Dead Air

The thin atmosphere of misogyny and rage

“You don’t have the intellectual capacity to understand this,” he said to me.

I paused. I tell my clients to pause when a person says something shitty or disrespectful. Pause, a neutral expression on your face, and just let the moment sit there. The recording continued, the silence unspooling. I remembered the phrase we used back in the days when I was on the radio for this shriven silence.

Dead air.

“I was only joking,” he said, finally, after a long moment had passed, without a shred of amusement or embarrassment on his face.

He invited me onto his podcast. I was his guest. The subject he was telling me I wasn’t smart enough to grasp is one in which I have an advanced degree, and published a book about, from an actual publisher, the book I am currently promoting on various podcasts, including his.

I’ve been a guest many podcasts, and it has largely been a very positive experience. I talk with people with smaller but loyal audiences, who do this in their spare time, much like I did with Eugene on Bad Boss Brief before he had a stroke.

Usually, there is a quick chat between me and the host before the recording. I think the hosts are making sure I have a decent internet connection and studio set up, and I like to meet the person who is going to interview me. I’ve done so many of these I’m quite practiced at it.

I didn’t meet this guy before the recording. I knew right away when I saw him on screen that he was of a type. He liked to hear himself talk. He had a conception of himself and his expertise that was probably not aligned with how he showed up in the world. But I’m assuming best intention. After all, the topic is spirituality and I wrote a whole book about being radically hospitable to people with a wide range of spiritual beliefs. Which means I am committed to meeting people with different beliefs with acceptance, openness and curiosity.

He starts talking. I’m accessing all the compassion, but some of what he’s saying is wrong in a way I think could be harmful.

I am generally uneasy with rigid binaries, especially when discussing spirituality. Body versus spirit, judgement versus acceptance. There are so many cultural and political layers to the narrative that the body and any emotions which are seated in the body are suspect, inferior, or not spiritual. I actually think the body is a reliable guide for our minds, not a badly behaved animal that needs to be housebroken or tamed.

So, when this man began to expound on his beliefs in various binaries I consider to be spurious or damaging, I invited him to reframe his narrative. Which he didn’t appreciate. I saw it on his face, a look I’ve known since childhood, the small, clenched movements around the eyes and mouth that indicate disapproval.

At first, I could see his expression reassemble. He wants us to believe he is a man who can take “pushback” and he adjusts to the idea that I might have more and different ideas than he anticipated. He would not be the first person to look at me and think how hard can it be to talk to a gray-haired grandmother, right? He would also not be the first person to register a moment of surprise when I am smarter or more articulate than anticipated. Plenty of people follow the surprise with delight, like, hey, she knows some shit, cool, let’s go.

And some do not.

Reflexively, I handled him. I still have the muscle memory of defusing the potential rage of a man who feels himself to be crossed. I acknowledged that he had expertise I do not, which is true. His focus is quite different than mine. I was stroking his ego, which usually calms the rage a bit, but it also establishes that we are equal – you know your subject, I know mine.

I also demonstrated humility, which is genuine. I said, as a perfectionist, some spiritual practices are challenging for me. He swiftly mansplained spiritual practice to me and I just let him, adopting, again, the neutral pause, the beat of dead air.

I meant it, I struggle with many basic spiritual practices and often fall short of my ethical or moral ideal, and I don’t have any trouble owning it. I have a long rich tradition to draw on to improve my practice, and did not find any of his suggestions to be helpful, but I said nothing, as they may be helpful to his listeners. Just as some of them might be helped by my admission that perfectionism can be challenging.

I was surprised at how calm and regulated I felt throughout. Promoting my book means doing lots of podcasts, so on one hand this is another day at the office. I was also able to get to compassion pretty quickly. This man started the episode with an introduction that focused heavily on my academic achievements. He talked about my degree from Stanford and my MA from the Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry with swift envy, the way a single person who is desperate to be married speaks of a friend’s wedding. I list my education in various bios, because it matters to some people and it is a proof point in a competitive market. But I rarely lead with it in interviews. The fact that he did led me to believe he was envious of it in some way. So, when he rolled out the idea that I lacked the intelligence to grasp something, it was clearly more about him than me.

There are many things I am insecure about. My intelligence and competence are not on that list. I am almost 5’10. If someone jeered at me for being short, I would wonder about their eyesight, but I wouldn’t take it seriously.

I wondered if he has an editor who will listen to the episode and suggest an edit, who will hear how his assertion of my lack of mental capacity lands and try and protect him from the big reveal of the parts of his personality he tries to hide. At the end of the recording, he said something to the effect that it was good to have a healthy exchange of ideas, he thanked me for my time.

When I talk about my book, I often talk about the cultural moment in which we live. How we are told our problems are individual, a result of our failings, when in reality they are usually a result of living in racist, misogynistic, patriarchal late-stage capitalism. The small muscles on his face jumped at that, too.

This wasn’t just because this was an older white guy. I was interviewed recently by another older white man who was open and curious, and we had a great conversation as he talked about how he is unlearning patriarchal patterns.

It all felt very familiar. I’ve done this so many times, for so many years. Now, because I choose my clients and they are all lovely, I am largely insulated from people questioning my intelligence or aptitude. It was good to know I can still handle myself.

But the dead air is stifling, that pause filled with acrid animosity, less oxygen, the thin air of misogyny and rage making it harder to breathe. I’ve spent so many years in the dead air of corporate misogyny I don’t want to return. It is barren, it destroys rather than nurtures, nothing can grow there.

I thought about getting back in touch with him and saying something about it. Then I decided not to. It is his audience. They will hear what he is doing. They may not all recognize it, but some of them will. And it is not a good look. Let him have the consequences of his choices. I think I showed up as grounded, professional and like someone who has a spiritual practice.

Judgement, I told him in our interview, is not always bad. He said it was. I said judgement can help us refine our moral and ethical guidelines for ourselves. So many people who talk or teach or write about spirituality or what are called “self-help” topics get very invested in being right, the best, the guru, the one who knows. They often build a personal brand that positions them as the most loving, spiritually connected, understanding, in tune. Maybe they think being a guru will help them sell more books or online courses or retreats. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want be that guy. My judgement of him is also a signal to me of who not to be.

As soon as I got off the phone I called Mary Virigina, my best friend. This is how I metabolize these kinds of interactions, by calling another woman and laughing at the man. We cracked up. The gleeful, rebellious energy I still feel when roundly mocking a man who was a jerk, has gotten me through hundreds of these episodes in my career.

It all gets to be true. I can access compassion in the moment, stand up for what I believe while trying to calm the waters, and then roundly mock him to my friends. And then, the ultimate joy as a writer, put it all down in black and white for you to read. He might read this, he might not. I don’t need to name him or his podcast, not to protect him (the episode won’t air for months) but because his is a specific kind of man. Not Every Man but Many Men. Many men bray and attack in this particular pattern, and we should watch out for all of them. We need to see and understand the dead air they produce for what is it; lifeless and life-stealing. We need to protect ourselves and change the environment as quickly as we can, or, better yet, leave entirely.