Anatomy of an Apology: An open letter to Aaryn Gries

An apology can be forced or freely given. It can be genuine or insincere. It can disarm the receiver or fuel her anger. And on rare occasions, when it is done right, with a certain amount of finesse and introspection, it can be art.  It's a skill that far too few of us learn. Instead of receiving criticism and taking a moment to reflect on the validity of the accusation we immediately lash back. And sometimes there's a moment in that fight where we realize our own shortcomings but rather than back down and embrace the (sometimes hard) lessons being thrown our way we continue to fight. The competitive spirit takes over and we attempt to win. Or to save face. But even if we hold our ground, steadfast, until the other person surrenders or simply recedes in exasperation, there is no victory to be found in false-righteousness.

Aaryn, I imagine that you had hoped that your stint on Big Brother would afford you a brief 15 minutes of fame and perhaps provide a jump start to your modelling career. Instead, what has happened is that your racist and homophobic comments have been broadcasted around the world. Small clips of hate-filled words pieced together and shared on youtube, Facebook, and Twitter. You've become the runner-up poster girl for Southern racism. Succeeded only by Paula Dean. But if you continue on this path you may just succeed her by the end of the summer. If you manage to not get voted out that is. And that modelling career you've been working towards? Well, you will be very shocked to hear that your agency has responded to your comments by dropping you from their roster.




You entered the Big Brother house as a young, pretty, white girl. You were likely living a charmed life. But you will leave the house facing an intense wall of hate directed at you. My guess is that you will have no frame of reference for how to deal with this outcome. And that's what I'm going to try and help you with now.

On last night's episode you offered up a pretty insincere apology to Candice.

"Candice, I'm sorry. Anybody that knows me knows that just because I'm Southern, and I say things that are probably aren't appropriate all the time. I have nothing against any other race. And if I make a comment that seems like I do, I don't want it to be taken that way, and I don't want to offend you." 


And then later, in the diary room, you added:

"I don't want her to be thinking that I'm that type of person and I also don't want her to be using that against me or spreading something about me that's not true." 

I think we all need to be clear that being Southern does not make one racist nor justify it. While you have been locked up in Big Brother isolation your Southern contemporary, Paula Dean, has attempted to use the same justification. It hasn't worked for her either. 

There are a few key ways that this apology fails. First, it's all about you. Your comments have hurt and offended another person but instead of focussing on her feelings you have turned all of the attention back to the consequences that you may be subjected to. Your reaction isn't entirely surprising. Human beings are narcissistic creatures. But if you could take a moment to step back from the situation, examine why Candice (and countless other people) have been offended by your remarks, and do some serious and genuine introspection, you would be much more likely to receive an accepted apology and respect from the rest of us watching you on screen. 

I'd like to take a moment now to give you an example of apology as art. This apology, from Jason Alexander (Seinfeld's George Costanza) is so good that it bears repeating in full. 

A message of amends.

Last week, I made an appearance on the Craig Ferguson show – a wonderfully unstructured, truly spontaneous conversation show. No matter what anecdotes I think will be discussed, I have yet to find that Craig and I ever touch those subjects. Rather we head off onto one unplanned, loony topic after another. It’s great fun trying to keep up with him and I enjoy Craig immensely.

During the last appearance, we somehow wandered onto the topic of offbeat sports and he suddenly mentioned something about soccer and cricket. Now, I am not a stand-up comic. Stand up comics have volumes of time-tested material for every and all occasions. I, unfortunately, do not. However, I’ve done a far amount of public speaking and emceeing over the years so I do have a scattered bit, here and there. 

Years ago, I was hosting comics in a touring show in Australia and one of the bits I did was talking about their sports versus American sports. I joked about how their rugby football made our football pale by comparison because it is a brutal, no holds barred sport played virtually without any pads, helmets or protection. And then I followed that with a bit about how, by comparison, their other big sport of cricket seemed so delicate and I used the phrase, “ a bit gay”. Well, it was all a laugh in Australia where it was seen as a joke about how little I understood cricket, which in fact is a very, very athletic sport. The routine was received well but, seeing as their isn’t much talk of cricket here in America, it hasn’t come up in years. 

Until last week. When Craig mentioned cricket I thought, “oh, goody – I have a comic bit about cricket I can do. Won’t that be entertaining?”. And so I did a chunk of this old routine and again referred to cricket as kind of “gay” – talking about the all white uniforms that never seem to get soiled; the break they take for tea time with a formal tea cart rolled onto the field, etc. I also did an exaggerated demonstration of the rather unusual way they pitch the cricket ball which is very dance-like with a rather unusual and exaggerated arm gesture. Again, the routine seemed to play very well and I thought it had been a good appearance.

Shortly after that however, a few of my Twitter followers made me aware that they were both gay and offended by the joke. And truthfully, I could not understand why. I do know that humor always points to the peccadillos or absurdities or glaring generalities of some kind of group or another – short, fat, bald, blonde, ethnic, smart, dumb, rich, poor, etc. It is hard to tell any kind of joke that couldn’t be seen as offensive to someone. But I truly did not understand why a gay person would be particularly offended by this routine.

However, troubled by the reaction of some, I asked a few of my gay friends about it. And at first, even they couldn’t quite find the offense in the bit. But as we explored it, we began to realize what was implied under the humor. I was basing my use of the word “gay” on the silly generalization that real men don’t do gentile, refined things and that my portrayal of the cricket pitch was pointedly effeminate , thereby suggesting that effeminate and gay were synonymous. 

But what we really got down to is quite serious. It is not that we can’t laugh at and with each other. It is not a question of oversensitivity. The problem is that today, as I write this, young men and women whose behaviors, choices or attitudes are not deemed “man enough” or “normal” are being subjected to all kinds of abuse from verbal to physical to societal. They are being demeaned and threatened because they don’t fit the group’s idea of what a “real man” or a “real woman” are supposed to look like, act like and feel like. 

For these people, my building a joke upon the premise I did added to the pejorative stereotype that they are forced to deal with everyday. It is at the very heart of this whole ugly world of bullying that has been getting rightful and overdue attention in the media. And with my well-intentioned comedy bit, I played right into those hurtful assumptions and diminishments.

And the worst part is – I should know better. My daily life is filled with gay men and women, both socially and professionally. I am profoundly aware of the challenges these friends of mine face and I have openly advocated on their behalf. Plus, in my own small way, I have lived some of their experience. Growing up in the ‘70’s in a town that revered it’s school sports and athletes, I was quite the outsider listening to my musical theater albums, studying voice and dance and spending all my free time on the stage. Many of the same taunts and jeers and attitudes leveled at young gay men and women were thrown at me and on occasion I too was met with violence or the threat of violence. 

So one might think that all these years later I might be able to intuit that my little cricket routine could make some person who has already been made to feel alien and outcast feel even worse or add to the conditions that create their alienation. But in this instance, I did not make the connection. I didn’t get it. 

So, I would like to say – I now get it. And to the extent that these jokes made anyone feel even more isolated or misunderstood or just plain hurt – please know that was not my intention, at all or ever. I hope we will someday live in a society where we are so accepting of each other that we can all laugh at jokes like these and know that there is no malice or diminishment intended.

But we are not there yet. 

So, I can only apologize and I do. In comedy, timing is everything. And when a group of people are still fighting so hard for understanding, acceptance, dignity and essential rights – the time for some kinds of laughs has not yet come. I hope my realization brings some comfort. 

Thanks,
Jason

Do you see what he did there? He did not focus on how his comment was misconstrued or taken out of context. He didn't focus on how the backlash affected him. He took the time to listen to the complaints people made. He investigated them. He investigated himself. And when he had that lightbulb moment, the one where he realized he was on the wrong side of the debate, he didn't continue to fight anyway. He admitted his wrong doings. And he asked for forgiveness. And you know what happened? The gay people he offended felt heard and respected. They thanked Jason Alexander. Instead of the villain in the fight for gay rights he was recast as a hero. He got it. 

Aaryn, I don't offer you this advice to excuse or condone what you have said and done while on camera in the Big Brother house. I'm writing this in hopes that you'll own it. I hope that you can take the hate that is about to come your way as you exit the bubble you've been living in and use it for good.  Take the time to watch yourself on video. Watch the reactions of your housemates. Talk to other people, of various races, ethnicities, and sexualities and truly try to understand their reactions to your comments. Grow. And when you are ready, when you truly do "get it" (and only then because an insincere apology is as bad as none) apologize. Be a role model for young white people growing up in a culture that has weaved systemic racism into the fabric of its existence. 

The first few days after your Big Brother exit are going to be very hard. Try to understand that you've earned that. But also understand that you are in a unique position to invoke change. Much needed change that could come on the heels of a nation divided after a summer that has shown the ugliness of white supremacy alive and well. You don't know it yet, but this week George Zimmerman was found not guilty of murdering Trayvon Martin. Trayvon was a seventeen year old, unarmed, Black man. And people are furious. The system that validates the idea that certain lives, especially young Black male lives, are worth less than their counterparts has been brutally exposed. And that skeleton will not be going back in the closet. But, if you choose to do so, you have the opportunity to offer some small comfort to the people who are grieving and incensed. While perhaps an unpleasant position to inhabit it is nonetheless a very powerful one. 

My guess is that you will issue a public apology full of denial, righteousness and external blame. But instead of saying "Ask any of my friends and family, they will tell you that there isn't a racist bone in my body. I may sometimes say inappropriate things because that's how I was raised and those are the kind of things I am used to. But I was only joking around and my words and their meaning were taken out of context. I apologize if I've hurt anyone." Perhaps you could say something like "I'm deeply sorry for the hurt and anger my words and actions have caused. I was raised in a racist culture and it took my hate-filled words being broadcast on television for me to truly understand my part in the continual reproduction of race-based stereotypes and persecution. In the time since I have left the house I have done a lot of conversing, soul searching and introspection. And I can honestly say that I did not like what I saw. The legacy of slavery and institutionalized racism in our country is more complex than I ever understood. I will never be able to fully understand what it means to live in this world as a gay man, or a black woman, but I am ready to listen to these experiences. And I am grateful that my eyes have been opened. I cannot unsay the things I said. But I can apologize for them. And I can learn from them."

Now is your opportunity. What are you going to do with it? 

Edited to add:
It meant so much to me that Jason Alexander took the time to reply to this post. 

DOMA Down (a post from Mac's Dad Andy)

Same sex marriage has been federally legal here in Canada for nearly a decade. When I chose to marry my wife we were able to do so with all the legal rights and responsibilities of our heterosexual counterparts. But we knew that was not a universal right. When our son's dad married his husband this past year he did so in a state that recognized his union in a country that did not. But last week that changed. DOMA was struck down by the supreme court and it made a substantial, pragmatic, difference in Andy and Raf's life. The fight isn't over by any means. Most states still don't allow same sex marriage. But it was a victory. And we need to take moments out to celebrate them when they come. So please join me in welcoming our favourite "special guest star" to Mondays with Mac this week! Congratulations boys! We love you so so much! 

Oh, but before I turn the blog over to Andy I just thought I'd mention, you know, in case you were wondering, that today is my birthday. And you have the opportunity to buy me the absolute best present in the world! If you follow me on social media or regularly read this blog you will know that Paige Johnson's story has grabbed ahold of my heart and held on tight. As a mother, as a lesbian, and as a human being it has rarely been out of my mind for more than a few minutes. Paige has 58 days of incarceration left. We are doing pretty well at collecting enough money for her to make a phone call home to her mother every day from now until then. Each phone call costs $6. So, if you can swing it, sending her mother Jackie a $6 donation would make THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO ME EVER. The donation can be sent via paypal or snail mail (message me for addresses at kristin@mondayswithmac.com). Generous people have been making donations already and we now only have 42 days left to collect money for [UPDATE: Since posting 4 more people have donated. We are now down to 38!]. Can we get to zero before my birthday ends?

If a cash donation isn't possible you can also send Paige a letter. These connections to the outside have meant so much to her these last few weeks! 

OK, back to Andy now... 

How does the striking down of DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act from the 90s) affect me?

The short answer: Goosebumps. What a wonderful feeling when the world goes your way!

I ran into my boss in the elevator that morning, a long-time New Yorker who came of age in the gay era just ahead of mine. (In Diva Terms, his diva is Donna Summer, while mine is Madonna. Rafael's are the ones still on the radio: Rihanna and Britney).

"Tell me something good," he said, obviously meaning something about the account I work on.

"I'm so happy," I replied, work being the furthest thing from my mind. It took a moment, but then, oh yeah, he realized what I meant.

"I saw it break on the news and I got kind of choked up," he said, a little surprised at the emotion of his own reaction.

And I totally knew what he meant.

At face value, the decisions make an immediate and concrete difference for couples like Raff and me. New York is now a viable option – I can sponsor Rafael for a visa, and he can pursue his career and studies in New York, if he wants to. (I love my husband for innumerable reasons, one of them being that he feels no need to jump when the US Supreme Court says jump.)

But in that quick chat with my boss, I realized that something else was going on here, something bigger and more mysterious than Neil Patrick Harris' wedding plans. This was not just a win for couples juggling the logistics of "settling down." This is a big, emotional win for us all.

Thinking back to those Madonna years – I'm talking Paleolithic Madonna, like "Like a Prayer" and "Vogue" – there wasn't a whole lot about being gay to feel "so happy" about.

There were big depressing things, like the AIDS epidemic. There were little annoying things, like the police showing up to tow cars from the Pride Celebration. And there was this forlorn, prevailing sentiment – one shared by British indie bands and Midwestern moms alike – that being gay meant, at best, a life destined for loneliness and alcoholism.

Things changed, of course. Little by little. And yesterday, in a wave of goose bumps, they changed a lot.

So to hear my young friends at dinner ­last night – ready to propose now that marriage is "a real thing," looking forward to being on the Old Navy float at the Pride March this Sunday, tweeting about their celebrity boyfriends' latest successes – to feel the world going our way – it just makes me so happy.

Just Married-ish

A guest post from Andy (Mac's dad).

Hi, I wanted to take a moment to Special Guest Star on Kristin's blog, because I've been so busy getting married and going on honeymoons lately, this whole Supreme Court: Judgement Day thing kind of snuck up on me. And it's kind of a huge deal. 

Raff and I are married now. Twice. We wanted to be ready for any outcome, so we said our "SIMs" last November in his hometown of Londrina, Brazil. And then we said our "I DOs" again last week at the City Clerk's Office in Manhattan. We have marriage certificates in both Portuguese and English, just so there won't ever be any confusion. 

Married in Brazil 

Married in NYC 

And there isn't. We're finding same-sex marriage to be not confusing at all. It's simple. Here's where we're married now:

And here's where we're married-ish:

Everywhere else, we're Just Friends.

Living in a Married-ish state like New York has its perks. Raff may not get to apply for a green card (like I could if we lived in Brazil), but we do get to do fun things like step out of the country for the weekend to renew his tourist visa for six more months. 

And starting April 1st, we'll have the same health insurance. 

And...well, that's about it. 

If the court doesn't come through, we'll soon have to start planning a move to a country on the Married map, where we both can work and stay indefinitely. We'll still have to fill out separate customs forms and put a zero next to "Number of Family Members Traveling with You," when we come back to visit our family in the Just Friends Zone. How awkward is that?

It's funny, I never imagined I'd be married. Now I can't imagine settling for anything less.

How Not to Talk to Lesbian Moms

A little over a year ago  my wife and I made a baby with an amazing man that we met online. This raises a lot of questions. As it says in my profile, I am a shy over-sharer. I encourage questions and am happy to answer them openly and honestly. Even if your question is why did you need an artichoke jar to make a baby?  I will gladly give you all the details. However, sometimes random people in the grocery store approach us and say really asinine things. You should probably learn from their mistakes.

Who is the mom?

We both are.

No, but who is the real mom?

When you ask who is the mom and we respond with we both are please do not follow up by asking us which one of us is the real mom. I can assure you that at 4:30 AM this morning neither of us felt like the fake mom.  To be honest, if we meet someone new and s/he asks us who gave birth to our son we are happy to answer that question. But I am not speaking for all lesbian moms on this one. 

Are you worried that he will be teased because he has lesbian moms?

You’re damn right I am. And just when I get comfortable enough in my own little gay-positive corner of the world to let some of that worry go someone comes along and reminds me that the world isn’t all sunshine and pride parades. 

But don’t you think a boy needs a dad?

I think that children need guardians who love them.

Right, of course, but what about male role models? How will he learn to play sports? Shave? Pee standing up?

Mac has a lot of really great male role models in his life. He has grandfathers, uncles and cousins who will teach him things far more important than shaving and peeing standing up. His uncle Brit will show him how to be the kind of man that mothers-in-law hope their daughters will marry. His uncle Dan will teach him that even men who spend their days enforcing the law aren’t too tough to do the grocery shopping, wash windows or make beds with hospital corners.  And his Dad is no slouch in the man department either. He won’t be raising him but he’ll be around enough to teach him about coordinating colors and that real men don’t shy away from expressing their feelings. I am fairly certain that his moms will be able to navigate the complex world of shaving and peeing standing up instruction but if we get stuck there are plenty of men we can turn to for help. And as for sports, his auntie Rishma has that one covered.

Are you worried he’ll be confused and end up gay or transgendered?

Well, all three of Mac’s parents were raised by heterosexual parents and none of us ended up straight. And, while I haven’t seen any studies done on the subject, my guess is that most transgendered folks were born to heterosexual parents as well. But, more importantly, I’m not at all worried that he’ll be gay or transgendered because neither of those possibilities would upset me. My only hope is that my son will grow up to be exactly who he wants to be.

Don’t you think that being gay is a sign from God that you shouldn’t procreate?

No, I don’t. And if you do I don’t want to know you.

So, there you have it, a quick 101 on how not to talk to lesbian families. As I finish this post I am a bit worried that I have just discouraged you from asking questions about my family. I want to reiterate that I am happy to answer most questions. I love my little family and will never shy away from an excuse to talk about it. So, if you are curious about something leave a comment below. Just don’t ask me if I am the real mom. 

Can you spot the real mom?

Please vote for me by clicking on the image below.