Coping With Others’ Scripts

By Loree Cook-Daniels

They kept coming, mostly by email, for months. Each was stated in emphatic terms, brooking no argument, asking no questions. They were the reasons why my life-partner had killed himself. I heard:

• He realized his transition was a mistake he couldn’t fix.
• Being a Black FTM was too hard.
• He couldn’t handle being in an interracial relationship.
• He had been devastated by an “affair” I had.
• He was selfish.
• He was married to a bitch.
• He was trying to signal he needed help, and I missed the signals.

At first, each missive had me crying uncontrollably for days; what was it that Marcelle had said to these people that he hadn’t said to me? I even once sent out a widely-broadcast email asking people to tell me what they had heard from Marcelle. After all, a crucial stage survivors of a suicide go through is trying to figure out exactly what happened, and it seemed clear from the tone of these emails that their authors knew something I needed to know.

Eventually, as I began to regain a grip on reality, things began to occur to me. I realized that most of the people who were saying these things had never talked to Marcelle about what was going on. A couple had never even met him! None had talked to me about what was happening immediately preceding his death (or, for that matter, about our 17 years together and what I knew of his history and state of mind), none had been present at any of our dozens and dozens of therapy appointments, and not one person had read his suicide notes. Upon what, then, were they basing these pronouncements of what had been going on in my life-partner’s head during his last, fatal, dance with alcohol and pills?

As I continued to try to make sense of where these people were getting their information, it began to dawn on me that some of them – take as an example the anonymous lesbian who charged me with causing Marcelle’s death by “allowing” him to transition – HAD no information about who we really were. Where her information came from was, quite simply, her own head. For her, transitioning F-to-M was so horrible that she believed it would lead to suicide. The woman who said Marcelle couldn’t handle being in an interracial relationship (which we’d had for 17 years!) turned out to have a failed interracial marriage herself.

I began to think that what was going on was scriptwriting. People were taking pieces of reality – Marcelle had committed suicide – and making sense of the “why” using their own experience and beliefs. What they were telling me was what was in their heads, not what was in Marcelle’s.

There wasn’t (and isn’t) anything wrong with these people using snippets of Marcelle’s life to work through their own thoughts. The problems came when they (and for awhile, I) couldn’t recognize the difference between the stories they’d made up and Marcelle’s actual experiences, thoughts, and beliefs. They wouldn’t accept what really had happened and what Marcelle had actually said; when I tried to tell them these things, they told me I was mistaken, deluded, deflecting blame, or didn’t have all the pieces.

Who, exactly, were the crazy ones here: the scriptwriters or me? As I wrestled with this question, I began to realize the answer was none of us. In scriptwriting, there are two realities. The scriptwriters’ stories are as real as mine; they are based on things that have actually happened to them and that they actually believe. The problem is, they have named the people in their stories after people in my life, and then forgotten there is a distinction between the two. The Marcelle in the scriptwriters’ stories is, to them, the same person as the Marcelle who actually lived and died. It’s like the people who get mad at actors who have played evil characters; they’ve SEEN this man kill people; of course he’s dangerous!

Once I began thinking that what people were doing around Marcelle’s death was scriptwriting, I began recognizing scriptwriting in many places. I recognized it in the therapist who said I’d moved Kai and myself across country “too fast,” and in my father’s statement that my parents taking Kai on a vacation couldn’t “be a permanent solution.” I began recognizing past scripts, such as my mother telling me my aunt “had to be unhappy because of what her kids do to her” even though my aunt said she was fine with their behavior, and in her telling me that it was my fault my best friend left me when I came out to her. Then I realized that the phenomenon happens to trans people and SOFFAs all the time: “You just want heterosexual privilege.” “You’re doing this because you’re not willing to look at your internalized homophobia [sexism, hatred of men, etc.].” “Your parents must have done something really wrong for you to be so mixed up.” Indeed, scriptwriting is rampant everywhere: “If you’d only stayed in school like I told you, you’d be happy.” “Anyone who doesn’t want children is selfish and immature.” “How can you live [eat, watch so much TV, have so many piercings, etc.] like that? It’s so unhealthy!”

I’ve learned that scripts can be dangerous. Once a script with a character named after you is written, it keeps running. (Think never-ending soap operas.) When you take an action that seems out of step with what the character in the script would do, the scriptwriter may object. For example, at the 2001 True Spirit Conference, several people saw me with my partner michael in a “sex workshop” and decided we were being too affectionate with each other. They felt we were “disrespecting” Marcelle. The reality of what happened is that I was being triggered by what the presenters were saying into flashbacks about some very positive and negative experiences Marcelle and I had had together in the months before he died. Michael, who recognized what was happening, was trying to give me some privacy and dignity by curling his arm around me and having me cry into his shoulder. But the observers had written a script about me, Marcelle, and michael, and interpreted what they saw based on that script. Their resulting outrage at what they termed “inappropriate affection” led a group of them to take off their name badges, wait until they could get michael alone, and verbally assault him.

On another occasion, one anonymous woman who, as far as I could understand, had never spoken to me or Marcelle about what was happening before his suicide, was so convinced of the reality of her script that she thought she could use it for blackmail. Angry about a criticism of Alix Dobkin that I’d posted on an email support list, she threatened to publicize “the truth of why Marcelle killed himself” if I didn’t post the response she wanted.

How far will people go in defense of their scripts? Think about it: How far were the September 11 hijackers willing to pursue their script that all Americans are evil?

Even when people won’t defend their scripts to the death (ours or theirs), these scripts can be problematic. I’m one of those people who lose my place when singing rounds and when I’m counting and someone near me is verbally playing with numbers. At best, I’ve found that a concurrently running alternate story of my life is a distraction. At worse, such scripts have led me to doubt my reality and make choices that weren’t in my best interest.

To help myself figure out what to do when someone has a script where a character has my name, I’ve developed a three-step plan. I offer it here in the hope that others will try it and give feedback on what works for them and what doesn’t, what the plan still needs to address, and what additional ideas they have. Write me at LoreeCD@aol.com.

Coping with Others’ Scripts: The Plan

1. Recognize there is a script.
Clues to the existence of a script starring someone with your name include:

• Someone telling you what you think.
• Someone “explaining” your behavior or decisions.
• Someone judging the appropriateness of an action you’ve taken or a decision you’ve made without asking you for your motivations, reasons, and considerations.
• Someone treating you like you’re crazy, that what you’ve done makes no sense at all.
• Someone getting angry at you for something you didn’t do.

Remember that you may hear about others’ scripts through third parties, or have to intuit them from others’ actions. For example, my sister accused me of being abusive to my parents for telling them that one of the ways I coped with feeling suicidal myself after Marcelle’s death was to promise myself I only had to live until Kai turned 18. From that I could guess that the “Loree” who lives in her head differs from her real-life namesake by never actually being suicidal, never talking about such a subject with family members, or being so vicious she’d make up such a topic simply to torment others.

2. Judge how wedded the scriptwriter is to hir script.
Once you realize that someone seems to be using your name in a story that doesn’t jive with your experience, step two is to assess how wedded sie is to hir script. Some of the questions to consider are:

• When you say, “what you just said doesn’t match my experience,” or “that’s not how I see it,” does sie look eager to hear what you have to say next? Or does sie interrupt you with an explanation of why sie’s right?
• When you talk about your experience, does sie ask follow-up questions? If sie does, does sie listen to the answers?
• Have you ever heard hir say, “Oh! I didn’t know that.” Or, “Well, that changes my whole viewpoint!” Or, “Gee, I’d never thought of it that way”?
• Does sie ever start sentences about your life with phrases like, “What you don’t understand is…” or “What you haven’t considered is…” or “That’s not true….”?
• What are hir sources of information about your life? Is sie asking you questions directly or getting hir information about you from somewhere (or nowhere!) else?
• Does sie ever come back after a conversation has ended and ask more questions (which indicates a willingness to think about what you’ve said)? Does sie ever ask for referrals to other people or publications that share your experience or viewpoint?
• Do you know of any occasions when sie has sought out people to articulate viewpoints sie doesn’t understand?

Generally, if the person isn’t interested in hearing about your experience, tells you why you’re wrong about yourself, and generally resists learning about others’ viewpoints, be wary! This person may well be far more interested in defending the “rightness” of hir script than being helpful to -- or accurate about -- you.

If sie does seem open to revising hir script, then by all means, talk about your actual experience and feelings!

3. Be willing and able to leave the game.
If, on the other hand, the person isn’t open to having hir script “about” you rewritten, step three is being willing and able to leave the game. You are engaging in a battle of wills when you want to correct someone’s script. It may be obvious to you that since it’s your life, you should have the last word. Unfortunately, as we’ve seen, people will go to great lengths to defend their scripts from any and all challenges. Engaging in a battle like this diverts your energy from the very thing you’re trying to defend: your right to define and live your own truth. Take back that energy. Walk away and get on with living your truth.

If you can’t bring yourself to walk away (or if circumstances prevent it, like the stubborn scriptwriter is your boss and you’re not in a position to change jobs), make a safety plan. It’s always hard to not think about the pink elephant; the best way to redirect your thoughts and emotions is to focus on something else. Perhaps you can automatically begin mentally listing your good qualities whenever someone starts telling you about your life (particularly useful if they’re bent on telling you what you’re doing wrong!). Or maybe you can use the trigger of discovering someone’s written a script starring a character with your name to think about whom in your life you’ve been writing scripts about. Perhaps you can resolve to use such occasions as opportunities to figure out some concrete step you can take to better live out your values. Or, look at each event as an opportunity to learn something new about the way others think.

On that note, I dedicate this essay to the many people who’ve written (and sometimes felt compelled to share with me) scripts “starring” me, Marcelle, and/or michael. I applaud you for your creativity and convictions, and invite you to focus those skills on finding ways to make life better for yourself and others.