The last time I ran for office (so far, altho, TBH another run seems very, very unlikely) an acquaintance of mine, a woman about my age, sent me an email outlining the reasons why I should not run for office again, adding that while she recognized several of my better qualities, she also wanted me to be aware of my shortcomings with regard to my temperament, behavior, and character, or – to be more accurate – her impressions of same. She added – twice – that while she knew what she was writing to me in this message ‘would sting’, it was much better for me to face facts than to proceed with my plans.
Nowhere in her email did she state ‘in my opinion’, or, ‘it appears to me’, or ‘from my point of view’, any version of which would have (slightly) mitigated the arrogance of her attempting to dissuade me from a course of action I – an adult – had already set out upon. My independent petition to get on the ballot was in process; my designated party petition had already been filed. This meant that regardless of her expert opinion and deeply felt insights, I was going to be on the ballot as a Democrat whether she approved or not.
At the time, I responded by thanking her for her opinion, and for supporting me in the past (she had voted for me twice previously). I told her I was determined to move forward, and that while I was aware of my many flaws as a person and candidate (because I was and am), I knew the job (I’d spent four years in the position), loved my community, and wanted to serve. Demonstrating the strength of Hercules and Apollo combined, I did not call out her arrogance, presumption, and fucking asininity; we barely knew one another and I doubt we’d exchanged more than 200 words by that point; during my four years in office, she had attended, perhaps, a handful of meetings, leaving once her specific business was done. I also wrote in response that my short-comings aside, I was determined to run, and hoped she would, ultimately, support me once more.
What I didn’t tell her was to fuck the fucking hell off, in general showing an immense amount of self-control. Thereafter, when seeing her in future small town situations after, yes, losing that election, I managed to refrain from both confronting her and the very natural (don’t you agree?) temptation to to rip her fucking ugly-ass head off of her fucking skinny-ass, ugly fucking body.
Instead, I walked the other way, or gritted my teeth giving her the smile of death, because – are you fucking kidding me? This is going to sting? How important do you think you or your opinions are to me, you stupid fucking I hardly know you and vicey-versy cow? Jesus H. Christ. Deep breaths. I eventually sent her an email – I’m talking a good eight years later – letting her know that her messages during that last run had offended and angered me deeply, and that I believed if I were a man, she would never have dared even attempt that kind of communication. Having done that, I can face her without contemplating homicide, but – we will never be friends, in no small part because we never were. Friends don’t give friends unsolicited advice. Friends support friends, including when our friends are getting on a train wreck of a ride, by shutting TF up and smiling, and being there when the wheels come off.
Acquaintances do NOT give advice if they want to live a good long life; only rude ass strangers do that with (relative) impunity because strangers, you know, like that lady on the train who says, oh, ‘you shouldn’t hold your baby like that’, or ‘were you aware your bra-strap is showing, should I fix that for you?’ or the endless seeming number of men who have advised me to smile. Fuck no, and fuck off. Mind your own god-damned business, or, in the case of being advised to smile for male approval, here’s my smile of death, y’happy now, asshole?
Advice: don’t give it unless it’s asked for. Assume that another grown-ass adult knows what TF they are doing, even if – to you – it looks like the worst mistake ever. Shut the fuck up and let it play out because no one, no one wants your fucking input. No One. This woman, in offering her advice, was acting out toward me with thinly veiled hostility, being a condescending, patronizing cow, insulting the intelligence of an accomplished adult (me), by assuming she knew better, knew me better than I did myself, that I lacked the self-awareness only she could relieve with her deep insights from her self-designated place on high, ‘this might sting’. Oh please. Sting? No, it enraged me, that you – or anyone – would dare to imagine you and your ill-considered, barely knowing me opinions matter! FFS, girl, no, no, no. But of course – she meant well. The road to hell is paved with (fake) good intentions.
Fuck That Shit.
Rebecca Solnit, in the following, nails it perfectly:
“How often advice, which is supposed to be friendly, is instead a form of hostility and condescension! Oh your little problem I have solved in an offhand sentence without truly listening first! Ah, I am assuming you are an idiot not to think of this perfectly obvious (but, actually, totally irrelevant and useless) remedy! Just completely abandon the job/political cause/family member as I am abandoning attention to the intractable intricacies of the issue and your ethical commitments! Here’s a quack cure I read about a long time ago on an unreliable site that surely you and your doctors have not considered over the past year of careful research, testing, and discussion! Since solving your nightmarish sociopolitical/ health/romantic/ familial/ professional/ spiritual problem is so easy, I have done it in my mind already and dismissed your suffering as optional and therefore your fault if it persists! And as a person who has never suffered your oppression/ illness / disability/ other situation, I am ideally positioned to shed light on it! And now, having proffered my glib instructions, I am moving on from your situation and think you should too! Surely in mentioning this you were soliciting not encouragement or recognition or support but veiled criticism! Bye!”