As anyone who knows my fashion sense would know, I’m straight. As anyone who has seen me dance would know, I’m white. As anyone who has attempted to get me to respond to hints would know, I’m a guy. This makes me obsolete, without any place in the currently fashionable identity politics.
Riding to my rescue comes James St. James, a writer for Everyday Feminism (h/t National Review). You’d think he’d focus on how society discriminates against people with repetitive names, which tragically drove Sirhan Sirhan to a life of crime and threatens the political career of Chris Christie. (I nominate Phillip Phillips as their celebrity spokesman.) No, instead, it focuses on getting extroverts to check the privilege they supposedly have over introverts.
Finally, my membership card in the Coalition of the Oppressed was punched. You see, growing up, I had to raise my hand occasionally at the family dinner table to get a word in between my chattery father and sister. I’ve had to reassure my girlfriend several times that she doesn’t need to worry when I don’t say much. If I had written the Golden Rule, it would go something like, “Bother other people not, as you would not wish to be bothered.”
- would rather risk making small talk with your roommate’s guests than go hungry if you need to cross the house to make a sandwich;
- don’t take ridiculously long to shop because you’re too frightened of the store employees to ask one of the employees where something is; or
- keep bumping into people because you walk close to walls and buildings.
I realized I don’t meet either of those criteria. I’m not the most outgoing guy, but I’m willing to put up with a little small talk to get food or prevent a shopping trip from taking all evening (Hey, I did say I’m a guy). I’m not even sure running the risk of bumping into people is truly the mark of an introvert, because if you bump into somebody, you have to apologize to him- and sometimes even make eye contact. (Eww.) Reading the article, though, it’s apparent that I’m a traitor to my people. An Intro-Tom. I’m holed up in Uncle Tom’s Cabin reading a book while everyone else is outside chatting (Come to think of it, having a secret that you just can’t tell is pretty introverted).
So, it’s back to the drawing board. Look, I know the Left is always on the hunt for new victim groups, but I don’t want to scrutinize every personality quirk for some new reason to need Hillary Clinton to save me next November.