On Whining

I once knew a woman who halted her kids’ bratty chat with the simple phrase: “I don’t speak Whinese.” Sadly, this one liner never worked in my house. My kids would mostly look at me with this “what kind of nonsense are you sputtering now” kind of look, and go right back to whining. Ignoring them when they talk that way has worked, which I guess is the more literal form of “I don’t speak Whinese.”

As in, “Huh? Wha? Are you talking to me?”

I’m not sure exactly what the topic on the radio was today – maybe it was Britney Spears or something about how marriage can be hazardous to your health – but for about an hour or so, the banter seemed to center around our “whining” culture. There was a constant train of conversation about how we as modern Americans have become so weak in our ways, so entitled, so… whiny. (I was ready to agree even before I started watching Ken Burns’ “The War,” but I am completely down with the idea now… to a degree.)

At some point in the radio show, a mom of three junior high school boys with the crabby husband who was spending all their money called in say her a marriage was affecting her health. I listened when she explained that after so many years working outside the home, she had recently decided to work from the home (mostly to watch her boys and the father-in-law who was living with her family) and that now, she was suffering from high blood pressure and panic attacks. I listened to this woman, who described how her husband would rage at their financial problems (mostly caused by him), and how she worried she wasn’t cut out for the job she seemed to be assigned. All I could think was, damn, I hope this woman has some friends and also, how brave to share her problems with everyone ON THE RADIO.

The host responded in the way that she usually does, mildly catty, mostly benign and repetitive, but then, unhalted by her, caller after caller proceeded to destroy this woman, this “whiner.” One said, “Why did she have three kids if she didn’t want to stay home with them?” with no regard to her financial situation or her own desires. The next, unmarried and older, couldn’t understand why married women could bitch so much – her mother, who raised her in the ‘50s, never complained after all, not ever ever, never, not once.

Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she never read Betty Friedan either.

Do we "modern" women whine more now than the women, the wives and mothers who came before us? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that we have a louder voice and the confidence to use it. Is burning your bra “whiny”? Or something else entirely?

Let’s be clear to ourselves and the culture around us: there is a big difference between whining and complaining.

Whining is a negative, desperate lament, which at the root implies -- why me, woe is me, oh poor me – as if that lament could change an outcome. (It shouldn’t.) A complaint is an aggressive acknowledgment of something wrong, or a wrongdoing, or of a problem that needs attention. Generally speaking, complaints get action. (And they should.)

Look at it this way: children who whine never get cookies. Children who complain about earaches get the care they need and deserve.

People whine when they are powerless and can do little else to reach an end result.

People complain to point out a problem, to spark debate, to force change.

I complain all the time. I complain about my kids, about That Man, about my kids’ schools, about speeding on our street, about our community in general, and about all the other (much bigger) problems in the world. I complain all over the place: here, in this virtual space (what a relief!), and with my friends and family when the shit comes up, and even to the powers that be in my town and my state and even my country.

Sometimes complaints rebound in helpful advice from another who knows better or more. Sometimes complaints create pacts and plans and petitions, and lo and behold, you get Stop Signs. And sometimes complaints change laws (think: the 19th Amendment) or governments (think: the future).

Women DO complain more now than they did in the 50s, that’s for damn sure, and I am proud of that, and I am grateful for that.

I wish I had a cell phone with batteries that always worked because I would have called into that radio show to defend that woman, who though probably reaching out in the wrong direction, was reaching out nonetheless. She was expressing a legitimate complaint and she needed and deserved some help, or at least, a friend.

When you feel the urge to whine coming on (which hell knows, I have had), please think of this man, Professor Randy Rausch, whose words are such a beautiful testament to “no whining allowed” and also, “what really matters.” And I bring some of his words to you, in this link, courtesy of Margaret, who by the way knows her way around a complaint and the difference between that and a whine.

http://www.powerlineblog.com/archives/2007/09/018520.php

And if you want more of what he says, make a complaint here, and you know, see what happens.