#and it’s the SAME rhetoric in every conversation about relations and dating too

[absolutelyfizzing]

unwanted feelings

james potter x reader

description - You'd had a crush on James Potter for years and when he kisses Lily Evans in front of you, you are heart broken. Later you find that he didn't actually feel as you expected and he explains himself.

warnings - some angst, unsure reader, fem pronouns, self doubt, negative self talk, not eating for a day cause reader is avoiding someone

word count - 2800

A/N - so this one isn't my best work by far but i wrote it so looks like its getting posted. i don't know why all of my reader inserts lately are so fem and sort of bubbly, i guess it's sort of what i'm aiming for for myself right now but i'm sorry if it maybe isn't coming off as relatable.

MASTERLIST

Your throat tightened in anxiety as you watched James zoom around the pitch. He was reckless when he was playing quidditch and it was one of the things that made him great at the game and an excellent captain. It was also the thing that nearly gave you a heart attack every time you watched him play. You went to every one of his games and you always wore something of his with his colors when you were in the stands. You were stood up on your seat and a slightly bored looking Remus sat to your right, reading from a book you didn't recognize. You'd thought that Sirius playing would be enough to keep him interested but sports was just not something he enjoyed watching. You were usually that way as well but whenever James was playing, suddenly you were the most intent spectator in the stands.

You were more worried than you should have been. More worried than what was appropriate for a friend to be. That's what you were, friends. That had been reinforced many times by the shaggy haired boy and you tried desperately to get it through your head before you embarrassed yourself one of these days. Sometimes though, you just couldn't help it.

Really you might have thought he reciprocated if you didn't know any better. You often got comments on what an attractive couple you guys were but each time it was quickly corrected by James. Normally along the lines of 'Oh god no, we are just friends. Purely platonic' , sometimes followed by a shudder or a gag even. It upset you every time to no end but you played along. You rarely, if ever, contributed to the shooting down of any feelings but that was never noticed by the man you had feelings for.

You'd had a crush on him since you were probably in your second year and now you were coming to the middle of your seventh. There were a million times that you almost said something but every time there was a reminder that you were not the one he had eyes for. It usually took the shape of disgust at the thought of dating you or commentary as he pined over the Evans girl who you felt you could never compete with. How could you when she was just perfect. You saw her to the left of you as she stood in the stands as well and your hands shook with insecurity before looking back toward the game. Your heart raced nearly as quickly as James did around the pitch and you prayed that the snitch would be caught soon so that you could get rid of the stress surrounding you. You felt a hand on your right shoulder and you looked over to find Remus had stood and was looking at you caringly.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He asked softly and you tried your very best to soften your gaze and calm your stance so you appeared less concerned with someone that you shouldn't have that much interest in in the first place.

"Of course I am. When am I not?" You smiled before looking out at the pitch.

"When youre watching the guy you're in love with play a dangerous game that you don't like." He stated simply in response to the question you meant to be rhetorical and your eyes widened.

"I don't know what youre talking about." You nearly whispered and Remus smiled.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone Y/N but its not exactly subtle. It probably doesn't help that I know the look on your face because it's how I feel too watching Sirius play." He was still smirking but your anxiety was far from eased.

"Oh god, does he know?" You asked scaredly, terrified that the answer would be yes and you would have to stop spending time with him.

"Shockingly, no." You sighed out in relief but Remus continued. "You should tell him though or else he might end up moving on."

"What do you mean? There's nothing for him to move on from. Everyone knows he's in love with Evans and he has made it pretty clear that he is opposed to being anything more than a friendly relationship with me." You choked out, struggling with the words leaving your lips but knowing them to be true.

"I mean he has a minor crush on Evans but it's nothing compared to the annoyingly huge crush he has on you. He's probably just overcompensating for the fact that he's insecure and doesn't want you to reject him."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked sincerely. You were friends with Remus as you were with the rest of the marauders but it was nothing compared to the friendship they held within their group. You knew Remus was more loyal to James than to you so you couldn't understand why, if it was true, Remus would be telling you at all.

"Because he is trying desperately to move on seeing as he is under the impression that you aren't into him and I'd hate to see him throw something away that could be really good for him." Remus smiled gently and you looked at him gratefully.

"I really appreciate you telling me and all but I just don't think I can believe you. I can't even count how many times he has made a big show of not liking me. I love him too much to ruin what we have and I know that if I confessed and it went bad that I would lose him all together. I would rather have him in my life in a way that hurts than not have him in it at all." You stated sadly and Remus sighed but nodded in understanding.

"I get it but just know that I'm being honest and pretty soon he is going to give up on it. I just want to see you both happy but if its too big of a leap, I understand. That's exactly the excuse he tells the rest of us too."

Suddenly cheers erupted from the stands, cutting your conversation with Remus off as everyone ran to rush the pitch. The snitch had been caught and gryffindor won. You were excited for James but you were also a little terrified to walk onto the pitch to see him with the now conflicted thoughts running through your head. Your thoughts were stopped by the image in front of you which was causing the whole crowd to cheer. James had pulled Lily Evans into a kiss in his excitement and your heart stopped. You felt nausea rise in your throat and Remus caught your eye with a sympathetic look. You didn't look at him for longer than a second and you ran off the pitch with tears streaming down your face. You found your way up to your dorm, pushing yourself to get there quickly before the common room filled with students celebrating their victory. James was always one to love attention so he would be getting crazy after the game which he did just about every time they won.

When you made it to your bed, you hurried under the covers, throwing the shirt you were wearing which belonged to James onto the floor. You felt your heart clench at the despair you felt. You wanted to be upset at Remus for getting your hopes up but you knew he was sincere in his want to help. Still you felt that you would probably not be able to face James in the weeks to come. Maybe, given a little time, you could be around him and not be upset at the world for taking away your chance with him. As you laid in your bed, you stared at the ceiling. You felt tears streaming down your face and you grew angry at yourself. He didn't owe you anything, he wasn't into you. That wasn't his fault and it was so unfair of you to expect anything more from him when your feelings were not his responsibility.

You weren't sure how long you laid there but you could hear the party start and end in the common room. It must have been late. Sleep wouldnt come though, you could just feel your heart continue to break and you were stuck in a loop of self pity. You made the decision that the following days would be spent away from James if you could at all help it. That was probably what he wanted anyway and it was the only way that you would get over the pain you were feeling. At some point your roomates entered your dorm and sleep overtook you for a few restless hours.

When you woke up, the sun was barely on the rise. You hurried up and got dressed and ready. You were planning on getting to breakfast early to avoid running into any of the marauders. You found your plans were not going how you wanted when you entered the great hall to find a head of red hair next to a mop of black. Your throat tightened and you quickly moved to turn and head out of the great hall. You heard a familiar voice call your name but you rushed out before you could give it too much thought. You knew that if you let him try to convince you, you would end up having a very upsetting breakfast with your best friend and his new lover. You would rather avoid breakfast.

Throughout the day, avoiding James was proving to be harder than you had thought it would be. You had many of your classes with him and you even sat next to him in a few. He was insistently trying to get you to open up about why you were suddenly so closed off to him but you remained shut off, reassuring him that nothing was wrong and you were just a little tired from the game the day before. You avoided lunch for the same reason as you had avoided breakfast and you felt yourself starting to get a bit lightheaded. Your afternoon was spent avoiding James but soon he was preoccupied with Lily anyway.

You were hid in a corner of the library when a cough alerted you of someone's presence. You looked up to find the very eyes you hadn't wanted to see.

You pushed it down with a gulp and smiled a bit at him, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay but they were growing harder to hold back after keeping everything pent up all day. It probably didn't help that you were hungry and therefor a bit more emotional. You could feel the tears sitting in your eyes, waiting for something to go wrong so they had an excuse to escape you.

"I don't know what I did wrong." He mumbled while looking at the floor in front of you and you took a deep breath.

"There's nothing wrong James, I promise. It's just been a long day." You smiled and your heart picked up speed.

"Since when did we lie to each other?" He questioned and your heart stopped. You were left unsure how to respond.

"Since the truth would cause more damage than good." You spoke honestly. At this he looked up at you and your eyes met. A tear left you and James immediately moved to comfort you but you tried to move away, standing quickly to evade him. You regretted it as spots filled your vision, the lack of food catching up to you. You know that you turned a bit green for a moment because James looked slightly scared.

"Y/N I dont know whats wrong but you look like you should be getting to the hospital wing. You don't look well."

Before you could answer you felt your vision blacken and your legs give out before your consciousness left you completely.

When you woke up, you knew you were in the hospital wing. It smelled sterile and the bed was stiff underneath you. When you started to wake madam pomfrey came to check on you.

"You can't go around with an empty stomach like that again, do you hear me?" She scolded, though her eyes were soft. You nodded solemnly. "I was alerted that you hadn't been to the great hall to eat all day, you have to know that isn't good for you. I'm gonna have a prefect watch out for you the next couple days to make sure you're eating at meal times. Understood?" She asked again and once more you nodded before leaning back and sighing. You looked at your surroundings and were surprised to see the black haired boy next to your bed fast asleep. Your heart took off again and you felt trapped by your environment. As anxiety swirled around in your chest, James had woken up a bit.

"You're awake." James sighed, laced with relief. You still wouldn't make eye contact with him.  You felt the bed dip as he sat on it and you looked up to watch him put his head in his hands as he leaned over. You felt guilt fill your chest more than it already had from hating that you felt any claim over the man in front of you. You knew you were in the wrong and the last thing you wanted was to cause him any pain. "Remus talked to me." He almost whispered.

At that moment, you wished you could have apparated to anywhere else in the world. You looked back down at your lap and tears were once again brought to your eyes. You felt betrayal that Remus would reveal your feelings to James.

"I'm sorry." You apologized and you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why are you the one apologizing, I'm the one whos behaved poorly." He assures and you shake your head.

"That's not fair to yourself. You're allowed to want to be with whomever you want and my feelings should have no effect on that. You've made it clear for years that you weren't interested in me and it is my fault that I couldn't take a hint. I'm so sorry." You gushed out and tears started to fall from your eyes. You felt James get up from your bed and you prepared him to leave but instead you felt arms wrap around you and a kiss came to your head.

"Y/N I have had feelings for you for years. I was just always too scared for myself to even consider that you might feel the same." He whispered out but you felt only a different kind of pain. Even though he had now admitted his feelings, he was still dating Lily. Not you. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts he spoke quietly. "I broke it off with Evans." You pulled away immediately.

"What? Why would you do that?" You asked quickly and before he had a chance to answer you feared the worst. "Oh god is it because of me? James please dont let my feelings have any bearing on who you want to date, I can't stand the thought of being the reason you broke up. Even if we do have feelings for each other, you deserve a chance with Lily if that's what you want."

"It was mutual, actually. She understood that I had feelings for you and she said she had a crush on someone else. It just seemed like I had kissed her a bit rashly on the quidditch pitch and we agreed that we shouldn't have gotten together in the first place. It was only a day anyway." He reassured as he explained himself and you calmed a bit.

"So what does this mean." You got out, almost inaudibly.

"It means that, if you'll have me, I'd like to take you out on a date." He stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world and you almost couldn't believe your ears. Before you were even thinking you were nodding quickly, causing spots to once again fill your vision and James grabbed your shoulders to stabilize you before you both laughed. He pulled you by your shoulders toward him and he caught your lips in a kiss that somehow expressed all of the years of repressed feelings. When he pulled away he smiled at you and sat back on your bed. He spent the rest of the day with you in the hospital wing talking about all of the places he was going to take you in the coming weeks.

[mviswidow]

my girlfriend’s got a gun

Fallon Carrington x Reader

Word Count: 2,185

Warnings: gun

Prompt: Maybe one where we're Fallon's girlfriend, but also at the same time her bodyguard/personal assistant to keep up a facade since she doesn't want anyone to know about the reader. - @another-fantasy-world​

Summary: Three scenes of Fallon and R dating.

“I don’t want to see that happening anymore. If I have to ask you again you’ll be fired,” Mr. Carrington said peremptorily. 

You nodded your head, clutching the iPad in your arms tighter to keep yourself from fidgeting, “Of course, Mr-”

“Excuse me?”

Your shoulders relaxed the slightest bit when you heard the voice of your girlfriend, her heels clicking on the floor until she was standing beside you, a few feet away, “Why are you trying to fire my PA?”

“Fallon, she comes out in almost every single one of the photos that the press takes of you. She is not your babysitter. It’s ridiculous, a quarter of the articles that have been written about you in the past five months have been speculating that the reason you broke up with Michael was because (Y/n) drove you apart and-”

“What is your point, Daddy?” Fallon challenged, her arms crossed. “She’s my personal assistant, her entire job is following me around.”

“Going to clubs, parties, and galas with you is not in her job description,” He said, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. “She doesn’t need to be there.”

You felt uneasy, the two of them talking about you as if you weren't even there.

“No, but I want her there. There’s no harm in befriending your staff,” Fallon said simply, eyebrows raised, as if she wanted him to argue with her because she knew she would win.

“Fallon-”

“I’m the one who gives her a paycheck, so it isn’t up to you. I’m not having this conversation again,” She left Blake with no room to say anything else, her eyes flicking to you for a moment. “(Y/n), go get me a coffee and come up to my room so we can discuss the schedule for this weekend.”

“Yes, Ms Carrington,” you nodded, taking your leave before either of them could say anything more to you or each other.

You made it to Fallon’s room five minutes later. You’d taken a bit longer in the kitchen because you had to bug one of the chefs so they would give you a croissant for Fallon.

You knocked on the door with your knuckles, waited two seconds, and then opened the door to see Fallon in one of the lounge chairs in the corner of her room, doing something on her phone, “You took a long time to get here,” She said without looking up.

“Sorry, I was getting you a croissant,” You walked over and placed the plate on the low table that stood in between the two chairs before taking your usual seat from when the two of you went over her schedule, on her bed bench that was at the foot of her bed.

Fallon slid her phone underneath one of her thighs and smiled softly at you as she took the plate into her lap so she could eat the baked good, “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” You shook your head with a small blush spreading on your cheeks from the way that she looked at you, unlocking your iPad and pulling up the schedule. “Your father has two meetings scheduled for you this weekend, one Saturday and one Sunday-” “Cancel the one on Sunday, he knows I don’t take more than one meeting during the weekend unless it’s urgent,” She interrupted before taking a bite out of her croissant.

“Okay, Sam requested that I add ‘go to the mall with Sam’ on your schedule, so I fit it after the meeting on Saturday, but of course, if you want it to be cancelled I can always do that. Steven asked that I make a dinner reservation for him, you, and Sam, for the Seafood Room on Saturday night-”

Fallon interrupted you, once again, with noises of protest as she tried to swallow the bit of croissant she had in her mouth quickly, “Not happening, you know Saturday night is our night.”

“I know, but you haven’t gone out to dinner with them in two months, and besides it’s almost Steven’s birthday.”

“I don’t care, cancel the reservation,” Fallon said sternly, placing the plate back on the table once she had finished crossing her legs at the ankles.

You sighed and nodded, ��Alright, and finally, Sunday is the banquet for the children’s organization I told you about on Monday.”

Fallon’s eyebrows furrowed at the way you said it, “But?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you,” You bit the inside of your lip, nervous for the reaction she was going to have.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “You have to stop letting my father get to you.”

“He’s right though,” You shook your head, opening a tab to search up her name. “Look, there’s articles about us all over the internet.”

“When will you learn that I don’t give a damn about what the press says? I’ve been scrutinized by them since I was a child, I can handle it. I don’t care if they call me lonely and desperate or if they say that you’re trying to ‘befriend’ me for money or whatever it is they’re coming up with.”

“You read that one?” You asked, a wince on your features.

Fallon sighed, looking between your eyes before standing up and going to sit beside you, taking the iPad from your hands and putting it behind her so she could take one of your hands in her own, “Do the articles bother you?”

You bit the inside of your lip again, nervous habit, before speaking, “Kind of.”

“Okay,” Fallon nodded, trying to think of a solution. “I know you aren’t used to this stuff and keeping us a secret is probably really stressful for you... If doing this - us, is too much, I understand-”

You frowned and shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes at the idea of what she was trying to say, “No, I love you, I love us. Stupid articles are nothing, I can ignore them.”

“I don’t want you upset over this stuff, baby,” Fallon frowned a bit and reached the hand she wasn’t holding yours with up to cup your cheek, running her finger along your cheekbone. “Although I don’t exactly think you should be reading these articles, I know you do whatever you want, but if you read one that bothers you, you come to me and I’ll make the calls I need to get it taken down, okay?”

“Yes, darling,” You smiled softly and nodded, leaning into her hand.

Fallon smiled, “For now I rather enjoy no one knowing about us. It’s so private and I guess it feels more intimate in a way? But, I do eventually want to announce that we’re dating, so I want to tackle these issues now so you’re hopefully much more comfortable in the future.”

“Really?”

“Of course, baby,” She smiled softly and leaned forward to kiss you languidly.

You sighed into the kiss before she pulled away slowly and kissed the corner of your mouth before sitting back, “So, I’m either going with you, or I’m not going at all. It’s a shame that all those children will have to suffer the consequences of your decision,” She said, making a face.

You rolled your eyes, and ducked your head to hide your smile, “Fine, I’ll go, asshole.”

Fallon grinned and clapped her hands, she had known she was going to get her way, but was happy that you weren’t miserable about it, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

------

Your brow furrowed when you got a call from Fallon at around 5:30 while you were out running an errand for her. She was supposed to be in a late meeting with her father, Jeff Coulby, and a few investors for Carrington Atlantic, an odd and dangerous mix of people.

You answered the call and heard it connect to the bluetooth of the car, “Hello?”

“Can you come get me? Please,” Fallon asked, her voice sounding a bit shaky on the other line.

“Yes, of course, where are you?”

...

You pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road of the address Fallon gave you, “Okay, I’m here, babe. Can I hang up now?”

Fallon let out an ‘mhm’ and ended the call, and it took you 30 seconds to see her walking out from between two buildings towards your car, which you unlocked and waited for her to get into the passenger seat and close the door before you spoke.

“Are you okay?” You asked, outstretching your hand and tilting her head towards yours when she wouldn’t look at you.

“‘M fine,” She nodded, her eyes watering.

“Okay I get that you didn’t want to talk about it over the phone but don’t think for a second that I’m believing that crap. You look like a kicked puppy.”

She groaned and closed her eyes for a moment, “There were no investors. Just Daddy and Jeff-”

“Hold on, since when do they tolerate each other?” You asked, resting a hand on her knee.

“I don’t know but they apparently do now. Or at least, when it’s convenient,” You could almost hear her roll her eyes as you turned forward again to pull out of your parking space.

“What did they do?” You urged her on and took your hand off her leg to put it on the center console, but she quickly grabbed it and laced her fingers with yours before putting your hand in her lap.

“They cornered me about something I leaked to the press, not Crystal related this time, and- the whole thing was really embarrassing, I don’t really want to get into it right now.”

You squeezed her hand gently and nodded, “Okay, that’s perfectly fine. Though I have to say I had no idea you leaked something, I haven’t checked any articles in like, two days.”

Fallon chuckled, “Oh boy, just wait til you read these.”

------

“Screw you, I’m not going anywhere. I need to talk to you about the C-R-A-Z- why does the crazy lady have a gun?” Fallon asked, her jaw slack.

You were on your way to follow Fallon into the dining room, but stopped when you heard what was going on. You turned on your heel, quickly and quietly walking towards where you knew Fallon kept her gun.

“She’s not crazy, she’s been faking her brain injury,” Crystal replied calmly.

“Why fake such a miserable life? Actually- that’s a rhetorical question. I think I know exactly why. I think you’ve been faking lots of things.”

“Sit down,” Claudia said, gun pointed at Fallon.

“You never had a brain injury, did you Claudia?” Fallon asked, shaking her head.

“Of course I did, I almost died,” She said quickly.

“That’s true, she and Mathew were in a terrible car accident,” Steven interjected.

Crystal cut in, too, “I remember it.”

“I bet,” Claudia spat before turning her head back to Fallon. “That was the night I found out he was cheating on me, I just didn’t know who the other woman was.”

“All you knew was that one minute your husband was cheating, the next he wasn’t going anywhere because he had to take care of you, and then you got better,” Fallon said with a raised eyebrow.

...

When you got close enough again to be able to hear, you heard Fallon speaking, “Girls can be engineers, too, Dad. When I was a kid I told you I wanted to be one so you introduced me to Mathew, who told me his wife was an engineer. That was before your accident, of course.”

You smiled to yourself as you listened, God you loved her. You clicked the safety of her handgun off, just waiting for the right moment to come in.

“You killed him, you killed Mathew,” You heard Crystal say.

“No, I loved him. You killed him,” Claudia replied, which made you furrow your brow and you almost let out a scoff at how ridiculous this lady was. “He told me he was leaving me even though I was sick.”

“Even though you were faking it,” Fallon corrected.

“He didn’t know that. You took him from me, and once this snake ran me over, I saw my chance to do something about it-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” You said, stepping into the room, the barrel of the gun pointed straight at Claudia, using one hand to aim and the other hand used to steady the gun, just like Fallon taught you. “but I think you guys have let her pity party run for too long.”

And with that, Claudia faltered and you took your shot, shooting the gun right out of her hand before giving Fallon her gun, “I think this is for you.” Fallon smiled proudly and took it, taking her aim at Claudia, who was not left defenseless, “I wouldn’t try anything,” She said with a smirk once she saw Crystal pick up the gun Claudia had been pointing at her. “Not sure if you’ll be able to pull it off as well as you pulled off the brain injury.”

[tahitianmangoes]

Here's something that I have been thinking about... It's not really related to my blog and you're advised to simply ignore it if it bothers you.

CW Racism

For the past month, my partner has been working away from home. Every night he would call me and we would chat about our days etc. One thing became very clear, very quickly and that was that the people he was working with (who were all white men over 30) were almost all racist.

It didn't bother my partner at first because this wouldn't be the first time he's encountered racists but they all shared a communal living area for the month and as the month progressed, my partner told me more and more shit that was being said for instance: two of the men had a discussion wondering why they couldn't refer to people from Pakistan (and others who fit a certain ~look~) as the P word? Why couldn't they refer to black people as the N word? After all, they call each other it, right?? And why do footballers still take the knee before each match? White lives matter too, you know!!

Sadly, this isn't the first time my partner has heard this shit and it wouldn't be the last. As such, he didn't say anything. It bothered him, of course it did but this wouldn't be the first time that someone with OpInIoNs would try to initiate rhetoric thinly veiled as "conversation" with him and he's learned to not engage with people like that.

But no one else said anything else either. Some of the others were eyeing him nervously, waiting for him to speak up despite the fact that they also knew that whatever shit was being spouted was wrong and that they could tell them to stfu too, that wasn't the sole responsibility of my partner as the only brown person there. But none of them did.

On week two, my partner asked me what he should say when it inevitably did not stop. We talked about it for a bit until I suggested nothing. It's not his place to educate people.

"Then whose is it?" He asked me.

I maintain that it isn't non white (nw) people's jobs to educate , to tell, to spoon feed someone else.

In making a nw person shoulder that responsibility, you're asking them to relive a lifetime's worth of trauma.

That time my partner was told to "go back to the jungle" when he was taking a bus to class as a student by the father of a another student.

Every time someone says "ching chong, ni hao" to me.

The friends I've lost who wouldn't listen to me.

The time my partner was going somewhere and was followed by a small group of white men who told him that he was "in the wrong place" and that he "shouldn't be here" and should "go home now."

The fact our landlord still thinks we're Chinese.

Every partner I've ever had who expected me to be a certain way because I'm Asian. The sexual abuse I experienced by someone I should have been able to trust.

The time my partner's boss sexually harassed him because "I thought Asian boys were into that."

The fact half of my own family do not speak to me because I'm not fully white.

Every time someone refuses to learn how to pronounce my partner's name properly.

Every time we're asked "where are you really from?"

Whenever my partner is the butt of a joke as an Asian male.

The time a teacher made fun of me for mentioning something traditionally Burmese at school in front of the entire class.

The time my boss made shitty comments about me "dating a Chinaman."

The more I sit and think, the more there are and the list could just go on and on.

Each time a nw person is asked to explain or educate, experiences like these are the ones that are dredged up. Trauma is relived. People ask nw people to "educate" them because they don't want to do the work themselves, don't wanna google things, read books or articles yet, will not accept the experiences that are then told to them. There's nothing worse than being asked "why X?" only to be questioned relentlessly and sneeringly afterwards by someone who does not want to listen and is not willing to feel uncomfortable. Because understanding someone's racial experiences *will* be uncomfortable and that's almost a good thing - learning to understand that discomfort is part of it and many people are not ready for that.

My partner felt guilty for not confronting those racist men. I told him not to be. And I'll tell anyone else the same. If you don't feel safe or just don't have the goddamn energy, that's ok. It isn't your job to explain a lifetime of suffering. It's their job to learn.

(ok to reblog, not ok to add on to)

[takerfoxx]

Well, in honor of the Rebellion sequel FINALLY being announced, here’s something I was going to do today anyway! Here’s the second part of the crew of Walpurgis Nights watch The Rebellion Story, stretching from Madoka arriving at the school to Hitomi’s nightmare!

Note: I originally was going to write this as one big piece and release it all at once, but then I realized what a dumb idea that would be, so it’s going to get released in chunks as they’re finished.

Note the 2nd: Every time a prolonged conversation takes place, just assume that they’re pausing the movie to talk.

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

G: You know, I can’t get over Tavi having legs, or Fee having hair.

Op: It does look good, I gotta say. Must’ve been a bitch to keep it looking so fresh though.

Ch: And probably sets fewer low-hanging branches alight or set off fewer sprinklers.

Op: As far as you know. That style is smokin’

…

H: Seeing all those boys is…weird.

Ch: I know what you mean. I mean, I can picture what they look like, and I’ve seen recreations, but even still…

G: It is interesting to think about. I mean, here it’s perfectly normal for girls to get into relationships with other girls. But there girls like us would be a minority.

Op: Can’t imagine why. Now that I’m seeing them…not really getting the appeal. They don’t even have tits!

Ch: I guess you had to be there.

Ok: Hey, is it true that girls who liked other girls got picked on a lot?

Ca: Well, that’s an oversimplification of a serious problem, and I certainly never saw it happen. But then, I was a little…sheltered. And yes, in some places of the world, that does unfortunately happen. And worst.

G: Poor girls.

Ch: And guys. It happens to the gay guys too.

Op: I never got the gay thing. I mean, using the word as an insult. Like, why would that even be something to be ashamed of?

Ca: That’s…a really complicated question, and I’m not sure I’m really qualified to explain.

G: Well, I think they’re just being silly! I don’t see how anyone could see anything wrong with this!

=Gretchen leans over to give Homulilly a small kiss on the lips. Homulilly is more than happy to reciprocate=

Op: GAAAAY!

=Homulilly smacks Ophelia upside the head=

Ca: All of…that aside, I have to say, this is sort of nostalgic.

Ch: Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?

Ca: Oh, relax. I mean, just this. The school. The girls and the boys. The uniforms. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be struck with an uncontrollable desire for penis.

Op: Though if you do, I know a girl who-

Ca: Thank you, Ophelia. Please don’t finish that thought.

…

Op: Ha. Still a rebel, even then.

Ca: You were. You definitely were. Even more than this version. At least this version of you is going to school.

Op: And Tavi’s the goody-goody, sneaking off…hold up.

Ok: What?

Op: Rewind it a bit.

Ch: Okay…?

Op: So, does this version of me and Oktavia…do we live together?

Ch: Huh?

H: What?

Op: How would she know about me slacking on my homework after school if she wasn’t there? Like, in the same house?

Ca: W-Well, friends visit after school, sometimes to work on homework…

Ok: No, I’m going with Ophelia. We were totally shacking up. I mean, look at us. Look how irritated I am with her. That is love.

Ca: Girls, I hate to burst your bubble, but nobody was actually dating anyone back then.

Op: Oh, come on! Look at us!

Ok: Yeah, I mean the only other explanation is…

=silence=

Op: Is what? What are you…Oh, my God.

G: What’s wrong?

=Ophelia and Oktavia both start to look very uncomfortable=

Op: Candy, tell us the honest truth here: are we sisters?

Ca: What?!

Ch: Oh my God, I’m not hearing this.

Op: If you hid it so we wouldn’t freak out, I understand, but we really need to know-

Ca: No! No, you are not sisters, and you did not live together in our timeline! You knew each other for little over a month when we died, and only really got along for about two weeks!

Op: Oh, thank the flames.

Ok: Whew.

Ca: Seriously, what’s wrong with you? I already told you your stories.

G: Yeah, and Hitomi’s known Oktavia and me for a very long time! I think she’d mention it if you two were related.

H: Plus you look nothing alike. At all.

Ok: Okay! Okay! It was a momentary slip of stupid! We panicked! Leave us alone.

H: Would you two have stopped dating if it turned out you were related?

=Ophelia and Oktavia exchange looks=

Op: Probably not.

Ok: Nope.

Ch: Great. Now that we’ve established yet again how degenerate you two are, can we please continue the movie?

…

G: Huh?

Ok: What’s her deal?

Ca: I…kind of remember her? She was a teacher, and I think I had her my first year. But it’s been so long that-

Op: This lady’s bugging.

Ch: Too many shots in her coffee.

Op: I don’t think that’s alcohol.

Ok: Look at the class. Look at us! We’re all as confused as…we are…huh.

Ch: Don’t think about it too hard.

Op: Okay, seriously! Who allowed this lady around children?

Ca: I can remember her being a little eccentric, but this is on a whole new level.

Ch: Well, as the first few minutes proved, this whole city’s totally drugged out of its mind.

G: Does she want the world to end?

Ok: You know, I’m kind of feeling her.

G: Eh?!

Ok: Okay, look! Way back in the day, before I had a reliable gig, I used to sub every now and then for the FIB’s music department, and let me tell you, after a couple days of trying to keep those sand crabs under control, the apocalypse wasn’t sounding too bad!

Ch: How bad does her class have to be for her to go that far off the deep end?

Ok: Well, me and Fee are in the class.

=Ophelia snickers=

G: Oh, I saw Hitomi!

H: Fantastic.

Ok: I thought you two were cool now.

H: Eh…

Ch: Hey, kids! It’s time to play, “Spot the important characters!”

Ca: Did our hair really stand out that much? I distinctly remember other kids having bright hair colors!

Ch: Well, if you have a bunch of characters that you’re only animating for one scene, then you gotta skimp on some of the details.

…

G: Oh, there you are, Lilly!

Ca: Okay, this part I remember as being fairly accurate.

H: Huh?

Ca: I mean the bit about you being a transfer student and having been in the hospital for a while.

H: Ah.

=pause=

H: My God, I look stupid.

G: Don’t say that! You look cute!

H: Did I really wear my hair like that?

Ca: Well, no. You wore it straight. And I don’t remember there being glasses.

…

Ca: This part…is different though.

G: Really? How so?

Ca: I didn’t know Homulilly before she showed up.

Op: Yeah, you talked about that before. She just sort of appeared out of nowhere one day?

Ca: Yes. And pretty much just…aggressively inserted herself into our group. I mean, she wasn’t rude about it, but…

H: I was a time-traveler trying to save the only person that had ever cared about me from a terrible fate and had already failed several times. No doubt I wanted to skip the pleasantries.

Ca: I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything negative.

H: No offense taken.

Ok: So basically, you had reloaded your save over and over and was skipping the cutscenes so you could get to work on the part you were having trouble on.

H: That is…a remarkably accurate way of putting it. At least I assume that was the reason. I don’t know anything other than I was told, and to be quite frank, I’m glad of it.

Op: Hear fuckin’ hear.

Ok: Cheers. Oh, uh, sorry, Candy.

Ca: Don’t worry about it.

…

Ok: Well, Candy’s really talking you up. Guess you were kind of an ass-kicker, Homulilly.

H: No, it’s like the other version of me said. I was probably in a support role.

Ch: What, with the time-stop thing?

H: Yes.

Ok: Support role, my scaly ass! That is like the most OP power ever! I mean, what could I do?

=pause=

Ok: Uh, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. Candy, what could I do?

Ca: Oh, uh. In addition to your sword, you could use boost pads to jump and heal very quickly.

Op: So a tank, basically.

Ok: See? Just take and give damage! Basic as hell! Now time-stop, that’s a power with some class!

Ch: Plus time-travel.

Ok: Yeah, that’s like the jackpot of unfair.

H: Didn’t do me any good. We all died anyway.

Op: We’re chilling in our expensive, two-story house in a really nice neighborhood watching all this on our expensive big-screen instead of getting our asses beat every night and worrying about homework. I’d say things worked out.

…

Op: GAAAAAAY!

Ca: Oh, come on. It’s just hand-holding.

Op: Look at that blush! Look at it!

H: She has a point. By all accounts I was already pretty infatuated with Gretchen.

=Gretchen blushes=

Ca: Fair enough. GAAAAAAY!

=group cracks up=

Op: Though, seriously. Were any of us straight?

Ca: Well, Oktavia did have that crush on that one boy that supposedly started the whole trouble, and I had a couple of crushes of my own.

Ok: Did you not see me earlier in the movie? I at the very least bisexual!

Op: Or Kyoko-sexual. Everyone’s gay for Kyoko! Even the boys are gay for Kyoko!

G: I don’t really know what that means.

Op: It means the boys find me incredibly attractive, but in a gay sort of way.

G: I still don’t know what that means!

=Oktavia leans over to whisper something in Gretchen’s ear. Gretchen’s eyes go wide=

G: Oooohhhh…

…

Ch: A month? So do the landscape shots just mean a time-skip?

Ok: Okay, we were joking just now, but this is pretty explicitly romantic.

H: As I said, it was at least on my end. Though I don’t understand why he has to be there.

Ca: He was always around, unfortunately. I’m mainly wondering why he’s being so quiet. Or catlike.

H: Why, was he talkative?

Ca: Very.

Op: Huh. Maybe that’s why we got Cheese. We were just used to the animal companion that wouldn’t shut the hell-

=Cheese starts screeching from the other room=

C: Pickinilly! Pickidelly! Picadely whore!

Ch: Great, now you’ve set him off.

=Cheese flies into the room and lands on Homulilly’s flower. She tries not to laugh as he prances about before spying the movie playing=

C: Rat bastard! Rat bastard! Rat bastard!

Op: Where’d he learn that? I didn’t teach him that.

C: Rat bastard! Rat bastard!

Ch: Oh, for the love of…Here, I’ll take him.

=Charlotte offers Cheese her arm, and takes him outside=

Op: I’ll say this: the bird might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he is smart.

Ok: …did anyone else see the freaking dirigibles flying around in the background, or just me?

….

Op: Shit, those are a lot of airships. Hey, Candy-

Ca: No, those are new also.

Op: Something’s seriously off about this timeline, then.

Ch: Who the hell is that?

G: Oh! It’s Hitomi!

H: Of course it is.

Ch: Huh. Guess she does get more than a cameo.

Op: Jesus Christ, does her entire family all sleep in the same bed? You could fit an entire studio apartment into that thing!

G: Well, we were apparently all pretty well off.

Op: You had a normal-sized twin with a bunch of stuffed animals. She’s captaining the HMS Spoiled Rotten in there.

G: She’s not spoiled!

Op: Look, there are like three queen-sized beds between the six of us. You could put them all together and they still wouldn’t be as big as that monstrosity!

Ch: Isn’t she like living with three other girls now?

G: So? That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people have roommates.

H: They’re dating.

G: What? What are you talking about? That’s silly to just assume-

Ok: Gretch. C’mon. It’s not a secret.

G: B-But-

Ok: Poly relationships happen all the time.

G: I…how did you find out?

Ok: You do know that I talk to her too, right? And honestly, you’re making more of it than she is.

G: I guess so.

Op: She should’ve brought that bigass bed with her, then. Gotten some use out of it.

…

H: Who’s she calling?

Ok: Oh boy.

Op: Well, well, well! Violin-boy!

Ok: Fantastic. Hey! I sold my soul for you! Hope it was worth it!

Ch: Er, you okay?

Ok: Yeah, I’m fine. I am pretty curious though.

Op: Oh! Stood the fuck up!

Ch: Wow, he just shot his own rich girlfriend down to play with his stringy stick!

Ok: Violins are way more than just stringy sticks! But yeah, he did shoot her right down, didn’t he? Starting to think I dodged a bullet.

H: You literally died.

Ok: I know what I said.

Op: I guess Hitomi dodged the same bullet. Traded in one deadbeat for three smokin’ hot girlfriends. Can’t see how that’s not a win!

G: Uh, her family? Whom she still remembers?

Op: Er…yeah. That’s a good point.

…

Op: Oh, she mad.

Ca: Teenage relationships are just like that sometimes. You feel all these big emotions and-Huh.

Ch: And you throw up yarn all over your room? What’s going on here?

Ok: We’re back on that weird shit again, aren’t we?

Op: Does she not notice any of this?

Ok: She just got shot down by her own boyfriend. Cut her some slack.

Op: Did the bed just…Okay, it ate her. It ate her and threw up even more yarn.

Ca: This is all getting very…witch-like.

G: I thought only Puella Magi could become witches.

Ca: So did I. But clearly my knowledge is very obsolete.

Op: Goddamn, Homulilly! You butterfly-effected the universe something crazy!

H: How is this my fault?

Ch: Oh, there’s another freaky teddy-bear. At least we know how they’re made.

Ok: Teenaged angst?

Ch: Most terrifying force known to mankind.

[philosophicusabicus]

Diaries in the Loony Bin

The Loony Bin is a group of individuals who could be called “friends”, but maybe that’s too suggestive. At any rate, this group has a diverse set of opinions on politics and sports, with voices across the political spectrum and through many sports. The intersection of politics and sports, in contemporary society, is met with disdain; however, the members of the Loony Bin seek to make it an acceptable space of discourse. Every week, when the asylum isn’t particularly chaotic (there can be no promises as to consistency of date), an entry will be posted, documenting the developments of thought and culture within these walls. Where many see lunacy as a vice, it is seen as a virtue here. The diary herein is will capture all of the voices of this group, but it will use only one narrator, striking many different chords and tones. Topics will change with rapidity, so be always on edge. Though, nothing will get too toxic, as most topics will be treated rather lightly, aiming at parody. We’re in the Loony Bin after all.

Entry #1:

Where saner minds prevail in the Loony Bin, there is the same old chatter about Brady; about how the Bucs will repeat; about the prospects of Tampa’s young roster. But, in the deeper corners of the Loony establishment, there are whispers of a new team in town — a team in the same conference which has been biding its time of late. The St. Louis R… Los Angeles Rams. This team has the defense of a Trump supporter pressed about another investigation; and they have Stafford now, who can be a completely average version of himself and still be better than Goff. They made the playoffs last year with the latter under the gun: by trusted and tried Loony bin logic, there is no world where they don’t fare better this year.

Alas, as we approach the eve of the NBA Finals, we would be remiss not to reflect on the curious outcomes of the playoffs we have just witnessed. The Suns are on the cusp of their first finals in 28 years, walking over a series of teams who were hobbled to their bones. 1st round against LAL, practically no AD. 2nd round against Denver, no Murray. 3rd round against LAC, no Kawhi.

Is anyone else seeing a curious trend here?

This is like the string of upsets that led to the election of Biden in 2020 — think Georgia, Michigan, and Arizona, among others. Speaking of Biden, nobody can say they’re overly happy with what he’s accomplished in his term so far, but then again many are still aboard the “anything is better than Trump” bandwagon. So that mass is just easy to please.

I have a story to relate. A guard patrolling the halls on a foggy evening last month overheard in a ward unit a patient on a delirious soliloquy. Ranting and raving was usual for this patient deep into the night, but this rave, this was different. “Trump’s rhetoric.. his mannerisms.. his behavior.. it is unfit for the Presidency. Nothing need be pinned on him from a legal standpoint for it to follow that he does not meet the standards of the Chief Representative of the United States. If you were to quantify the number of immoral exhibits he has demonstrated, however insignificant, they would add up to a hefty sum: a demeaning and vicious personality. A personality unfit for such a high position. If we have to pick political poison, let’s pick the lesser of the poisons.” The guard began to hear an uncorking of caps, a sloshing of potions, and a loud thump of a corpse, crashing to the floor.

There was a rampant disease going around the property, from hall to hall, greensward to greensward. Its many and various symptoms included: involuntary association with Big Tech, amnesia about mortgage loans and student debt; anxiety related to pressures of the labor and financial markets; headache and fever regarding quality of romantic life; and a strong preoccupation with taking selfies.

The Bin was in lockdown and every non-faculty member had to isolate in their respective wards. Hence, if the patients were to communicate to each other, a new way medium had to be contrived: they call it “Loonygram”.

As I understand it, though admittedly I understand it very little, one performs some kind of slippery action to facilitate the correspondence between users. From what I have gathered though, it has little chance of success without being a certified maniac. Many prefer the pleasure they derive from their own babbling monologues.

While a doctor was trying to rationalize his patient one day he got carried away on a sermon of his own: “Why the fuss over kneeling anyway? Just because some action affronts a symbol you respect, doesn’t mean the intention was to disrespect that symbol. Differentiating actions and their outcomes from intentions goes a long way out there. There was no intent to disrespect what that American symbolism; that was just a byproduct of an effort trying to gain respect for another symbol: social equality”

The patient, strapped to their chair looks helplessly up at the doctor and asks “So… that helps me in here how?”.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t. Look, it aint all rational out there either, if you catch my drift”.

The patient scrunched his eyes circumspectly at the doctor before his attention was drawn to a fly buzzing on the adjacent wall.

These are curious times within these walls. An episode occurred on the Loony grounds one morning in which one patient wandered over to another, unprovoked, and yelled “my team is winning it all this year!”. The other patient, startled, replied “w..who is your team?” “w..what sport is this even?”

“I am at liberty to express myself; I have the first amendment behind me after all!” cried the provocative patient.

“Indeed, you do. But only where it doesn’t infringe on the freedoms of others” observed the second patient.

“And at what point is that?” jeered the first patient.

“Frankly, I’m not altogether sure. But let’s come to this decision mutually before you spam me with your raptures about the Yankees. Your favorite team is the Yankees, ya?

“How could you possibly.. know?”

“I saw you in the cafeteria last October, forking your pork chops like a feral animal; not long after Gleyber struck out for the 5th time that night either; I saw it in your eyes.”

How that altercation ended remains to be seen, since I merely borrowed it from the journal of another author, who has been missing ever since.

In other rumors, it is with great pain and sympathy that I report an exorcism which took place some time ago in the health dormitory on the fifth floor, all dust and eerie. The patient was being consumed by the demons of his loyalty to the Cowboys.

The pastor on hand, tending to his duties as exorcist, was on the verge of performing his most solemn task, when the possessed man said, as he foamed at the mouth “Elliot… Elliot”

“Excuse me? Elliot? What… Elliot’s going to be the most overrated running back in the league? I’m with you there” laughed the pastor, stuffing a hankerchief in the man’s mouth to muffle his screams.

“Dak. Dak. Dak. Back”

“Dak or not, there is a constant with the Cowboys. At the end of every regular season, they’re barely scratching playoffs.” applying the shock therapy he was taught in his vocational school.

“D..depth a..and.. youth.. a..at receiver” coughs the patient as he loses consciousness for the final time.

“Death and youth make a believer? That’s some sound philosophy my man. You’re impressionable when you’re young so that makes sense, and you live with more respect and appreciation for life as you get old and nearer to death. Truly well spoken”

“This one is one of the better cases, Mary” the doctor says as his assistant walks through the doors.

Tensions are up to a fever pitch these days. Just yesterday, two psychiatrists were shoving each other over whether the condition of the patients is binary or not.

“Their conditions are binary!? That is a very limiting way to view things. If the patient does not want to identify their condition as “sick”, and feels like they want to be labeled ‘sort of sick I suppose’, then the more power to them.”

“No, that is infeasible. If we do not have a clear threshold for their condition, then how can we administer their treatments? At what point? It would be arbitrary.”

“There is no essence of “sickness”; you can’t just define it in any terms you want, just so that it aids your goals; besides, they’re not really sick, sort of.” The insane man, lying on the bed for the entire course of the conversation, just looked blankly and confusedly at his doctors, thinking “so the stories you hear on the outside are true, these people really are Loony huh?”

Some disturbance is happening on the floor below me now, so I must close this entry and I will write another day…

[nicnacsnonsense]

A while back I made a post about a Good Omens You’ve Got Mail AU that was a little... unconventional. And I still stand behind that version 100%, but my brain decided it was time to circle back around to this particular AU. And the end result I have here is still a little unconventional, but much less so.

To start with we’re going to go ahead and update the setting to present day. Well, not *present* day but like 2018/2019 present day. So obviously meeting in an AOL chat room is a nonstarter. Instead they meet on Goodreads. Crowley leaves a long and scathing review of Hamlet because those are his genuine feelings on the play and because he likes stirring up shit. Aziraphale sees this review and is appalled, so sends Crowley a message in response debating his points. From there they get to talking and keep talking and next thing they know they’re virtual pen pals. At one point Crowley tries to look Aziraphale up on social media, but fails to find anything. He instead just asks him if he has an Instagram or Twitter or something. Once Aziraphale understands the question, it is established that Goodreads is as social as his media gets. They decide maybe they’ll just keep it to emails and keep it all anonymous; that that could be fun.

Now here’s where we start to veer into a little unconventional. Crowley is the small business owner. He owns a plant shop/nursery. He got kicked out of the house at 16 and had to scrape and do some things he’s not proud of to get by, but now he’s got himself his own shop and is doing pretty well. Anathema and Newt are his employees and he oscillates between acting annoyed at their couple-y behavior and being super smug claiming he’s the one who got them together since they met at his shop.

Aziraphale owns a one-third share of a chain of general merchandise big-box stores he, along with his older siblings Gabriel and Michael, inherited from his mother. Gabriel and Michael spout a lot of the rhetoric about how their stores are a good thing because they offer one stop shopping at discounted prices and other such things. Aziraphale echoes the same sentiments, but it’s clear he has some private doubts about the way they run business. His job in the company is head of PR, which he doesn’t necessarily enjoy but his siblings want him there because he comes off as very likable. Sandalphon is the VP working under Aziraphale, and he is very through about filtering information so Aziraphale only has to see and deal with the things he needs to know — the standards as to what Aziraphale does and more importantly doesn’t need to know are set by Gabriel. Aziraphale also has a friend, Madame Tracy, who he met because they go to the same manicurist.

Our story proper starts with a new superstore about to be opened up not far from Crowley’s shop. This is a problem for Crowley because the store is going to have a garden center, which will be direct competition for him. Not every store in the chain has a garden center but this one, located in the same neighborhood as a local plant shop, will. Funny how things turn out like that.

Aziraphale is out walking, getting a feel for this neighborhood where their new store is going to be, when it starts to rain. He planned ahead and brought an umbrella, but Crowley, who was making a quick trip to grab some coffee, did not. Aziraphale finds him hiding out under an awning and offers to share his umbrella and walk Crowley back to his shop. They do, and Aziraphale fawns over Crowley’s plants, they talk and flirt a little, then Aziraphale leaves. Newt and Anathema tease Crowley a bit, pointing out he should have asked for Aziraphale’s number and Anathema suggests Aziraphale is Crowley’s email boyfriend. Crowley tells them both to shut up and it’s all good banter. (Side note, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale have any sort of preexisting significant other in this version.)

Jump ahead to the next time Aziraphale and Crowley meet in person at a charity event or whatever. Crowley is understandably pretty upset when he finds out who Aziraphale really is and gets very accusatory. Aziraphale gets defensive and the conversation does not go well. From there we get the back and forth with Crowley attacking the superstore to protect his and other small businesses, and Aziraphale trying to defend his company and their actions.

Eventually Crowley starts getting really weighed down with all this and decides fuck anonymity, he wants to meet his virtual not-boyfriend and get in-person support (and, look okay, he’s not saying he wants or expects cuddles, but it they’re on the table, he’s not going to say no). Aziraphale agrees and they arrange for a place to meet. Aziraphale gets there first, and when Crowley arrives he does a sneak peek in the window and sees Aziraphale sitting there, wearing the tartan bow tie he chose as an identifier. Crowley freaks out and basically turns tail and runs.

He wanders aimlessly for a long while, continuing to have a mental breakdown over everything. Eventually he makes his way back to the meeting spot with the vague idea that he needs to tell Aziraphale what’s going on. But when Crowley gets there Aziraphale is walking out the door, bow tie nowhere in sight and trying very hard to pretend he’s not crying. So Crowley feels like shit and certainly can’t tell Aziraphale the truth *now*. Instead he offers Aziraphale some comfort over, you know, whatever it is Aziraphale is upset about, obviously Crowley wouldn’t know anything about it. Aziraphale is surprised and touched and in return offers a semi-apology for everything going on between their two companies, throwing out that line that it’s not personal, it’s just business. Crowley refutes that, sharing some of his backstory to highlight how it’s very personal to him. He then follows up with some pointed questions about the things Aziraphale’s business is doing, but for once makes it clear that he’s not trying to attack Aziraphale personally and genuinely believes that Aziraphale might be innocent and ignorant of it all. They part ways fairly amicably.

Crowley goes home, freaks out some more, goes to work the next day still freaking out — not helped by Anathema pointing out that she did try to tell him way back in the beginning that Aziraphale was his mystery guy — and continues to freak out for the rest of the day and the next. Finally he manages to mostly sort through it all in his head and decides he forgives Aziraphale. And now that he’s not fueled by spite he acknowledges that while he does have a good chunk of money saved up to keep the business afloat for a while, it’s not sustainable, and he’s better off quitting while he’s ahead. He sends Aziraphale an email apologizing for missing their meeting, blaming work stuff that came up. He goes on to say, without getting into too much detail, that he’s having to close his business down. He says he’s still processing and doesn’t want to talk about it right now, but he’ll reach back out later. At this point he has no intention of doing that; he’s forgiven Aziraphale but he doesn’t want any part of the unethical business Aziraphale is helping to run.

Meanwhile, after their conversation Aziraphale goes home and frets, then ends up looking further into some of the claims Crowley made. He finds out they’re true and frets about that and what it means. Then he gets the email that his friend is shutting down his business and frets about that too. Then the next day he’s in a meeting with Gabriel and Michael and a lot of the other company heads fretting and is told that Crowley’s announced his business is closing down. Which is now really just too much at once; his friend and Crowley — who’s actually not that bad at all — both having to shut down their businesses at the same time and— Wait a second. The lightbulb comes on and Aziraphale realizes Crowley is his virtual pen pal. He stands up, right in the middle of the meeting, quits, and just walks out.

Without even really thinking about where he’s going he ends up in front of Crowley’s shop. At which point he realizes what a terrible idea this is; in the email Crowley had said he didn’t want to talk and even if he did want to, he certainly wouldn’t want to talk to Aziraphale. But Newt sees him standing out there and tells him to come in. There’s a few awkward exchanges between Aziraphale and Crowley, and then Aziraphale suddenly erupts into word vomit. Crowley was totally right about everything, his company was up to shady stuff, and Aziraphale didn’t know, not that that’s any kind of excuse, but he did quit as soon as he heard and—

Crowley’s brain shuts off for a minute there after that, and boots back up when he realizes Aziraphale has stopped talking and is just standing there super anxious. Crowley asks to confirm that Aziraphale quit his job and Aziraphale says yes he did. So then Crowley suggests, hey we’re both unemployed now, tempt you to lunch? Which is not in the least what Aziraphale was expecting, but he agrees, and they go off for a lunch date at like 10:45 in the morning.

For those keeping score at home, yes at this point both Aziraphale and Crowley know the other is their virtual pen pal, but neither of them know the other knows and they’re not telling. Because they’re idiots. So during this courtship time we establish that Crowley is planning on going to school to get certified for landscape design — something he’s actually been interested in for a while but never had time to do. Aziraphale comes to a deal with his siblings for them to buy out his portion of the company. He plans to use a small chunk of the money to support a comfortable but modest lifestyle, and the rest is going to fund activism against unethical practices in large corporations. Fortunately Aziraphale has a lot of experience in handling public relations which will come in handy for that kind of thing.

Eventually, with a couple of kicks in the butt by Anathema and Madame Tracy, Aziraphale and Crowley “confess” to each other that they are the other’s email buddy. Cue friendly laughter over them both being idiots, and they live happily ever after. The end.

[near-seth-experience]

This Pride Month, I’ve been thinking a lot about my relation to Gender.

Before I get too deep into this post, I just want to preface this by saying I am not well-informed on the matter. At least, not anywhere near as informed as I’d like to be. I don’t know which terms (if any) may be offensive. If I make any broad statements about gender, I am referring to it specifically in regards to the topic of MY gender. That is to say, if I write something like “gender is insignificant”, this should be read as “my gender is insignificant to me.” It is not my intention to diminish others in any way, and I’m not trying to provide any hot takes or spark debates and conflict.

This post is just for me to lay out my thoughts with the hope that someone who actually has a clue what they’re talking about might help me figure out where my gender identity might lie. This is a long post of personal rambling, so sorry in advance, thanks for reading, and here’s a “Keep Reading” cut for the sake of your dashboards:

Truth be told, I’ve never actually sat down and seriously thought about my gender before now.  Heck. I didn’t even know Aromanticism was a thing until last year, and I didn’t know that it (or asexuality) had their own spectrums of varying identities. This past year, upon realizing that I’m Aspec (I’m still trying to pinpoint where specifically on those spectrums I stand tbh) I’ve focused most of my LGBT+ related internal reflection in that area. This past year, I’ve been pondering attraction:

Who am I attracted to?

Do I experience attraction?

How do I experience attraction?

Are there any prerequisites in order for me to experience attraction?

Am I actually attracted to someone or am I just really freakin’ lonely?

Am I actually attracted to someone or am I just really freakin’ horny?

Things like that.

Frankly, I won’t exactly know how to identify in that regard until I actually have romantic and sexual experience, and I’m a big ol’ 26 y/o virgin who has never even had a relationship or first kiss (lmao I know, right?) I can’t say for certain how I respond in those situations, so I can’t say with certainty that I’m one thing or another. So, anyways, I’m at a bit of a standstill in that department, so like I said at the beginning of this post, I’ve been thinking about Gender recently.

Gender!

So, I’ve always identified as a (cisgender) male. I’ve got the corresponding bits, and until recently I did not recognize the dichotomy in definitions between Gender and Sex. I thought the two words were interchangeable because that was what I was raised and taught to believe. But now that I know better, and recently I’ve been thinking “oh, so I’ve been identifying my gender on the basis of my sex, but is there a gender identity that is more applicable?”

I don’t have any issues in regards to accepting my physical attributes, but I do not like gender (or at least the binary) as a concept, and I cannot stand the idea that this stuff should have any sort of influence or bearing over my behavior and interests.

Like a lot of people, I grew up having to put things back on the shelf. The only time my mom bought me something that was a “girly color” was when I got a necktie to match my friend’s dress for a school dance (She was wearing a hot pink dress, so I was in all black with a hot pink tie, we looked fresh af). My childhood wasn’t mine. I grew up playing soccer, wrestling, baseball, football, hunting, and fishing, all because my ancestors ate up some ancient rhetoric that declared boys shall be athletic outdoorsmen, and any who aren’t are deemed lesser.

I never liked being told I couldn’t have or do something because it was supposedly intended for a different type of person, and similarly, I didn’t like being held to the standards and stereotyping of conventional masculinity.

I don’t want to write an essay about every instance and aspect of my personality that goes against the notions of gender and society’s expectations of me in regards to gender, so I’ll leave that there, but as things stand now, I just.... don’t care?

I don’t care if I’m sharing a bathroom with a transgender individual because it’s a bathroom.

I don’t care if I’m wearing a feminine color, because it’s a just color.

I don’t care about what pronouns people use for me, because they are referential. If people are referring to me with pronouns, I’m probably not around to hear them. Pronouns are for talking about me, not to me. Even if I’m in a conversation with multiple people where I can hear myself being referred to, I’m not gonna jump in and correct people because I just don’t care.

If someone see’s me out in public, they’re gonna talk about me with he/him because they see I have a beard most of the time, and that’s a very visible and predominately masculine feature. It’s my understanding that pronouns are frequently assumed because it is up to the speaker to convey their subject clearly to their audience.

I think it’s for this same reason that I will continue to tell others that I am a man despite not personally identifying based upon that which it entails. A lot of people haven’t wrapped their heads around the whole gender vs sex thing. I don’t want to cause any unnecessary confusion because that’s just more trouble than it’s worth for me. I’ll still say I’m a cis male online and on dating sites because if people want to find a hairy person with male hardware, that’s what they’ll search, and I do want to be found.

My gender doesn’t really matter to me, so my gender shouldn’t really matter to you. I’ll say I’m a man because it’s easier for you, but I’m not gonna think less of myself for going to college to write poetry while others expect me to be doing something macho. I’ll say I’m a man because, if you must know, I’ve got a penis, but I’m not gonna think less of myself for ordering a fruity drink while the rest of the guys get their beers.

I’ll say I’m a man, but really, I just don’t care.

“Male” isn’t my identity. Seth is.

I’m still learning, and so there might be something that is more fitting, but I suppose I’m actually something like Agender, Non-Binary, or Gender Non-Conforming???

anyways thanks for reading I love you

[caltropspress]

FEEDBACK LOOP #1: Armand Hammer’s “Flavor Flav”

What are the Black purposes of space travel?

—Amiri Baraka, “Technology & Ethos”

Black futurism is a temporally troubled matrix Black futurism is a temporally troubled matrix that thrives on opposites and oppositions, flowing lines and nonlinearity, conflict resolution and asymmetrical warfare. It prefers the mad dash on shifting sands while in pursuit of higher ground and safe havens.

—Greg Tate, “Kalahari Hopscotch, or Notes Toward a 20 Volume History of Black Science and Afrofuturism”

Welcome aboard our spaceship, it’s so nice to have you here. —Newcleus, “Space is the Place”

Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not for a day but      for all times, sees races, eras, dates, generations, The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable together. —Walt Whitman

I’m so tired of being forced to promote the myth of white supremacy by performing works by old white men like Whitman who said blacks...didn’t have a place in the future of America. —Timothy McNair

Today is the shadow of tomorrow, today is the future present of yesterday, yesterday is the shadow of today. —Sun Ra, “Secrets of the Sun”

This highly allusive track from billy woods and ELUCID toys with itself—that is, allusions are a figurative means of collapsing time in and of themselves. Past and present history & culture don’t contend so much as support one another. A set of stilts to do the Dance of Death on, if you will. “Start downhill running.” The Seventh Seal hilltop silhouette danse macabre steez, though. The whooshing, metal-creaking beat—with all its haunted psithurism charm—is the backdrop for this sleeper Shrines track.

The name “Flavor Flav” is used metonymically here to mean time. This isn’t a braggadocio, low-key threat in the spirit of OC’s “Time’s Up.” This isn’t a Grandmaster Flashian “You Know What Time It Is” (though the hands on the clock tower do spin clockwise and counter-). Neither is this a Kool Moe Dee-esque rhetorical “Do You Know What Time It Is?” Armand Hammer are frustrated by time, by the “ideals and dreams that don’t work.” woods laments his “time machine [that] don’t go backwards.” This no-good lemon of a H.G. Wells contraption he’s steering. This isn’t some Christopher Lloyd-cum-El-Producto Delorean. There’s no Great Scotting going on, just stubbornness.

Progress isn’t made. Time stagnates. Like the “list of ill-fated quick licks under ’frigerator magnets.” And that “school trip permission slip”—likely a bus ride to a museum: a carefully curated collection of artifacts, most notable for its colonial muscling. The question remains: What is left out? What is excluded? What is ignored, discarded, or co-opted so as to not withstand the test of time? woods’ short-i assonance speeds the delivery up only to slow it down:

list | ill | quick | licks | ’frig | nets | trip | mis | slip | lick | split | skin | spliff

billy woods, son of a revolutionary, redefines Afrofuturism (re-re-re-defines—its brilliance is in how it remakes itself unconditionally). Afrofuturism becomes about birthing the next generation of Black revolutionaries, so he subverts the line and expectations when “big hand captured” refers to the clock, but “little man [not hand] chasin’” refers to a youngin. (Try to keep up.) Put the faith in the youth when our “ideals and dreams” stall out—when the days, months, years are fleeting and forceful (“It do tick faster / The hour coming rough”). The spliff that’s “[skinned] like an onion” turns the cypher into Perrault fairy tale “pumpkin,” Cinderella style.

“Don’t come ’round with that ‘Go slow’” is in conversation with Nina Simone’s “Mississippi Goddam,” of course. It’s Nina who said “[she] can’t stand the pressure much longer,” who objected to those who “keep on saying ‘Go slow,” who had her band ironically chanting Do it slow. billy woods, like Nina Simone, decries reformism, incrementalism. Don’t do things gradually. We’re at the point where Nina stands up from her piano bench and shouts That’s it!

Forego the telephoto lenses, he insists, this is the “Battle of Algiers with the GoPro.” Urban guerrilla warfare uploaded and disseminated via YouTube. Again, time collapses. The struggle to decolonize continues. Watch for the This video is no longer available dead-end.

billy woods’ Nietzschean “loathing and fear” reverses the hallucinogenic time-warp of Thompson’s (and, in filmic relation, Gilliam’s) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. “History is hard to know,” Thompson writes, “because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of ‘history’ it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash.” That flash will reappear in ELUCID’s verse.

If “all roads lead to Rome,” we’re settling into the inevitability of our moves. It’s a fatalistic shrug, but homophonically, all roads lead to roam—that is, the journey is prolonged interminably. It’s nomadic. Much static. So, naturally, you’re going to “[shake] the hourglass like a snowglobe,” distort time, and splurge on the “JC Penny Timex,” which is appropriately “flooded with rhinestones.” Flooded, because no more water: the fire next time. Don’t “lose track” and don’t “get trapped in the future.”

The chorus quotes the Rolling Stones’ “Time is On My Side,” but it ain’t that simple, no. The history is as messy as we’ve come to expect amerikan music to be. “Time is On My Side” was originally penned by Norman Meade (Jerry Ragovoy), and trombonist Kai Winding first recorded it. Jimmy Norman, a Black songwriter, fleshed out the lyrics significantly, and Irma Thomas recorded that version in the same year as the Stones. The song followed a path similar to that of “Strange Fruit”—a composition written by a white Jewish man under a pseudonym (Abel Meeropol as Lewis Allan) but popularized by a Black female jazz singer (Billie Holiday). As author Jess Row has said about jazz—hip-hop applies, too—it is “by its very nature multi-racial, intermingled, and collaborative across color lines.” But this cognizance must always be contextualized with views of Black artists like that of Art Blakey: “the only way the Caucasian musician can swing is from a rope.” Hip-hop has always had its Paul Cs and Rick Rubins, but the racial heterogeneity of a genre, or even a single recording, can’t cloak the power dynamics still in play. The Stones’ version of “Time is On My Side”—undoubtedly the most popular version—is a rip-off of Irma Thomas’ version. Mick Jagger even jacks Thomas’ ad-libs, which is to say, her rawness and spontaneity. Even the band’s shadowed faces on the cover of 12 x 5, the album on which the track appears, suggest the racial problematics, the minstrelsy heist. Armand Hammer mock the British Invasion blues filchers by adding “they” to the chorus line: “They said time is on my side.” They being white institutions (especially within music publishing, production, and recording industries) who promised enough airtime for everyone. They who urged patience. (Go slow!) But, as history shows, the profits only lined certain pockets.

ELUCID begins at the “golden hour,” which is both the photogenic beauty of the sky after sunrise and before sunset—a beauty too good to behold. It’s the sun glare shining in your face on the winter commute from work. It’s your high-speed accident and then the golden hour is the paramedics and doctors trying to salvage your corporeal existence. ELUCID’s verse is a hypnagogic jerk, gasping for breath as he takes a “portal to Orangeburg, ’68.” It’s a reference to the campus shooting of young people in protest—South Carolina State University. Unlike Kent State, which came afterwards, Orangeburg didn’t get the attention keening white women in Pulitzer Prize-winning photographs do, despite “live ammunition,” three dead, 28 injured, and “nine acquitted assassins.” Unnoticed. Black invisibility. Not that H.G. Wells type of invisibility—the Ralph Ellison kind.

We’re told what this is: it’s the aggregate stress (“the load of the allostatic”) of Black life. It’s one’s personal Extinction Agenda, the “post-traumatic” of the gunfire “flashes” that double as flashbacks. The pain, stress, the brain that can’t rest, the pressure on the chest.

“The center won’t hold” lets us know this isn’t all PTSD reverie—it’s a rebel poem: surely some revolution is at hand. ELUCID channels Achebe channeling Yeats. Things might fall apart but not without struggle. The “Flavor Flav clock spins centrifugal,” as a gyre, as an apocalyptic (91…) voice. Turning and returning. The words have an air of insurrection, proclamation.

He misses “watching how a flat circle fold”—it won’t budge, won’t wrinkle. We’ve been here before: on “Hunter,” on Paraffin, when billy woods was on that “time is a flat circle” shit. That Nietzsche eternal recurrence shit:

What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: “This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain…will return to you. […] The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!

“Can you find the level of difficulty in this?” suggests game playing, arcades. Calls to mind more Walter Benjamin’s Arcades, though. billy woods and ELUCID are gleaners and magpies of cultural cadavers in Benjamin’s way. Their bars are play and critique both. We’re left with a modicum of optimism at the song’s end. Even “only [moving] the pen six inches” is something, is struggle. The “pale faces beyond the fire” are ever-present, though. The “flinching, panic, [and] confusion” are committed to continue.

Is it the fool or the insurgent who thinks time is on their side? We want the life we live to be “more brilliant than a sunbeam.” That’s to say, we don’t want to wait for the golden hour or the golden years. We want what they say we can’t have. We want what they say we shouldn’t imagine. But Armand Hammer helps us take solace in the “drum skin stretched”—the rhythm, the rebel. The oft-quoted Douglass gem, If there is no struggle, there is no progress, is played out for a reason. The reason is because it needs to be played again, and again. Like a mantra, like a song.

Images:

Sun Ra’s Space is the Place (screenshot) | Flavor Flav (detail), courtesy of archivist Sean Stewart | Grandmaster Flash “You Know What Time It Is” music video (screenshot) | Kool Moe Dee “Do You Know What Time It Is?” single cover | Nina Simone live at Antibes Juan-les-Pins Jazz Festival 1965 (screenshot) | The Battle of Algiers (screenshot) | The Rolling Stones 12 x 5 album cover | Flavor Flav, courtesy of Stewart

[flusteredmountainman]

On the insidious hypocrisy of transmedicalism and colonial conditioning

I’m going to slap down a fairly long post about how transmedicalism is Fucking Bullshit today because I’ve been trying to pin down some of my thoughts and feelings for a wee while about it and I finally feel like I’m ready to articulate it.

CWs for use of the word h*mosexual (censored bc i have friends made uncomfortable by that word who ID as gay), conversion therapy, transmedicalism, colonialism, racism, transphobia, homophobia, trauma, violence mention, classism, ableism.

First off: truscum ideology makes no sense. Transmeds will preach and scream about how being trans* has nothing to do with biology; that gender is a psychological thing (which it is) but then will go on to say that if you don’t experience severe dysphoria you aren’t trans. This literally makes No Sense because if being trans has nothing to do with your biology and your physical attributes, then why should every trans person be forced to physically change their biology to fit binarist ideas of how bodies should look in relation to gender to prove themselves?

The base ideology is hypocritical at best and boot-licking/transphobic/cisnormative at worst: the idea that you have to experience (x) amount of trauma and discomfort to be trans only feeds into the cis narractive that trans people are traumatised, disturbed, othered individuals who have something “wrong” with them or that they’re “degenerate” - this conflation of being trans as being a mental illness is literally a rhetoric used by cishets dating back decades in psychology circles to treat being gay/trans/what-have-you as a sickness that can be cured. People used to be diagnosed as h*mosexual to justify putting them through conversion therapy to cure them of what was perceived as moral degeneracy. The same can be said for being trans. By pushing this rhetoric transmeds are admitting that they agree that being trans is Abnormal - that no one could ever want to be trans or be happy being trans because it’s so far removed from everything polite society considers “normal”. To support these ideas is to incite violence against your trans brothers, sisters, and siblings: it is disgusting and ignorant and smacks of internalised transphobia.

Not only that but transmedicalism as an ideology is also inherently racist! Truscum are uplifting binarism as a structure that was introduced into many societies by colonial powers that systematically erased native and indigenous identities that have always existed - by saying that these identities as well as non-binary identities (for which terms were created in response to debunking the idea that you can only be one gender or another in specifically western contexts) aren’t valid you are literally acting as a tool of colonialism. You are contributing to the cultural destruction and ongoing colonisation of indigenous cultures and identities. By supporting these ideas you are inherently saying that you support white supremacist structures of power and oppression founded not only upon race but also gender, ability, class and oppression of LGBT+ people. You are playing into white supremacy and you are actively inciting racist and pro-colonialist violence towards trans and gender diverse people of colour. 

It’s also no coincidence that it’s classist: as I mentioned before. The idea that you have to transition to be trans hinges upon the assumption that there is equal  opportunity and access for every person to transition: which many people don’t for many reasons including that it’s expensive, in my country only one surgeon can perform surgeries at all (literally inaccessible), many people can’t afford to take time off work, many people have various disabilities or illnesses that literally mean they cannot transition if they may want to: all this not even considering that some people may not want to physically transition. When we consider that combined with the institutional oppression people face for their race that means many, many people of colour are living in poverty due to their families being trapped in the poverty cycle and intergenerational trauma from colonialism, it’s no coincidence that the people impacted by this bullshit ideology the most are trans* people of colour! Plus disabled trans* people and disabled trans* people of colour! It’s disgustingly ableist, racist and classist and just reveals how these people don’t give a single shit about any trans* person who isn’t white and ablebodied.

There is already so much prejudice and oppression that trans and gender diverse people face in our society already it just doesn’t make any sense for transmeds to play the oppression olympics. Your experiences are not universal! Just because you experience extreme dysphoria doesn’t mean that people who don’t are not valid in their identity. Gender euphoria is equally important and besides gender as a construct is a fucked up concept anyway, so why are y’all sucking up so hard to the Cissies TM! Please get over yourself and examine why the hell you feel the need to pull other trans people down with you: you are a deeply sick, sad individual if you see someone else being proud of who they are and feel the need to knock them down a peg just because you’re in pain, and you aren’t above being a transphobe just because you’re trans!

All this to say that if you proudly self-ID as a transmed/truscum you can literally choke and die and you will never in any way be welcome on my blog! Same to Terfs y’all can fuck off too.

Cis people do Not add to this or I will Come for you I do Not want to hear your opnions on this: nothing you say can meaningfully contribute to this conversation so please just reblog to amplify trans* voices. 

[jerepars]

I Dare You Extended Chapter Notes

03 Whenever Not Ever

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile). The story is posted here. Direct link to this chapter is here.

The question was only slightly serious and mostly rhetorical. Fangs and Sweet Pea had both known Toni long enough to know that when someone piqued her interest, or when she had her heart set on something, she got tunnel vision and nothing moved her from what she was after. A few weeks ago, after Toni had shown up with a pep sign for Sweet Pea and Fangs’ wrestling meet, Sweet Pea had told her he was sure she would join the River Vixens in a minute after she’d sarcastically congratulated him for having school spirit. To Sweet Pea’s credit, Toni did jump at the opportunity, though he suspected it had much more to do with the cheerleading squad’s self-proclaimed HBIC than building up her extracurricular repertoire.

The second sentence is a round-about reference to Ceremony’s Still Nothing Moves You, which I listened to a lot in the early goings of this chapter. The pep sign and wrestling match referred to here are from the second chapter of Know Who You Are, which is a prequel of sorts to this story. As I’ve mentioned before, it’s not required reading to understand what’s happening here, but that story provides a lot of context for my SweetE headcanon.

In spite of her uneasiness, Ethel smiled at Sweet Pea’s kind sentiment. “Sweet Pea, the thing is…you caught me off guard. I’m used to being picked on, being the butt of jokes, not having any real friends I can count on. I’ve gotten used to the kids in this town buttering me up, being nice to me and making me feel like the olive branch is going to be extended to me, only to find out later it was all a big joke. I’ve grown uncomfortably numb to having to protect myself from disappointment. These days I eye every bit of kindness with a little bit of suspicion. So when you said you dared me to go out with you, after I’d admitted to things I’m not proud of, I thought…I thought…”

Please remember that this Ethel is a much different than the one presented to us through canon in season 2 and 3. The intent here is to humanize and explore the characters of Ethel and Sweet Pea that will never be on screen in canon. This isn’t an Ethel who thinks she’s going to steal Betty’s boyfriend and there are no trips to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.

American Football’s “Uncomfortably Numb” was on constant repeat for me this winter . Ethel’s use of that term is just the first reference to it in this chapter.

“Really. I wasn’t really listening to what you said to me, was I? You said the people who’ve screwed me over don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me and I brushed it off and lumped you in with people who’ve hurt me, people who’ve so easily thrown away my heart without hesitation. And that’s not fair to you, for me to judge you like that when I don’t really know you.” Ethel wrung her hands together as she so often did before admitting, “I think I’d like to though.”

The song this chapter’s title is taken from “Whenever Not Ever” and in it there’s a line that goes you never threw away my heart, you kept it forever. I wanted to work that into the dialogue somehow because I thought maybe that’s what a 16-year-old Ethel feels like, that everyone else has no problem casting her and her heart away. But Sweet Pea isn’t everyone else.

It wasn’t until the words were out of Ethel’s mouth that Sweet Pea understood how his tendency for hookups rather than real dating experience had made him so sensitivity deprived that it might’ve trounced his chance at a first date. He’d been so intent on getting the date proposal out in the open—he’d gotten so wrapped up in his attraction—that he didn’t spend any time on the details that apparently did matter. There’d been no flattery and no wooing. Who did he think he was anyway? He was a teen Serpent and a lowly one at that. He couldn’t expect to coast on the charm he didn’t have. The girl he liked didn’t realize how into her he was, didn’t know she made him nervous, didn’t know he was hoping for her to take a chance on him. She thought he was, of all things, being nice.

Duh, Sweet Pea, you can’t just dare a girl to go on a date with you and expect her to know you’re into her!

He is said to be sensitivity deprived because if you listen to “Uncomfortably Numb,” those are the words sung at the beginning of the first two stanzas.

“I think that I’ve been a romantic for too long,” Ethel began to explain rather than answer directly. “In spite of everything I’ve dealt with, getting made fun of and bullied on a regular basis, I always told myself someday someone in this town would see me and not think that…that I’m a sub-defective or that I talk too much or that all the stuff I’m into is for loser kids. And being a hopeless romantic, maybe a little vain, I always hoped it would turn out to be someone who could sweep me off my feet. So I couldn’t have prepared myself for this, you know? For a rush of blood and my feelings set on fire. Not for the someday of my daydreams to be today or for someone to be you.”

Ethel’s words tugged at Sweet Pea’s heartstrings. He thought it was unfair that she should always be so down on her luck, that little things never went her way. It was why he knew she was his kind of person–disenfranchised, castaway, unloved and weeded out–someone who could relate to how he felt, stuck in a devil town. In both of their encounters the day before he’d used all his self control to keep from reaching out to her, denying them both for the sake of personal space when he really should have tried to make a connection. Sweet Pea didn’t allow himself to second-guess himself this time. He caught the sleeve of Ethel’s sweater and let his palm rest gently on her elbow.

“I see you,” he said simply. “And I don’t think you talk too much.”

Finally, we are at the references to “I Dare You” and the bit of dialogue I had in my head even before I started writing the story. A key part of the song goes I’ve been a romantic for so long. All I’ve ever heard are love songs. And also, A rush of blood is not enough. I need my feelings set on fire.

Unloved and Weeded Out is a compilation record by Converge. Be warned, it is pretty aggressive from the get go. But anyway, I always wanted to use that phrase somehow, and through Sweet Pea’s perception seemed so appropriate!

Sweet Pea telling Ethel that he sees her, in this context and scenario is such a headcanon for me. I See You is the album that “I Dare You” is on, by the way.

To me, Ethel does talk too much during this conversation as she works her ways through apologies and understanding the intent behind Sweet Pea’s dare. But it’s so sweet that Sweet Pea doesn’t think so. Neither of them is very smooth through this whole interaction. I thought about what it’s like to be 16/17 talking to the person you like, or figuring out that that person likes you. It’s awkward at times. I wanted to keep that awkwardness and let them work through it as they get to know each other.

There is, of course, also a song reference here. The first lines of “Whenever Not Ever” are once again you’re out of touch, I don’t think you talk too much.

Blushing and feeling see-through after a long winded conversation that had brought clarity, Ethel was full of nervous excitement but answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

I think one of the reasons I take so much inspiration from and incorporate songs into my stories is because it makes me think about prose differently. I remember pieces of songs and the way things are said in a way that I wouldn’t have (well, yeah, obviously because lyricists are basically writing poems and I’m writing chapters) thought of. The last reference to “Uncomfortably Numb” is this: Now whenever I try to be clear with you, I only end up feeling see-through.

Ethel could just feel transparent, which she does. But I think of how well “see-through” goes in the song, and how in the closing part of this chapter it may come off a bit juvenile. But I go back to thinking of being 16/17…a bit juvenile is perfect.

[deniscollins]

Reefer Madness or Pot Paradise? The Surprising Legacy of the Place Where Legal Weed Began

Nearly twice as many Coloradans smoke pot as the rest of America. Since 2014 legalization, many use the drug responsibly, some do not. Among teenagers who have used it (must be 21 to do so legally), 80 percent are not current marijuana users. Should marijuana be legalized at the federal level: (1) Yes, (2) No? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Serenity Christensen, 14, is too young to set foot in one of Colorado’s many marijuana shops, but she was able to spot a business opportunity in legal weed. She is a Girl Scout, and this year, she and her mother decided to sell their cookies outside a dispensary. “Good business,” Serenity said.

But on the other side of Denver, legalization has turned another high school student, David Perez, against the warehouselike marijuana cultivations now clustered around his neighborhood. He said their skunky aroma often smacks him in the face when he walks out his front door.

These are the ripples of five years of legal marijuana. Colorado’s first-in-the-nation experiment has reshaped health, politics, rural culture and criminal justice in surprising ways that often defy both the worst warnings of critics and blue-sky rhetoric of the marijuana industry, giving a glimpse of what the future may hold as more and more states adopt and debate full legalization.

Since recreational sales began in 2014, more people here are visiting emergency rooms for marijuana-related problems, and hospitals report higher rates of mental-health cases tied to marijuana. At the same time, thousands of others make uneventful stops at dispensaries every day, like the hiking guide in the college town of Boulder who now keeps a few marijuana gummies in a locked bag to help her relax before bed.

Some families rattled by their children’s marijuana problems have moved, seeking refuge in less permissive states. But over all, state surveys do not show an increase in young people smoking pot.

And while low-level marijuana charges have plummeted, the racial divide in drug arrests has persisted. State numbers show that African-Americans in Colorado were still being arrested on marijuana charges at nearly twice the rate of white people.

“You don’t see drug-addled people roaming the streets, but we haven’t created a utopia,” said Jonathan Singer, who was one of just two state legislators who endorsed the Colorado ballot measure that made it legal for adults 21 and over to buy, consume and grow recreational marijuana.

Mr. Singer nodded to his 3-year-old, who sat in the back seat one afternoon as they headed to a picnic. “The fact that I’m willing to have this conversation in front of my daughter,” he said, “shows how much we’ve destigmatized this.”

The ‘Drug Talk,’ Rewritten

This is the world reconfigured by legalization — the world that 18-year-old Ethan Pierson grew up in. He was born the same year that Colorado’s first medical-marijuana law took effect. He watched dispensaries bloom along the commercial streets leading to his high school in suburban Lakewood.

“If you live in Colorado, it feels like somebody’s always smoking next to you,” said Mr. Pierson, who abstains.

Doctors, educators and state officials have been particularly worried about the effects of legalization on Colorado’s youth. Would a proliferation of recreational pot shops make marijuana seem innocuous to teenagers, despite studies showing that it is harmful to their developing minds? Would teenage pot use spike? How would it affect graduation rates and school discipline?

Five years in, surveys show that most Colorado teenagers are like Mr. Pierson: They may have tried it, but 80 percent are not current marijuana users. State surveys show that teenage marijuana use has fallen slightly since medical marijuana sales ramped up in 2009, and has been basically flat since full legalization.

But Mr. Pierson and other students and parents said that legalization had changed marijuana’s image and availability.

Older siblings or even parents can now buy it legally and pass it along. Classmates take Snapchat videos of one another smoking on the edges of school. Instead of dime bags, there is now a buffet of concentrates, tinctures and edibles — still illegal for young people, but easy to come by.

“It’s easy to conceal,” Mr. Pierson said. “They carry it around in their purse or pencil bag.”

Some school administrators say they are catching more students using marijuana and fewer drinking. School disciplinary numbers show that marijuana is a leading reason students are punished or handed over to the police. But the overall number of students being expelled for drug infractions has actually fallen since legalization, in part because Colorado lawmakers sought to get rid of “zero tolerance” policies at schools around the same time pot was legalized.

In a fourth-floor juvenile courtroom in Denver, where children stand in front of a magistrate on charges including curfew violations and fighting, the number of marijuana possession cases is thinning out. The share of teenagers arrested for marijuana offenses has fallen by about 20 percent since Colorado voted to legalize, but black youths and adults are still getting arrested at much higher rates than white or Hispanic Coloradans, according to a state report. In 2017, black people in the state were arrested on marijuana charges at double the rate of white ones, according to the Colorado Division of Criminal Justice.

Some parents said that marijuana was becoming too normal, another legally permissible health risk with slick marketing, like alcohol or cigarettes. But marijuana shops cannot advertise on billboards. They are required to check identification at the door. They are supposed to be located at least 1,000 feet from schools. Edibles can no longer look like gummy bears or fruit or be called “candies.”

To some parents, this is not enough. They say their children smell marijuana on hikes, and count dispensaries on their rides home from school. Before play dates, Ben Cort now asks other parents whether they keep marijuana in the house before his daughter visits a new friend’s home. Sujata Fretz, a physician in Denver, said she found herself having a conversation with her 13-year-old son about marijuana that was shaped by the proliferation of the industry.

“I’m forced to have a conversation with my kids because it’s more public and out there,” Dr. Fretz said. “I can’t just say, ‘Hey drugs are bad’ when it’s legal and there are stores that sell it. My goal is to get them to not use marijuana.”

‘Nothing Is Completely Safe’

The numbers seem clear: Nearly twice as many Coloradans smoke pot as the rest of America. The number of adults who use has edged up since legalization.

Now, the battle between legalization’s supporters and foes is focused on whether heavier pot use is hurting people’s health. It is a high-stakes question, and Andrew Monte, an emergency and medical toxicology physician and researcher at the University of Colorado Hospital, is on the front lines, trying to decipher what the numbers are saying.

Hospital data analyzed by Dr. Monte and others indicate that more people are arriving at emergency rooms for marijuana-related reasons. He has treated many of them. Some are heavy marijuana users with severe vomiting. Others are children who have eaten edibles, accidentally or not. They come to the E.R. disoriented, dehydrated or hallucinating after consuming too much marijuana.

“There’s a disconnect between what was proposed as a completely safe drug,” Dr. Monte said. “Nothing is completely safe.”

And researchers have reported that patients in the E.R. with marijuana-related cases were five times as likely to have a mental-health issue as those with other cases.

Five years of legalization have yielded stories of haunting deaths: A father of three who shot his wife dead after eating edibles. A young man visiting Colorado whose family blamed his suicide at a ski resort on the marijuana he had consumed. Rising numbers of drivers in fatal traffic crashes who test positive for marijuana (though a positive test does not necessarily mean the driver was high).

But none of the emergency-room visits tracked by researchers in recent studies ended with a patient’s death. And Dr. Monte, who has treated and studied so many cannabis cases, said that thousands of Coloradans every day safely use marijuana.

A retired farmer in Southern Colorado takes it as a balm for his aching feet. It was how a woman in Denver surmounted the nausea and pain after a double mastectomy and chemotherapy. Veterans fought to use it for post-traumatic stress. Children use it for severe seizure disorders. It is how Alli Fronzaglia, who runs a women’s hiking group, relaxes before bed.

“It’s not wreaking havoc,” she said. “There are people using responsibly in Colorado.”

Stephanie Angell, 63, used to think she was one of them. Then she began smoking heavily every day, after she learned she had multiple sclerosis in 2014. She started smoking after waking up, and then gravitated to the thick, amberlike extractions that offer higher concentrations of psychoactive THC. Dispensaries offered specials, she said, like Edible Wednesdays.

“I began to smoke morning, noon and night,” she said.

Compared with the 72,000 drug overdose deaths in America in 2017, with the crimes and loss spawned by the opioid crisis, marijuana addiction, users say, can seem too innocuous to even merit attention. State health data have not shown a surge of patients seeking addiction treatment.

But Ms. Angell said her habit had left her life dull, like a worn pencil. She lost interest in cross-stitching and other hobbies and felt like she had to smoke before going to the movies or to dinner.

Ms. Angell still supports legalization. But she and other heavy users say the risks of marijuana dependence are real, and are being overlooked as medical and recreational marijuana spread to 34 states. While legalization efforts failed this year in states including New Jersey and New York, Illinois last week became the 11th state to legalize recreational marijuana.

“There’s a real denial,” Ms. Angell said. “It’s a very subtle, subtle addiction.”

Planting and Busts

There’s a new kind of planting season in Pueblo County, home to wide acres of pastureland and green chile fields that elected officials want to remake as the Napa Valley of legal weed.

Law-enforcement officials say that legalization has also created fertile soil for black-market cultivations that pop up in basements. Legalization advocates said that regulating marijuana would starve cartels and illegal marijuana trafficking. But some officials say it has made the problem worse.

VERY LONG ARTICLE CONTINUES ...

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

During her decade in national politics, Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand has been profiled, ad nauseam, by any number of very important publications: The New Yorker, New York Magazine (a couple times), Vogue, The New York Times.

But her 2012 interview with Self magazine, three years into her Senate tenure, is among the most compelling and useful texts for the Gillibrand close-reader. In a span of 599 words, the senator manages to ruminate on fitness tips (her 40-pound postpartum weight loss being the ostensible reason for the story), touch on the difficulties of being a working mother, name-drop several across-the-aisle friendships, and plug, in the most deft of humblebrags, her tireless spirit: “I approached losing weight the same way I’ve approached any other challenge throughout my life: I figured out exactly what I needed to do to succeed and dove in. I was determined.” Through Self, Gillibrand was cleverly reaching beyond snoozy news stories to a voting public that would perhaps remember a young senator who talked food-journaling and breastfeeding.

But the interview also offers an oblique insight into Gillibrand’s ever so determined and calculating rise in Democratic politics: At the time, Gillibrand had a standing weekly squash date with Sen. Al Franken. Yet five years later, she was the first Democratic senator to call for Franken to resign, and became, by no accident, the face of a movement to clean House (as it were) of harassers in public office.

No one was off the table, including — or perhaps especially — political patrons. Gillibrand said Bill Clinton, husband of the woman whose Senate seat she inherited, should have resigned from office. That led Clintonworld capo Philippe Reines to tweet, among other things, “Over 20 yrs you took the Clintons’ endorsements, money, and seat. Hypocrite. Interesting strategy for 2020 primaries. Best of luck.”

But Gillibrand’s appetite for biting the hands that feed her might actually be just what brings her success in the Democrats’ all-but-free-for-all scramble for leadership. She sniffed out the direction of the party months, even years ago, and has been tacking hard to the left ever since. She is attuned to the base, fluent in the new mediums of activism and, perhaps most importantly, knows how to spin. Who is Kirsten Gillibrand and what does she want? The latter is easy to answer: She likely wants to be president.1 But the former — who exactly is this woman whose moment it is we’re all living through — takes a bit more to parse.

The Gillibrand biography has, at this point in her career, reached a calcified, rote state that is particularly advantageous to politicians: maximum schmaltz, minimum actual insight. Generally, what you’re meant to take away from a Gillibrand bio paragraph in a profile is this: raised in regular old America; strong female role models growing up (including a grandmother who seemed to be Albany’s own LBJ); driven; Dartmouth; fancy lawyer (but let’s not linger on that too long); loves her kids; loves God; loves working across the aisle.

She has been charged in print on not one, but two occasions with being less-than-reflective.

The New Yorker called her “not given to soul-searching,” while New York called her “not inclined toward introspection.” FiveThirtyEight is neither given nor inclined to say much more than that Gillibrand might just be well media-trained, or perhaps she’s the kind of person who really does just plunge ahead. Just a political animal with a goal in mind, as she told the good people of Self.

She’s sensed the identity politics vehicle of the era, and has settled into the driver’s seat for a long haul.

At her essence, Gillibrand would seem to be not an ideologue, but an operator. In order to win she has evolved her positions, changed her mind … flip-flopped, in less polite terms. She used to have an “A” grade from the NRA, when she represented a conservative upstate district in the House, and she was against protections for sanctuary cities. One New York immigration group, incensed by her 2009 appointment to the Senate, issued a press release noting “she strongly supported throwing more resources toward ineffective border enforcement but appeared to oppose any path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants.” Progressive members of New York’s congressional delegation were so incensed by her appointment, they threatened to run against her.

In 2017, things are different. Gillibrand supports a path to citizenship, and has called Trump’s border wall a “hurtful, terrible policy that will never work.” In 2016, she wept in an interview while discussing her former stance on guns. She has voted against Trump’s positions more often than any other senator and is the sole member to vote against every one of the president’s Cabinet nominees. Gillibrand is a co-sponsor of Bernie Sanders’s single-payer health care bill, widely seen as a new Democratic presidential litmus test. In the House, where she served from 2007 to 2009, she was among the least liberal members of the Democratic caucus, ranking 209th out of 241. But in the Senate, she has skewed left. In the last Congress, she was the seventh most liberal member of the 46-person Democratic caucus.

So what to make of this impressive litany of flip-flops, her ease in changing her mind? It would appear that Gillibrand is a Democrat above all else. As the party has shifted left, so has she.

In other words, she is good at politics, if by politics we mean sensing the direction of the populace, capturing their sentiments in rhetoric, turning that rhetoric into votes, fundraising off those votes, gaining power and popularity, running for re-election, winning, and doing it all over again.

And the membership of the Democratic Party has, after all, gotten a whole lot more liberal during Gillibrand’s time in office, a trend that is only likely to continue. In 2008, according to Pew, 41 percent of Democrats called themselves “moderate” and 33 percent said they were “liberal.” By 2015, the ideological balance had flipped in the party, with 42 percent of Democrats calling themselves “liberal” and 38 percent “moderate.”

As of 2015, 49 percent of millennial Democrats identified as “liberal,” meaning that it’s smart politics to evolve left. Gillibrand is on to something. When people write that it is Gillibrand’s moment, it largely has to do with her capitalizing on the #MeToo movement to call out harassers. (After Trump’s taunting tweet, for instance, her office sent out a fundraising email.) But Gillibrand has been at the political fore of feminism’s resurgence for years. Well before this year, she made waves advocating for changes to the way the military prosecutes sexual assault, and she has introduced a paid family leave bill every year for the past five years.

She’s sensed the identity politics vehicle of the era, and has settled into the driver’s seat for a long haul. A recent poll showed that 64 percent of Democrats thought that sexual harassment was a very serious problem in the country, and 86 percent of women college graduates thought it represented a serious problem in society. Should Gillibrand run for president, that group, which continues to lean ever more Democratic, would be an important constituency.

And while many public figures are tone deaf on Twitter or have fallen victim to equivocating on behalf of allies (as Nancy Pelosi has), Gillibrand understands the moral absolutism required to survive in the Twitter age. “I think when we start having to talk about the differences between sexual assault and sexual harassment and unwanted groping, you are having the wrong conversation,” she said at a press conference calling for Franken to resign. “You need to draw a line in the sand and say none of it is OK. None of it is acceptable.” Polls showed that about half of Democrats thought Franken should leave.

So if her 2020 viability as a candidate is attached to the cultural reckoning over harassment and women’s empowerment, would Gillibrand still face the challenges Hillary Clinton had as a female candidate?

Any election she’s in will feature gendered lines of attack, but Gillibrand’s advantages go back to the kind of assured wielding of soft power she showed in that Self magazine interview. A generation younger than Clinton, Gillibrand has had the luxury of refining her power, allowing it to reside not just in the Senate chamber, but also in the facts of her womanhood. Iron ladies aren’t entirely in vogue; relatability is. And the senator from New York has made her empathy something central to her persona — it might have even helped her get her current job. Then-Gov. David Paterson told The New Yorker that she was a great comfort to him after an “SNL” parody centering around his legal blindness. “I’ve never mentioned to her really why I picked her, but that incident played a role,” he said.

Empathy might have helped her rise in politics, but it’s that operator’s sense that has likely helped keep her in it. In the last week of a hard-fought 2006 election to Congress, a police report about a domestic violence incident involving Gillibrand’s Republican opponent surfaced. Gillibrand, New York Magazine later noted, “has never denied that her campaign was the source of the leak despite being asked about it several times. She defeated Sweeney by six points.”

Politics can be a nasty line of work, and Kirsten Gillibrand is good at politics. Maybe that’s all a person needs to make their moment.

[lanadelreyfiles-blog]

Lana Del Rey: “I've burned all the bridges for music” Teenager, Lana Del Rey was a daredevil. She remembers it on Lust for Life, a new album where her sovereign voice offers the widest gap, an intense collaboration with The Weeknd to a peaceful ballad with Sean Lennon. Interview by JD Beauvallet.

— You haven’t released anything since Honeymoon in 2015. How do you know or feel when you are ready for a new album? My problem is not to begin, it is to stop. Even when I think I am done with an album I continue to create, I always want to add one more song, and again one more. If I am not occupied with mixing in the end of the creation of an album, I continue to write. For example, two songs from the new album were composed during the finalizing of the predecessor. I can’t stop myself from working, I adore being in the studio, it makes me feel good. It has been like that for five years in the same place, in Los Angeles, where I work with the same small equipment at the studio of producer Rick Nowels. We spend our life there, as a gang. — So this means you have never known the fear of a blank sheet? It was a fear which overwhelmed me before I started to record real records. It was very present during the period before my success when I recorded simply for my own pleasure, when I wrote only for myself. I had the certainty that inspiration was gonna slip away and it was like that regularly, sometimes I was incapable of composing for six months.  But for 10 years now, I find inspiration easily – or it finds me. I have learned to be stimulated by it. Especially refusing to be lonely, I meet friends, I observe what is happening without any stress. I use my phone non-stope in the dictation mode, I have recorded countless melodies and words… It’s a bit scary, I must have 700 rough drafts of songs on my phone. I know the experience when a melody pops up in my head, I run towards my phone to record it, even if it is in the middle of the night. A good melody does not knock twice on your door. If you don’t welcome it, it’s gonna show up at another door. For example, during the recordings of Honeymoon, I always heard a melody inside my head which tortured me and which I did not capture. It sounded like the music of the Renaissance… I hummed this melody for months before it ultimately became ‘Terrence Loves You’ (Sings for a long time). — Teenager, you have the reputation of being a dare-devil. How does this express itself nowadays? My challenges are not physical, I take different risks. When I was 18, I drove like I was crazy, I was on sprees for days and nights without sleeping. I was more free, more spontaneous, I didn’t care much for the consequences… I have a lot of responsibilities today, towards my relatives, my partners… I am obligated to, for example, be on time. In the past, I had enough work to do with myself, just to maintain a living, before I could find time to occupy mself with others. In 2017, the risks I take is the level of melodies, my musical choices. But I think I have passed the dare-devil part and I am more of a nerd now (laughs). — What do you mean by ‘musical risks’? The co-existence of different songs on the same album, like the very complex ‘Lust For Life’ with the desert-like ‘Yosemite’, it is not very reasonable. One tries to put me off, one tells me the contrast is too extrem, but I love the two songs too much to exclude one because of the other one. These are the songs which make me life, and more than that, as well: they have some experience. — Have you become more patient the older you got? I did. I allow myself much more free-time nowadays. I can go to the studio at any time, I don’t have the pressure of a deadline anymore. Of the blow, I have let myself go a little with the song ‘Lust For Life’… I have worked on it on multiple days a week for one and a half year. It has passed every stage, it has started with a futuristic and dark vein like Blade Runner. Also, I have decided to return to a radiant Shangri-La like style… After working for some months, Abel (The Weeknd) joined to add his part. This song became my baby, an unmanageable and maleficent baby which made me crazy. I quickly understood that this album would sound like a trip, a mix. — Working with The Weeknd, did you learn new methods to work in the studio? I already once learned that I love to play with the buttons, the reverb, I feel more and more comfortable on the other side of the window. I can pass hours with a sound, it captivated me. Also, I spend time with the console in the studio, it doesn’t seem like working; it’s fun, exciting. I even read technical reviews, I’m a true geek (laughs)… Technically, nowadays, I would be capable of producing for other artists. The real question is, however: Even if I can, should I? Often when I jam with my friends, I can hear how the studio version would sound like. Maybe that’s my future. There is a serious lack of female producers in the music industry! — Your last two albums, ‘Ultraviolence’ and ‘Honeymoon’, were made on the West Coast and were influenced by it. How about ‘Lust For Life’? Four songs on the album reference Los Angeles, but the mood and aesthetic are definitely not West Coast like. I drove myself to remove this blurry, dreamy atmosphere. Songs like ‘Tomorrow Never Came’ and ‘Yosemite’ pick up the sounds of 70s folk, and if I would have to create an album concept in a day, it would surround the legendary Laurel Canyon particularly.   — One of the strong songs on the album is called ‘God Bless America’. How do you feel about the US nowadays? Around me, in the artistic milieu, we all share the same feeling of uncertainty, of fear, and the talk which arises. Women the subject of this song, are the most affected, the most referred to by the arrival of Trump. I have written this song prior to the big marches which seemed inevitable to happen. This rhetorical hate is not dignified for a head of state. The day after the elections was one of the hardest days in my life. I went to the studio nonetheless, to talk to the others. I want to be informed by reading everything, and see if I can get anything at all. Unfortunately, I can’t find anything that convinces me. — You have tweeted magical recipes to get rid of Trump… It was a joke. I read how witches of the entire world tried to federate at these dates and times to put a spell on Trump, I just relayed. But what is true is that my new videos contain references to magic and occult science. With the more cheerful, less dark side. I know people who converse with what is beyond. My music is in relation to ghosts. But without me.   — Recently, you have re-entered the scene with the festival SXSW. Did you need something after two years in the studio? I’ve played for an hour, it did me good. I feel more comfortable in a small bar in Texas, like on that day, than in a big stadium. It was the best way to start again after leaving the studio. For the first time in ages, I have played the guitar, to Yayo. It was one of my first songs, composed on the guitar back when I wasn’t Lana Del Rey (she got published, without any success, with the name Lizzy Grant in 2008). It’s a piece loaded with my emotions, it threw me back to this period, sent me back how I fantasized, how I felt. I was 20 years old, it was an amazing time in my life, I’ve discovered new people, love, New York… At the same time, I’ve studied philosophy at university, but in my head, it was always: “I am gonna be a singer”. I religiously followed the counsel of the book ‘Think And Grow Rich’ by Napoleon Hill, I have burned all the bridges to engulf in music. Yet, doing the studies of philosophy, I didn’t let myself offer many career possibilities (chuckles)… But it allowed me to ask many questions, which I could not find answers to. However, I’ve met people who are on the same wave-length as me. The philosopher Josiah Royce talked about the clusters of spirit, with their fundamental importance for your fulfillment. Those were the music fans who welcomed me, in the cafes of New York. — Who taught you how to play the guitar? I’ve been obsessed with music, with singing, but I have been very limited in going any further because I couldn’t play any instrument. Before going to university, I’ve taken a gap year and I have gone – by foot -  to my aunt and my uncle Tom at Cold Spring Harbor, a village on Long Island. Tom has showed me seven chords on the guitar. He had a marvelous voice, like James Taylor, but he worked on the Wall Street. Everybody told him he was wasting his talent. Thanks to him and his nylon-guitar course, I’ve finally had a plan for life. He gifted me with freedom… So, following this, I used to go to East-Village or Brooklyn one evening a week to play in the cafes, open-mics, at Sidewalk Café or Lay Lo Lounge… Without really knowing what I was doing, I played one of my songs in public. It was Yayo or a cover of ‘Buckets Of Rain’ by Bob Dylan (she sings loudly)… I’ve had only one reason to go on stage, to say “Listen to me.” — Have you been a disciplined student to your uncle? I have been very studious and disciplined. However, I didn’t make any real progress ever (laughs)… It was truly frustrating for me. It took me so much effort… But I didn’t have any visible talent. — But you already had your voice. I had one of my voices, the low-pitched one. The higher one, I am still working on. For example, on ‘Yosemite’, I sing with a very perched voice, which I haven’t used in years. I was really afraid of leaving this passage in, that my voice was too fragile, that it revealed too much of me… On Honeymoon, I’ve changed the key of four songs because I found them too high and it would’ve forced me to show my vulnerability. Henceforth, depending on how I use my voice, I can take that away or I show it, it offers an enormous liberty. The concert at SXSW, it really was a revelation for me, it allowed me to ask me certain questions. “What kind of genre do I sing? Which family do I belong to? Do I have the right to take some vocal risks onstage?” That was, on that stage in Texas, when I realized that my roots were the pure songwriting, the storytelling. On a smaller scale I have crossed paths with Joan Baez, with her taste for risks. Perhaps for the first time, I didn’t consider what could be expected of me. My songs have too often been a catharsis live…  I couldn’t do more than singing “I, I, I”… It only took me ten years to reach it (laughs). — How do you live the commercial aspect of music? I absolutely trust in my team, who always protect me which makes me feel comfortable. But regarding my debut, from where I came, I’ve lived the marketing like a sacrilege. But nowadays, I am much more relaxed. For example, even if that smile is ironic, I have never openly smiled like in the video of ‘Love’… This smile, it’s a mix of sincere joy and relief… And, well, irony. — Your music is ideal for “cruising” by car. Do you have any memories of long travels with your family and with music which goes along? My dad used to listen constantly to the Beach Boys in the car, to the point where he always wore a Hawaii-shirt, even in December! When I was very little, my parents moved away from New York to live in the mountains of Adirondacks, six hours north of the city. Twice a year, we made a long trip down to Florida, three days by car. I hated the cold of the Adirondacks, I’ve loved this trip, it’s rooted in me. I loved the heat which grew stronger and stronger while we drove through the two Carolina states (North & South Carolina). I remember how my little sister and I snuggled in the back, I dreamed what we would do together once we arrived in Florida. I can still see the restaurants in service stations, the waitresses and the warmth. Once arrived, during these weeks, I never left the ocean. — You drive there still? Since I can’t blend in with the crowd, I don’t go to the women’s demonstrations against Trump. But I am the cab driver for my sister, who otherwise doesn’t have one. I drive a Jaguar Sedan, which is completely crazy. A car from the mother of the easy-family, not necessarily sexy (laughs). The next one is probably going to be a Tesla. I had the chance to meet one of the founders of the company, Elon Music. With my sister, he invited us to visit the seat of SpaceX, I’ve already touched one of these rockets…. But to take off into outerspace, I’ll wait until Elon is on board – the final proof that this technology is safe. I am excited for what we still have to discover. — Speaking of creatures coming from another planet, you recently collaborated with Alex Turner and Miles Kane of the Last Shadow Puppets… (She bursts into laugher and claps her hands) They are truly hilarious, two madmen. They do not live far away from me, in Los Angeles.  I’ve begun to train two evenings a week in the studio of Miles, in the neighborhood of Los Feliz, to play with no goals with the Last Shadow Puppets. Then we go eat dinner together with their girlfriends in ‘La Poubelle’ What a squad! I can’t count the amount of times I’ve ended up on the ground because I was laughing so hard. They are capable of speaking to one another by singing, with improvised lyrics. For example, one evening, I’ve told Miles about the concert of Joan Baez which I attended. He has never heard about her. Alex made up a song on the spot “Miles doesn’t know who Joan Baez is” (she screams)… None is ever safe of their twisted humor. When I first met them, I did have the impression that I met musicians who only live for the music, whose only thoughts are about music. Singing with them is truly invigorating, there is no need to repeat anything, they always find a continuation. — With Miles Kane, can you speak with him about your passion for Liverpool FC? I think my manager Ben would rip my head off if I wouldn’t! Each match is about life or death for him. He took me to the Anfield Stadium, I was really amused on that day… — You told us a few years ago that you spend “a lot of time in (your) head”. Is that still the case? I have opened up to others. But most of the time, I still have that inner dialogue with myself. However, I feel less apart, less different than the others nowadays. I have the impression that I have finally connected to the world. It’s comforting. I have analyzed my life since I was a teenager, with enough detachment. — Do you still have your tattoo on your hand which reads “Trust no one”? (She shows it) I still do, but I am thinking about having it removed. Only because it is very identifying and I aspire to finally melt into the masses. It’s not about the message. Deep inside, I still agree with the message. Lust for Life out July 21st.

[carleyjuel-blog]

I Know Racism Like the Back of My White Hand In regard to what occurred in Charlottesville, Virginia this weekend, I am deeply saddened and angered. I am very sorry for the loss of a young woman who was killed because she was standing up against hatred and bigotry. I refuse to turn a blind eye to these incidents; which would be easy for me to do. I am white and progressive and I know that the polo clad, tiki torch toting neo-nazis do not represent the America that I stand for, however, I refuse to remain silent in this situation. I am very lucky. I sit on a throne of white privilege. I never get denied a job because of my name; hell, I even included a small headshot on one job application. No one has ever crossed the street while encountering me on the sidewalk because they fear for their safety. I glide through airport security receiving nothing but nods and the occasional toiletry inspection. I know that I am not the target of police brutality. I have been in situations where I certainly could, perhaps should, have been arrested and I have not. I walk away with a slap on the wrist, a warning. In Charleston, SC a twenty-five dollar parking ticket is one of the worst of my white grievances. Today I will not say, “This is not my problem.” The men that gathered with swastikas and confederate flags over the weekend shouting hate slogans, such as “You will not replace us” and “White lives matter” are not foreign enemies. They are not even masked! And perhaps if they weren’t enraged, their mouths twisted into snarls, you may even think they looked like your brother, son, coworker, classmate, or one of your more iffy Tinder matches. The terrorist who decided to plow through a group of protesters on Saturday, killing one and injuring many, is a white American man. He had a mother, he had been employed, and he had been educated in the same system as myself. Again these are not foreign enemies. Yet this scene was extremely familiar. Similar attacks have occurred around the world in recent years. In this case, the allegiance was white supremacy and neo-nazism fueled by the same fragile entitlement that led another terrorist to walk into a church and murder nine innocent people just a few years ago. Like the Emauel AME attack, the Charlottesville attack was an act of domestic terrorism, yet the president decided to forgo that definition and describe it as an “egregious display of hatred, bigotry, and violence that’s on many sides.” This is not surprising given his own history of hateful rhetoric that kept him afloat through his election, as well as the fact that there is hesitation to acknowledge that these young, white men are terrorist because of their appearance and the fact that they do not pledge allegiance to Allah. The president missed an important opportunity to speak up against this hatred. Instead he chose to maintain his neutrality. He has, and is, enabling these men to act this way. Now is not the time to be silent. It is very important for me to speak out because I am racist (but I am working on it). I was born and raised on an old tobacco farm in South Carolina. I was exposed to different levels of covert and overt racism in my community. I saw confederate flags proudly waving in front yards, stickered to the bumper of pick-up trucks, and proudly displayed in gun cases. I heard slogans like “the south will rise again” and comments such as, “I never owned a slave, I am tired of being punished for it.” The N word was just another slang word that could be used after briefly glancing around to make sure no “blacks” were close enough to hear. People scoffed about the recognition of Black History Month, they made racist jokes, some would reference the bible to justify their supremacy, and saying things such as “Birds of a feather flock together.” Once at a party, while I was making out with a young black man, someone grabbed a fist full of my hair, jerked me away, and said “Ew Carley, he is black!” No one in my community ever said, “I am a racist” or “I hate black people/Asians/Jews/Mexicans/etc.” I was never the witness to any race related violence, but other than these (hopefully) rare occasions like we saw on Saturday and on web sites where computer screens are used in place of white domed hats, people are not this overt. They mask their racism in ways that are appropriate to their own group, community, and/or family. Their racism may be very subtle- they may laugh at a joke or not condemn a friend or a family member for making an inappropriate remark, or they may be like the little pricks we saw Saturday who are just waiting to pick up their flags and fight. This is where the danger lies in remaining silent- you never know what fire you are fueling, what tiki torch you may be lighting. It is this covert racism, along with the Eurocentric view of the world that has allowed me to be a subtle racist for so long. It is why, in the past I have caught myself thinking when I see an interracial couple, she is so lucky to have married someone white. It is why I have made insensitive jokes. It is why I have feared that every black man I passed on a dark street was going to rape and rob me. It is why I have to continually watch my thinking, correct myself. It is why I work so hard to break down the prejudice in my own mind. Speaking the truth about these matters is the only way to actively work on myself and to change my ways of thinking. It is the personal work that we all have to be doing now! To condemn your white friend, relative, or community member for kissing or dating someone because they are non-white is a form of white supremacy. This condemnation comes from wanting to “keep your race pure.” If there is some way that is not accurate, please explain it to me. To make insensitive jokes, or to laugh when others do so, is just fueling racism. If you want to fly your confederate flag because it is your “heritage” know that now hate is also your heritage. This flag does not only represent your regret for the abolition of slavery but it now identifies you with a terrorist group. If you can argue for these things so strongly you should be able to question them as well. That is what I am asking you to do. I understand these views because for so long they were my truth. And it isn’t easy for the ego to question our views and beliefs. In college I took a Dialogue on Racism course and it changed the way I view the world. On the first day of class I had to participate in a mock debate supporting the right to display the Confederate flag at the South Carolina state house. I breezed through it because I had heard this argument, and at the time I even believed it. My opponent quickly destroyed my privileged view of the topic. After two hours of debating on multiple topics, I realized that I only knew one side of the issues surrounding racism. Several people dropped the class after this first day, most of them being blonde, white, and dressed similar to myself. This class taught me the importance of speaking up, of showing up, and it made me much more comfortable crying in a group setting. These are difficult conversations and realizations but it is necessary that we discuss these things. The easiest thing for white people to do right now would be to sit back and be silent. You have the privilege of turning off the news, your safety is not in jeopardy, you can tuck your children into their beds at night and sleep soundly, because it is very unlikely that they will be victim to a racially fueled hate crime. I fantasize everyday about moving to Portugal and removing myself from the blatant racial injustice of our society, but I know that now is not the time for me to turn away. If one person is oppressed, we all are. We must speak up against racism, we must initiate these conversations, and we must show up. I am angry, but I am hopeful. I was exposed to racism, and for so long I saw it as the norm, but I was also taught to love. It is this love that makes me feel convicted to share my truth with you. Martin Luther King Jr once said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Martin Luther King Jr also said, “"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." I am much too young for my life to end. We have to start where we are. Writing about these issues is obligatory for me. It is not an option, but I know that I must show up as well. I am part of a local group called Showing Up for Social Justice in Charleston, SC, chapters of these groups are located throughout the states. If you want to talk about any of these issues you can contact me.

[dandymeowth]

Various screencaps of REGs telling people they can’t identify as queer and/or that queer is not an identity or isn’t real, all taken from this post. This is provided as part of evidence that, yes, acephobes/discoursers are absolutely saying we can’t be or use queer. Also, hey, check out how many of them are transmisogynistis, radfems, biphobes, transphobes, etc! and use a lot of anti-progressive/anti-sj language (like “identity politics”). It’s almost as if their rhetoric is related...

I have removed the REG usernames in the following captions to avoid their interacting with this post, and to slightly no-platform them. Anyway, they read:

bigballofwibblywobbly: Well you created an argument about something that wasn’t being talked about. I was talking about individuals who don’t identify as anything but queer.

Not saying we should apply it to the whole group. But you’re a terf so it all makes sense.

[REG/radfem 1]: queer isn’t an orientation??? its a reclaimed slur like god i love being a part of the lesbian gay bisexual transgender reclaimed slur for homosexual community. you’re an ace inclusionist ofc you want to reclaim slurs never used against you and think queer is a separate orientation. the lgbt community will never be the queer community or the ‘everyone that doesn’t completely conform to heterosexuality’ community lol

[REG 2]:  Yeah queer isn’t really a coherent identity in and of itself. I see “sapphic” being used in much the same way now. Like I understand that figuring out who you are is difficult and people may want to use words that are sort of? Vague and noncommittal? But queer quite honestly does not mean anything in the sense that as it’s own identity it says nothing really about who you are attracted to or your gender identity. It’s [post cut off at this point]

[REG 3]: That and its fucking vague as fuck? What does it even mean? So many non-LGBT people claimed that they’re LGBT bc they’re “queer”, when they’re just cishet polyamorous people or cishet kinksters or cishet aces or cishet aros or cis aroaces like…. that slur isn’t for u. And people who are LGBT but identify as q*eer are still LGBT? Why do u need a slur in the acronym if you’re either L G B or T? What’s the point? What does it add?

[REG 3]: Then you’d go under the bi umbrella Identity politics are so ridiculous jfc u don’t experience some new form of oppression and therefore need a community based around it just because you are mga but don’t like the label bisexual for urself.

[REG/radfem 4]:  “Queer” could mean that you are a guy who uses nail polish or that you have a turtle pet.What’s the point of this word?What does it represent?What’s your axis of oppression?What experiences do you share in common?What’s the fucking point of identifying as “queer” other than to pretend that you’re special and oppressed?

feminismandmedia: I love how you say that people who are attracted to multiple genders are pretending to be special and oppressed.

Fuck off you twit.

[REG/radfem 4]: Sexual attraction is about sex not gender.There are only 2 sexes so you’re either heterosexual, homosexual or bisexual.It’s not that deep, trying to give a special name to your sexuality doesn’t make you opressed and it’s actually disrespectful to actually opressed people.

[REG/radfem 5]: You shouldn’t be identifying as q*eer freely without consequence because it’s a slur.

[REG/radfem 4]: Why are you oppressed?What’s the base of your oppression?How is society systematically aimed against you?If you’re actually oppressed why do you use such an ambigous and nebulous terminology with no concrete meaning to describe your community?Since it makes it harder to acknowledge you as an oppressed group? “Fam. I like all genders. I like dick and vagina too. I’m queer too” You’re bi, congrats, you may be affected by homophobia(oppression) if you date a same sex partner.“Oppression” is a strong and assertive word, you can’t just throw it around.

bigballofwibblywobbly: My god I hate TERFs. Fall off a bridge. Thanks.

Seriously? Do we now have a quota of oppression to fill? You want every dirty detail? You disgust me.

Also I’m not bisexual thanks.

[REG/radfem 4]: “Do we now have a quota of oppression to fill” Yes it is called being oppressed.I said that the person who said they liked dicks and vaginas is bisexual, not you. You hate us cause we’re right and you know it, I would hate us if I were you too. Just bc someone called you she instead of zir in the supermarked once doesn’t mean you’re oppressed Bethy, get your shit together.

bigballofwibblywobbly: I love how they erase my queerness to fit their argument.

[REG/radfem 4]: What am I erasing? Lmao, what’s “queerness”?You still haven’t answered what it means, bc it means nothing, it is a word made for straight kids feel special, a homobhobic slur actually.

bigballofwibblywobbly: My pal. I already said. I like all genders.

[REG/radfem 4]: …so you’re bisexual therefore only oppressed if you date a same sex partner like I said.

bigballofwibblywobbly: Wow. That’s some nice biphobia you have too. Bisexual people don’t become straight if they are in a relationship with the other gender.I’m not bisexual anyways.

(Also on that last one, calling being nonbinary a white thing? lol)

bigballofwibblywobbly: Well guess I don’t belong in the community. Congrats your gatekeeping has cut out people who like multiple genders. Top notch. Really.

[REG 6]: Aren’t there other words for liking multiple genders other than a slur?

[REG 7]: Um OP polysexual falls under the acronym without using a slur and is an umbrella term for multi-gender attraction….

Bonus under cut.

The following cap is a separate post made by a REG that is capped for no-platforming purposes and to prevent their interaction. It was shoved into the ace positivity tags because discoursers seriously just straight up hate ace people and don’t want them to exist. 

The post is about how “real” LGBT+ people hate the word queer and don’t identify with it except as a comeback, implying anyone who identifies with or uses it regularly is actually not LGBT+ and instead one of “the mogais”. It compares people reclaiming queer to white people using the n-slur and neurotypicals using the r-slur.

The post uses the phrase “cishets in denial” and I honestly think that truly encapsulates exactly how discoursers are seeing being LGBT+. 

It fits right along with that “if you are attracted to the opposite sex you’re not lgbt” post. 

It fits with the idea that more people are identifying as LGBT+ because it’s “trendy” and are actually fakes and liars, an idea spread and supported by cishets, truscum, anti-sj, radfems, etc. This comes as no surprise as MOGAI was coined by a nonbinary person, and that has been the driving force behind the hatred for it.

It also fits with how “sga” is pulled from conversion therapy because that’s literally how the people behind and supportive of the concept of conversion therapy look at being LGBT+: that it’s a phase, you’re just jumping on the bandwagon, you’re in denial, this isn’t the “real” you, etc. 

The post reads:

[REG 8]: Lol, seriously? There is no better way to show that MOGAI is made up of mostly cishets in denial than how heatedly they fight to use the word “qu**r”. If they paid fucking attention, they’d know that actual members of LGBT don’t really want to be called that, that most LGBT folks only use it to fight the balance of power that qu**r causes and that they aren’t going to cast away the history of the slur just because it’s supposedly a trendy umbrella term.

It’s the same way white people whine about their “right” to use “n*gga” when black people say no, or NT people claim “freedom of speech” when calling anyone and everyone “r*tard*d” despite decent human beings explaining why that’s fucked up.It’s so damn annoying…

danni-rants: And this is in ace positivity why again

queerautism: You heard it here first folks. Everyone who fought to reclaim Queer as an act of rebellion and empowerment… was actually cishet all along. Same for neurodivergent people who can’t be more specific than ‘queer’ about their identity. And everyone who keeps trying to turn it into a positive term and build a community around it. Also my nonbinary pan ace ass apparently lol

Simply Amazing.

[fabulizemag]

Navigating my complicated relationships with Beyonce and Michelle Obama

New Post has been published on https://fabulizemag.com/navigating-my-complicated-relationships-with-beyonce-and-michelle-obama/

Navigating my complicated relationships with Beyonce and Michelle Obama

Even my Superheroes have weaknesses…

I remember the first time I saw Destiny’s Child on TV. I’m an 80s baby so girl groups weren’t new to me but there was something different about Destiny’s Child. They embodied the soulful voices of girl groups of yesteryear while appealing to mainstream media as En Vogue had done—plus they were young. They weren’t a niche girl group that was attached to a specific music trend, they were setting the trends.

Destiny’s Child unapologetically became part of American’s English lexicon with words like bugaboo and bootylicious. Even with the changing of the group members and their internal drama, Beyoncé handled herself like a true professional and that’s nothing short than admirable.

But isn’t that typical of Black women? When we are put under pressure we make diamonds? You can rightfully argue it’s a hurtful cliché used negatively against us that sets us up for seemingly unattainable goals that nobody else has to abide by. But that ruthless, passionate work ethic is what I and many others love about Beyoncé. She consistently beats the odds as a Black woman and she’s that chick.

That’s why my relationship with her is so complicated and it’s not just with her, it’s the former First Lady Michelle Obama, too. Two international renowned Black women who undoubtedly will go down in history for their achievements and both who have been criticized unfairly by whiteness and racist pundits are not without their flaws.

But I don’t like talking about my heroes’ flaws under a white gaze because their flaws aren’t up for them to analyze because their criticism can’t be racially unbiased. For me, my criticisms( at least, I think) seem to be layered. It’s hard for me not to want to mention them when I discuss their husbands’ actions because, in my heart, I don’t feel they are unaware of their husbands’ plans. I refuse to believe these smart and successful businesswomen aren’t protecting their families’ interests when their men make these questionable and in some instances, regressive declarations.

But Patriarchy?

Yeah, patriarchy. Patriarchy is trash. I’ve toyed with the concept that for Beyoncé, patriarchy is a major hindrance to her personally and professionally. For the sake of argument, let’s say Jay-Z did initially engage with Beyoncé when she was 18-years-old, he was already about 30 and no matter how successful she was at the time it’s never a good combination for older men to date younger women. Their intentions are usually rooted in grooming young women; molding them and having the ability to manipulate them emotionally and mentally (which to some extent he did when he admitted he cheated on her) paired with the fact she’s witnessed her own mother sacrifice and tolerates similar behaviors from her father. I’ve taken all this into consideration when it comes to analyzing Beyonce from a Black womanist lens but none of that can really explain her branding aesthetic of social justice.

If she didn’t use social justice in her work, yall would call her a coon!

Not necessarily. During the Civil Rights Era, a lot of artists used news and politics as a motivator and backdrop for their art. You can listen to many Black artists between the 60s and 70s and find numerous records that became the soundtrack for what we know identify as the soulful sound of liberation. Not every artist was an activist and that’s ok and my point. You can make music for the people if you wish but it’s a different ballgame when you believe you are the voice of said people.

I don’t hate Beyonce because she’s a multi-millionaire. I believe she’s worked extremely hard to be where she is in her life and I hope she’s happy. However, as a millionaire, it’s impossible for her as a brand to fundamentally be “for the people”. Wealthy people are never for the (poor or working-class) people and have no real interest in liberation because liberation, especially Black liberation involves eating the rich. As the poor, marginalized and working-class culture shifts, so does the identity of what is socially responsible and what is not. The wealthy need the poor to exist for them to remain wealthy. Without the poor and working-class, who would attend Beyonce’s concerts? Who would buy her merchandise? When was the last time you seen wealthy influencers rocking Ivy Park? That’s no shade at all but it is the truth.

I wish for Beyonce to use her position and power and flip shit upside-down. Now that’s she’s secured her seat at the table I want her to flip that muthafucka over and open the doors for everyone else and not just a select few. When powerful women marry and are involved with powerful men who have questionable actions as they relate to marginalized people, you have to ask yourself, are these women complicit or are they putting the batteries in their men’s back?

I love what Beyoncé represents for Black girls in media. I love how she embraces hood aesthetics, social media conversations and creates art in a visual and musical form we can amp ourselves up with. My biggest (and honestly, probably my only complaint) is Beyonce’s tendency to use social media activism as a branding tool. Yes, I’m aware the Carters have donated money ( as they should) to Black Lives Matter and other families who’ve been victims to state sanction violence. I’m aware they’ve donated more money than I’ve ever made in a year ( and again, they should) but the idea that Beyoncé is a spokesperson for the poor or working-class Black woman or can relate to everyday struggles is, in my opinion, far-fetched and disingenuous. As long as the Black wealthy push the pull-up-your-own-bootstraps and coddle whiteness, they can never truly represent me.

However, the difference between Beyoncé and the former First Lady and even Oprah is that Beyonce is more likely to evolve— maybe. I always say that Black people are fundamentally conservative. White supremacy is ingrained into our DNA generations deep. Like many of you, I was proud to vote for Obama, twice! In his eight years in office, I saw the Obamas get treated with disrespect, endure racism domestically and nationally and be judged by standards they wouldn’t give the current joker in the office now if their lives depended on it. Michelle Obama was easily my favorite of the couple; she’s smarter than her husband, tall, beautiful and confident. I watched politicians, pundits and white feminists try to break her spirit and all she did was flip her perfect-coiffed hair at them. Who could have asked for a better first lady?

But as racial tensions steadily rose and the opportunity to stand for the working class and marginalized presented itself, Obama didn’t always take it. In all fairness, he had constant pushback from republicans in congress and they threatened him with impeachment every day. For a while, I reasoned with their lack of actions on certain issues. Let’s face it, you can’t be a left-leaning president and you definitely can’t be a left-leaning Black president, so he picked and chose his battles. But I started to feel the excuses I was making for the Obamas were biting me in the ass when Obama would get on TV and say certain things using certain lingo and speech patterns to essentially talk-down to poor Black people. When Obama told Black folks to call their cousin Pookie to go out and vote, he basically reiterated what white liberals do to Black voters; put the results of voting on the marginalized population in the country.

Ok, but what does this have to do with Michelle? When Michelle released her now New York Times Bestselling memoir, everybody and their mama went to buy the book and if they were lucky enough, they were able to see her in-person on her book tour. Some of the passages from her memoir come straight from Black respectability playbook of middle-class Blacks who feel they work harder than poor Blacks without acknowledging their access to resources. Michelle stated that racism and racial inequality are psychological and we have to help others overcome. That’s bullshit.

It’s bullshit because Black people didn’t invent racism; just like women didn’t invent sexism. It’s not up to the marginalized party to help the oppressor overcome their bigotry. In the United States, Black people have been writing about racial equality since they could write and the path to ending racism lies within white people. However, when Black people achieve certain access to privileges, they assume all Black people can do the same. For all transparency reasons, I grew up in a middle class household. Both are my parents are college-educated and my father had access to generational wealth. My experiences growing up looks different from others who did not have the resources I had. It took me being financially vulnerable as an adult to understand how the system treats poor people even when you are trying to help yourself. When you grow up in middle-class Black America you are reminded daily that you aren’t like other Blacks and anti-Black rhetoric is a foundation of distinguishing yourself from others.

If you are still here reading, thank you because I went in on a rant, but if you are still here reading I want to make it clear that I can appreciate these women for what they mean to Black people as far as representation goes. But we can’t be satisfied with the surface-level representation. We have to do more than root for everyone who is Black. We have to encourage and bring wealthy Black people to task beyond the aesthetic of Black liberation. Wearing berets and quoting our historical leaders in a bop isn’t enough. We are facing dark and dangerous times and if our Black wealthy won’t condemn all forms of white supremacy, they might as well take a picture with them. You know, like Mrs. Obama does with former President Bush.

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