Two Cheers for Snowflakes
I am a very sensitive person. I am so sensitive I once punched someone in the face for calling me sensitive (more on that later). I have been bullied, harassed, ridiculed, threatened, and stigmatized—both as a child (for things I’ll get into in a moment) and as an adult (mostly for writing things like this). Being sensitive is a touchy subject if you’ll forgive the terrible pun; it might make a short list of things that people find desirable in a friend or a mate, but it might also make one an object of ridicule and even hatred today. The word “snowflake” comes from a shallow reading of Fight Club so nearly as I can tell, and the wannabe Tyler Durdens of the world want to remind the rest of us that we are not special or unique; our feelings don’t matter; we are all part of the same compost heap, so to speak.
In fact, we are each, quite literally, unique—the complexity of our genes plus the diversity of our experiences means no one like us has ever lived before or will ever live again. And if you truly think people’s feelings don’t matter (except, presumably, yours), then congratulations, you are a jerk, and I want you to stay far away from me. But yes, one day I will die and be compost, and the world will go right on turning without me. Zooming out, if our species were wiped out (say, by a meteorite strike or a gamma ray burst), the rest of the cosmos would barely notice. Maybe that’s a much-needed dose of humility a la Carl Sagan (recognizing the universe isn’t made for us), but as personal insights go, it ignores the two most important questions: what to do with our lives while we’re still living them and what kind of society we should want to live in.
In both cases I think we “snowflakes” have a lot to contribute. But before that, I want to burst the bubble on sensitive people. Sensitive does not mean nice: people who are sensitive register the slights and offenses of others more strongly; that means we are prone to walking around with a head full of resentment and bitterness. Being sensitive means taking everything personally, even well-intentioned constructive criticism, and this ultimately can be to our detriment. We expect too much of the world, and are constantly disappointed, because deep down we have big and fragile egos. Sensitive people are prone to overreaction and may have bad tempers. At worst, we lash out, perhaps violently, at a world that constantly fails to live up to our expectations. I have not lashed out in many, many years and don’t see myself doing so again, but I still struggle with an inner state of borderline misanthropy all the time.
I remember hearing secondhand of a philosophy professor, an avowed atheist, being asked how we know how to be moral or live a meaningful life if nature is all there is. His response: what kind of world do you want to live in? It’s the most profound and pithy definition of ethics I’ve ever heard, and it allows me to put all those experiences and “sensitive” reactions to them to use. When I was picked on as a kid, the main “critiques” I faced typically had to do with my sexuality. The favorite refrain was a certain homophobic slur that I refuse to speak or write (or almost as often, the less-offensive but still shame-inspiring “prude”). By the way, I’m not gay (though for the record there is nothing wrong with being gay) but I was perceived to be gay because I wore my hair long and was too interested in science and science fiction and not interested enough in girls. I learned later there were girls who were interested in me and think back now on the hurt feelings and embarrassment I caused because I did not even know how to process, let alone reciprocate, those feelings, nor did I know how to explain why I didn’t.
Americans are fascinated by others’ sexual behavior for some reason. Maybe it’s part of our Puritan cultural DNA, because the fascination never seems to come without judgment. So long as it involves consenting adults, I actively don’t care, and honestly really don’t want to have to hear about it. Sexual liberation means freedom regarding our sexuality, and for me that means being allowed not to spend a lot of my time talking or thinking about it. The term is demisexual—I have learned through studying, and teaching, courses in Gender and Women’s Studies, that I am on the “asexual spectrum,” someone who only rarely feels romantic, physical attraction toward others and is largely uninterested in or incapable of physical intimacy without feeling some emotional attachment first. A more sensitive social world, that has more honestly explored diversity in sexual orientation and advocated for greater freedom in sexual expression (again, among those who legally and affirmatively consent) made this insight possible; and had I learned this in my early teens instead of halfway through my life it would probably have spared a bunch of completely unnecessary discomfort, embarrassment, and pain.
In fact, as a snowflake I’d like to suggest we stop treating bullying as a necessary life lesson or rite of passage; maybe if bullying among youth was less normalized or better sanctioned, adult bullies would not need to be so often shamed or de-platformed, and the world will have fewer opportunities for jerks to inflict themselves on others. Maybe jerkdom starts at home, with jerks raising other jerks to go forth and jerk; maybe we must therefore challenge or dismantle our jerk-laden institutions and social structures and rebuild them along less jerky lines. That’s where I take a big step back, though—as a snowflake I’m not going to befriend or support or vote for someone who reminds me of the jerks I’ve had to deal with in the past, but where is the line between preventing the bullying of others and becoming a bully yourself?
In the year before leaving social media, particularly surrounding the 2020 election, I cut ties with a lot of people. I struggled with this afterward, but upon reflection, I would do it again. Not because they’re all jerks, but there was a lot of background jerkiness back then, and it made me put past jerkiness in context. When you are sensitive, you think others are judging or ridiculing you even when they’re not. Sometimes this also means missing when a relationship with another person is genuinely toxic. Reflecting the borderline misanthropy I mentioned before, in a hyper-connected age, we’re seemingly not allowed to outgrow each other anymore. Why? Is it really that important to have a large quantity of friends, followers, likes? Are we all trying to be celebrities, or what? Not to be insensitive, but if we’re really adults, and we’ve really diverged so much as human beings, can’t we just go our separate ways?
But being someone who is really sensitive, and has also been a jerk in the past, I’m also aware of the potential for bullying to go both ways. As a borderline misanthrope I don’t count on the justice of the mob to counteract the injustice of the jerks, because the self-righteous mob can be at least as jerky as a single jerk who happens to maneuver himself toward the levers of power (typically a “him,” who typically requires a supportive mob). Still, the mob that calls people out for being cruel and insensitive is different in quality from the mob that advocates for being cruel and insensitive, even if both are potentially going to create problems. The person who stands up to a bully is not the same as the person who is being a bully, even though some of the ways people stand up to bullying can look a lot like bullying if one is not careful. Be mindful of the ever-present danger of self-righteousness, fellow snowflakes—otherwise you risk becoming what you are fighting against.
The snowflake answers the ethical question about how to live and what kind of world to live in by advocating for a more sensitive kind of world. As noted by the late philosopher, theorist, and literary critic Richard Rorty, the various “studies” departments in the university, heckled (sometimes, rather unfortunately, by fellow academics) as “grievance studies,” advocate for people and for groups that have been historically bullied and sensitize those who are involved in them to past and present struggles. Whatever criticisms some of these fields face, in terms of being spaces for advocacy rather than “pure” knowledge-production, they can help to build a more sensitive world in which we are all ultimately better off. If I had learned what I learned working in Gender and Women’s Studies long ago, my life (and perhaps the lives of others around me) would have been better for it. It was profoundly consciousness-raising, to use a phrase from feminist author bell hooks that I’ve come to really like. Education does not need to be partisan to be consciousness-raising; in fact, I view political partisanship and education as separate, but if you consider the idea that others are fully human and should be treated as such to be “too political,” that’s a you problem, not a me problem.
Calling people out for bad behavior and insensitivity isn’t oppression or “political correctness run rampant”—no one’s stopping you from using that slur or tweeting that abhorrent opinion, it’s just that a more sensitive world is one in which such sentiments are not free of social consequences. Free speech means the government cannot regulate what you say; it has never meant free pass to be a jerk; you are responsible for what you say; if you didn’t say what you mean, you are responsible for making a good-faith effort to clarify (snowflakes: when people apologize, please be charitable—no one’s perfect, and we’re all learning). If you habitually don’t do your due diligence to make sure what you’re saying is accurate (rather than unsubstantiated gossip or partisan posturing) before saying it, don’t be surprised if people stop listening.
I will undoubtedly continue to be overly sensitive, to be prone to resentment and misanthropy, to have a large and fragile ego. I am a human being full of hang-ups and foibles like anyone else, though I aim to work on them in keeping with wanting to live in a more sensitive world. Through studying social movements and social change, I have learned enough about violence to know that it is usually pointless and destructive; fighting against bullies through nonviolent means like boycotting and social sanction is important and necessary but can result in snowflakes becoming bullies themselves. Having said all that, I think the efforts to sensitize people, humanize others, build more empathy, and work toward social change that is more inclusive and tolerant, are efforts well worth participating in, because I should like to live in a more sensitive world.
Sources:
Hooks, bell. 2000. Feminism is for Everybody.
Palahniuk, Chuck. 1996. Fight Club.
Rorty, Richard. 1999. Achieving Our Country.
Sagan, Carl. 1994. Pale Blue Dot.
