#oneaday, Day 33: Twitter: A Skewed Window on a Weird World

Twitter is many things, as I’ve said a number of times on this blog before. It’s arguably my primary means of communication these days, since the vast majority of my friends are quite-to-a-very long way away, and asynchronous communication is nice and convenient. It’s a good source of information (in fact, Twitter themselves now describe themselves as an “information source” rather than a means of “short, timely messages” like they used to) and a good way to keep up with what people you’re interested in are up to—and not just when they’re having a shit.

By far the most remarkable thing it does, though, is something that it wasn’t originally designed to do, but which it was always naturally going to do, given its nature. And that is the way it can give an eye-opening snapshot of “this day in history”. Even when seemingly nothing is happening.

Today, there happened to be several things of (in some cases questionable) note occurring. Depending on where the tweets were coming from, it was interesting to see the differences and priorities.

By far the most horrifying tweets were emanating from the Middle East, where Egypt has been undergoing some not-inconsiderable turmoil. Today, there were violent clashes in Tahrir square, and via one Middle East-based person I follow who was RTing someone stuck in the middle of the violence and horror, it was possible to get a “first-hand” account of what was going on. It was oddly sobering to see the whole thing unfold, and although I didn’t know the person being RTed in question, I was hoping that their tweets would keep coming and end on a positive note. I didn’t want to think about what a sudden cessation of the “commentary” would have meant.

Elsewhere in the world, Australia was preparing for an enormous cyclone. They haven’t had a great deal of luck over there recently. Due to the fact I don’t think I follow anyone who actually lives in Australia, most of the reportage on the incident that I saw today was pretty cold and clinical, although this image, showing what said cyclone would look like if it were en route to the UK instead of Australia, gave pause for thought.

And then there was the curious incident of Justin Lee Collins’ new girlfriend, which was reported by the Daily Mail today featuring a series of obnoxious paparazzi pictures of the couple on holiday. The article in itself was objectionable enough—as far as I’m concerned, celebrity squeezes aren’t news, even if they’re squeezing another celebrity—but what I found rather surprising was the reaction from quite a few (games journalist) people I knew on Twitter.

It transpires that the “mystery brunette” the Mail was referring to is actually someone who works in PR for the video games industry. I don’t know the person in question and have never had any direct contact with her, so I wasn’t much the wiser once people had explained the whole situation to me. But a lot of people seemed to find the whole situation hilarious—something which I found rather bewildering.

Now, granted, there’s a certain element of “hey, I know that person!” if you see an acquaintance or friend in the paper. But personally speaking, whether or not the games journalism biz had “got one up on the Mail” (normally cause for celebration), if I was the woman in question, I’m not sure I’d be particularly happy about the widespread discussion amongst a number of people I may well have had direct contact with in the past. It’s not her fault she got snapped by some paparazzi scumbag. Some may say it’s an occupational hazard of dating a “celebrity”, but that’s no excuse. Her privacy has been invaded; and while the discussion of the fact “we know who she is and the Mail doesn’t” hasn’t been malicious in tone, it’s drawn an unwarranted degree of attention to her.

In my opinion, anyway. But then I’ve never been one for any kind of gossip; people’s relationships are their own business—not mine, not yours and certainly not the Daily fucking Mail’s.

On a more uplifting note, one positive thing that came out of Twitter today was the #whatstigma hashtag started by comedienne @RebeccaFront. Via this hashtag, she was encouraging people to speak openly about mental illness, depression, anxiety and so forth, without fear of judgement or, well, stigma. It was heartening to see how many people took to it, and proof positive that there are plenty of people out there who are getting on with their lives despite struggling with difficult mental conditions. It was also, hopefully, a slap in the face to the sort of people who like to say “get over it”. (Hello again, Daily Mail.) I’d actually like to write a bit more on this subject as it’s one I do feel strongly about, but I think I’ll save that for another day.

So, on the 2nd of February 2011, what happened? Several shit things. One invasion of privacy. And thousands of people stepping up to publicly say something about themselves without fear or shame.

While not the most positive day the world has ever seen, to say the least, it was certainly an interesting day. Will it go down in the history books? Who knows? But those of us who were here have our own personalised record of the whole thing. And that’s pretty cool.

Good job, Internet.

#oneaday, Day 121: Janet Street-Porter Is A Dickhead

“Well sure, Captain Obvious,” I hear you say. “What else is new? Gordon Ramsay swears a lot? Brian Blessed is a bit shouty? Graham Norton is gay?”

Wait, Graham Norton is gay? Seriously?

Stop it, ethereal readers who aren’t there really. I’m trying to make a point here. And my point is that, yes, Janet Street-Porter is a dickhead. Why do I say this with such authority though? Because of this.

For those of you too lazy to click on that link, or indeed those of you who are terrified of clicking on any sort of link that leads to the Daily Mail for fear of aspiring middle-class racist viruses infecting their otherwise happily multicultural computer, she wrote an article about depression under the title “Depression? It’s just the new trendy illness!”

Not a good start. As someone who has suffered depression and stress to varying degrees throughout the years (with right now being one of the “more” rather than “less” periods) I found the title by itself offensive. But I clicked on anyway, just in case she had anything enlightening to say on the subject.

The misery movement has rapidly gathered momentum and in recent months it’s become apparent that, along with the Sam Cam handbag, the latest must-have accessory is a big dose of depression.

Oh no. No no no. Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you. Depression is not a fashion accessory. Whether or not it’s been diagnosed and/or treated (mine isn’t and hasn’t, for the record) it’s serious business, and to put it in the same category as a bleeding Samantha Cameron handbag? That’s just the tip of the bell-end poking through her forehead right there. She continues:

I am not denying that clinical depression is a real mental illness, or that it can be debilitating for sufferers. But let’s take a moment to consider whether depression is common among the poor or the working class?

Oh, she doesn’t deny it’s a real, debilitating illness? How big of her. Is it common among the poor or the working class? Well, I don’t know, Janet, you’d better get the SCIENCE! out and let us know.

If you’re a black South African woman growing up in a township, or a mum in a slum favela in Rio, or a supermarket shelf-stacker in Croydon, or one of the band of low-paid female workers who go to work at 3am to clean the offices of the wealthiest and most powerful people in Britain in the City of London, you probably aren’t afflicted by depression. What you’re more likely to be suffering from is poverty, exhaustion and a deficient diet. You will have bills you can’t pay and a struggle to feed and clothe your kids.

Right. Because you can’t have depression and poverty. That would just be ridiculous! Hah! Look at the poor black people. Don’t even have enough money to have a debilitating mental illness! How pathetic they are! PATHETIC, I SAY!

The death of my own sister reduced me to rage and despair, and the sudden death recently of a close personal friend rekindled the same feelings of hopelessness.

But my life goes on, I haven’t retreated under the duvet with a bottle of pills. I refuse to accept this notion that a whole generation of women are being laid low by an unexplained epidemic of depression.

Ahh! “Life goes on!” Of course! All these people who are suffering with depression should just get up and get on with their lives! Silly me.

Of course, she does sort of have a point, albeit one expressed in the most obnoxious manner possible. The worst thing to do when suffering depression is to sit and wallow in it. That just makes it worse and worse and worse until you get to the stage where there’s seemingly no way out of it. For some people, that leads to seeking professional help. For others, an intervention by the people who love them. And tragically, for some that ends in the taking of their own life.

But different people deal with things differently. We can’t all be as strong as she apparently is, and for her to put down the efforts of those who are genuinely struggling with the condition as being somehow weak is both repulsive and wrong.

The truth is, we’ve got fatter and flabbier. Obesity is a medical condition too many of us are suffering from – but you can’t claim time off work because you’re fat. You can, however, suddenly find you can’t ‘cope’ – and stress has become, in our work-orientated society, almost a badge of honour.

If you’re stressed, it implies you are a busy person with plenty to do. Nowadays, women who’ve never been in a war zone or experienced an act of terrorism are claiming they are suffering from stress, when all they do is run a home and get the bus to work.

Stress has become so acceptable, the last government decided that the NHS would make counselling available for a whole variety of mental illnesses, from stress to depression to panic attacks and low self-esteem, totally gratis.

Oh, keep going, Janet! Have a dig at the fatties too! Go on! Especially if they’re black! And poor! Poor black fatties! I bet they’re gay too!

I’ve been stressed – reduced to midnight panic attacks with it, in fact. It’s not pleasant. And I certainly didn’t wear it as a badge of honour. I was ashamed of it. I was terrified on the one occasion I got myself signed off sick with stress. I dropped in the doctor’s note when no-one was around and then got out of the door as fast as possible so no-one could witness my shame. It was an awful experience, and I’m by no means proud of it, as Janet seems to suggest I am. You don’t have to have been in a warzone or have experienced an act of terrorism to suffer from stress. It depends on the sort of person you are. If you’re someone with self-esteem issues like me, one single hurtful comment can trigger a depressive episode.

Needless to say, the article continues in a similar vein for a considerable number of words, with a particular highlight being Janet’s “laughing out loud” at the prospect of men having low self-esteem. Her justification? Men have been in charge of everything for so long, so it’s “karmic revenge”. Well, as a man with low self-esteem, I say again, Janet, fuck you. And may the men in the white coats never come for you.

Of course, by posting this I’m probably doing exactly what was intended by the article – drawing attention to the Mail and it’s “Oooh! Controversial!” columnists. Does Janet Street-Porter really hold such objectionable opinions? I don’t know and right now I don’t care. The Mail has long had a reputation as a filthy rag barely fit to wipe the arse of the country with. Every article like this that appears in it is a little worrying, because there are people out there who will read that and believe it. And that’s a problem.

[UPDATE: The comments on that post are remarkably coherent for Mail readers, with all of the visible ones expressing concern or outrage over JSP’s article. The Mail have closed comments on the article.]