I don’t know that I have any business leaving comments on The Angry Black Woman seeing as how I’m not angry (depressed maybe) or black and my experience of being a woman is different from the writers on the site.

But a post written about Caster Semenya, titled Race, Gender, and the Oppressive Public Gaze… said so much and then some on a subject I have thought to write about but didn’t know where to start or what to say because in my head it was all spluttering phrases of indignation. I was moved to comment and did just that.

Currently, my comment is awaiting moderation.

And while my comment waits to be moderated, I wait to be judged.

You see I hardly ever comment on blogs. Sometimes it’s because I don’t have much to say. By the time I read the post anything I might have had to say has already been said by someone else. And better said. Or sometimes I don’t even know what to say except ” OMG I love your post / blog” which sounds so, well, lacking when the post or blog is just so wow.

And then of course I am so shy sometimes I think I would rather stand still and get hit by a bus then open my mouth and say what I think in front of strangers. This is true in real life as well as when I am online. I care what people think of me. I want to be liked and respected and be thought of as a nice person.

So it just does not occur me to behave any differently on the internet than I do in life. Wait, that is not true. If anything, I behave better on the internet.

And still my comment awaits moderation.

I included the url for this blog on my comment and then started having second thoughts about having done so. What if, before they OK my comment, they have a look at my blog. What if they scroll through my posts and blogroll and decide that some of my reading and writing choices are not OK and they bin my comment. Or worse, they publish it anyway and then tear me apart for my choices?

As I stood in front of the stove cooking fish fingers for supper I was having serious second thoughts about having said anything in the first place and in doing so, drawing attention to myself.

Because, really, I felt like I had just butted into the cool kids’ conversation.

There are blogs I read that deal with the -isms – feminism, racism, etc. Interesting, entertaining, educational and sensational blogs that leave me at a loss for words. Even if I could work up the courage to say something, I feel as if my opinion would not count, because I am so underqualified to comment. I don’t know of what they speak because I have never experienced it for myself.


This post has gone in a totally different direction than the one I intended when I was fretting over fish fingers. And probably it won’t have an ending until my comment, sitting out there in a moderation queue, gets accepted or declined.

I am not sure which option I want more.


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