The Many Faces of Fear

I recently stumbled upon an on-line class called The Novel Today. Sitting in the first class a few weeks ago, I knew I was an outsider. Not only was I significantly younger than all my classmates but this group had met for decades with the same teacher. I sat in silence and listened as the class discussed Mrs. March by Virginia Fieto, providing thoughtful analysis of this character study depicting a woman’s psychotic break. 

As each week passed, I got more comfortable in the group and began to share my thoughts. I relaxed into the possibility that I would not remain an outsider forever. 

Last week, I sat in my chair, finally one that supports my back, watching and listening while two dozen fellow readers, all decades older than I, discussed Mieko Kawakami’s novel Heaven, a translated work that tells the story of extreme physical bullying in a Japanese middle school. 

I listened as a fellow student commented on the lack of technology in the story. The teacher responded that novelists are avoiding technology to keep their stories timeless. I perked up in disagreement and confusion. 

A few weeks ago, we read Bewilderment, a brilliant Richard Powers novel in which technology plays a central role. And beyond that, the next generation of novelists has come of age with social media as their oxygen. I firmly believe coming of age stories written by today’s generation will focus nearly solely on on-line bullying. How can they not? 

While reading myself, I had checked Heaven’s copyright date, assuming it was written before social media became today’s locker in which to be suffocated. The lack of technology was noticeable given the topic matter. While translated into English in 2021, Kawakami wrote her brilliant words originally in 2009- one year before the creation of Instagram, two years before Snapchat, seven years before Tik Tok and eleven years before BeReal. 

I pushed the raise hand icon and when called upon, I shared my thoughts. 

My teacher stood her ground. She insisted the internet existed when Kawakami wrote her story. Therefore, she had made a deliberate decision to not include on-line bullying.

Defeated by her lack of willingness to admit wrong and more defeated by her inability to value the opinion of an outsider, of someone raising children in this generation, I muted myself and turned off my camera. 

Words and attitude matter. My next class meets tomorrow. I have not read this week’s assignment and I am not sure I will attend this week’s session. I am still frustrated that my teacher dismissed my opinion. More importantly I am sad that, yet again, I feel like an outsider. A person with a different opinion whose opinion was dismissed. 

I typically love being in multi-generational groups. Learning from people who are walking the path ahead of me and sharing with those behind me is one of my favorite ways to spend my time. But a group that doesn’t want to learn from those younger than they are? I don’t know. 

As an outsider already, this exchange with my teacher was enough to make me question my place in the group. Is this group as unwelcoming to outsiders as I had initially feared? Is this group only interested in people willing to preach to their choir? Are my opinions unwanted? Or worse, unwarranted? 

Yesterday I shared this piece in an on-line writing group hosted by the amazing Jena Schwartz. This group is magical. We represent so many different experiences, ages and beliefs. We share these experiences, learn from each other and respect each other. As I wrote above, it is a magical place. After I read yesterday, a fellow writer, herself older than I, suggested that perhaps the teacher feels insecure about technology. Worried that she can’t keep up with all the changes. And that perhaps, I incorrectly interpreted my teacher’s fear as dismissal. And this is why I love being in intergenerational groups. Not once, in all my thinking about this brief exchange, had I considered this perspective. 

Originally, my piece ended with this paragraph: 

I think instead of how other students might feel. The child of color who reads book after book- each one written by white authors about situations to which they cannot relate. The child whose teacher cannot ask the girl about her family, fearful of breaking the law if her student talks about her two moms. The child who sits through the standard American history curriculum knowing that lies are being told but scared to question authority. 

But now I must add a new thought. What if some of the anger we are feeling in this country right now comes from fear? Fear of change. Fear of confusion. Fear of being left behind as the world spins so quickly and so differently than it once did? Of course, there are many people who hold opinions for reasons that I will never accept. They are wrong, they are cruel and I will never have space in my heart to understand them. But… what if some of the people are actually scared? What if they are expressing their fear as anger and hatred? I will likely never know the answer to this question but I am grateful to have been asked.