Hug a Victim
Thursday, I was the victim of a crime. It's not the kind of crime that can be prosecuted. At all. I get to be a victim again! Yay! *sarcasm*
It's a phone scam: they call you (usually from another country, like Jamaica, although this man sounded Indian) and pretend to be from the IRS (he also claimed to be an agent of FBI [sic]) and that you owe the government money. They ask you to pay over the phone.
There are so many SO MANY clues that the phone call is fraudulent. The man I spoke with actually pretended to be somebody else for a few moments. With an even sillier accent. They're reading a script. They cannot prove their authority. They claim impossible things. But unless you hang up immediately (or screen your calls, like I'll have to do now), it can be difficult to process all of those clues into a coherent rejection.
I absolutely understand why people would give in to that kind of fraud. And to everyone who falls for it, I want to personally issue a long, warm hug and some words of reassurance.
They claim to be government agents. For me, authority is silencing. I have nightmares about being on the witness stand as an accused, and being unable to defend myself. I have these nightmares because I have experienced my own silence so many times: I let people think what they would think anyway. When talking with professors, colleagues, supervisors, I just listen. I do not have the right instincts. So I listened. I did not hang up, despite my suspicions.
They threaten to send the police. Culturally, we divide ourselves into "criminal" and "non-criminal." We label ourselves from the inside, and from the outside. It's a label, not a fact. Internalizing criminalization can have serious implications personally and socially. I imagine prisons are full of people who, despite their lawful and just trial, still reject a criminal identity. Or people who accepted the label undeservedly. My white privilege and cultural background allowed me to more easily reject the probability of being imprisoned than I suspect another person might have, but I still fear it. I watched the clock for hours, and have a panic attack every time the elevator stopped on my floor.
They claim that they have proof of your intentional dishonesty. This part actually made me laugh. It's possible to invent proof of anything, but after the agony I went through that my $1.27 check to the state (all the sales tax my new business generated last quarter) was eleven days late, nobody is going to convince me that I "intentionally" defrauded anyone. Nobody. But what if I had something sitting on my conscience, instead of anxiety? What if I were carrying a burden? I know what that feels like. How easily I would have given in! And - here's a more horrifying thought - what if I were the victim of long-term emotional abuse? There are people mentally conditioned to accept all accusations and punishments without question. They would be doubly - triply - victimized.
So many hugs. The world needs so many hugs. Whether you're carrying around the knowledge of your own guilt, or you've been convinced of it, there are ways of healing.
They threaten to garnish your wages and revoke your academic degrees. This actually made me laugh, too, in hindsight. Firstly, I don't earn wages, and the IRS is fully aware of that. Secondly, the FBI can't revoke academic degrees; only the institution can. Thirdly, education is what I truly value, and that is safer and more untouchable in the past than it would be on Mars. The degrees are provably worthless in some markets (I value them as milestones). I know not everyone has these opportunities, and I have an easier time than many, but the work I did (and do, when I'm not blogging) was not "given" to me already completed. There was no magic word that made knowledge stick in my head. I wrote all my own papers. I read the texts. I think for myself.
And now I'm going to finish that chapter. All by myself. On the shoulders of Lacan, Foucault, and a half-dozen assorted critics.
It's a phone scam: they call you (usually from another country, like Jamaica, although this man sounded Indian) and pretend to be from the IRS (he also claimed to be an agent of FBI [sic]) and that you owe the government money. They ask you to pay over the phone.
There are so many SO MANY clues that the phone call is fraudulent. The man I spoke with actually pretended to be somebody else for a few moments. With an even sillier accent. They're reading a script. They cannot prove their authority. They claim impossible things. But unless you hang up immediately (or screen your calls, like I'll have to do now), it can be difficult to process all of those clues into a coherent rejection.
I absolutely understand why people would give in to that kind of fraud. And to everyone who falls for it, I want to personally issue a long, warm hug and some words of reassurance.
They claim to be government agents. For me, authority is silencing. I have nightmares about being on the witness stand as an accused, and being unable to defend myself. I have these nightmares because I have experienced my own silence so many times: I let people think what they would think anyway. When talking with professors, colleagues, supervisors, I just listen. I do not have the right instincts. So I listened. I did not hang up, despite my suspicions.
They threaten to send the police. Culturally, we divide ourselves into "criminal" and "non-criminal." We label ourselves from the inside, and from the outside. It's a label, not a fact. Internalizing criminalization can have serious implications personally and socially. I imagine prisons are full of people who, despite their lawful and just trial, still reject a criminal identity. Or people who accepted the label undeservedly. My white privilege and cultural background allowed me to more easily reject the probability of being imprisoned than I suspect another person might have, but I still fear it. I watched the clock for hours, and have a panic attack every time the elevator stopped on my floor.
They claim that they have proof of your intentional dishonesty. This part actually made me laugh. It's possible to invent proof of anything, but after the agony I went through that my $1.27 check to the state (all the sales tax my new business generated last quarter) was eleven days late, nobody is going to convince me that I "intentionally" defrauded anyone. Nobody. But what if I had something sitting on my conscience, instead of anxiety? What if I were carrying a burden? I know what that feels like. How easily I would have given in! And - here's a more horrifying thought - what if I were the victim of long-term emotional abuse? There are people mentally conditioned to accept all accusations and punishments without question. They would be doubly - triply - victimized.
So many hugs. The world needs so many hugs. Whether you're carrying around the knowledge of your own guilt, or you've been convinced of it, there are ways of healing.
They threaten to garnish your wages and revoke your academic degrees. This actually made me laugh, too, in hindsight. Firstly, I don't earn wages, and the IRS is fully aware of that. Secondly, the FBI can't revoke academic degrees; only the institution can. Thirdly, education is what I truly value, and that is safer and more untouchable in the past than it would be on Mars. The degrees are provably worthless in some markets (I value them as milestones). I know not everyone has these opportunities, and I have an easier time than many, but the work I did (and do, when I'm not blogging) was not "given" to me already completed. There was no magic word that made knowledge stick in my head. I wrote all my own papers. I read the texts. I think for myself.
And now I'm going to finish that chapter. All by myself. On the shoulders of Lacan, Foucault, and a half-dozen assorted critics.
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