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Are Left-Hand Dominant People Marginalized in Sports and Elsewhere

jbg

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Today, when I went to play tennis, my partner asked if I wanted the "backhand" side when we were receiving. My wife is left-hand dominant; I am a "righty." I corrected my partner to call it the "add court" and the other side the "deuce court."

Question is, is the use of the term "backhand" court a micro-aggression towards "lefties" since it is for them, of course, the "forehand" court? Is it bullying, disparaging or marginalizing? As one committed to social justice, should this be of concern? Or should we all stop walking on eggshells?
 
Developing a balance between usage of left and right hands takes time and effort, many cannot and will not stand the course. I challenge myself every few weeks or so by turning my entire drum rig left to right and practicing for long periods using my left as my lead hand and my right for the back-beat. The feet also have perform in opposites using the pedals for the kick-drum and the hi-hat.

Playing open style is another challenge, this one entails placing the various items on the kit in randomly chosen positions that make doing the simplest and most familiar things that much more difficult. But the aim is have a balance between the left and right hands and feet that they can both be played given the song and its arrangement, and within the dynamic range the track needs.

Take this kit type used by Phil Collins, a left handed and left-leading multi-instrumentalist:



As you can see, the hi-hit position is to the extreme left as you look at it and the highest and lowest tom-toms and floor toms veer from left to right.

But if I was to turn it left to right, all of the parts of the kit have now switched places and one has to take a completely different approach to playing the whole set:



Having complete ambidexterity is the goal, but it's very hard to achieve for most people. Many of my own students couldn't hold down two bars of a simple 4/4 in a row without clunking it. But the more time you spend trying, the better you'll become as the mind/brain begins to create a sense of independence for all four limbs to work independently. I try other things around the house like preparing food in the kitchen - I have a professional knife sharpener (professional chef's type) so all of my kitchen knives are like blades. Fucking around with sharp knives is strictly Val Martin type idiocy, so be careful trying that.

As a kid I broke the three different bones my arms on a number of occasions and was quite used to switching from left to right in school for example: but back then you didn't want the christian brothers to see you writing with your left. Back then they still tried to beat it out of you. Thankfully they knew I was naturally right-handed and was only using my left to get the assigned work done. Other kids got battered for using their left hand. Crazy fuckers, those brothers.

Some are born with natural ambidexterity. Others likely can do it too but never bothered to try. We, as musicians, must develop our bodies for the job at hand. For me the negatives are the lower back/lumbar region and the upper spine and neck: decades of working physically while in a seated position causes all sorts of problems, but I had surgery and now have a titanium neck and upper spine, the entire body working better than it was before. Look at Phil Collins these days, the poor cunt's stuck in a wheelchair, the penance for his sins using the set-up in the attached photos. His stool too low, the drums set wide and far apart, and his cymbals (not illustrated) were even higher above the tom-toms that he had a reach of around 300 degrees to get from top to bottom of the scale. Now he can't walk. Fucked up.

Yeah, he wrote gangloads of tripe, but let's be real: of his generation, he's a world class player of amazing ability and even wider imagination. This track is probably his best known self-penned song, but the real diamond here is the 'accident' he had while recording this song. After playing his part on the drums, the crew were heading out for lunch and someone shut down the near-field monitors to let them cool down. As Collins was stepping out the door, he stopped and turned around: the take they just did was still playing on the tape machine and the only speaker that was live was the tiny little speaker in the main console of the desk, and it had only the room mics playing.

He heard how the tiny speaker 'gated' the drums (meaning a device which cuts short the length of the sustained note by snapping shut when you set it to whatever gate size/level you wanted. So he tried to replicate what the tiny speaker sounded like across the entire kit. That's where THIS came from:



And there you have it: one of the drumming world's most precious moments in the history of recorded music. Everyone knows it, you can sit any fool behind the drums and they can take a decent stab at replicating the world's most famous drum fill ever. Like him or loathe him, Collins is a highly talented musician who admittedly did blow it with his lame love songs and particularly his writing that song 'Another Day In Paradise' and keeping the money instead of helping the cunts the was singing about.

But anyway, I'm guessing most people reading this want to know about giving themselves a 'stranger'?

'Fess up if you do.

Your penance will be having to listen to that poxy gated drum-fill non-stop for the rest of your life.

Here's Mike Tyson doing his Phil moment:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHjieD6CTYs
 
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Being left handed myself I have created some hybrid version of coping, using left and right for various things.

I wonder how good is be if the world was more lefty friendly with everything!
 
It is a disturbing thing to read of the hell some poor kids went through in forcing them to be right-handed when they were naturally left-handed.

Just shows the psychology of the fear of anything different or the unorthodox. It was quite primitive when you think of it and revealed more of the limitations of the people enforcing their idea of orthodoxy, a form of malignant desire to control and make others conform when in fact there was no social disadvantage to the world in having left-handed people in it.

There is a curious passage in one of Patrick O'Brien's Aubrey-Maturin series where an officer had a block in his mind on port v starboard, a hesitation which I think O'Brien might have conveyed as an example of someone with a perception issue in the early 19th century navy of course where a hesitation or perception-balance block in a moment could cause disaster on a sailing vessel.

I just wonder whether the ferociousness of the vilification of anyone different came from the 17th and 18th centuries where industrialisation and the advent of the machine age, which meant standardisation in any all things, formed this horror of anything outside of the accepted way of doing things.

I can't imagine someone throwing a spear to hunt an animal in ancient times with the left arm rather than the right would have made any great difference to an outcome as long as they were preferring their more powerful option.

But with the advent of the spinning machines and early factories everything would have had to conform to the machine, which was designed for the right handed so perhaps this bias against people who were left handed is a phenomenon borne of exasperation in not naturally conforming to the standard.

Hand stitched needlework wouldn't matter if the seamstress was left or right handed as long as they were following their natural skill but a left handed loom operator in a factory setting would have to adapt to machines designed for right handed people and therefore became 'unorthodox' and undesirable as requiring special attention.
 
I suppose too this irritation with anything outside of the non-standard or unorthodox would have been exacerbated by the standardisation that came with the machine age but prior to that psychology was very bipolar in a way. Anything 'different' would have been much closer to being perceived as an evil than it would to have been accepted merely as a difference. There were long periods when to be different in any way to a fairly primitive psychology would at first attract attention and comment and wouldn't be a long way therefore to social condemnation.

All comes down to ignorance I suppose.
 
It is a disturbing thing to read of the hell some poor kids went through in forcing them to be right-handed when they were naturally left-handed.

Just shows the psychology of the fear of anything different or the unorthodox. It was quite primitive when you think of it and revealed more of the limitations of the people enforcing their idea of orthodoxy, a form of malignant desire to control and make others conform when in fact there was no social disadvantage to the world in having left-handed people in it.

There is a curious passage in one of Patrick O'Brien's Aubrey-Maturin series where an officer had a block in his mind on port v starboard, a hesitation which I think O'Brien might have conveyed as an example of someone with a perception issue in the early 19th century navy of course where a hesitation or perception-balance block in a moment could cause disaster on a sailing vessel.

I just wonder whether the ferociousness of the vilification of anyone different came from the 17th and 18th centuries where industrialisation and the advent of the machine age, which meant standardisation in any all things, formed this horror of anything outside of the accepted way of doing things.

I can't imagine someone throwing a spear to hunt an animal in ancient times with the left arm rather than the right would have made any great difference to an outcome as long as they were preferring their more powerful option.

But with the advent of the spinning machines and early factories everything would have had to conform to the machine, which was designed for the right handed so perhaps this bias against people who were left handed is a phenomenon borne of exasperation in not naturally conforming to the standard.

Hand stitched needlework wouldn't matter if the seamstress was left or right handed as long as they were following their natural skill but a left handed loom operator in a factory setting would have to adapt to machines designed for right handed people and therefore became 'unorthodox' and undesirable as requiring special attention.
A great post, resonates heavily with me as my dear old grandmother was beaten by the nuns for being left handed.
 
Here's a wee horror show of the left-handed nature of some:

When I was ten and eleven years old, I had a violent sadistic bastard lay teacher called John Sullivan who singled out a 'simple' boy in our class. Back then, simple meant the person wasn't fully compos mentis, they were often incorrectly assumed to have learning difficulties because speaking out wasn't their nature. In this case, Derek (who we were instructed to call 'Spacer') was a very sweet and innocent little boy. A loner, he couldn't and didn't seem to want to make any friends. He was a happy loner - a bit like myself. But he was isolated by his own actions and so Sullivan used him for his entertainment most afternoons during the last hour of class.

He'd pick one of us out (usually for some minor classroom issue: homework not completed, talking in class, using your biro to spitball the guy up front, etc) and we were sent to the top of the class and forced down onto our knees. Then we had to put our left hand in our back pocket leaving the right arm free. Then Derek was sent up (it was always Derek) and the two kids would have to fight to keep Sullivan amused. Most of the time, poor Derek took an awful beating. In time he learned that, if he didn't attack first, that he'd take a beating, so he turned to coming out with both fists and feet flying in the hope of knocking you down before you hurt him and knocked him to the floor. Sometimes Sullivan would make bets with the seated kids as the the outcome of today's battering.

I was selected once. I'd been dreading this but I'd already made up my mind that when my turn came, there was no way I going to break my own heart by so much as laying a finger on him. So out he came, I'm on my knees, left hand in my back pocket, and so he came at me. I took several boots and a few punches to the skull. Sullivan was screaming at me to fight back but I just knelt there and took it. Derek finally clocked I wasn't going to hit him back so he took to slapping me, then sort of patting me on the head as he ran out of breath and I continued to look at him without an expression on my face. He won the day and skulked back to his desk, mortified.

Sullivan took out the cane and gave me several lashes across the finger-tips, leaving my hands numb and stinging for hours afterwards.

I knew that was coming too, there was no way Sullivan was standing for it, because then everybody might refuse to fight back.

So he destroyed my hands and fingers with the stick as my punishment for not fighting.

Looking back now, I can't imagine how the other kids in the class must feel when they think back to their own few occasions of beating the poor kid senseless, it must hurt like hell to recall doing such an horrendous thing - on the instructions of your 'moral guide' - a Trinity College student who hated teaching in a working class school. So he made our lives hell for those two years. He's the one man from all my years of schooling at De La Salle whom I truly WOULD love to meet today.

I met Derek once at my Mam's social club, a barn up on the Naas Road where they met for bingo and sing-alongs, live cabaret and what have you. He was there with his Dad, his mother having passed away. Derek was still the little innocent boy who loved to smile and was still so shy and so fragile my heart broke for him. We chatted awhile and I mentioned the daily horror show during final hour.

He hadn't forgot it any more than I had, the look on the poor boy's face stripped me bare and the years broke away back to that damned classroom, and that fucking animal, John Sullivan. I can't imagine myself not flying into a rage on seeing him again. I'd happily take a bust for battering him to within an inch of his miserable life. There isn't a court in the land that would punish me for it.

But that was the life we knew at the time and none of us presumed that life anywhere else was doing anything any differently.

That illusion ended as soon as we transitioned from primary school to secondary school, and it was until the final year of the Leaving Certificate that beating children was outlawed. Even then they were still at it. Until my younger brother arrived at secondary school, when it was totally illegal. But some fool of a 'christian brother' decided to slap him around the ears one day. My brother had to be dragged off the cunt. He battered his face in, smashed him up something terrible by all accounts. The bastard was sequestered for a few weeks and when he came back he was made apologize to our kid.

That's one lovely story, and one I wish I could have witnessed.

But instead all I have are these horrific images and memories of the terror we were groomed into accepting from these animals.

When my turn to pay them back finally arrived, I made my statements in both Ballyfermot cop station as well as Pearse Street. And two national EHB clinics. It was videotaped and fully supervised and my Father accompanied me to bolster me up and make sure I told them everything I'd seen. First to fall was Tony Walsh, Ireland's single and most horrible priest who raped over two hundred and fifty kids in the area (and a few other towns he was sent to when the heat got to be too much) and all of them violently with threats afterwards that he'd find them and hurt them - and that it was their own fault. Damn. I'm glad he's still inside, but if and when he gets out, I'd love to meet him at the gates of the prison.

They'll likely smuggle him out when his time's up, send him away somewhere for his better health.

Us?

We get to live with the horror and nightmares.

Our punishment for our childishness and innocence.

Dear old Ireland, eh.
 
Strange country, Ireland, Mowl. Probably would have been a better place to live if the vulnerable had been cared for and the obvious nutcases put in institutions.

The lunatics were allowed run the asylum. A lot of those people stuck in professions such as teaching or clerical orders were mentally ill by any standard.
 
Strange country, Ireland, Mowl. Probably would have been a better place to live if the vulnerable had been cared for and the obvious nutcases put in institutions.

Being born into a working class neighbourhood and later discovering you have a propensity for learning and accumulating knowledge is a disease that can conceivably kill a boy/man - on the wrong side of town. By the wrong sort of people.

There's nothing the Irish hate more than an upstart from the ghetto.

Especially if he/she won't shut up when instructed to.

The lunatics were allowed run the asylum.

They still are by the looks of things.

A lot of those people stuck in professions such as teaching or clerical orders were mentally ill by any standard.

Indeed - so much so one wonders if it wasn't a CV requirement.
 
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