Maria S. Picone
How gaslighting is like a trip to the beach
I was the only one who got burned. Blackened, my skin flaked off,
feeding the algae who exist in the cracks, flagrant speculation
about my mental state, which of course belonged to the Department,
the University. Of course—when you expect a woman’s sensitive skin
but offer no sunblock, when you escort her from the sweet shade
of a beach umbrella, barely give her a chair to sit on, a towel to hulk on--
why feign surprise when she, barefoot, sobbing, threads along the rocks
before she drowns?
feeding the algae who exist in the cracks, flagrant speculation
about my mental state, which of course belonged to the Department,
the University. Of course—when you expect a woman’s sensitive skin
but offer no sunblock, when you escort her from the sweet shade
of a beach umbrella, barely give her a chair to sit on, a towel to hulk on--
why feign surprise when she, barefoot, sobbing, threads along the rocks
before she drowns?
Commentary
Maria on "How gaslighting is like a trip to the beach":
I wrote this poem to speak about my experience as a woman in academia through a long vehicle. In general, I think metaphors that go on too long can become stale and unsuccessful, so I knew this would be a short poem, meant to grab attention with the explanatory title, hook readers with the first sentence within the first line, and finish with a cutting question. The beginning line plays on the dual meaning of "got burned." The word "blackened" also serves as a double entendre between tanning and destroying my reputation. "Expect a woman's sensitive skin" evokes the way every action by me became interpreted as a feminine weakness, an intolerance to adversity even as it heaped more stress on me. The faceless Department and University in this poem controlled the power in our relationship; each time I reached out for help marked another loss of their regard for me and a corresponding withdrawal of resources.
Despite what happened to me, I don't wish to target anyone specific or reveal more details. Thus, the extended metaphor offered the perfect chance to allude to some events and describe their overall unfair treatment leading to my eventual destabilization and exit from academia. It's easy for the reader to insert meaning between the lines while enjoying the images of a day at the beach. I tried to capture this alienation through sequencing natural actions—putting on sunblock, sitting on a chair or (especially if you take less priority) a beach towel. I chose the word "hulk" to reflect the deterioration of my self-esteem and my poise. The ending "threads along the rocks" demonstrates the uncertain mental territory and outcomes, while the last line provides a fitting yet tragic fate.
Towards the close of my time at this university, I could barely summon the courage to walk into the department building out of fear. 'Gaslighting' is the perfect term for what happened to me on the part of older, white men seeking to understand the behavior and struggles of a young woman of color. The first time I heard it, I didn't know what it meant or that it had happened to me; part of defeating trauma is to name it so that both perpetrators and victims can better understand their experiences. I'm sorry to say that when I had already quit and my personal relationships improved enough to give a postmortem on my time there, most of the faculty were puzzled as to why everything had happened the way it did (whereas most of my fellow graduate students were unsurprised). It is my hope that people will learn from and relate to my experience to come to a healthy understanding that not everything can be systematically explained as part of a single underlying hypothesis such as race, mental health, gender, etc.
I wrote this poem to speak about my experience as a woman in academia through a long vehicle. In general, I think metaphors that go on too long can become stale and unsuccessful, so I knew this would be a short poem, meant to grab attention with the explanatory title, hook readers with the first sentence within the first line, and finish with a cutting question. The beginning line plays on the dual meaning of "got burned." The word "blackened" also serves as a double entendre between tanning and destroying my reputation. "Expect a woman's sensitive skin" evokes the way every action by me became interpreted as a feminine weakness, an intolerance to adversity even as it heaped more stress on me. The faceless Department and University in this poem controlled the power in our relationship; each time I reached out for help marked another loss of their regard for me and a corresponding withdrawal of resources.
Despite what happened to me, I don't wish to target anyone specific or reveal more details. Thus, the extended metaphor offered the perfect chance to allude to some events and describe their overall unfair treatment leading to my eventual destabilization and exit from academia. It's easy for the reader to insert meaning between the lines while enjoying the images of a day at the beach. I tried to capture this alienation through sequencing natural actions—putting on sunblock, sitting on a chair or (especially if you take less priority) a beach towel. I chose the word "hulk" to reflect the deterioration of my self-esteem and my poise. The ending "threads along the rocks" demonstrates the uncertain mental territory and outcomes, while the last line provides a fitting yet tragic fate.
Towards the close of my time at this university, I could barely summon the courage to walk into the department building out of fear. 'Gaslighting' is the perfect term for what happened to me on the part of older, white men seeking to understand the behavior and struggles of a young woman of color. The first time I heard it, I didn't know what it meant or that it had happened to me; part of defeating trauma is to name it so that both perpetrators and victims can better understand their experiences. I'm sorry to say that when I had already quit and my personal relationships improved enough to give a postmortem on my time there, most of the faculty were puzzled as to why everything had happened the way it did (whereas most of my fellow graduate students were unsurprised). It is my hope that people will learn from and relate to my experience to come to a healthy understanding that not everything can be systematically explained as part of a single underlying hypothesis such as race, mental health, gender, etc.
Biography
Maria S. Picone (she/her/hers) writes, paints, and teaches from her home in South Carolina. Her writing has been published in the Able Muse, Vox Viola, and Mineral, among others. A Korean adoptee, Maria often explores themes of identity, exile, and social issues facing Asian Americans. She received an MFA in fiction from Goddard College and holds degrees in philosophy and political science. You can find more on her website, mariaspicone.com, or Twitter @mspicone.
|