Pushing back against the mean

Several weeks back we went to see our grandkids’ school production, a romp through songs and dances across the decades. The kids were delightful, and the music was a lovely mix from the 1920s through to today. All good. A student-written script strung the production together, loosely based around two students time-travelling into each decade to research the music. Again, not a bad premise. Except, the script banter between the two relied entirely on the two students trash-talking each other (you suck; no you suck/your idea is stupid; no, your idea is stupid/my pick is better; no, my pick is better) … you get the picture.

While there’s no denying that this type of back and forth is, indeed, a reflection of the ways some young people talk to each other, it worries me that this was approved as the frame on which to hang the show.  Is this the way we want our young people to interact? Are we comfortable with accepting this is common discourse worth showcasing?

My guess is that most in the audience didn’t even notice this. We’ve grown immune to the inherent meanness that’s poisoned our social interactions, thanks to the anonymity of social media and the imported ‘Mean Girls’ rhetoric we see whenever young people (and adults) are depicted onscreen these days. We laugh at ‘roasts’ as comedy, the absolute annihilation of a person for amusement forgiven as ‘jokes.’ Racist, religious or gender attacks are pardoned on the basis of ‘free speech.’ Body shaming is still splashed across trashy magazines and newspaper headlines. Misogyny is still excused. And anyone who tries to call this out, or to promote kindness, is attacked as ‘woke.’ What the hell is wrong with us?

In light of all this, I reckon it’s time for proactive push-back. As a writer of fiction, I’m well aware of the old adage that ‘conflict equals drama’ and that it’s conflict that drives a novel. But conflict (or, indeed, our definition of ‘entertainment’) doesn’t necessarily have to equate with representing it as meanness or cruelty between characters. Therefore, in the midst of the pandemic craziness, I decided that, henceforth, I wanted to show loving, healthy relationships on the page — if for no other reason than to prove it remains possible to write them this way and still produce a gripping story.

My two latest books are a result of this decision. Not that I didn’t attempt to do this in the past; in fact, it’s always been a driver to show love winning out over hate, but now it feels like a clock is ticking and that this venal darkness, like the sea, is rising, threatening to drown us all.  

Gracehopper (pub. One TreeHouse), is a story about two young people’s resilience in the face of potentially overwhelming challenges, their search for identity, the damage caused by knee-jerk assumptions and judgements, and the healing power of love. The book follows 18-year old Grace’s journey as she discovers her real heritage via DNA testing (causing her mother to implode), alongside her reconnection with her childhood ‘bestie’ Charlie, a young man with achondroplasia. She helps Charlie find a more nuanced way to challenge the preconceptions and prejudice surrounding his condition, while Charlie helps Grace find love and redemption as she navigates the biggest challenge of her life. It’s the warmth of their relationship, and their commitment to interrogating and realigning the status quo, that sits at the heart of the novel and it’s this that I would hope readers take away from it.

Stray and Waifs (published by The Cuba Press), meanwhile, is the first in my Chasing Ghosts Mystery series, set in my backyard, the beautiful Kāpiti Coast. While each book in the series focuses on a discrete mystery/thriller plot, the two main protagonists Bella and Freyja are the constant; two very different women at very different phases of their life, outsiders thrown together reluctantly, but both big-hearted enough to forge a relationship based on love and respect that enhances both their lives. And this love spreads, embracing others as they come into contact with them, building a community of good people who proactively work to better the lives of those around them.

This is my old age project, devised during the lockdowns. I wanted to create characters I could travel with, whose passions and quirks mirror my own closely enough that their unique qualities provide an ongoing opportunity to express the things dear to my heart. And the thriller aspects add an extra layer, based on topical issues often swept under the carpet, such as domestic violence, conspiracy theories and the Sovereign Citizen movement, and blatant abuses of power.

The decision to preference loving relationships doesn’t mean there aren’t intrinsically bad or scary people in the books  — sadly our world is full of them — but, unlike the many sadistic and criminal TV and film characters who’ve been glorified, their violence and cruelty made sexy (think serial killers like Dexter, sexual predators like Netflix’s 365 Days, or criminals like those in The Sopranos, Peaky Blinders, Sons of Anarchy), I have more interest in showing the damage caused by such people, honouring the victims. And I figure if I’m going to do a deep dive into the psyche of a character, drawing the reader right into their head, I’d rather that head depicted someone standing up to such wrongs, instead of being an apologist for self-serving criminals.

All this leaves me wondering if this tsunami of meanness we’re experiencing has been manufactured to drive wedges between us as a smokescreen to push through policies that benefit a very small percentage of society only, enabled by our lazy acceptance of this. While we bicker and fight each other over identity politics and culture wars, this distraction allows that small percent to ransack our dwindling resources and consolidate their power, at the same time slapping whitewash over our history, destroying any meaningful climate action, and laying the blame at the feet of their victims.

Perhaps it’s the inevitable endgame of capitalism, which holds up competition and increasing profits as something to be lauded above all else. Not able to climb the ladder? It’s your personal failure, worthy of derision, regardless of the inherent obstacles that may be placed in your path. And any hand-up has been dirtied, labelled a hand-out, something to beat you about the head with. Gone are the days when the goal of our social democracy was to support all those less fortunate; now it’s dog eat dog and fuck the poor, the different, the disadvantaged, the so-called ‘bottom-feeders’, those historically ignored. 

I’ve thought about this a lot over the past few years, especially observing how the social connection in the early days of Covid was systematically undermined until ‘kindness’ was seen as weakness and consideration for the vulnerable was reframed as ‘privilege.’ The ferocity of the attacks were a global phenomenon, almost as if that venal one percent couldn’t bear to think that we might readjust our moral compass to a more humane setting that laid bare their selfishness and lust for power, forcing them to share.

It also makes me wonder if part of the problem is that those currently in power lack imagination or any understanding of why this lack might be detrimental. It would certainly explain their ignorance about the value of the arts and their stubborn refusal to see how creativity enhances learning, socialising and personal development. Imagination allows us to step outside our own known world to explore how others live, feel and think, building empathy and compassion — something our leaders clearly lack. It also develops creative problem-solving skills, essential if we’re to survive in a climate changed future. Instead, these people are locked in transactional thinking, unable to think outside the box, everything and everyone viewed as a commodity, repeating the same failed anti-social, anti-people, policies time and time again.

So this is where I’ve landed after nearly thirty years of writing. I’ve always written to please myself first and foremost, writing the kind of books I like to read, exploring the themes that prod at me daily.

Bella and Freyja, along with Grace and Charlie, are my antidote to the meanness sweeping through society and my utter fury at those who continue to put their own status, wealth and power ahead of our kids and grandkids’ futures. Bella and Freyja are examples of people who refuse to buy into this cynical death spiral, preferring to call the meanness out and act in ways to counteract it. They’re community builders. They’re role models for kindness, compassion and charity. God knows, we’re going to need that in the climate shitstorm that’s fast approaching. They’re the kind of characters I want to spend what’s left of my time with. They’re the characters I want to remind me that love can still win out.