Paying the Troll for Pleasure

By Maria Padhila

I indulge in a secret vice, the loathsome practice of which robs me of sleep and peace and time spent in healthy family pursuits. It leaves me with deep, dark circles under my eyes (which are actually sort of fetching, in a Goth way), aching limbs, pale skin, and the inability to give a firm handshake and look someone in the eye.

What do you think this vice might be? Reading online advice columns.

When I make my surveys of online media for work or for leisure, my obsessed and corrupted eye is drawn, however I might resist, to certain words, certain depictions of depraved and debasing acts. These acts are not depicted right there on the home page, of course; you have to seek deeply for them, and once I’ve been caught in their sticky foretaste, seek I must. But I can tell you the words that entice me. It is usually a woman’s cry for help, and it is usually a woman who is unhappy, unfulfilled, alluding to traps and boredom and restlessness of her mind, her limbs, her emotions. A click leads me to the interior, where the full scenario is played out.

Truly, whenever a woman writes for advice or even writes a blog post or similar about what Betty Friedan called “the problem with no name,” she’s asking for it. Any reference to how your life is changing, your needs are changing, you feel like what once worked to make you healthy and happy isn’t anymore, and you’ll get more advice than you know what to do with. And anytime I see such a subject matter, I’m drawn to it like a moth to the flame. I used to think it was because I wanted to know what women in this world are thinking about. It’s true, that’s part of the reason — but I’ve come to realize it’s also an exercise in masochism and self-punishment. And a little self-exploration, too.

Because here’s what happens: No sooner does a woman state that she’s not sure about her life right now and something seems to be missing — and maybe she wants to go back to school, get a different job, not have to clean the house — than there’s a pile-on of online commentators who will serve her up these precise messages:

• You are selfish.
• You made a commitment when you married/had children, and you must stick to it.
• You made a commitment, and the terms of that commitment must never change.
• People need to sacrifice when they get married/have children/have a significant other.
• You are refusing to sacrifice.
• Who told you that you deserved something more than anyone else?
• None of us get what we want; why should you?
• Liberal society and the media told you that you could “have it all,” but you can’t.
• Nobody can have it all.
• Life is about sacrifice.
• You are a privileged person who should be helping those less fortunate.
• You should have another child.
• You are immature, childish and a drug addict/alcoholic.

But even before these particular knives come out, there’s a mob cry to this effect:

“Oh, you want something to change? I know what you really want. You want to have an affair. Go ahead, go do it, you know you’re going to. And then when you cheat on your spouse, you lousy cheating cheater slut, you will ruin your life, ruin your children’s lives, get a disease, lose your job, end up poor and alone and/or end up poor and having to take care of those kids you wanted to get rid of, right?”

By the way, these are taken almost verbatim from online forums. I truly am not making this up. You can set your watch by this dynamic.

The woman has said nothing about wanting to get rid of her kids, by the way. She’s usually said nothing about wanting to get rid of her husband, either. She’s just said she’s getting burned out, or tired of living far away from her friends because of her husband’s job, or finding it difficult to enjoy her job anymore.

I’m not even going to get into the “you feminists/man haters” comments, cause those are just too old and tired and transparent. And they somehow skim right over my head.

(Men get terrible contempt heaped upon them when they seek the relationships they want, as well, I know. But they don’t as often throw their uncertainty out there as troll bait — they just get out there and do what they want, and feel the pain.)

The others, though, the charges of selfishness and immaturity, I pore over. It’s sick — I know. But sometimes the troll voices sound compassionate, like the patient tone of a priest or preacher bidding me to lay my burden down and come to Jesus. It’s such a temptation to fall into line, not to keep trying for change, for something different, for something that is true to me.

I don’t know if there’s a certain group of trolls who, like me, are attracted by certain keywords and jump on them. Or if there’s just one guy/girl somewhere, running a program designed to smack women down. Or if these attitudes are so pervasive that they’ll just pop up anywhere.

But I’m a glutton for this punishment. I read and I wonder: Am I like that? Am I unwilling to sacrifice, to keep commitments? Am I a shallow, silly slut who is ruining her life? I must be. So many say so.

Life would be so much easier in their zero-sum world, where every bit of happiness the sexually free woman or every bit of power the black guy who is president has means some power and happiness is grabbed, cruelly and heedlessly, away from you. It is much more difficult to negotiate and stumble and dance toward a world where everyone can win something. The trolls believe a world where everyone’s a winner is an illusion cooked up by mathematics geniuses in those colleges they hate or by the liberals who insist every kid at the soccer game get a trophy.

The trolls didn’t get a trophy, though, even when everyone else got one. Because they weren’t at that game — they were stuck at Sunday school. Being told how hateful and disgusting they are and how grotesque their bodies are.

Eric, in his latest subscriber edition, goes so far as to say that the current wave of misogyny being expressed politically is a projection of female sexual fears and self-loathing, being played out by the men in the game.

Oh my. While I dislike the “no matter what you do, you’re doing this wrong” corner this seems to push me into, and I am not one of the Eric-as-guru camp — if he even has one — I have the sneaky feeling he’s hit it.

This is the dynamic I’m doing to myself: In realizing my present power, and in beginning to realize its implications, I’m seeking to punish myself for it, to tamp it down. My power isn’t all that powerful, you see, because it’s tainted. Asking for and getting what I want is just a symptom of a personality disorder (the latest term for an incurable neurosis, which, although affirmed by the mental ‘health’ professions to be incurable, is nonetheless not covered as such by any insurance plans. You’ll get better in 20 visits or less, or else.).

Or my power is a moral failing. That’s something no one can argue with. The only way out of that one is to self-sacrifice endlessly. That is what mothers do, after all. It is so beautiful, so important, so essential for life as we know it. It is so important that we have designated a special day when Mothers will have to stuff themselves into uncomfortable clothes and visit the trans fat buffet.

In my quest to understand Republicans (and liberal shamers and trolls, for they do exist), I read an article describing a town run by such people, and the quotes that kept coming up over and over was that they did not want change, no, change is evil, change is scary, change is a plot and a ploy.

You are supposed to make a commitment, and neither you nor the commitment must ever change. Your partner must never change. The terms must never change.

When you have children, you have made a commitment. Nothing changes.

But everything changes, constantly, in ways sudden or steady. Take children, for instance (no, don’t take mine!). Today, my commitment may be toward enforcing piano practice, cuddling, or holding a vomit bowl. I’m there, all the way. Tomorrow, it may be toward getting the hell out of her way, because she needs to make her own decisions.

Love endures, but the form it takes changes. The terms change. A woman might go after a job that pays more, and her husband may spend more time at home doing housework.

Shut up, trolls.

I’m really lucky, I realize — Isaac is at least an equal partner in working, child care and housework. He’s probably more than equal in housework, but I do more in transportation and maybe spend more time on child care, because his job is more demanding. I’m naturally a slob, with piles of books and clothes everywhere; he’s good at cleaning. But I’ve improved a great deal, being with him.

My god. I changed. An actual change. Does this count? Should I go back to being a much worse slob, because when anyone changes in a relationship, it can only mean doom, right?

The troll mob says: No, no, little featherhead. You ARE allowed to change if it means you cook and clean more. Or maybe if you change to liking the kind of sex your partner keeps asking for but you don’t do.

Hard to think of much along those lines in my case. I guess I’ll stick to improving my ability to wash dishes. Could that be punishment enough that I can stop my addiction to being bashed by trolls?