Liz Schnore is a pioneering list owner of one of the first neighborhood online
parenting communities, Fort Greene Kids. Schnore has watched men and women with
varying parental styles express themselves online in good and not-so-good ways
every day for the last seven years. She acknowledges that what began as a means
of providing resources to new parents in her neighborhood has grown into something
she can't, and won't, control.
"There are people who like to be instigators on listservs like this. It's
sort of the fun of pretending to be somebody they're not and causing lots
of arguments and fights among people," explains Schnore. Still, she insists
that as a list owner, not a moderator, she won't step in to save someone
from his or her own bad judgment. "If you're going to make statements,
you're going to have to defend yourself," Schnore says. Which is
probably why, early on in my online community involvement, I stayed out of the
fray when fights erupted, congratulating myself on not being one of those people.
Eleanor, not so much. When any topic popped up on the screen, she would inevitably
follow with an authoritative declaration. Question about noisy neighbors keeping
your baby up? Eleanor had something to say. Elimination communication? She was
there. And tons and tons of posts about cats. Found cats, lost cats, how to keep
your cat . . . so many cats! She was constantly looking for
things, information and advice. Which, granted, is what the list is for, but
even her repeated requests were hostile. She didn't just want a good pediatrician
in the neighborhood; the doctor had to be vegetarian-friendly and vaccine-wary.
When she was looking to pick up items she didn't get at her two (yes, two) baby showers,
she looked to the list again. And it wasn't like she was asking nicely
for some used baby swings and toys: she needed organic, Oeuf and Seventh Generation.
Her quest for the perfect bottled water service made me momentarily question
whether I was slowly poisoning my daughter with my Brita.
Normally I'm not averse to anyone's choices in food, clothing or
shelter as long as they don't infringe on others' right to eat burgers
and wear polyester. But IWhen I jumped in to defend my friend, Eleanor attacked. was bound to lose it at some point under the constant
barrage of absolute authority. That point came when Eleanor went after me directly.
A friend of mine was looking for advice on how to handle vacation with her part-time
nanny and was admonished by the liberal-guilt folks in the group because she
didn't pay social security taxes on those ten hours a week and then give
her nanny a monthly foot massage. When I jumped in to defend my friend by explaining
that not all our neighbors were million-dollar homeowners, Eleanor attacked.
The truth is, I somehow knew she would. When I posted, deep down I knew it was
like dangling a T-bone in front of a tiger. And the minute I put myself out there,
I got a momentary, very smug high. This was followed by an immediate anxiety
that made me refresh my email every five minutes in search of a reply (ideally,
a conciliatory "Oh, my God, you're so right — I am psychotic!").
Instead, Eleanor sanctimoniously ripped into me, explaining that I had a choice
in my career that offered no benefits, but these poor nannies — who came
to this country through underground barbed wire tunnels, surviving on rat excrement
because they were escaping torture for being political dissidents — did
not have any other choice except to love and care for our children. But I paraphrase.
I felt horrible, like I had wronged someone from a disadvantaged country and
I wasn't even the one not paying for my part-time nanny's vacation.
The truth is, these boards can make us feel like we're doing things wrong
just because we're not doing them the same way as "goodmommy919." And
that is more screwed up than the innards of a Diaper Genie. I picked my fragile
mommy shell up off the ground, and raged: How dare anyone judge my parenting
skills without ever being inside my home, knowing my family, knowing my bank
balance? I seethed all day until my husband came home and found me abusing my
keyboard to generate a brilliant response (I was leaning toward "You Suck!!!"),
while my daughter sat beside me, eating the television remote.
