Angry X 2

I’m angry today. Anger is not an emotion I feel often or on a regular or sustained basis: I’m claiming it today.

I was on a Zoom meeting earlier that was Zoom-bombed. There were lots of safeguards in place and, yes, that shit happens. Whatever your feelings about online meetings, they have made a world of things possible and created opportunities for people who have mobility or transportation issues, for parents of small children, for people in care facilities, etc. Is F2F better? Sometimes. Actually, some stuff would be better as an email. Food for future thought.

Back to “the incident”. The bomber was a naked man reclined in a semi-supine position with his camera positioned to capture a full “southern exposure”, all horizons visible. He was actively engaged in a solo activity that, at best, belongs in a private space, and at worst, in a dark 1970’s-era Times Square movie theater. BTW, major kudos to the powers that be in NYC for making TS a much safer and cleaner place.

I happened to be speaking at the time the bomb dropped. I have previously self-identified as “unflappable”, but I was definitely “flapped” on this one. I was looking for our Zoom admins to quickly intercede then was directive in my request to boot the bomber. It took probably a good minute and a half for the meeting admins to identify the bomber, at first shutting their camera off (which he turned back on repeatedly), then eventually expelling him from the meeting and making the appropriate report to the masters of the Zoomiverse.

Ninety-seconds is a really long time (go ahead, time it) when you are simultaneously attempting to share a cohesive thought while involuntarily being “exposed” to some stranger’s junk. His obvious expression of pride was the icing on this crap-cake. Yes, I was flapped and it was clear in my tone of voice. I did own up to this and apologized.

After some readjustment, the meeting continued but I was definitely feeling something about “the incident”. I finally put my finger on it. I was angry. This person had denied me agency* of being in a space that I always considered safe. This is a regular meeting that has gone on for some time with very few bomber incidents. The others were disturbing but there was something about this one that felt overwhelming to me.

At the end of the formal meeting, I invited anyone who wanted to process “the incident” to stay on: I could not have been the only one so effected. I was happy to see that several men and women stayed on. I shared my experience working with crime victims, most of them women who had been denied agency in relationships with those who enjoy privilege merely by accident of birth. To me, “the incident”, this display, was the epitome of flexing privilege: I am going to subject you to what I am doing, regardless how vile, and you have no choice. And even if you tell me “No”, I will continue because I can.

There I was, claiming space for my feelings (a rare and excruciating event), and holding space for others and…and…and…the discussion digressed literally in a moment to a moratorium on online meetings. No acknowledgment and certainly no mention of the actual activity or how it affected people. And there I sat with my vulnerability and anger hanging out for all to see and walk away from. And that made me angry X 2 today.

* the ability to take action or to choose what action to take. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/agency