I was reading through tumblr when I noticed a thread arguing that human rights exist and are universal. The naivety of those arguing was astounding as they considered the argument to be self-evident. However, we realize that human rights are conferred by governments which, in most Western civilizations, mean that the people themselves are responsible for answering the question of what is a human right and to whom does it extend. It should become evident that the biases of the majority come quickly into play when determining who can have what. Those that are unlike the majority will always be subject to a different set of rules than the majority themselves. Whether it is skin color or presence (or absence) of affective empathy, those of us that are different will always be under the gun that is pointed at no one else.
This is a continuation of the previous post. I decided not to attempt to console the family member whose mother passed away. The reasons for this may surprise you, however. While it is true that I am irked with the man because of past sins he committed, I felt that it would be wiser to avoid the possibility of leaking my indifference. I can feign incompetence if asked why I did not call – “Oh, I just forgot!” – but I cannot feign feelings of true compassion and sympathy that are rooted in empathy. In a way, I am being kind by shielding him from my true apathy. As should be obvious, I have chosen to embrace apathy and have not worn my mask for some time now. As such, I do not even know how to put it back on. The actor has become aloof and uncaring and no longer knows how to play the part.
The mother of a real prick of a family member passed away the other day. I’m supposed to give him some words of consolation and show that I care, but I haven’t worn a mask of compassion in so long that I don’t even know where to begin. This is the man that refuses to gender me properly and that came to my doorstep so many years ago to question my sanity when I first came out as transgender. Maybe I hold a bit of a grudge over it all, but I like to think that I’ve cast him aside into the realm of apathy. However, I am supposed to behave civilly and respectfully, even though I could care less in the end. This highlights a problem that I’ve written about before. The more that I refuse to wear my mask, the harder it becomes to ever put it on again.
It makes my blood boil when the naive attempt to white knight the antisocial. They claim that because so many cases of antisocial personalities are the direct result of genetics or a tumultuous upbringing (trauma), that free passes should be handed out for antisocials and their questionable behavior. Those of us who are antisocial do not care about this distinction. We have learned that our actions often result in benefit even if they often result in detriment. We have learned to accept the ways in which our disorder manifests and if it works for us, we continue our antisocial ways, and if it does not work for us, we seek ways to rein in our behaviors as best we can. I highly doubt that the antisocial views themselves as prey rather than predator. Have mercy for the prey; the predator wants no such thing.
My query-handler and copyeditor has resigned to pursue other projects after two years of incredibly dedicated work for my book, A Tale of Two Masks. The book would not be anywhere as strong as it is without the heart and soul that she put in during the copyediting and revision processes as well as the feedback loop we shared while we were hunting agents to try and get it properly published. She was also instrumental in holding me to a consistent tone, which resulted in a much stronger and more biting work than I could have produced on my own.
If you have read the book, please share in my thanks for all the work that was done behind the scenes to make it something to be proud of, and something to learn from.
I will never forget her efforts and I wish her all the best in her future endeavors, hoping that their success matches the success found here.