The other side of Me Too Monologues

Anyone who knows me will tell you I am more than a little obsessed with Me Too Monologues (MTM). So much of what the show aims to do is analogous to what I try to do with my columns—bring vulnerabilities out in the open, expose what is below the surface. MTM creates a safe space where the toxic effortless perfection myth that dominates Duke culture can be combated through an alternative, more realistic narrative— one that is able to be more honest and open under the protective guise of anonymity.

Elizabeth Howler, an actress in the 2014 show, stated, “A lot of times Duke students project an image that ends up perpetuating our loneliness because we don’t see other people are struggling like we are. I just wanted to be part of a project that helps empower and at the same time humble students.” Amen.

But a lot of times, I think people’s understanding of the show stops there. While I think this is an incredible message to take away— that you are never alone— MTM has more to offer. I personally believe the show’s greatest strength is its ability to reveal the invisibility of privilege. Allow me to explain this further.

The common understanding is that “privilege” denotes high socioeconomic status. While this is one way of looking at privilege, it does not capture the full truth. There are numerous forms of privilege including, but not limited to—white privilege, male privilege, cisgender/hetero privilege, ability privilege and Christian privilege. These privileges come with the ability to identify as that which is unmarked or has been labeled the “norm.” Gloria Steinem, a feminist scholar and advocate, once said, “Whoever is in power takes over the noun — and the norm — while the less powerful get an adjective. Thus, we read about ‘African American doctors’ but not ‘European American doctors,’ ‘Hispanic leaders’ but not ‘Anglo leaders,’ ‘gay soldiers’ but not ‘heterosexual soldiers.’" Privilege remains invisible because those that hold it are usually unaware of the difference in experiences between those who share this unmarked identity marker and those who do not.

For me personally, I have never given extensive thought to my sexuality because I have never had to “come out” as heterosexual or cisgender. Meanwhile, most LGBTQ individuals remain in the continuous process of “coming out,” to old friends and new, for their entire lives. I have also never thought of myself as having a race. Being white is not something I have ever felt to be very defining. I have never had to worry that wearing a hoodie on the street at night may make others perceive me as a threat or bring unwanted police attention. I look in the mirror and see a woman staring back, not a white woman or a woman of color, but simply a woman. That sense of unmarkedness is privilege. This privilege can be dangerous, particularly when one thinks the way he or she experience the world is how all others experience the world and that he or she can, therefore, speak for or represent those others and their interests.

This is why it is important that, though anybody in the Duke community can write for the MTM, most of the pieces showcase stories highlighting the impacts of identity markers outside the hegemonic “norm” and allow these experiences to have the spotlight and be documented, acknowledged. Only by creating this consciousness of privilege are we able to begin changing harmful systems. I think it all boils down to this statement by Robert Anton Wilson: “Every kind of ignorance in the world all results from not realizing that our perceptions are gambles. We believe what we see and then we believe our interpretation of it, we don't even know we are making an interpretation most of the time. We think this is reality." We do not realize that with different identity markers come different experiences, different worlds, different realities, and this makes it harder to understand.

One of this year’s monologues states, “[I believe that] most people are not purposefully racist, sexist, homophobic— they simply are not aware of how their actions impact others due to the invisibility of privilege.” This contradicts the widespread misconception that for an act to be discriminatory it must be purposefully so. Many of these acts are intentionally harmful, yes, but I think even more occur without the “oppressor” realizing it—perhaps in the form of stereotyping that makes it harder for minorities to get certain jobs and opportunities or microaggressions that chip away at self-worth. We have all played the role of the “oppressor” in one way or another throughout our lives, each and every one of us, because it is impossible to understand the full implications of our actions all the time. It takes effort to educate ourselves on the things our individual assortments of privileges blind us to.

This education begins when we learn to listen. Listening means more than hearing what the other person is saying and waiting for the pauses in which to interject one’s own opinions. It means listening for sake of understanding. Steinem claims the best thing one can do for those who are marginalized is “to listen to them, because you don't know you have something to say until somebody listens to you” (link). MTM is a great place to start. So I urge you— if one of your friends says they are headed to the show this Thursday, Friday or Saturday, say “me too.”