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agonyaunt2020-11-17 01:38 pm
minoanmiss) wrote in agonyaunt2020-11-17 01:38 pm
Entry tags:
Followup to "My Furniture Keeps Breaking Under My PArtner"
I'm really glad someone wrote, and that Danny answwered.
Q. Re: “Sensitive in Seattle” (column, Nov. 14, 2020): I’m writing about your answer to the question about an “overweight” partner breaking furniture. I doubt that you meant to be, but the way in which you framed your answer was very hurtful and harmful to fat people. Fundamentally, the experience of having furniture break under you is one of the most deeply traumatic and fraught experiences someone can have in a fat body. Most of us have developed coping mechanisms like humor or nonchalance in order to deal with the abject fear of anger, blame, and humiliation that comes with the immediate experience of breaking furniture. That doesn’t mean that we’re not sorry that the furniture broke, we’re just terrified of an apology that essentially breaks down to “sorry I’m fat.”
In addition to all the emotional complication and possible traumatic history of the situation, you might also consider that most inexpensive modern furniture is indeed incredibly flimsy and easily broken! I’ve been present when bed slats have broken during completely ordinary bed activities like sitting on the side of the bed. It’s entirely possible that the girlfriend here has purchased very flimsy furniture, as she’s never had to think about whether a chair will hold up to her mass. This is not entirely her fault, but it is the fault of the fast fashion/disposable nature of modern consumer goods.
A: I think you’re quite right, and I want to both amend and apologize for my original answer; I’ve gotten more feedback along these lines, and I think they were right, too. What I wanted to get at was that the letter writer was in a different position from, say, someone who was organizing a public event and provided those awful metal chairs with the hemmed-in armrests, in that she might reasonably not have known the durability of her own furniture. But there are many circumstances in which someone should not have to apologize for furniture breaking, and I shouldn’t have said it’s “always” the polite response.
The sort of conversation I’d envisioned between the two of them was not for her partner to have to put on a show of abjection (“I’m the problem, you and your furniture are good, I’m sorry for the size of my body”) so much as shared concern for one another and the ability to discuss other options. But my answer was off-base and doesn’t truly work toward achieving that goal, and while I don’t want to make assumptions about where this ranks for the letter writer’s partner in terms of personal trauma, you’re quite right that the approach I recommended is too harsh and doesn’t take the context of hostile architecture and fatphobia into account. I’m truly sorry! I think you’re right to assume his flustered response was based in fear of being blamed or rejected for his body, and I don’t want to advise the letter writer to be brisk and dismissive here. I do still hope she can find ways to talk about making her home accessible and welcoming with him, and I hope he can be present for such a conversation, but I agree it shouldn’t be under the conditions of “Actually, my furniture was great,” but under the conditions of “I’ve learned something new about the durability of my furniture, and that it doesn’t serve the people who want to use it.” Thank you again for this; I’m sorry to have gotten this one so wrong, especially over something as important as comfort, safety, and humane treatment for fat people in a fatphobic world.
Danny M. Lavery: Thanks again for the help, everyone, especially for the pushback on last week’s question! I appreciate it, and will keep it at the front of my mind for future questions. See you next week!
Q. Re: “Sensitive in Seattle” (column, Nov. 14, 2020): I’m writing about your answer to the question about an “overweight” partner breaking furniture. I doubt that you meant to be, but the way in which you framed your answer was very hurtful and harmful to fat people. Fundamentally, the experience of having furniture break under you is one of the most deeply traumatic and fraught experiences someone can have in a fat body. Most of us have developed coping mechanisms like humor or nonchalance in order to deal with the abject fear of anger, blame, and humiliation that comes with the immediate experience of breaking furniture. That doesn’t mean that we’re not sorry that the furniture broke, we’re just terrified of an apology that essentially breaks down to “sorry I’m fat.”
In addition to all the emotional complication and possible traumatic history of the situation, you might also consider that most inexpensive modern furniture is indeed incredibly flimsy and easily broken! I’ve been present when bed slats have broken during completely ordinary bed activities like sitting on the side of the bed. It’s entirely possible that the girlfriend here has purchased very flimsy furniture, as she’s never had to think about whether a chair will hold up to her mass. This is not entirely her fault, but it is the fault of the fast fashion/disposable nature of modern consumer goods.
A: I think you’re quite right, and I want to both amend and apologize for my original answer; I’ve gotten more feedback along these lines, and I think they were right, too. What I wanted to get at was that the letter writer was in a different position from, say, someone who was organizing a public event and provided those awful metal chairs with the hemmed-in armrests, in that she might reasonably not have known the durability of her own furniture. But there are many circumstances in which someone should not have to apologize for furniture breaking, and I shouldn’t have said it’s “always” the polite response.
The sort of conversation I’d envisioned between the two of them was not for her partner to have to put on a show of abjection (“I’m the problem, you and your furniture are good, I’m sorry for the size of my body”) so much as shared concern for one another and the ability to discuss other options. But my answer was off-base and doesn’t truly work toward achieving that goal, and while I don’t want to make assumptions about where this ranks for the letter writer’s partner in terms of personal trauma, you’re quite right that the approach I recommended is too harsh and doesn’t take the context of hostile architecture and fatphobia into account. I’m truly sorry! I think you’re right to assume his flustered response was based in fear of being blamed or rejected for his body, and I don’t want to advise the letter writer to be brisk and dismissive here. I do still hope she can find ways to talk about making her home accessible and welcoming with him, and I hope he can be present for such a conversation, but I agree it shouldn’t be under the conditions of “Actually, my furniture was great,” but under the conditions of “I’ve learned something new about the durability of my furniture, and that it doesn’t serve the people who want to use it.” Thank you again for this; I’m sorry to have gotten this one so wrong, especially over something as important as comfort, safety, and humane treatment for fat people in a fatphobic world.
Danny M. Lavery: Thanks again for the help, everyone, especially for the pushback on last week’s question! I appreciate it, and will keep it at the front of my mind for future questions. See you next week!
no subject
However, if you are expecting people over? It is your responsibility as a host to provide a space where they can exist comfortably. If you know in advance that you have furniture you don't want your expected guests to use, it's fairly basic to make sure that furniture is in a room where you won't be receiving them, or that it's obvious to them that the furniture is not for sitting on (via, for example, a doll or a neat pile of vintage linens occupying the seat. My aunt owned a collectible doll for the sole purpose of sitting on her fancy chair so nobody else could. Or even a sign that says "Broken, do not sit" like my friend remembers to put on her booby-trapped chair about half the times she has visitors over, and takes the blame the other half.)
This doesn't only apply to weight - when you go to Great-Aunt Lucille's by invite and she asks you into the parlor and then won't let you sit on her nice couch until she puts down newspaper, or says "Please don't let the toddler touch that chair, it's a *valuable antique* and toddlers are so *clumsy*", she is also being a bad host.
If you want to have a house full of things that half your guests can't touch, and then overreact when they do, you're allowed to, but you are also allowed to be the person who people only visit under severe duress.
Also, about weight specifically (but also parents with small kids and people with disabilities) - people who know they are at risk of breaking furniture probably have a *much* more finely-tuned sense than you do of how sturdy a chair is. If the chair doesn't, like, have missing screws or hidden termite damage they couldn't know about, they have probably made a very considered judgement from long experience that it's a chair that's safe for them, and are probably more accurate about it than you are.
no subject
This.
no subject
(90% of my furniture is Ikea or one step above, 10% of my furniture is passed-on antiques from when my parents lived in Paris in the 70’s and went to the Flea Market every weekend.)