The Transformation of Stanley Fritz
I was desperate for love, so desperate that i hated myself.
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During my college years, I built a reputation as being someone who would say anything to get a rise out of people. Back then, my prime motivation was to be noticed, so if that meant saying something off-color, I would do it with no hesitation. Time has taught me that filters are important. I'll still say things that might raise an eyebrow, but I like to believe I'm more inclined to think before I speak, or dump the hot takes in the group chat. In the years since, I have tried to reflect on that younger version of me to identify patterns or triggers. This process has been mostly successful, but what stands out the most from those days is who was on the receiving end of my lack of filters. As embarrassing as it is to say, the target was almost always women.
I’m much older now, and I like to believe I have learned the lessons from my past and wouldn’t repeat them today. But like all men living in a world that undervalues women, and makes excuses for men; it’s important to push further than your own feelings, and try to unpack where your behavior came from. If we’re not trying to dig through the muck and get to the root cause, we’re not being truly intentional about making a change. That’s usually where the truth is.
Let’s talk about my truth. When I was at the height of this behavior, the motivating factors were pretty clear. I’ll make a list for you:
1. I was incredibly insecure about my physical appearance, and skin color- To be Black in America is to have gone through the gauntlet that is white supremacy. While the neighborhood I grew up in, and the schools I attended were deeply impacted by institutional racism, much of my childhood was absent of white people. Instead, my first engagement with white supremacy outside of a physical structure, was anti-Blackness from within my community. I should be clear, Anti-Blackness is rooted in white supremacy, and while Black and non Black People of color can be Anti-Black, we are not inherently against Black people. Instead, I and most of my Black and non Black counterparts are living within a country that centers whiteness first, and devalues anything that is different. As a result, I spent most of my childhood being teased because of the color of my skin. The jokes didn’t always hurt, but it made me believe the color of my skin was a flaw. That bullying left a life-long scar that I’m still grappling with, and as a college student I didn’t have the language or the tools to deal with it.
2. I was bitter. A lot of the women I made comments to would never give me the time of the day. Or maybe they would, it didn’t matter because I was too afraid to actually approach any of them. My fear of rejection, and not being loved paralyzed me from doing a lot of things, but like my struggles with colorism, I didn’t understand what was going on inside of me, and instead tried to ignore it. But, as life shows all of us, you can’t ignore what is inside of you, and if you try, it will manifest in other ways. My fear of rejection, hatred of my skin color, and general loneliness manifested into anger. I was angry at women I never bothered to speak to for not liking me, I was angry that my skin wasn’t lighter, I was angry that no one wanted me, and felt completely powerless to change any of these things. The one space that gave me power was the ability to get a reaction out of people. So I targeted women with my snide comments, in order to feel better about myself.
3. I had an unrealistic sense of entitlement to women’s time and energy. Without anyone ever telling me, I felt like I had the right to say whatever I wanted to women. Not only did I think this, but I also believed that women should listen to whatever I had to say because “when a man talks, a woman should listen”
4. I was Young, Dumn, and Selfish. If 3 didn’t spell it out for you, this one should. I was an idiot who lacked emotional intelligence and was too immature to understand why my behavior was inappropriate. When I acted out, I was never thinking about the person on the receiving end of my words, my only concern was what kind of reaction I would get from my friends, and how hard people would laugh.
A couple of months ago, I wrote an essay titled, “I’m still not sure how to love” . In it I question whether my struggles with loving come from the unhealthy examples I had growing up. The answer in case you are wondering is yes. It’s very difficult to express a healthy love for anyone, if you don’t know what that looks like, it's even harder when you don’t love or value yourself.
I think the biggest contributor to the harm I caused others was the way in which I saw myself. I didn’t care about my health, I dismissed happiness as a “thing for women and children,” I ignored my emotions, and when life got hard, I tried to cope with alcohol, people pleasing and with escapism. The Stanley that said and did all of those hurtful things was giving the people in his life a taste of the treatment he gave himself. So yes, reflecting on the past hurts, because I’m not proud of who I was, but the difference in Stanley at 36, from the 20 something Stanley with no filters is a growing and radical love for himself.
Why is this important? Well, for me, it's a reminder that I can’t give what I don’t have, but for those of you who follow this substack, and are excited about the “Love Tape” I want to remind you, that love starts with you. Be loving, empathetic, and kind to yourself, and if you are truly committed to this, the world will reflect it back. Over the next month, you will receive guest post from amazing writers discussing the topic of love, don’t forget to love yourself.
Thank you. This post and this substack should be required reading.
Stanley, such beautiful heartfelt words. And so courageous.