Being a fat nerd living in poverty means that there is a lot of pop culture fashion that I just cannot afford. You may have heard that Torrid released a Sailor Moon-inspired line on January 9th. Sailor Moon has been one of my favorites for years. I knew I would never be able to afford whatever clothing came out though because Torrid is expensive.
In the past two years I’ve fallen in love with my hair. I’ll post pictures and videos of my bouncing curls. I’ll apologize to my friends for maybe appearing shallow but to please indulge me. But it hasn’t always been this way. In the past I regarded my hair as a nuisance. Something that needed taming; kept small.
I’m writing this becuase I am sick of the constant gender policing my daughter goes through. She has an Avengers lunch box. She got it for her fourth birthday. It’s one of her favorite possessions, but every few days she comes home from school sad because people keep telling her she likes “boy things”. She gets the same type of comments when she wears her Batman jacket. The conversation usually goes like this:
TJ: I’m not going to take my lunch box to school anymore. Everybody tells me I like boy things.
Me: Do you like the Avengers? Are you a boy?
TJ: Yes. No, I’m not.
Me: Alright then. You’re just someone who likes those things.
TJ: They’re what makes me, me.
We have a similar conversation every few weeks. It gets exhausting.
TJ also loves a lot of feminine coded stuff, like Barbies and My Little Pony. Her favorite Disney movie is Frozen. She prefers dresses and skirts over pants. On days when she’s completely femme, there are people who are surprised becuase they’ve seen her with “boy things” in the past. These people seem to forget that children are actual people, and just like people have varied goddamned tastes.
I went with her on a field trip and the amount of gender policing that went on was mind boggling.Some girl classmates were playing and a little boy came by and asked if he could get a turn. One girl told him no because it wasn’t a boys’ game. I told him he could play. The game? Wizard of Oz match three.
Another boy said he didn’t like flowers because they’re for girls. At one point I was sitting on a blanket with a bunch of girl classmates and one another boy sat down with us. His mom came along, grabbed him while saying, “why are you here with all these girls. They’re all playing girl games. Go play with the boys”. The girls were telling me about school.
I’m constantly told not to judge parents who restrict their children’s play based on perceived gender. Frankly, I’m going to judge you. You’re raising your child to believe in harmful stereotypes. Stereotypes which lead to trans and gender non-conforming people getting harassed and killed. We have states trying to ban trans people from using public restrooms. All because we reduce people to their genitalia. Then your children spread these bigoted thoughts and make children like mine afraid to express who they are.
If gender is so innate why are cis people so afraid of a boy who plays with dolls? Of a girl who loves trucks?
I’ve seen a lot of cis parents claim that Target making their toy aisles gender neutral is silly because gender isn’t a big deal and the people asking for these things are overly sensitive babies.
You wanna know who are the overly sensitive ones?
Cis people who can’t handle their son wanting a Barbie. Cis people freaking out about which bathroom trans people use.
Apparently gender while being so innate is also very fucking fragile and anything could make children go into gender questioning chaos. And if that child tells their parents and the world they are trans, they can get killed for it. But yeah, keep making it sound like people asking to pee in peace and gender neutrality in media are the bullies in this.
CN: SA, CSA, domestic violence, corporal punishment
Today’s post is written by Brad E. Man
I’m writing this today because Sunflower Punk can’t possibly comprehend this because she is a woman. I mean she tells me she’s “non binary”, but we all know that there are only two genders. Binaries are for computers and we all know women don’t know how they work.
Anyway, I’m here to talk to you about growing your own tomatoes.
It is not hard to grow your own food. Literally anything you say is a barrier is an excuse. Disabled? Nope. The only disability is your bad attitude.
Have kids? Should have kept your legs closed, slut.
Too busy at work? Do what I did. Don’t work and have your fiance pay for everything.
My Guide to Saving Money to grow tomatoes:
Step 1) have a fiance that pays for all your shit
Step 2) bully single moms on the internet
Step 3) profit (the profit is a tomato)
Really, that’s all there is to it. Step 1 was hard because some women have ridiculous standards like “don’t harass women online”. But I pressed on and after following PUA tactics, I negged someone enough to think I was the best they could do.
Which brings me to step 2. I was peacefully minding my business eating Doritos, drinking mountain dew and perusing return of kings. A woman I don’t know posted the above image. Obviously I had to point out how wrong she was.
She told me she’s homeless. Can you believe that? Homeless and on facebook! I bet she also has a phone. Ridiculous.
Another woman told me her budget and how it doesn’t cover enough to grow a home garden.
Excuses! My phone bill is $200/month, rent is $600 and our food budget is 181 dollars. All this is paid by my fiance while I stay home and tend to the garden. It is after all my pride and joy.
These women with their children and homelessness are haters and will continue to have bad luck because they wouldn’t listen to me.
Brad Every Man is a sometimes writer, all the time douche bag. He enjoys tomatoes, sexism and classism. He has a cat who hates him.
Since Donald Trump winning last night I’ve seen several posts by people urging those of us who are upset, hurt and terrified by this election to be understanding, open-minded and to love Trump and his supporters. To accept him as president-elect.
People have been sharing that one particular Martin Luther King Jr.,
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
And to that I just have one thing to say: fuck you. I don’t have to love Donald Trump, I don’t have to love the GOP, I don’t even have to fucking love the Democratic Party. The only people I have any obligation to are myself, my family, my friends and all of the people who are going to be hurt by the decision to elect Orange Hitler.
Don’t you dare tell me that the only way that oppression and hate will go away is if the oppressed love and are nice to our oppressors. I reject that notion.
I’ve already seen several posts from White liberals who are so surprised that America could elect Donald Trump. Marginalized people have been warning about this from the get-go. You love saying Donald Trump doesn’t represent America; doesn’t represent American values but if you knew anything of your history; of American History you fucking know that Donald Trump is a product of America. This is stolen land; it was founded on the oppression of people of color.
Conversion therapy to “cure the gay” is still a thing which Mike Pence, VP-elect supports and advocates for. Racism, sexism, misogyny, homophobia transphobia, hatred of all religions save Christianity, all of these different types of oppression are completely American. Donald Trump is not an anomaly. Donald Trump exists because this country encourages, enables and fosters these types of attitudes.
I do not have to tolerate, accept, or love it. I’m beyond over liberals telling me and mine that all we have to do to make things better is to be nice. I am done being nice. Abusers and oppressors don’t deserve my kindness, let alone my love.
You know what? During the whole campaign I saw so many supposedly progressive people constantly throw mentally ill people under the bus by calling Trump supporters by ableist slurs; questioning their cognitive ability.
Accusing women of only voting Hillary becuase of some “gender bias”.
None of those things are very “nice”, but I guess when it’s white liberals doing it then it’s all OK. Let a marginalize person fight back and suddenly you white liberals get bent out of shape.
I will fight you every step of the way for myself, for my child, for my friends, for my family and all other marginalized and oppressed people. I am angry, I am sad, I am devastated but I’m not surprised. I’m in mourning and I’ll be mourning for a while but you’re not going to be able to get rid of me and mine. You’re going to get hatred, you’re going to get my anger, you’re going to remember me and you’re going to regret ever fucking with us.
By the way since you love all quoting MLK Jr. so fucking much, how about you read his Letter from a Birmingham Jail,
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
Privacy, bodily autonomy, personal space isn’t a thing for older Hispanics.
When I was little and there was company coming over grandma would yell at us to clean our room. It didn’t matter that it was clean. No, it had to be immaculate. It had to look like two small children (my younger brother and I) weren’t occupying that space.
If it wasn’t cleaned to her standards, she’d close the door. I’d ask why and I was told, “you know how people are. They might open the door and then see the mess.”
I heard this again when mami was teaching me how to cook rice and she’d arranged the rice in a neat mound in the pot when it was done cooking. I would never do that. She’d tell me to. I’d ask why and she’d say “presentation is important because people might open the pot”
I mean who the hell would care if the rice wasn’t arranged nicely? I only cared about it being cooked properly. (When I was learning, I always added too much waer and it would end up “amogollao”)
Who were these nosy ass people judging me about my unmade bed and messy rice?
Family, of course.
I learned family had a right to everything about me. I got my first period when I was 11 and my grandmother called everybody to tell them that “el gallo ya canto”. I got calls from my godmother in NYC congratulating me on finally becoming a “Señorita”.
I lived with my mom, my grandparents and my two brothers. My tio M* lived with is until he died when I was 8. The room I shared with my mom and younger brother was the master bedroom of the house. It had its own bathroom, but no door, instead it had a beaded curtain (no kidding!).
Grandma would walk in the bathroom all the time. It didn’t matter if I was showering or on the toilet because “we both have the same stuff”.
Sometimes, when I had the room to myself, I’d close the door. Grandma would yell at me because “decent young ladies” don’t close their doors. I was 12.
Once a boy who liked me walked me most of the way home. We passed by several older people who knew my grandpa (in our town people knew who you were by your “pinta”. They could tell who your “people” were by your coloring!)
I knew they would have all sorts of stories about A’s* granddaughter walking alone with a boy. So as soon as I got home I told my grandma that a boy from my class (and I made sure to emphasize how much I did not like this boy) had walked me part of the way home. Because if I didn’t tell her, she’d hear about it next time she went into town and I’d get yelled at.
I was forced to hug and kiss relatives I didn’t want to. I’d be shamed into doing it.
I told myself I would be different with TJ. For the most part I am, but then I have company come over and even though my apartment is clean, I start freaking out because a child’s messy room will be used as proof of how “malcri’a” TJ is; how shitty I am as a mom.
I know it’s all bullshit. I know that the people who matter won’t care about that stuff. I mean, a lot of this privacy and bodily autonomy stuff is tied into a lot of social justice issues and most of my friends are social justice minded. So rationally I KNOW that my 6 year old’s messy room won’t be a big deal. In fact, a child that age should have a messy room.
But in the back of my mind, I hear my tiny but scary grandma telling me to clean up. It’s the same voice I hear whenever I try to ignore abuelitas in the street when I have my earbuds on. It’s the same voice who tells me to keep my legs together when I’m wearing a skirt. It’s the reason why even though I’m an atheist I still ask my grandma for “la bendición”.
Because old habits die hard and disrespecting abuela is a no-no.
Note: Initials were used to protect family’s privacy (take that nosy family!)
CN: street harassment, catcalls, sexualization of young girls
TW: domestic violence, r*pe, abuse
Every time I come across a story about domestic violence there are always the well-meaning, but horribly misguided folks commenting on how to avoid becoming a victim. In this post I highlight some I’ve seen today and explain why this advice is not only wrong but potentially fatal.
1) “get a gun”, I assure you my abuser would have used it on me. I wouldn’t have been able to “hide it sum place your man won’t see” because I was a literal prisoner in his home. Good luck me trying to hide anything. I tried. I wasn’t even hiding a weapon. I was hiding a picture of my best friend because I wasn’t allowed friends. He had a knife he used to threatened me with. A gun in the house would have ended with me dead.
-“Report it to the authorities and then leave the state”- Cops don’t take this shit seriously, and how exactly is a victim of domestic violence supposed to just up and move when she’s more than likely completely dependent on the abuser. He made it so precisely so she can’t leave. Good luck trying to leave if you have children with your abuser too.
– “if you had watched him closely you would have noticed the red flags”- yes, because abusers upon meeting their future victims introduce themselves as “hi, I will eventually change my personality once I know I have you and then I will beat/rape/torture you. Is this ok with you?”. Like you people really think we just go into this shit knowing?
And yeah, ok. Let’s see, little girls are socialized from birth to never speak up, to never say no, if a boy pulls our hair that just means “he likes you”. That jealousy just means he cares. So after a lifetime of all these messages you expect us to just be able to leave? You made us into easy targets and then scold us for not knowing how to respond.
If we are lucky enough to leave, we get asked, “why couldn’t you work it out?”, “I’m sure it wasn’t all bad”, “he seemed like such a great guy”, “but aren’t you worried about not having a father for your baby?”, “you’re so selfish”, “you probably did something to deserve it”. Either way, the blame always lands on the victim. I’m tired of it.
This is by no means a complete list. These are the ones I saw today. I’ll probably add more to this as time goes on.
What bad advice have you received after leaving your abusive partner?