The Chattering Absence of Epistemic Humility

This is beautiful and tragic :(

“And also, that most people, in most interactions, probably should not presume on asking any follow-up question to the perfectly ok ‘do you have any children?’. Because that’s what usually precipitates these statements.”

So much this.

/Beautiful and sad piece Maria.

What would be a better thing to say? (I’d like to think, if I had to say something, I’d say something like, “I hope things work out in a way you’ll be happy with”.)

Or, perhaps it’s better for people to not ask questions that might lead to the need for awkward answers? (I’d old enough, and have been married long enough, that people who don’t know me well often ask if my wife and I have kids. We don’t, by choice at this point, but I’m often surprised by people asking what could easily be an uncomfortable question.)

Thank you, Lynne and MPA.

Matt, I was going to say ‘I’m so sorry’ or your suggestion of hoping it works out fir the best are pretty good. But thinking back to the epistemic humility Ingrid very thoughtfully introduced the other day, I think it’s not so much about finding the right (culturally specific) formula of words of response, but rather about how we react to someone else’s sad and discomfiting news.

So the first thing with this whole childless issue is definitely to have the cop not to follow up ‘do you have kids?’ with ‘why not ?’. Seems a no brainer but you’d be surprised. Because the ppl who haven’t picked up in the shutting down cue in my usual response to ‘do you?’ (‘I’m afraid not.’) often are embarrassed by the answer to ‘why not?’ (Something along the lines of ‘unfortunately , we can’t), and then find themselves scrambling to say something that answers the whole thorny topic. Hence the myriad variations on ‘have you thought of …’

But this topic isn’t really answered by hitting on the currently acceptable conversational response to infertility. Getting back to Ingrid’s piece, or what I took from it anyway, we won’t succeed in responding ‘correctly ‘ to every painful disclosure someone can make about something we’ve not experienced, be it the loss of a child or parent or other examples in that thread. I think our anxiety about saying the right thing may even be at the root of the problem. Words don’t solve pain. Maybe sitting quietly with the information for a moment or two can help, a short expression of sadness for your friend, a gesture. Something that acknowledges the weight of sadness and doesn’t imply it can be banished with a suggestion or a ‘me too’.

Last week I told an old friend I hadn’t seen in a few years. He sat back and took it in for a moment, and did indeed say ‘I’m so sorry’. I welled up and he reached across the cafe table and put his hand on mine. After another moment we started to talk about it quite candidly and the conversation flowed on.

We don’t always have that well of friendship or experience of our own life’s sorrows to drink from, of course, but our impulse to chatter through others ‘ pain can make them lonelier. The answer isn’t always an answer, because sometimes there just isn’t one.

I have sometimes answered the “why no kids” question with exquisite medical detail, going back to my birth with an undescended right testicle, but only when I’m in a bad mood or the questioner seems unusually oblivious to boundaries. You seem like a nicer person than I am, Maria, so I’m not recommending it for you.

Thanks from me also.

Well we can imagine, imperfect as our imagining will be. I’ve never been any good in these sorts of situations, I tend to clam up -since I know I can’t fix it.

I’m sorry you’ve had this struggle and disappointment, Maria.

People can be so blithely insensitive, pushy and insensitive, focused on their own curiosity, or the decisions they think they’ll be able to choose to make. As an older woman now, I try to hold my tongue when younger ones tell me their five year plans for future children, because it doesn’t always happen. And that’s so hard to bear.

Thank you for sharing this, Maria. I’m so sorry.

Lynne, thank you for your suggestion of the “Why do you ask?” response, I have long struggled with how to address a question that people have no business asking. For me it’s not about pain, rather, frustration about assumptions and societal norms and expectations . I also struggle when I see people asking it of friends whose story I know and whose story is painful. I wonder if I can throw “Why do you ask?” into a conversation as a third party. Not sure that would work. What would work in such a situation?

My department started a “tradition” a few years ago: when someone (or someone’s spouse) gave birth, we’d informally collect money to buy a joint gift. We would only do this when someone gave birth. There seemed to be no other occasion, whether happy or sad, when we would “come together” in that way. Eventually, I raised the issue at a faculty meeting and suggested we quit this practice. If people want to congratulate their colleagues, fine, but semi-institutionalizing it without considering anything else as appropriate of acknowledgement with a joint gift or card seemed wrong from so many angles. Thankfully, we no longer have this “tradition”.

Same thing for depression — think how lucky you are, this will pass, have you tried working out, I was really sad once, do something for other people, lots of famous people were depressed.

I am very sorry.

I’m also put in mind of the ending to Tokyo Story. Funeral’s done, the kids have done their insensitivity thing, duly contextualized by daughter-in-law. Old man sits alone and unhappy in his living room, and neighbor walks by and stops to make small talk. (It’s at 2:14:00 here) The conversation is rather direct, and ends with the neighbor saying “You will be lonely” with the man agreeing, the whole thing portrayed as small talk after a fashion. Seemed very jarring to me, but it’s hard to judge to what extent that was the desired effect, rather than differences in cultural mores about how “honest” one is supposed to be.

This is your own extrapolation – I don’t know why you are bringing up old ladies who had undergone that degree of suffering and who may have said that compared to that inflation was nothing, to imply that a woman in this situation who dared to voice and share something in this space was “complaining” and to “stop whining” – if that is what you’re trying to imply…

This is your complaint, and I agree with your father.

Ezra, I want you to know that I considered this post. That I thought about it and that I mean every word.

Go fuck yourself within a rusty chainsaw.

Maria – this is a heartbreaking and beautiful post and thank you for writing it. And I am so sorry for you.

Who ever heard of a holocaust survivor kvetching?

I’m not sure if it’s wise to dignify ezra’s ass-hattery with another reply, but since it gives me the opportunity to point out something that has stuck with me since my sister said it when, in a very similar situation, she was confronted with a very similar argument:
Most women in Biafra would, in fact, not find it hard to empathize with any woman (or couple) struggling to get and stay pregnant.

I just read Letty Cottin Pogrebin’s book How To Be A Friend To A Friend Who Is Sick.

Remarkably similar to what you’re saying here. The moral: don’t pretend you know what somebody’s going through when you don’t.

OK, I work in IT, which is not a profession that’s noted for producing sensitive and socially conscious peeps– and even I can’t imagine anyone following up the “do you have kids” question with “why not?” I mean… I just… wat?

But then, we also live in a world that produced an Ezra, so clearly there are depths of stupidity which I cannot fathom.

And Maria: I’m sorry you’re hurting, and I wish you happiness.

> so stop whining:
@ezra- chill out, dude. The general etiquette on blogs is – let people who want to sympathize sympathize. There is no value added by being unsympathetic. There is no objectivity to grief. Be a mensch.

> I am a bit mystified about AJ’s escape clauses (a) and (b).
@Ed Herdman- I don’t want to threadjack, but this is just to say that I read Ed Herdman’s comments in the context of the other thread on epistemic humility. Re: the escape clauses – escape clause (a) was obviously meant in jest even if there is more than a grain of truth to it. Escape clause (b) was also meant in jest. What I was saying is that ‘ad hominem’ attacks should not be ignored on blogs. And you don’t have to wait for others to help you. You can try and help yourself. The above Ezra example is a good instance of that.