Open Letter to Colleen Lindsay
Dec. 3rd, 2009 12:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
megwritesDear Colleen Lindsay,
I have been following the comments that you and others have made in this post made by Rachelle Gardner concerning public complaints by writers. My opinions on that can be found in other entries, if you feel like reading them. That's not here what I came to talk about.
I came here to talk about this comment that you left further down the page, the one that says (emphasis mine):
This may be the scariest thing I've ever done, but I need to tell you that this is not okay. I realize that I am probably very much putting whatever writing career I might have had in jeopardy. I realize that I could face a lot of consequences for saying this.
I'm willing to live with that.
I don't know your personal life all that well, besides what you Twitter or blog, so I don't know if you've ever had cause to be someone who takes Xanax or a medication similar to that.
But I do know many friends and family who have. Including me. I'm shaking right now, because I really don't like to admit that once upon a time, I had to be put on psychiatric medications when I was a kid. I still feel ashamed of it. It was a long time ago, and I try not to think about it or about how hard I tried not to let anyone know about it because, well, letting the kids at school know you're on "crazy pills" is asking to be teased.
I saw what happened to the one other girl in school who let the secret slip. I heard the "crazy" jokes and the "psycho" remarks. I heard the "she must be off her meds" remarks if she dared to show her hurt, her anger, her frustration. I got lucky. I kept my secret and was taken off the meds quickly. To this day, the thought of ever having to go back on them make me shake. Like I'm shaking right now.
I'm no longer on any psychiatric medications, but I know so many people who take such things. Including, yes, Xanax.
Those people, those friends and family, don't take it because they're high-strung and just need to "chill". They don't take it because they're bitchy and whiny and weak. They take it so they can function, so they can lead healthier lives. It is not due to a character flaw - it is due to a disorder, a disability.
The act of admitting you need help, especially with a mental disorder, is terrifying for so many people. There is still a lot of stigma surrounding it. When you admit that you have or still do take those drugs, you're opening yourself to a lot of scorn, to people who trivialize your condition, to people who think you're just whining and complaining, to people who think you're less trustworthy or intelligent because of it.
This isn't about writers or agents or the gripes between them. I don't care about that right now. I care that a professional that I respected so much has shown such profound disrespect, intentional or not, to so many people I care about.
You're a highly visible figure in the publishing world. One look at your blog or your Twitter feed shows that a lot of people watch and listen to you, and when you say such things, you give a silent nod to ablism to all those people watching. Yes, their actions and words are their responsibility. You can't control what other people do. But you can control what you yourself do, and what you condone.
I'm asking that in the future that you think about the things you say publicly, even in moments of great irritation (however justified) and the impact they will have on others. It is something that I think anyone who blogs, tweets, or comments should think about before they hit "post".
I'm keeping this letter open because I think that you are not, by any means, the first or worst in the voices of people who also encourage a culture of ablism, whether they mean to or not. I think we all need to talk about this, need to talk about ways we can change our words and behaviors so that we're not holding people down, disrespecting them, and making their lives harder.
Perhaps open letters on the internet are also unprofessional, perhaps bringing this out into the open is unprofessional, perhaps air my past is unprofessional. Well, maybe professionalism isn't all it's cracked up to be. And I'm not a professional. I'm just some nobody, unpublished writer with stories to tell who sees other people with stories -- and selves -- that are scorned, hidden, disrespected, ignored and thinks that it shouldn't be that way. I think that comments like yours only make it harder for those stories and those selves to come out honestly, openly, and with the dignity they deserve, and that shouldn't be.
Thank You,
Meg Freeman
I have been following the comments that you and others have made in this post made by Rachelle Gardner concerning public complaints by writers. My opinions on that can be found in other entries, if you feel like reading them. That's not here what I came to talk about.
I came here to talk about this comment that you left further down the page, the one that says (emphasis mine):
I actually didn't go into anyone's journal. Google feeds locked posts into the Google reader willy-nilly, regardless of whether the post is locked or not. I found out it was a locked post simply because I tried to reference it again to show a colleague from another agency who was also mentioned in the post and I was unable to access it through LiveJournal.
You may be loathe to point this out so I will: I just did you and every other writer a major public service by letting you all know that even if you think something is private, it can sometimes still be seen by Google Reader.
Here's a Xanax and a glass of water. Chill, please.
Colleen
This may be the scariest thing I've ever done, but I need to tell you that this is not okay. I realize that I am probably very much putting whatever writing career I might have had in jeopardy. I realize that I could face a lot of consequences for saying this.
I'm willing to live with that.
I don't know your personal life all that well, besides what you Twitter or blog, so I don't know if you've ever had cause to be someone who takes Xanax or a medication similar to that.
But I do know many friends and family who have. Including me. I'm shaking right now, because I really don't like to admit that once upon a time, I had to be put on psychiatric medications when I was a kid. I still feel ashamed of it. It was a long time ago, and I try not to think about it or about how hard I tried not to let anyone know about it because, well, letting the kids at school know you're on "crazy pills" is asking to be teased.
I saw what happened to the one other girl in school who let the secret slip. I heard the "crazy" jokes and the "psycho" remarks. I heard the "she must be off her meds" remarks if she dared to show her hurt, her anger, her frustration. I got lucky. I kept my secret and was taken off the meds quickly. To this day, the thought of ever having to go back on them make me shake. Like I'm shaking right now.
I'm no longer on any psychiatric medications, but I know so many people who take such things. Including, yes, Xanax.
Those people, those friends and family, don't take it because they're high-strung and just need to "chill". They don't take it because they're bitchy and whiny and weak. They take it so they can function, so they can lead healthier lives. It is not due to a character flaw - it is due to a disorder, a disability.
The act of admitting you need help, especially with a mental disorder, is terrifying for so many people. There is still a lot of stigma surrounding it. When you admit that you have or still do take those drugs, you're opening yourself to a lot of scorn, to people who trivialize your condition, to people who think you're just whining and complaining, to people who think you're less trustworthy or intelligent because of it.
This isn't about writers or agents or the gripes between them. I don't care about that right now. I care that a professional that I respected so much has shown such profound disrespect, intentional or not, to so many people I care about.
You're a highly visible figure in the publishing world. One look at your blog or your Twitter feed shows that a lot of people watch and listen to you, and when you say such things, you give a silent nod to ablism to all those people watching. Yes, their actions and words are their responsibility. You can't control what other people do. But you can control what you yourself do, and what you condone.
I'm asking that in the future that you think about the things you say publicly, even in moments of great irritation (however justified) and the impact they will have on others. It is something that I think anyone who blogs, tweets, or comments should think about before they hit "post".
I'm keeping this letter open because I think that you are not, by any means, the first or worst in the voices of people who also encourage a culture of ablism, whether they mean to or not. I think we all need to talk about this, need to talk about ways we can change our words and behaviors so that we're not holding people down, disrespecting them, and making their lives harder.
Perhaps open letters on the internet are also unprofessional, perhaps bringing this out into the open is unprofessional, perhaps air my past is unprofessional. Well, maybe professionalism isn't all it's cracked up to be. And I'm not a professional. I'm just some nobody, unpublished writer with stories to tell who sees other people with stories -- and selves -- that are scorned, hidden, disrespected, ignored and thinks that it shouldn't be that way. I think that comments like yours only make it harder for those stories and those selves to come out honestly, openly, and with the dignity they deserve, and that shouldn't be.
Thank You,
Meg Freeman
