit it. The lesson for
me, as a reader, from all of this was this: While you may empathise, don’t assume
you know what it is like to be in those shoes. I’ll be hard pressed to remember
this time and time again. But that’s about all I can do to correct my insensitivity
towards Essay.
RIP Dr.V!
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