Make Canada Proud: Disable Genocide

[My dear readers, I come to you with a request. The following letter has been emailed and sent by mail to the Prime Minister of Canada, the Minister of Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship, the Minister of Sports and Persons with Disabilities, as well as my MP. 

IF YOU ARE CANADIAN: Please post your support of what I’m asking here. That disabled Americans be allowed to immigrate into Canada and receive access to Healthcare as well as become a part of this great nation. 

IF YOU ARE AMERICAN: Please post in the comments about how President Trumps and the Republican Congress and Senates actions have put you or your loved ones at risk in the last few days. I will be including a link to this post in my email. 

ALL READERS: Tweet this to the Prime Minister @CanadianPM] 

January 28, 2017

Office of the Prime Minister
80 Wellington Street
Ottawa, ON K1A 0A2

CC: The Honourable Ahmed D Hussen, The Honourable Carla Qualtrough, Anita Vandenbeld

To the Right Honourable Prime Minister Justin Trudeau,

I’m writing to you as a proud citizen of this country to beg and plead for the lives of my loved ones. Since Mr. Trump’s election many of those closest to me have been scared of what the future holds for them. They belong to various vulnerable communities: trans people, gay people, people of colour, people who belong to non-Christians faiths or no faith at all, and especially disabled people.

In the days since President Trumps inauguration, that fear has turned into outright panic. In just his first week, Mr. Trump has enacted and encouraged policies that will lead to the deaths of millions. His policies show a clear movement towards eliminating the social and physical protections granted to those most at risk for abuse. Continue reading “Make Canada Proud: Disable Genocide”

Make Canada Proud: Disable Genocide
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Do You Think Me a Mind Controller?

There’s a very odd thing that sometimes happens in conversations. Some people think certain conversations shouldn’t take place at all, and resort to a variety of circumlocutions and thought-terminating clichés to try to shut it down. Perhaps the oddest of this is invoking the fictional “right to an opinion.”

A fairly subtle deception lies at the heart of this refrain, which merits teasing apart.

Continue reading “Do You Think Me a Mind Controller?”

Do You Think Me a Mind Controller?

When Depression and ADHD Collide

Ever since I discovered and wrote about the importance of treating ADHD if one also has depression, I have found myself thinking a lot about why this is the case. I’ve floated hypotheses that it has to do with regulating brain chemistry, since both conditions can be caused my imbalances and it is not unreasonable to think that the two might interact in some way.

I was lying in bed, my mind racing and thinking about the dozens of different things that my mind seems to decide must be thought about as I desperately attempt to fall asleep, that I began to think about the many ways that the two mental illnesses present in terms of symptoms. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the myriad of ways that the two reinforce one another. Continue reading “When Depression and ADHD Collide”

When Depression and ADHD Collide

Social Justice Warlock

Social justice classes are an RPG player’s riff on the reclaimed slur “social justice warrior.” Not all of us find the warrior ethos a good fit, nor does it appropriately value contributions from many different sorts.

At my core, I am an academic. There is power in knowledge, satisfaction in completeness, and peace in order. I could have been a wizard, and trained to be one. But there is otherworldly music in my heart and strange wires in my mind, and I found paths they never considered.

Continue reading “Social Justice Warlock”

Social Justice Warlock

Stealth Is Not Safe

CN suicide

There are many places where I won’t go. I hate moving, in general, and would gladly donate a kidney to whatever demiurge could reconfigure the universe to render this unwholesome task unnecessary for achieving any of my goals ever again, but that’s not what this is about. There are many locales where it is plainly unsafe for me to be, on any of various axes, and I intend to particularly avoid relocating to those places. Right now, that includes the United States, despite overwhelmingly better career prospects there than I seem to have where I am. This unsafeness is not something I’ve had an easy time getting a number of sympathetic people in my life to recognize, and it comes down to one crucial error: they think stealth is safe.

“Stealth,” for the uninitiated, refers to pretending one’s gender doesn’t bear the adjective “trans.” It means pretending to be a cis representative of one’s gender, to have been recognized as a member thereof for one’s entire life, and to have never borne a different name. “Going stealth” means hiding a large chunk of one’s past and papering over the resulting gaps with denial and occasional lies. This was once medically mandated for transgender women, who were expected to leave their hometowns and live somewhere where no one knew their history. And it doesn’t work. Continue reading “Stealth Is Not Safe”

Stealth Is Not Safe

Arroz con Salchichas, Alyssa Style

I had a very special experience last night. I cooked for Ania’s parents for the first time, as part of her father’s birthday festivities. I made a point not to cook something elaborate and time-consuming, though, as one might expect of a holiday meal. Instead, I went with something simple that shows off Puerto Rican cooking techniques that is also very special to me: arroz con salchichas. I look forward to arroz con salchichas every time a visit to Miami is in the offing, and after long, tense absence, I missed it profoundly. As tensions with my parents continue to rise and fall like so many narcissist tides, bringing this dish to a family that accepts me with enthusiasm is an emotional coup. As I come to recognize my belated mastery of this dish, that I had tried to learn how to make intermittently since I moved to Ottawa, I am ebullient.

Continue reading “Arroz con Salchichas, Alyssa Style”

Arroz con Salchichas, Alyssa Style

“Don’t Have a Choice” Fallacy and Calling a Fig, a Fig

I wanted my next post on the blog to be about something other than the Russian installed President. I don’t want the entirety of my life to be dominated by this spiteful hateful bigot. We can’t always get what we want, however, and so here I am.

It is inauguration day. Today, a man who should be in prison for fraud, for rape, and likely a whole host of additional crimes that have yet to be discovered, is being sworn in as the Commander-in-Chief of the world’s largest military and nuclear arsenal.

My father has been playing the news in the car as we ran out to run errands, and one of the most common phrases being repeated is that “we have no choice, we have to accept it”. It’s not the first time this phrase has been passed around in response to this election. It started during the transition period with many non-activists saying that nothing could be done. Many encouraged everyone to “give the new government a chance” and to “learn to cooperate”. Continue reading ““Don’t Have a Choice” Fallacy and Calling a Fig, a Fig”

“Don’t Have a Choice” Fallacy and Calling a Fig, a Fig

As Your Eldritch President

Tweet from Solomon Georgio: “Bush was so bad, we got to elect our 1st black president. After Trump, our president will be a 50 ft tall militant feminist Latina lesbian.”

It is with quivering delight that I accept your nomination for president of the United States of America. As my heaving mass pulsates in the sky above you, know that it is exactly 50 of your Earth feet tall, and know that I am prepared to alter the amount of my dimensional overreach that I divert into this timeline in order to be much, much larger, with or without the service of additional, smaller lesbians and a trench coat.

Continue reading “As Your Eldritch President”

As Your Eldritch President

The Forever Shelf

There are times when the sheer availability of modern media leaves me awestruck. Netflix means that, more than ever before, I can watch my favorites whenever I want. I’m having trouble emphasizing how big that difference is. I spent my youth encountering things I enjoyed and carefully watching for title sequences, “[show] will return after this,” and anything else that put a name on it I could use to recognize it in my friends or on toy-store shelves. I dreaded when shows would inevitably leave the airwaves, and watched reruns obsessively to fill in gaps from the previous viewing. Media was ephemeral, and there were never enough blank VHS tapes to capture it all.

Continue reading “The Forever Shelf”

The Forever Shelf