I don't know what's more hilarious, the subject or the author.
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Dolezal’s desire to correct this misperception in her book is entirely understandable, but I wish someone had told her that readers can only take so much misfortune before doubt sets in: I have never read a more exhaustive encyclopaedia of outlandish injustice. In person, by contrast, she comes across as highly credible, and her central claim that a lie can be more honest than a biological “truth” has an internal logic. I don’t think Dolezal deliberately or knowingly lies. What she calls her “creative non-fiction” does, though, make me uneasy.
Read: "Being a journalist, my inclination is to call her batshit crazy, but I am so scared of the transgender/transracial/LGTBWXYZ lobby I'm going to say there's something logical about what she says anyway."
Fearless journalism, people.
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What makes victimhood such a dangerous narrative is the false promise that it can justify almost anything.
Just to punish the journalist, this should be meme'd.
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Her book contains many details about her family which she says help make sense of her story; but they have not been corroborated by them, so cannot be repeated here for fear that a libel court would reject them as the claims of a self-confessed liar.
As with the ethics of lawyers, journalism is now no longer about principles which guide all conduct; it is about what are the absolute limits of conduct you can get away with.
Having said that, the final paragraph sums up what Dolezal's story is really about, in a nutshell:
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In all the intrigue and drama of her disgrace, does she think she’s done anything wrong? “No, I don’t. I don’t think you can do something wrong with your identity if you’re living in your authenticity, and I am. If I thought it was wrong, I would admit it. That’s easy to do, especially in America. Every politician, they’re like, ‘I’m sorry’ and then they just move on and everybody’s like, ‘Oh, they apologised and it’s all good’. Five minutes later, nobody remembers it. I’m not going to stoop and apologise and grovel and feel bad about it. I would just be going back to when I was little, and had to be what everybody else told me I should be – to make them happy.”
This is a word beginning with a capital N. And psychiatry, with its elevation of asserted identity over behaviour, is complicit in it. Her childhood is (apparently) that she had to be what everybody else told her to be. That pathology followed her into adulthood, except she decided to go with the black community as telling her what to think and who to be. She refuses to
feel bad about any of it, mainly because she is protecting herself from a massive narcissistic injury: shame is exposure, and acknowledging other people are accurate in shaming her would be a serious blow to her identity. Notice how she says "Admitting you're wrong is easy in America, and everyone forgets about it 5 minutes later?" That's what she would
love to happen to her, in reality - but doing so means she must agree with others' assessment of her, which, being a narcissist, she will do anything to avoid.
Remissas, discite, vivet.
God save us from people who mean well. -storm