On Screwing Up, and Moving On

Self magazine’s segment called the “BS Meter” has been in the news lately, because of a tiny little paragraph that poked fun at a fitness trend: tutus for runners. Personally, I like the idea of running in a colorful tutu. It is fun, it draws attention to the wearer, it helps adults release their inner child, and can raise money for charity (the subject of Self’s mini-article was Monica Allen, 35, who makes tutus and donates some of the profits to Girls on the Run San Diego).

Self was apparently oblivious that the photo of Allen running the LA Marathon was taken while she was in the midst of chemotherapy treatment for a brain tumor.

Self had asked for a photo of the tutu trendsetter without informing her that they intended to mock her product.  Ms. Allen probably anticipated that the skirts would be treated with respect, and that the exposure would be good publicity.

As if publicly mocking anyone isn’t bad enough, it happened to be a young female entrepreneur, who has started a fitness trend that raises money for charity, and who is also facing a daunting and potentially fatal medical condition. It was just one paragraph, but it was impactful.

I recently heard the expression, “true beauty is the ability to see beauty in another.” I also believe this idea meshes well with Christian philosophy, that we should strive to support and love one another. (“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” John, 13:34, among many others)

It’s not always easy to do, and it’s something that I continually struggle with. But there were days in my youth, when I did not scruple to try. I remember a time, freshman year of high school, when I let my demon tongue get loose.

I had a friend named “Barb”, who lived down the street from me, and she was friends with a girl named “Suzy”. Suzy and I never got along, and I’m not sure why.  At some point, Suzy got the idea that I was chasing her boyfriend, which is ridiculous, because he was in our grade and therefore way too young to be interesting to me.

When I heard that she thought I was trying to steal her guy, I guess I was insulted by the idea that I would: a) try to break up an existing relationship, b) be attracted to a high school freshman, and c) want anything that Suzy had.

I wrote a three-page note to Barb, in which I let loose every mean-girl thought I’d ever had about Suzy, and her beau. I made fun of her hair: How does she get it that way? It’s like wings sticking out on the side! I laughed at her slim figure, her choice of clothing (I must admit, I had a very limited wardrobe at that time), her performance in school, her manner of speaking.

I intended the note only for Barb’s eyes. I wrote it in a moment of anger. But my wicked humor was spot-on that day. Barb read it in one of her classes, and laughed (at her best friend of several years) until the other kids asked what was so funny, and the note began to circulate.

People I didn’t even know came up to me and told me how hilarious it was. “You are so right about her hair! It is like wings!”

I felt triumphant. I was funny! And it was so easy. All I had to do was make fun of someone else.

I can’t remember the exact moment when I started to realize that the attack on Suzy was completely unfair. Although she had been gossiping about me and her boyfriend, the two of us were on completely different playing fields in the battle of mean. I had a vast resource of written words and mean-spirited humor: she just had a few catty spoken remarks that didn’t go past the few people she spoke to.

It may have taken me years before I realized that, even though I gained a few popularity points from my snarky letter, I had used my writing skill to put someone else down. Unfortunately, it was not the last time the mean girl escaped from my pen. It’s so easy to climb a few steps higher by stepping on someone else that we don’t always realize we’re doing it, or what the cost is to the people around us, to our relationships, and to the general atmosphere of a community.

I am sure that when a writer at Self scribbled out a few sentences about running in tutus, she thought she was being funny. When the editor read it and approved it, she probably thought the same thing. And many people that find the tutus tacky probably laughed at the piece. Then the tide turned.

Although I disagree with the article, I wouldn’t mount an anti-Self hate campaign because a series of people in the editorial chain screwed up. We all screw up. All the time. Life is a process of learning to recognize that you are screwing up, and when you do, not only to apologize, but to learn how to move forward and do a better job in the future.

The publisher of Self has already apologized and published a short interview with Allen. The magazine has decided to stop running the BS Meter feature. I sincerely hope that in the future the magazine, and those of us who were upset by the blurb, will make an effort to do a better job of using our powers for good—for building people up, for encouraging good ideas and positive characteristics, and just letting little things alone when we don’t particularly like them.