Dear Ms. Watson,
I have been a fan
for years, now. In fact, it’s been nearly six years since I first found The
Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe. I was going through what could euphemistically
have been called, “a difficult time.” I had considered myself a Skeptic ever
since reading “The Demon Haunted World” sometime about 1997, but hadn’t really
gotten into the community much more than purchasing the occasional “Skeptic” or
“Skeptical Inquirer” magazine until this difficult time. I would say that in
part being able to at the very least consider myself a member of this greater
community helped me to cope, and because of that I became emotionally attached
to prominent members such as yourself and the other rogues.
I have dealt with
depression through most of my life, and about that time had come to the lowest
point I had yet experienced and attempted suicide. While recovering, I realized
that letting my brain idle often contributes to ruminating on the negative
thoughts, which does not help in getting better. So I decided to try listening
to this newfangled thing called podcast, and I was hooked. I binged on the SGU
as well as others until I was caught up, and now I find myself eagerly
anticipating Saturdays.
I remember
watching the video you made talking about being propositioned in an elevator
and chuckled to myself about how clueless guys can be. I remember being floored
by the trolling you got after that. I still can’t believe how horribly Richard
Dawkins behaved toward you. I guess that in many ways I had just gone along
with the so called post-sexism meme and assumed that skeptics were better at
being inclusive in this respect.
A lot of
self-identified skeptics are also self-identified as nerds/geeks. The latter
identity has experienced a great deal of bullying and harassment. At the very
least, one might expect that people with such a background would be empathetic
toward other groups that have been treated badly, but I have known that quite
the opposite can be true. It is a bitter twist of irony that people who
themselves have been othered will resort similar behavior toward other groups.
I am deeply sorry to admit that I’ve done so in my past. Rather than minimize
what I have done I choose to hold myself to a higher standard. I cannot atone
for what I may have done, but I can do whatever it takes to make the world
better.
It is all too
easy for people to jump in and make a situation all about them, and I know that
I must not check myself. While I can’t equate my experiences with any woman who
has been assaulted, threatened, or harassed, I do know what it’s like to be
attacked. I have dreaded the taunts, the shame of feeling powerless. Knowing
that anyone experiences so much worse cuts deeply into my psyche to the point
that I might despair. Knowing that anything I could do about it is such a
pathetic drop in the ocean is nearly overwhelming.
But I do know
from my own experiences is that the pain and suffering would have been eased,
if only minutely, if only someone had simply spoken a quiet word of support. It
needn’t have been public, much less in full view of my tormentors. A simple
token of solidarity would have been amazing. Yet it is the fear of being put
under the scrutiny of a bully that stays us from action. Self-preservation seems
to be too strong an instinct when compared to a general sense of fairness and
justice. I have stood by myself, have even contributed to such abuse.
I can no longer
accept that in myself or others. I will not remain in the shadows while people
like you are treated to horribly. The very least I can do is express my support
for you and people like you. And so to you and everyone going through this, and
to those who make a stand against deplorable behavior, and to those who suffer
quietly, hoping just to get through another day, I say:
You make this
world better. You deserve better. You did nothing wrong. You are not the one
who is broken. You are not alone.
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