Re banishment, shaming and why I'd rather be "Joe Blow from Electra."

Here's a formative experience from my high school years:
Before the annual late-April trips to the Greater Southwest competition in Amarillo, TX, the band director would often tell us that, while out of town, "You're not Joe Blow from Electra, you ARE Electra."

In retrospect, it's one thing to represent the school when you're part of a large ensemble.  But to throw in admonishments that your behavior has to reflect on an entire town created a burden.  I was a shy teenager and had no trouble behaving, but not everyone else would toe the mark on the road.

Cut to almost three decades later:
I wasn't there to witness this, but a poet told me a story about a male poetry host (who co-hosted a then hugely-popular weekly reading on Melrose) arguing with a female poet.  The poetry host banned the female poet from his reading--rather fascinating since the argument was taking place outside a poetry venue in North Hollywood.

By now, you're probably wondering what the connection is between the two anecdotes above:
Banishment (or threats towards that end) is often a tool in poetry communities to enforce order and ensure dissent and troublemaking (which can sometimes be little more than not being completely gaga over a host and/or reading) carries a heavy penalty. 

And another tool in poetry communities is akin to the band director's "you ARE Electra" speech--to make people feel that, if they complain and/or refuse to accept the scene (warts, blemishes, egotism, bullying and all), you're bringing deep dishonor not only on yourself, but your fellow poets, your city and the institutions of poetry and literature themselves.

All further proof that the ethos of high school hamstrings you for much of the rest of your life--if you allow it.