The Insidious Invisibility of Self-Censorship
Censorship seems to be a hot topic these days. It is far and wide. The imposition of external forces that wish to censor us. There seems to be an invisible hold, yet most individuals can recall key moments of when they were being censored.
I’ve been censored all of my life. You were likely censored throughout your life too. I can give countless examples of being censored, and I wouldn’t have to go as far back as my childhood. Adulthood experiences stand out. I remember being in an MPH class, Scientific Foundations in Behavior Studies (one of my favorites classes ever!) where I raised my hand and shared my thoughts on the topic of discussion led by our professor. I thought it would spark further discussion. To my dismay, something quite the contrary occurred.
The class had about 16 students, each having different focuses of study. My study focus was actually Behavioral Studies, and this was a core class for me. For others the class was an elective. Like the guy who interjected, after I shared my thoughts regarding a scenario proposed by the professor.
This classmate said, “Whenever James speaks it’s like a quagmire” — I was taken aback. To be honest at the time I wasn’t fully sure of the definition of quagmire, ha. But I knew it wasn’t good. I knew it was being said as a discussion blocker. The guy was former military and clearly didn’t like to entertain discussions through the lens of behavior theory (even though that was the basis of the class).
It didn’t so much bother me that he interjected, I could brush that off. What bothered me was that the professor (one of my favorite professors ever!) didn’t respond to him, nor did any of my classmates. The professor simply went on continuing her lecture. Everyone in the room allowed his interjection (which was an insult to me) to set the tone. It quashed the opportunity for further discussion. My inclusion and desire for exploration were stunted. It was what one would call “a life lesson.”
When I recall this particular instance, I can still feel the sensations as if it happened yesterday. As glaring as it was in the moment — I could see it so blindingly clear, while the long-term effects were less visible. I’ve come to notice how continued instances like this can lead to a learned self-censorship. Think about it. Based on this type of experience, would someone be more apt to share again? Or is there a negative reinforcement that calls someone to remain quiet during further discussions?
Something similar happened a couple years later when I was working at an HIV-service organization. Without boring anyone with too many details, I’ll give a quick recap. There was a staff meeting and we proceeded to share updates about the services we provided to the community.
At the time, I was an Outreach Coordinator and a younger member of the staff. When it was my turn to share, I gave my updates for our Outreach programs. Then my co-worker chimed in and the discussion turned to how our Outreach programs can financially benefit us. I thought that was a strange direction for the discussion to go. We were a non-profit. Why would someone talk about profiting?
After I gave my opinion to the group, the Finance guy remarked, “Oh, I forgot, we have Jiminy Cricket here.” It felt odd to hear his comment. ( Note: this reference was used jokingly to equate me to the “conscience” in the Pinocchio tale.) Sure, I could see that reference as a compliment, but it was meant to be a derogatory insinuation by the Finance guy. It changed the flow of the discussion. Once again, no one witnessing the exchange commented about the interjection.
For both of these situations, I was in my late 20’s. Both detractors were older than me. When each situation occurred, I wrote it off as due to them not wanting to hear from someone younger and possibly less informed. This explanation worked for my cognitive framing at that time. As for the others having no comment, I simply attributed it to them not wanting to go up against the more cantankerous personalities in the respective groups.
These are just two stories of many in which I was publicly censored in front of my peers. It’s been my experience that this type of behavior has been normalized for some time. What do you think? Do you think there’s been normalization of censorship?
I find myself exploring the relationship of continually witnessing censorship and the effect it has on self-censorship. Am I surprised that there are people being banned right now? - not in the least. Am I surprised that more and more people are finding themselves not speaking up and sharing their voice? - no, I’m not. Is there a relationship between these things? I believe so.
With the uptick in censorship due to increasing cancel culture, there’s often a stance of “you’re not bothered by it, when it doesn't happen to you.” With self-censorship, what are the indicators of being bothered by it? Are you bothered by it? Do you have acknowledgment that self-censorship is even happening? How could you express that you’re bothered, if you never fully acknowledge that it’s already happening for you?
Most individuals have to go with the flow of the current cultural norms. Does this aspect of culture subdue us in order to suppress individuals from having, and sharing, dissenting opinions. Would you even know that you’re not allowed to have a dissenting opinion by the powers-that-be, if you think it’s you who’s choosing to stay silent.
An unfortunate, contributing factor is our own subdued compliance. We’ve been groomed by those around us on how we must abide. Getting social cues to remain silent or else suffer the consequences. There are ways to shift this. It starts with each of us. Perhaps being more mindful of instances of when we censor one another.