The world is full of assholes. Never forget that.
And this Internet thing? I'm not sure if the Asshole Density Quotient is greater than the world at large, but it sure does give assholes a platform (example: my blog). So when you put yourself out there, you're taking a big risk that somebody will find offense or something to attack in what you post.
Really, any time you're in public, whether it be online or IRL, you'll find people feel compelled not only to engage as social creatures are wont to do, but even be rude, mean and/or vicious. It's human nature, and you kinda just need to get used to it, lest you become the Unabomber or something.
It tends to be
especially true when it comes to children. Even though The Village never seems to be changing your blowouts at 3am, nursing you, or taking you to the doctor, it does act very proprietary over all children. The Village has decided it's okay not only to give unsolicited advice, but to judge how you're raised, and even get huffy if parents take issue.
At least in meatspace you only have to contend with scores on people at Costco. Online you've got potentially gajillions of people who know best, and they aren't afraid to tell you that. You can join communities that are more closed, but that locks you out of a wider world of virtual human contact so it's a little less counterproductive than becoming a hermit in a real cabin in the woods.
When a person joins a community, over time trust develops. That's the whole point: looking for contact, support, people to talk to when you're a tired parent who hasn't seen your old friends IRL for months. Relationships form and grow.
Should bad things happen, you might be inclined to tell your community because a) they have an emotional investment in you and your life, and b) you are looking for as much love, good vibes and prayers as you can find when in crisis.
That's what
Military_Mom did last night. She experienced the most terrifying and heartbreaking thing--something I don't want to even think about with you, son--that a parent can go through: losing a child. Then she shared it with her friends online.
And not only her friends, but complete strangers like me. Through one of the mommies I follow on Twitter, I found her tragic tweets and offered my condolences. She started posting pictures of her lovely little boy, and I left a comment. All the while I knew that the assholes would rear their ugly heads soon enough.
In fact, just a few comments before mine, somebody was already questioning what MM was doing when her son fell into their pool. "Hey, sorry, this is tragic, but I have to ask," is the common refrain. From there it was clear the comments would get worse.
Some people denied the story was even true. I mean, hell, they sent an @reply to some news orgs and they hadn't reported anything yet so it must be another Balloon Boy hoax!
Others picked up on the Mommy Fail meme, blaming MM's twittering about their chickens just before the accident. It was on her watch, and children never die without an egregious error committed by a neglectful, unfit parent, so it's her fault. QED.
Unfortunately, of course,
the story was true. It's something that happens in Florida with greater frequency than anywhere in the US, not surprisingly. The reason almost all of the time is a parent was doing something else routine--life maintenance that everybody takes for granted--and for just a short time. The child just gets away from them and life changes forever.
Yes, the world we've brought you into is full of charlatans, so maintaining healthy skepticism is a good thing. And sure, whenever there's a tragedy we can learn about how to mitigate the risk of repeating it.
I'm not so sure you need to aggressively get into people's faces--virtually or really--to question their story when it just might be true. Nor do you need to question their parenting--when it's not usually an issue--when they already are going to be guilt-ridden for the rest of their lives.
I saw some tweets by the assholes, justifying their behavior by taking issue with MM's even twittering about her son's death. "I would never tweet right after that." Good for you. We won't look for yours when you suffer a loss. But people grieve and respond to crisis in different ways, and you don't really need to question that.
When your grandma, my mother, died three years before you were born,
I waited all of an hour before blogging about it. Had I been home with Grandpa when it happened I might not have, but I was stuck in California and absolutely bereft and alone. I reached out to my community and got an outpouring of support.
MM did what she needed to do. She didn't twitter instead of watching her son. She didn't twitter before calling 911. She didn't twitter before caressing his hair after he was declared dead (okay, that's speculation on my part). She twittered when she felt she needed virtual hugs and prayers, since her military husband was not with her.
It's also a networking thing. You let people who ostensibly care what happens to you and your loved ones know what happened. Last night when you were actually drifting to sleep, Mommy got an e-mail about her Grampa. He's been sick for a while and had a stroke, so family needed to be told.
E-mail is a different, more private medium than a blog or Twitter. But it's no more or less valid a channel to use. The danger with the latter is there are likely more assholes at large on the Internet than in your immediate family and friends (YMMV).
It seems some of these assholes feel burned by the media frenzy of Balloon Boy. Or maybe they're just very invested in their I'm Very Smart schtick that seems common on the Internet (no, there's not any irony there, thanks). Whatever, those people could back the hell off for a little while in any case.
What if this were a hoax? There's plenty of time to figure that out and bust the person. But in the event that it's true, your skepticism is simply hurtful. Madisonmcgraw noted that if you have nothing to hide, you shouldn't mind the questions. Yeah, when somebody's grieving they'll totally understand that you don't believe them until they post a death certificate. You're all class, Madison, et al.
Consider it this way: if there were another report of a kid in danger, should 911 spend a lot of time questioning whether it's real, or just mobilize a rescue? There will be recriminations later if it's faked, so you wouldn't risk death because of "healthy skepticism." Similarly, what's at risk is a person's emotional well being in the wake of tragedy. The first, humane and human response should be to comfort. You can feel hurt and angry if you're fooled by a hoax later. And you'll bloody well get over it.
Thankfully, there are
lots of people who rushed to help. Countless people. Good, good people. Caring and thoughtful and nice. Friends of MM and complete strangers.
When Mommy had her first abruption, we thought we were losing you. While in the hospital and later on bedrest, I reached out to our community and we discovered just how many wonderful people there are out there. People sent positive vibes to us. People sent money to help when we were in dire financial straits. People we've met, people we know only online, and some people we'd never heard of before, all rallied to our aid like at the end of our favorite Christmas movie, It's A Wonderful Life.
The world is full of good people, light and beauty. Never forget that.
/daddy
[Update: forgot to link to this nice post:
Using Twitter in the Midst of Tragedy.]
