Slights or the inconveniences of childhood

There is something about a “slight” — you know a slight happens because it was always sideways aggression. It has been around and you sort of meandered into it. I have faced this gesture before, this action: in all explicitness, it is both “gesture” and “action”, both nonverbal and verbal. Slights are gestures as in they are meant to gesticulate a form of forced negativity. An action as it is subconsciously present and soon consciously put into a form of practice. I had understood I had been slighted by a bunch of undergraduate students at a party. And I know why this had happened. It happened for many reasons: one is considering intelligence, the other is social magnetism and the other is a perceived insult.

To talk on “considering intelligence” is to extrapolate on ideas about how odd you may think another person’s “nerdiness” or “geekiness” is. If you have perceived intelligent you may easily ostracised or rather a good talker in conversations. Now, I am not being egotistical but being considered nerdy or geeky can be a considerable threat to people who are still learning to learn their own skins and flesh. And being able to communicate ideas effectively is also considered a big deal. Especially if you are a migrant, especially if you are there to help make a framework of privilege, when that is defied people are automatically threatened.

I am South Asian. I have an americanised accent. I am a geek and nerd who is comfortable around strangers in a party and able to talk to them. Without the drink. I can act zany and be in tune with who I am. Also, I am much older but I apparently never look that age.

This is perceived threatening to people. I am an odd creature. I am like a somnambulist in a crowd of dreamers.

And so they decided to ask me multiple times to come to a club with them. I agreed.

When the time came they left without me.

And then when I just said “hi” on facebook they proudly stated they went.

It was a slight if not fully intended. It just was in their minds. They didn’t like me. I am good as a theory (they wanted me to hook up with a dude, I specifically said “are you trying to ship me with him?” they said “yes”) but I am not palatable as a praxis (seeing me with a bar with them).

I write this because you may be slighted not because you are an undesirable but rather you may have traits that are desirable to a certain point. People, I was told, liked to bold, chivalric and interesting without having to giggle, drink and play the clown. However, this doesn’t happen easily rather it takes a lot of few to get down to it. So, if anyone defies this logic it is a threat to a person’s way to function through that precarious position of partying and socialising.

I did not write them to elevate my status or condescend anyone. I wrote it as I was once bullied so much it was good to know that exclusion, as in social exclusion, is not really someone’s fault. After all a collective is not an individual’s choice. It is the choice of the collective. So, many a times, you are not responsible at all for being not accepted. It just happens.

Namespeak

Saying it seems trivial nowadays. To me, it’s not. I notice that people knotice that who they are talking too — but they don’t call you your name. In a chat box people hardly use your name. You become predicate instead of subject. You become a “you” and “me” instead of a Maliha, Jasmine, Nathan or Akbar or Mark — you are like an unmarked, dogeared book that they are reading or even you yourself are reading them like that.

It’s annoying.

Damn straight up, fucking up as hell annoying.

We are not digital registers and signals. We are people. We should use other people’s names. Why don’t we?

What is so appealing in this machinery of a social interaction that alleviating or eradicating the usage of names means what? A conversational booty call?

Is this the way people unsconsiously attempt to make or break boundaries? Shakespeare was wrong. The Rose was named Juliet thaty is why Romeo went after her. If it was Rosaline then he would not see that convent nun smell just as sweet.

Names matter. Saying one’s name matters.

It actually offers the most basic form of intimacy.

And we are making ourselves disciplined to evade it…