| Sometimes publication day is rough. Sometimes it makes you want to hide in a closet. And sometimes, the commenters swallow you whole and spit you out. That’s what happened to me last week when my Washington Post storyabout my sons’ potty mouths dropped.
As many of you know, I write to figure myself out. I don’t have all of the answers. If I did, I wouldn’t be doing this gig. I use the craft to better understand my life and to make sense of conflicting information and headlines. This story was no exception.
From the time my boys hit double digits (though let’s be honest, probably from the time they were first exposed to other kids and TV shows), they experimented with words and terms I found rude and offensive.
For years, I tried to reign in this behavior with incentives, consequences. All the things. Then one day, my son, Brian, came home from school, discovered a note from his buddy in his backpack with the words “dip wad,” and giggled with delight.
“You’re happy that your friend called you a ‘dip wad’?” I asked, completely bewildered. And that’s when the story idea took hold.
Finding My Story
My son told me that, for boys at least, an insult from kids you like is actually a good thing. It means they like you — almost like when kids flirt by heckling each other. “It’s a compliment,” he said.
I wondered if he was right, so I put on my journalist hat and dug into the research. Well, that’s not entirely true. I picked up the phone and called my friend and colleague, Jennifer L. W. Fink, mom of four boys, founder of Building Boys, and author of “Building Boys: Raising Great Guys in a World that Misunderstands Males.” This is a woman who “gets” boys.
Long story short: Fink was on “Team Brian.” “Most guys don’t bond with words, and when they do, it’s usually crass language and potty humor,” she said. I found some studies to support her theory and went to work.
At the time, I wasn’t thinking about incensing strangers. I wasn’t worried about backlash. I was just trying to figure out this phenomenon. But it turns out, I’d underestimated the power of commenters to knock you flat and make you question your value system.
After quickly scanning the comments, I needed a bath and a 40-minute meditation to sanitize my psyche. A sampling of their loveliness:
- Ugh. What a ridiculous article, with even more ridiculous “advice”: let bros be bros results in “it’s just locker-room talk.” And frat house rapes.
- I see Patural (sp.) believes in “boys will be boys.” Her dangerous thinking re-enforces (sp.) gender stereotypes that explains away aggressive behaviors boys exhibit by linking it with “natural” or “biological” impulses.
- The author needs to nip this behavior in the bud before her boys become defiant little twerps who think talking garbage is perfectly acceptable everywhere.
- And my personal favorite: Do better in raising your boys and perhaps we won’t have rapists, mass shooters, nor the GOP.
Enduring the Haters
True, Washington Post readers have a reputation for being especially vicious. Even seemingly benign stories like “Why we keep the memory of my husband’s late wife alive for our children,” and “Teaching our kids the holiday spirit by having them take a turn as Santa” generated some heat.
My editor on the insults story expected blowback, yes, but I don’t think she could have predicted the hate that rolled in. Within two hours of my story posting, I reached out to her.
ME: “I’m getting blasted.”
HER: “The sad thing is, they are doing exactly what you’re saying not to let our boys do in that piece. Crossing a line, being nasty, etc.”
I had the exact same thought!
Yet, buried deep in the morass of meanness, there’s almost always gratitude — someone who feels seen because I shared my truth. In this case that someone was a man named Grant Donnelly. But his comments landed in my inbox, not on the Internet:
“Dad of three here (two girls and a boy). I do coaching, this year decided to focus on men and boys. So set up a google news alert on boys and boys studies. It can be an infrequent or sparsely populated email but today it throws up an absolute gem: Let your boys be a little foul-mouthed – It might help them bond. Why tell you about my kids first? Well, it was like reading a diary entry from our house for the last few years: Yo Mama jokes, potty humor, double entendres, even right down to the roasting and having to call time out. Brilliant and well-written article. Thanks!”
Softening the Blow
I frequently tell my students “Don’t read the comments.” But it’s a lot easier said than done, particularly when you want to see feedback that makes you lights up, words that remind you why you write.
Unfortunately, there are no rules for how to support your tender heart when you’re on the receiving end of online vitriol. But after last week’s debacle, I have come up with a sort of rubric for how to navigate comments on controversial topics (beyond the standard and brilliant advice, “don’t read them”):
- Get a sensitivity reader. Generally speaking, sensitivity readers are people who have a lived experience as a marginalized person, but they can also review content to ensure that you’re considering how your work will be received — and who you might offend. For more on sensitivity readers and why you should consider getting one, read this blog post by my friend and colleague, Judi Ketteler.
- Do damage control. It doesn’t hurt to reach out to your editor and let them know that comments are blowing up. I was shocked when my editor responded with: “I’ll get the comments team to clean it up.” Sometimes the publication will even turn off comments. It doesn’t look like either of those things happened with my piece, but it’s nice to know there are options.
- Appoint a gatekeeper. Ask a trusted writer friend to filter comments and send you the highlights, or just to give you the “all clear!” if you happen to have only kind commenters (lucky you!)
- If you can’t appoint a gatekeeper, cling to the good and obliterate the bad. Make a ritual of it! Print them out. Draw devil horns on them. Burn them. Let your kids run them through the shredder. Anything that makes you feel better about releasing the negativity.
- Don’t take it personally. Comments are rarely about YOU. Try writing a note to a commenter with compassion and curiosity as your compass. Note: This is for your eyes only. Tempting as it may be, most experts recommend against engaging with commenters on your stories to defend your work, or in my case, parenting.
- Find comfort in your community. Kind words from people in your tribe can help buoy you when you’re sinking with despair. And remember that people who relate to what you wrote, who really feel seen by it, aren’t as likely to post as the haters.
- Get back to work. I have three unrelated stories beginning to gel in my brain. Rather than spending hours writing the longest eNewsletter I’ve ever crafted, I should probably focus my efforts on other projects that haven’t been ripped apart (yet).
What I’ve Learned from Commenters
The reality is, nasty comments sting. And with this particular article, they’ve made me question my parenting decisions to some degree. They prompted me to dig deeper and explore my truth, to wonder and notice where I can improve. I think that’s a good thing!
We are all growing and evolving. That’s why we write.
Knowing how readers reacted, would I write this piece again? I think so. Yes, it hurt to hear people bash my parenting tactics, but it’s also a growth opportunity. I have always encouraged my boys to check in with themselves before they speak “is this helpful and kind?” Sometimes their silly banter is both.
“Yo Mama” jokes? That’s another story. The truth is, I’ve never been comfortable with them, and I only learned about the origin of “Yo Mama jokes” after the comments came rolling in. (It turns out, African Americans used these jokes as a way to foster resilience in each other, to boost each other up.)
While I can’t deny the laughter around my kitchen table the one night we engaged in a “Yo Mama battle,” if I’d had a sensitivity reader, that reference might have landed on the chopping block. That’s where I need to do better.
My sons? I get the sense that they are respectful and kind (to the commenters’ chagrin, perhaps). All three boys have top citizenship scores in school, and they tend to be the first to befriend children who are struggling (like the new kid in school). We’ve also drawn clear lines around when, where and with whom this type of banter is allowed. Like it or not, they’re being raised within an existing culture and trying to fit in — just like all of us. |
