on Pity...
and Why it feels so icky
I’ve written about it before, but it’s bound to come up again -
After all, the only two male family members I had offed themselves -
But this post is mostly about pity - and why it feels so ‘ick’ -
It’s the sense of superiority - a removed distance - the idea that -
I could never go through what you’ve gone through - your experience is untouchable, unfathomable to me -
And I’m not going to even try.
It’s devoid of empathy and compassion -
Even any attempt at sympathy.
Pity feels removed, creates distance, does not establish belonging.
Instead, pity implies this distinct power dynamic -
It says, in its tones -
“You are unfortunate, and I am in a better position than you.”
And I am looking down on you, creating the unsaid hierarchy.
It also reduces someone to their suffering and creates emotional distance.
Instead of, we’re all in this together -
And you’ve prevailed and aren’t only defined by your tragedies and what has happened to you - that what you’ve done is also part of that story -
Instead, it’s reductive - what happened to you.
Rather than what you did with it.
I think pity creates a sense of false superiority -
In my case, it involves two things
1-I can’t imagine what had happened to you and I won’t even try to.
2-And - it would never happen to me.
Pity creates distance, the opposite of belonging, but it is often said when/where something normally would be offered as comfort and belonging -
So, the end result, is that it creates a dynamic of physical discomfort - it is so socially awkward.
At least for me.
Pity flattens my story.
I frequently have my students watch Adichie’s the Danger of a Single Story, and in it, she talks about how the thing about stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. Much like the danger of a single story.
Much like pity.
It’s only half the story -
And the ultimate truth is also this - you don’t care enough to engage, to feel for me on an equal level, so that you want to learn the rest of my story.
Compassion feels different from pity.
Empathy feels different from pity.
Even sympathy feels different from pity.
But for a highly sensitive person, I feel pity -
I feel the awkward ways it lands - with condescension - with removal - with distance.
I don’t expect people to understand my situation, but even saying that - acknowledging that, allows for more space of understanding and compassion than pity.
When I spoke about this with AI, to frame the definition of pity, one of the things that it said was this - your experience sits outside the normal emotional map most people have. Most people simply have no reference point for it.
I get that.
And most people get awkward as fuck about it - the stigma, the tragedy, the death at your own hand unease.
But- the most mature and understanding people - either outright say -
I have no idea what that is like or what you’re going through - but tone, of course, implies and carries everything.
I can’t imagine what that must have been like - tone, of course, matters the most.
Or just - nothing - say nothing.
There are the people who can just hold space for you in silence.
Because sometimes the best thing to say is nothing.
I have had to learn to do this myself, with others.
It can feel awkward at first.
But saying the hollow and flat and inappropriate thing, also hits awkwardly.
Even more so.
It’s interesting to look at other languages and their approaches to the word.
For example, Japanese has nuanced emotional language.
Kawaisō (かわいそう)
Often translated as pity.
Means something like “how sad for them.”
But it can imply power imbalance.
Ancient Greek:
Oiktos (οἶκτος)
A stronger form of pity that can carry a tone of lamenting someone’s tragic condition.
Eleos (ἔλεος)
Often translated as pity.
It refers to feeling sorrow for someone’s suffering, usually when they are seen as unfortunate or weaker.
Or - French -
Apitoiement
A stronger form of pity that can feel patronizing or sentimental.
So, other cultures get it too - but they sometimes have more nuanced language for the pity, the patronizing, condescension that pity carries.
We don’t want pity, most of us.
We understand that it creates distance, not belonging.
And we know that the other thinks they are above, beyond, or not like us.
And while, arguably, that’s true, we’re not like others -
To me, I think, the kicker is - are you even willing to try to be - to narrow or bridge the gap of human experience, in understanding, compassion, care, concern?
Nope.
Which is why I think pity feels so icky.