Right.

After much consideration, contemplation, and consultation, I have decided that there is no way I am walking away from this blog.  No.  Fucking.  Way.  

Remember that essay I wrote a few weeks ago about incels?  Yes, they are a complete nuisance.  Worse than a nuisance; they are extremely harmful.  There’s nothing like a guy with his dick in one hand and his other hand on his keyboard, furiously clacking out his female genocide manifesto, with all the time in the world to harass women online.  

But there’s nothing I can do about that, and I’m not going to get bullied off my blog because of them (I’m not sure they are technically incels, but I’ve made up my mind: yes, yes they are).  I’ve worked on this blog for nearly one year, I’m proud of my writing, this is my project and my hobby, and there is no way I am going to abandon this and start all over somewhere else–trying to conceal my authentic voice, or tackle topics that don’t interest me because I don’t want online maniacs to Google me and try to track me down–simply because of some deranged men whose only warm, slick, meaty encounters involve a bucket of KFC and some heated-up kielbasa.

If you have the stomach and a couple of hours, watch this and tell me it wouldn’t want to make a gal hurl her laptop into English Bay and return to a ball-point pen and spiral-ring notebook.

I was encouraged to return to this blog and hold my ground by one of the most powerful people I know.  Now, I don’t know too many powerful people–I don’t run in circles of power, I’m a former ESL teacher, for God’s sakes–but as a Doukhobor, I have the great fortune of a whole community at my disposal.  And my community went from boatloads of Jesus-focused Russian peasants who immigrated to Canada to avoid persecution, to countless individuals who are now very, very successful owners of million-dollar construction companies, or occupying head administrative positions in the province, or running high-ranking law firms.  It’s quite incredible, when you think about it, how far we’ve all come in just one hundred years.  

The best part about being a Doukhobor is that we’re all family.  I could ring up anyone in the community to see if I could swing by for a quick bathroom visit while on the road (despite never really having spent any time with them before), and upon my arrival, they would have an entire luncheon spread prepared, an invitation to also stay for dinner, and a cozy bed with flannel sheets ready to go in case I felt like staying overnight.  That’s just how we are as a whole.  It’s great.  I consider myself very fortunate.

I very recently consulted via email with a Douk person of great social and professional standing about my predicament, which sounded absolutely preposterous as soon as the words were typed out (essentially, “Really weird men are harassing me online, and I stopped blogging”). I’m sure he yukked it up as he read my letter, but he was very polite in addressing my concerns.  Here’s what he said, and I will paraphrase / change a few details so I don’t quote him directly:

“I’ve had it worse.  Far, far worse.  You’re dealing with assholes online?  Try dealing with them in person.  Try having them show up at your house, entirely loaded for bear because you didn’t do exactly what they wanted, how they wanted.  Try having them send you letters in the post threatening your very livelihood and wife and children.  Try having them erupt into a psychotic break in your office, and the police have to be called. Or phone calls where they expect you to either listen to them whine for a few hours, or you have to talk them off the ledge, or they verbally abuse you and you have to be professional. You’re letting crazy, lonely men on the internet interfere with your writing?  Your year-long project?  Nadya.”

Jeez.  Did I feel goofy.  Weak.  Very foolish for even asking this person for some guidance about this matter, but he was extremely understanding, knowing how absolutely bonkers the climate is online, and how I’ve put myself out there.

The next day, he sent me a very kind text message that said: Illegitimi non carborundum.  It’s not authentic Latin, but take it to heart. Let me know how things go.

Y’see? Lucky to have this community.

I know I’ve been battling some depression and some bad luck this year, but you know what has kept me propped up and happy and motivated and ambitious?  I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count. I am not letting it go.

So here we are.  This place is mine.  I was pretty rattled and drained due to several simultaneous events a couple of weeks ago, but I am now moving forward as usual yet keeping an eye on any potential shenanigans. Wanna send me odd or lunatic emails?  That’s okay; I save absolutely everything, which includes contact information. Definitely think before you write. Wanna stalk me?  Maybe shut your laptop and learn how to play chess, or even just go outside or something.  Wanna attempt to leave weird comments on some of my posts?  Everything remains pending until I choose to publish or delete. Wanna insult, berate, or mock me?  Go ahead now, I guess; I know that’s considered an incel mating call.  Wanna threaten me?  Wanna try to make me cry or something? Well, this guy can tell you what’s what!  He knows exactly how the internet works!

Cyber harassment can be dealt with accordingly. Libel and defamation are serious criminal offenses. So, you fellas permanently in the back, drawing pictures of upside-down women chainsawed in half as you slurp down your noodles, ramen juice dribbling down your gut, trying not to knock over your carefully-balanced tower of empty Pabst cans: I’m not going anywhere. I’m just a nobody in recovery who likes to write stories, and I will continue to.

Oh, relax. In some cultures, this hand gesture merely means “You are a feckless, pitiable dingaling who will never, ever be worthy of love, attention, or concern.”

Stay tuned!  New tale coming up very soon. Vancouver just keeps delivering, and in all the wrong ways.