Kindness

Philip Schofield and Holly Willoughby paid a very moving tribute to Caroline Flack on Dancing On Ice last night. For those reading this blog from far-flung places, Caroline Flack is a British TV presenter who, on Friday, took her own life at the age of 40. The finger of blame is pointing very firmly at social media and the media in general. She was hounded mercilessly after apparently assaulting her partner who subsequently asked for the charges to be dropped. 

Holly Willougby quoted a tweet from Caroline with a particularly beautiful message, “in a world where you can be anything: be kind.” 

And so, today, social media is filled with people writing about kindness. Ironically, the trap that many seem to be falling into is the belief that they still have carte blanche to be as unkind as they like - as long as they’re being unkind about those they deem to be unkind. I have read so many tweets angrily demanding everyone stop following Piers Morgan, Katie Hopkins and Nigel Farage because of their hate-filled words. Frankly why anyone would follow any of these people in the first place is beyond me, but they are also the most obvious examples of figures who court controversy by spouting prejudice-filled bile. They’re the sorts of names us liberals can fire into the echo chamber and be met with a sure-fire round of applause. Criticising them makes us feel good about ourselves because we’re signalling to the world that we’re virtuous. But the likes of Nigel Farage don’t give a shit what us liberals think about him. We’re not his target audience! 

The great irony is that I saw people tweeting messages today about kindness today whom I’ve witnessed aggressively piling onto people who don’t share their very narrow and specific views, and people who have publicly shamed others who’s only crime was questioning the liberal status quo.

And here’s the thing which really upsets me: 

Most of the people reading this blog will know that, in July this year, my husband lost his livelihood and very nearly lost his life as a result of asking people to be kind to each other. The only differences between what he said and the beautiful words of Caroline Flack were that he was asking for people to respect one another whilst discussing the thorny issue of diversity. Within minutes his words had been twisted and the obliterating tidal wave of hatred rolled over us.

And let me tell you something: It’s not the figures like Piers Morgan whose opinions cut the deepest when the shit hits the fan, it’s your friends who suddenly distance themselves from you. It’s the people you worked with in the industry who, out of fear for their own careers, disown you on social media without so much as phoning you up to find out the truth. And believe me, that is where a lack of kindness really shows itself in its horrific true colours. 

And that is when you realise who your true friends are. And believe me, I will eternally be grateful to every single friend, family member, colleague, ex-lover and person in the knitting world who kept us alive in the dark times. You know who you are. I wish I could thank you all by name, but they’d only go after you. 

Before what happened to Nathan, I was as guilty as anyone else of allowing my venom to be sharpened as a result of reading nothing but headlines. Particularly when it came to matters relating to the LGBT community, I could be incredibly self-righteous, deeply sarcastic, dismissive and horribly mean. When Seyi Omooba was offered the role of Celie in The Colour Purple, and homophobic tweets that she’d previously sent were made public, I became utterly addicted to outrage. I would often get myself so worked up by the anger I felt, that I’d sit up late at night, picking online fights with anyone in the industry who attempted to support her. I still remember that churning sensation, which grew and grew and often meant I couldn’t sleep at night. Friends and colleagues who told me what a lovely girl Seyi was were plainly the supporters of homophobia. I was incensed. 

But now I realise, that at the centre of this maelstrom was a young actress. A talented person with hopes and dreams and a joy for life who will now be changed forever and, as maybe a direct result of her treatment, probably far more entrenched in her views. She was taken to the cleaners and she’ll probably struggle to work again in the industry. Is that really what we wanted when we threatened to boycott the theatre if she performed there? Can anyone truly say they’re glad that this happened to Seyi? 

I saw first hand what Nathan went through and is still going through. The waves of terrible pain. The howls of anguish. The bewilderment. The loneliness. The sense of betrayal. And all this combining with the glee which some people seemed to show when I announced he’d been taken into hospital. We were accused of white fragility. Male fragility. Of weaponising our situation. Of lying about being in hospital and being told to provide filmic proof of where we were if we expected to be believed. The messages rolled in, one every five seconds, as we sat waiting to be assessed, a gash on the back of Nathan’s hand where he’d clenched his fist so tightly to combat the pain, the skin had simply split open. 

And those same people are still going after Nathan because he hasn’t apparently been punished enough. And they’re still chasing Maria Tusken, a year after she was torn limb from limb in very similar circumstances. A week ago, she posted a picture of herself on Instagram dressed in vintage 1940s clothing. The picture was simply captioned, “a 1940s day”. Someone then circled the phrase “1940s” and wrote “oh my God, unfollow this Nazi.” And I, for one, take particular exception to the misappropriation of the word Nazi. I believe it to be deeply insensitive and hugely antisemitic. 

It’s worth pointing out that people online are now calling calling their behaviour “radical kindness.”  But, in my view, if kindness needs to be qualified with an adjective, it can’t be called kindness. 

I stand with Caroline Flack. Nothing in the world is more important than kindness. Genuine kindness. Not kindness to a degree. Not kindness until someone says something we don’t want to hear. Not restricted empathy. Genuine understanding that every single one of us is struggling through life and if we understand and listen to each other’s fears, even if we think they come from the wrong place, we can consider ourselves kind. 

And I, for one, know that I still have a long, long way to go in that regard.