The Art of Silence: Learning When To Step Away From An Argument
Written by
Veronica Wells
Published on
January 9, 2014
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If there’s one thing I inherited from my father, and there are plenty, it’s my argumentative nature. I cannot shirk away from debate. Whether it’s light and playful or it’s something I believe strongly in my core and your opposing stance will make me look at you differently…forever, I have to speak my piece. I can’t really explain what this is about in its entirety. I know it has a lot to do with my desire to be right. But there’s also this piece about wanting the people I value and myself to be on the same page. Like, if we don’t agree on what I consider to be fundamental or moral truths, what does that say about our relationship? Are we as tight as we thought we were?
This holiday season, I had an extended break with my parents due to Snowpocalypse, or the Polar Vortex or whatever. Now this wasn’t a problem. I like and love my parents so it was no thang… until we disagreed. We were watching the movie Crash and we had just come to the part where Thandie Newton’s character gets felt up–straight molested– in front of her husband, by Matt Dillon, who plays a police officer. In case you haven’t seen the movie in a while and don’t remember the scene, here it is, in this video.
During the whole thing my parents, mainly my father, are providing commentary.
“This was her fault. If she had of just kept her mouth shut and stayed in the car like he told her none of this would have happened.”
“She put her husband’s life in jeopardy.”
“How could she not know the history of black men and the police, especially the LAPD?”
And the one that really put the nail in the coffin: “I don’t empathize with her at all.”
I was literally disgusted but mostly disappointed. I mean, it was her fault…really?! It all sounded too much like the woman who brought rape upon herself by wearing a short skirt. And even if she did bring it upon herself– which she didn’t– how does that warrant you not feeling sorry for her? I couldn’t understand them. I have always considered my parents to be pretty progressive but all of this just seemed so backwards.
I said a bit of this–not the backwards part– but I argued that it wasn’t her fault. And I tried to let it go. I really tried. But I couldn’t. It was like something was gnawing at my head, heart and stomach. And I had to make them understand that they were being unfair, cruel even. I might have been able to make it through the movie but then there’s the scene, later in the film, where Terrence Howard has his own encounter with the cops. And he says things that are far worse than anything Thandie said. And my father, instead of chastising him, empathized with him for taking the “Malcolm X” approach. And even more surprisingly, my mom was agreeing to all this. Cosigning. What was going on?!?
I was about to burst.
The issue was bigger than just this movie for several reasons. It’s racism, sexism and personal experience all wrapped up into one. You see, maybe six or seven years ago, I watched my sister be unfairly harassed– not sexually– by the cops. She was 20 years old and tried to make a fake ID to get into a club. She used paper to cover the info on her real driver’s license. When that didn’t work and the bouncer was going to confiscate it, she said she needed it back. Her real ID was under there. Naturally, he didn’t care. We should have left then but she kept trying to explain to him that she needed her ID back because she needed to drive back to school. The bouncer wasn’t having any of it and called the cops. We had walked away from the club by the time they arrived but the bouncer pointed our group out to be police officers. The cops approached my sister, she still tried to explain why she needed her ID back and when they weren’t understanding she screamed– at no one in particular– in frustration. Well, that did it. They immediately put her in hand cuffs and she spent the night in jail. They made up some bogus charge about her being publicly intoxicated to rationalize keeping her in there.
I was thinking about all of that while my parents were busy not sympathizing with Thandie’s character. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt like I was going to burst. But instead of popping off and saying something that might have gotten me slapped, I texted my sister who was sitting in the same room.
Me: “I just cannot understand how mom and dad have no sympathy for that woman when you could have easily been in the same situation when you were arrested. And furthermore I can’t understand why they empathized with the husband who went “Malcolm X.”
My sister, Vanessa: Right I was going to say that but was over the argument.
*Sidenote* I can count on one hand–maybe just three fingers– the number of times I’ve been ‘over’ an argument…what is that like?
Me: I’m too hurt
Vanessa: Clearly LOL don’t stress. They just don’t see it.
I promise you, I was going to finish the movie, keep my mouth shut, eat my dinner and go to bed pissed off, seriously questioning the people who’d raised me. But then I got the permission I needed.
Vanessa: Sound off
So after the movie was over, I turned to my parents (I had turned away from them while they were expressing viewpoints I wasn’t trying to hear because I’m so mature.) and said with a friendly- I mean no disrespect-smile on my face, “I’m really hurt that you all didn’t empathize with Thandie’s character.” My dad said, “I know you are,” and chuckled. Then I explained to them how even though she was black and should have known what the police do to black people, specifically black men, her emotions still could have gotten the best of her. And we should still empathize with her because she was mistreated, molested, for just being human and expressing anger.
They still didn’t get it.
Then I pulled out my trump card. “The exact same thing could have happened to Vanessa. You wouldn’t have empathized with her in that situation?”
They each paused for a second. My dad: “Of course I would have empathized with my baby.” And my mom even noted that I was right. (Good ole mom.) But my dad was really hung up on this point of Thandie putting her husband’s life in danger and was sure Vanessa would have been able to control her temper and her tongue if it was someone else’s life at stake. And my mom agreed with him on that too. (Traitor.)
I had to get up.
It wasn’t until I was fixing my plate and tears started streaming down my face that I realized, once again, that I had taken things too far. Why was I in here crying about a movie and a hypothetical argument? It just wasn’t worth it for me to get that worked up. Sure it was more personal but my sister wasn’t molested in real life, Thandie was probably kicking it in an LA mansion somewhere while I was crying in my parent’s kitchen and most importantly, my sister who could relate to Thandie’s plight more than any of us, was completely “over it” half an hour ago. Maybe I should have chilled and let my parents think what they thought and saved myself the heartache.
I know I feel like I have to argue because I know how women often have to fight to be heard. And that’s true. Our opinions often don’t hold as much weight, even in our most intimate relationships, simply because we’re women. But there is something to be said about well timed silence. And I’m not suggesting only women implement this strategy. Men could benefit from employing silence as well. It doesn’t always equal weakness. It can be used to maintain your own sanity. I have no idea how I’ll even begin to incorporate such a strategy in my own life because I love to argue. But I must admit there’s power in letting your silence tell the person not that you’ve acquiesced or agree with their way of thinking, but that you’ve made an executive decision to no longer allow yourself to participate in debate that will solve no problem and serve no greater purpose, as was the case with the Crash debate. As strongly as I felt about it, it just wasn’t that deep.
Do you have a problem letting certain things roll off your back? When you’re arguing how do you know that you’ve taken things too far?
