so-and-so

There is this thing that my mum and I have in common; something we've only been talking about with each other for the last little while, but it's a topic that has become - after a sort of mutual confessional and the resulting ecstatic chatter of knowing we're not alone with the experience - an integral part of our conversations. It usually goes something like this:

"So, I bumped into so-and-so today at the pharmacy..."

"Oh yeah, how's he doing?"

"Oh, good actually. He's doing so-and-so at the moment and has been pretty busy, his job is being so-and-so but it'll give him a so-and-so, his wife is taking so-and-so with so-and-so down at the so-and-so. And his kids are so-and-so, and he said to say hello."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, but you know what really ticks me off? I hadn't seen him for years, and we talked for 15 minutes, and everytime I tried to mention something about so-and-so or so-and-so or so-and-so, he cut me off. So annoying."

"I so know what you're saying. It's like what you have to say pales in comparison to what he has to say."

"Yeah, it's like I don't even exist."

"I know. It sucks."

The so-and-so changes every time we talk - and sometimes it's her so-and-so, and sometimes it's mine - but there's a good chance that every week on the phone - sometimes twice a week - there will be a story about some so-and-so. It's the so-and-so who spends a minute mentioning her husband's/my dad's death only to use it as an opening to talk about their health. Or so-and-so's. Or their dog's. It's the so-and-so who asks you a question about something random and then doesn't wait for the answer to start talking about something else; or the so-and-so who asks and then waits while your answer streams from your lips until you accidentally pronounce a syllable that reminds them of something important they just had to tell you (and then says "Oh, I'm so sorry, I just cut you off" - but doesn't ask you to continue.

Or a so-and-so who enters an ongoing conversation and interrupts you mid-story and doesn't notice that you were talking at all; EVEN WHEN YOU CONTINUE SPEAKING. Worse still: when the chat is disrupted, mid-sentence, the story left untold, and the person you were telling it to doesn't notice either.

I know that this is not behaviour reserved solely to me and my mum - countless people I know (both women and men) have similar experiences on a daily basis. Hell, people have written tomes on how power plays itself out in verbal communication. I also know that it is an explicitly gendered phenomenon. "Masculine" language styles are louder, more aggressive, and take up more space; demanding - and getting - the attention they command. "Feminine" ones carry tags, pauses, disclaimers, have more lilts and question marks; less intrusive, softer, and easier to railroad...the books have been written on that as well.

And I recognize (thanks Foucault) that that power shifts according to what position the speaker is inhabiting: when I'm in front of a classroom of students, they listen until I'm through speaking - whether they like it or want to or not. I give the grade - and I also have an 'authoritative voice' that's used when I'm performing (thanks Goffman) 'professor.' It's the social settings in which this power dynamic plays itself out that I find so utterly frustrating and, sometimes, heartbreaking.

...

It sucks to be deemed uninteresting; unimportant. And it sucks to be rendered invisible.

Maybe that's why I enjoy writing so much. I can speak in my (thanks Gender Genie) own voice, and say my peace.

I think I'll call my mum tonight.