a note on mansplaining

fozmeadows:

In the various Pokemon games,
during informational conversations with parents, professors and other
knowledgeable NPCs, you’re often given the choice to say “yes” or “no” when
asked if you’re familiar with whatever they’re going to tell you. If the
information isn’t critical to the game mechanics, or if you can easily speak to
the NPC again to get the same dialogue prompt, selecting “yes” usually shuts
the character up, so that veteran players don’t have to sit through the same
explanations over and over. But at certain other times – if a core concept is
being explained, or if the NPC is just particularly zealous – then hitting “yes”
still gets you the same explanation, just bracketed by slightly different
phrases. “Oh! So you know how [thing] works? You just [detailed rundown] and
you’re set! Isn’t it wonderful?”

As a gameplay mechanic, it’s generally
meant as a failsafe against player error: some conversations can’t be done over
again, and the game is trying to make sure that players who accidentally hit
the wrong button don’t miss something important. But that doesn’t make it any
less frustrating to have a declaration of “yes, I understand this concept” met
with a cheerful explanation of the thing you already know.

Which makes it a perfect metaphor
for mansplaining.

At a fundamental level, mansplaining
is the failure of the speaker to adapt their conversation to acknowledge the
listener’s expertise, for one or a more of the following reasons:

a)       The
speaker assumes themselves to be more knowledgeable than the listener at a
basic level (presumption);

b)      The
speaker feels duty-bound to educate others in their own words, even if the
listener “thinks” they already understand the topic (condescension);

c)       The
speaker considers the listener to be an unreliable judge of their own knowledge
(paternalism);

d)      The
speaker hasn’t considered the listener’s probable knowledge, even if their
ignorance would be contextually incongruous – for instance, explaining what a
particular job entails to someone already working in that capacity
(thoughtlessness);

e)      The
speaker prefers to demonstrate their knowledge through explanation rather than
discussion, thereby casting their peer as a student rather than their equal
(superiority);  

f)       
The speaker wants to “make sure” the listener
really does know what they claim to know, and so gives an explanation “just in
case” (infantilisation);

g)       The
speaker wants to “test” the listener on their comprehension, the better to
catch them in a lie (bad faith);

h)      The
speaker views the listener as their social, moral or intellectual inferior, and
so feels justified in lecturing them (arrogance);

i)       
The speaker believes they have the right to the
listener’s time and attention, such that they should be able to “speak their
piece” without interruption, correction or comment beyond encouragement to keep
speaking (entitlement);

j)       
The speaker expected the listener to be ignorant
and, even when corrected on this point, believes that both their planned
explanation – and they themselves – are engaging enough that no alteration is
necessary (egotism).

Whatever the reason, the end
result for the listener is the same: having clicked the metaphorical “yes”
button as many times as possible, they’re still forced to sit through an unskippable
tutorial on something they already know, the delivery ranging from blithely
oblivious to openly hostile. Which, in addition to being inherently
frustrating, is also deeply insulting. By ignoring, doubting or otherwise
eliding the listener’s expertise, the speaker is acting as though the listener
never spoke at all – and if the listener’s attempts to treat the exchange as a
conversation rather than a lecture are rebuffed, then not only is the speaker
being rude, but they’re refusing to treat the listener as a person, let alone
an authority.

Mansplainers: the conversational
Pokemon NPCs of daily life.