Danger Is My Middle Name? Why "Safe" Isn't Doing It for Me

In just a couple weeks, I'm going to be in Chicago to hobnob, agitate, and speak at the Blogher conference. I love Blogher, I love Chicago, so this is my summer dream date come true.

This time, however, I was surprised which panel I was asked to join; it was pitched to me as "how to make safer spaces online."

My first reaction was like a child being asked to put on my seat belt for the 100th time: Ugh. "But I don't want to be safe online, Mom!"

When I think of all my ambitions for my blog or my writing, I think of being influential, incendiary, funny, poignant— never "safe."

My work has too often been criticized for "making [someone] feel unsafe," as if my editorial line was an assault.

I've been on the receiving end of firebomb and assassination threats, all because someone claimed that if I spoke aloud in public, "women would not be safe." The irony of the Molotov cocktail!

I  remember sitting in a police station, answering puzzled questions from officers about why I was being targeted, and admitting, "I have no idea why someone wants to kill me for promoting women's sexual self-interest." The cops shook their heads. It just didn't seem to rise to Martin Luther King standards.

How did this "safe shit" get so crazy?

The "safe" rhetoric does not come out of a emergency response manual. It doesn't have anything to do with living in a war zone, or leading a secret double life.

This kind of "safe" is a euphemism for something much more sticky. "Safe" is a code phrase that originates in the feminist movement of the 70s, where theorists like Robin Morgan postulated that "porn is the theory, rape is the practice." 

Catchy, isn't it?—€” But it fails to hold water (or rape statistics).

After Morgan's witticism, a coterie of activists began referring to porn as a variety of killing instructions. ...And what exactly WAS this "porn," so glibly offered up as evidence? You guessed it: anything that made you feel "not-safe."

One could scrutinize all manner of American advertising and popular culture, even the most G-rated, to a withering feminist analysis. Throw in the Bible while you're at it. But denouncing garden-variety sexism never got press like Carrie-Nation-style porn protesters.

Pretty soon, certain organizations of the feminist left were ground to a halt, because at any moment, someone could pipe up in a meeting: "I feel unsafe when you say that, Mary!"

There was nowhere to turn. Debate had no recourse in the "safe zone," and the "victim" won, smugly, by suppressive default.

It's rather amazing that everyone put up with it, and never rejected its childishness. Can you imagine interrupting a legitimate argument to complain that it had to end because it gave you a stomachache?

As the left pissed its faltering assets down a PC drain, the right-wing embraced some of the same coddled language. Is America safe for children? Are video games safe for teenagers? Shouldn't women stay inside and be safe instead of being subjected to god knows what in the brazen streets?

Of course, this wasn't anything new— it's centuries-old protectionism—€” but the pseudo-feminist sheen gave it new legs.

The next group to pile onto the Safe-T Garbage Detail were the corporate litigators. This was a huge leap. You had institutions that were truly guilty—€” are truly guilty—€” of staggering sexism and discrimination. They would freeze out and exploit their female workers without a second thought. Get some more coffee while you're up, dear!

When a few women tried to mount a legal campaign against the worst offenders, it turned out that one of the few things they could nail these fuckers to the wall for, was for cultivating an "unsafe" atmosphere.

Now, what REALLY makes a place inhospitable to women is when they are stuck at the lowest end of the pay and authority scale—€”  a risqué screen saver or  dirty joke is only a symptom of the bigger picture.

When women run a business, or are at the top of the corporate pyramid, the Beevis and Butthead scenarios never gain traction. Chauvinists, you'll notice, don't snicker sexual remarks at their supervisors or even their competitors.

Equal-pay and promotion lawsuits haven't gotten very far, whereas the "make everyone censor themselves beyond rationality" complaints have climbed their way to the top. Many bosses relish the petty employee scrutiny. There's a fortune to be made monitoring everyone's personal behavior.

Would anyone like to guess how many billions have been made out of content filtering tools and policies that ensure that everyone is reduced to as Stepford-like an existence as possible?

What's even more bitter to accept, is that after all the new filters, rules, and NSFW-sabre-rattling, People Are Offended in Perpetuity. Everyone is offended by everyone, in one huge Dilbert-toxified circle. As soon as one word or picture is banned, another becomes its surrogate, its sneaky shadow.

Here's a tip: Wanna stop the cycle of "safety panics" at your workplace? Give each person who works some privacy and dignity.

Then look at the pay scales of everyone in the company, and give all the secretaries, assistants, and janitorial staff a gigantic raise. Watch how suddenly, all the "unsafe" feelings disappear as if by magic!

Wow, honey, I'm depositing a big check and I feel so much SAFER all of a sudden!

Respect goes further to eradicate harassment than a NSFW filter.

When I first scrutinized NSFW theology, I questioned the idea that it was a "common courtesy." It's common all right; it's all too frequent that one person makes the rules for everyone else and expects them to shut up and not notice what they're missing. But that's not courteous.

We have other methods, that we've used all our lives, that allow us to be kind and thoughtful to our neighbors and colleagues— that don't involved a murky, unmandated labeling system.

The cruelest criticism I received in my first foray into NSFW-debate was when one doubter wrote: "Susie Bright has never worked a real job. How would she know what it's like to be harassed at work?"

I didn't know whether to be flattered or horrified that anyone could think I'd led such a sheltered life, playing my harp on a silken cloud. I come to my position because I'm a veteran of workplace harassment and discrimination, not through ignorance.

After a hundred shitty jobs, I'm certain of it: Respect and power, shown through healthy compensation and working conditions, are what make for a cordial working atmosphere.

If you want to yank out the root of  sexual harassment, that's where it lies. "Safe" doesn't even cross your mind when you're too busy running the show. I don't need someone screening my email for naughty words when I'm a valued member of a workplace.

Well, I guess I've written my speech for Blogher, eh? Actually, I hope to have some new things to think about before I get there. I'm not the only speaker who finds the idea controversial.

Here's the full  description of our panel, below— as Miss Davis would say, Fasten your seatbelts, it's gonna be a bumpy night!

Privacy, Exposure, Risk: Can you maintain safer spaces online?

When there are other people involved, blogging can be just like sex. You can never guarantee it’s 100% safe, but you can make it safer. And oh, by the way, “safe” can be in the eye of the beholder. Discuss where you draw the line to protect yourself, those close to you and your entire online community both around your individual blog, or in larger more structured online communities, from family friendly sites to sex sites. Lynne D. Johnson moderates what is sure to be a lively discussion with feminists erotica writer Susie Bright, Ann Crady, CEO of parenting site Maya's Mom, and Tara Hunt, who recently wrote "The Insidious Danger of Danger".

I love the last article linked in the description. We have nothing to fear... but NSFW itself!