Snippets from tonight's skimmings:

"Never, ever compare your career to someone else's. There's always someone who is doing better. There's always someone who is doing worse. You'll embarrass the one who is doing better and belittle the one who is doing worse, so again, if you're in doubt, don't say it." - Christina Dodd, in Writing Romances (ed. Gallagher and Estrada, 1997)

Chapter 24 of Writing Romances is on "Indians Without Cowboys" - Kathleen Eagle's essay on avoiding stereotypes and creating believable Indian characters.

The first sentence of this post leads to some interesting discussions about sf fandom, with the Orson Scott Card controversy (i.e., what is/should be expected of a Guest of Honor at a con?), a conservative writer feeling marginalized, bullying of bookish kids across cultures, classism vs. culturism vs. racism, and other concerns.

One of the things I've been mulling over lately is how I can't think of anyone who likes being accused of being "privileged," regardless of whether it's true or not. The word is loaded with the implication that one has it easy, and in my experience, most people don't feel their way about their own lives, no matter what material comforts or social pedigree they may enjoy - they're struggling with something -- usually several somethings -- so to be told that they're privileged makes them bristly and hyper-defensive, because whatever the privilege may be (being born white and/or middle-class and/or male and/or etc.), it pales in comparison to the things they personally want or desire that they haven't been able to attain.

That said, I don't have any suggestions on how to discuss one's perceptions of other people's unearned privilege with the people in question in non-inflammatory terms, or if that's even possible. For instance, I become uncomfortable when certain people tell me I'm "lucky" -- on the one hand, yes, I know that, and you better believe I'm grateful that the not-fairness of the universe tilted in my favor when it came to being born in this country, in this generation, and the splendid people who grace my life. On the other hand, if someone seems to see only the luck and ignores the working-my-tail-off/being-nice-to-others-even-when-I-don't-feel-like-it part, I'm not going to feel like conversing with them about how inordinately blessed I am; I'm going to feel like I'm being blamed or resented for some problem I didn't create.

As I said, I don't have ready or easy answers to this. I do know that I've personally come to prefer the term "thoughtless" over "racist" when discussing unknowingly or unintentionally offensive behavior or beliefs. The word "racist" has become so laden with assumptions that vary from person to person that it communicates nothing productive, as far as I can tell - the minute the word "racist" appears in an argument, it's practically over, because the rest of it so often ends up distintegrating into some variation of "I'm not racist!" "Yes you are!" "I know racism and I'm not racist!" "You're playing with semantics." "You're looking for reasons to be offended." "You're looking for excuses to say whatever you want." "What's wrong with that?" "Nothing, except when it's racist." "I'm not racist!" etc. (No, this is not referring to any specific kerfuffle. I've seen this pattern over and over again both online and in real life.)

Whereas I think many people would admit (myself included) to having said or done something inadvertently hurtful or unconsciously patronizing when we either didn't know any better or failed to think through the implications/associations of the words/images being used. As for the degree to which people should reasonably accommodate each other's (wildly varying) threshholds of (dis)comfort - oh, I don't know. I really dislike it when someone wants to treat me as an authority on all things Asian or as a de facto enforcer of PC lingo, and I lack the energy/interest/idealism to gallop into most race-related debates, but there's also the fact that people aren't likely to identify (never mind adjust or correct) behavior that may be sabotaging their interactions with others if the thoughtlessness never gets addressed. Which suggests an obligation on my part, which is one I never asked for and therefore resent even having to take seriously.

(And I think I've drained my brain's supply of earnest seriousness with this post, so if you see anything from me the rest of this week, it's likely to be the cotton-candiest fluff I've ever inflicted upon you. Consider yourselves warned.)

Robert Frost loved "The Hound of Heaven" on sight. I have spent several hours over the past couple days cringing at the ways he treated other people badly, so it's nice to come across something in common. (And that poem is sheer poetry, as far as I'm concerned - it has virtually no resonance for me on an intellectual or spiritual level, but its emotional grandeur sweeps me away to a degree that few other poems have done.)