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southeastasianists · 3 years

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According to the World Health Organisation, the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in the Philippines on 20 January 2020. More than a year after, there are now more than 600,000 confirmed cases, nearly 13,000 deaths and a surge of 5000 new cases in one day. Approximately 41 percent of the total number of confirmed cases are from the National Capital Region (NCR), where Manila is located. The death toll from Duterte’s Drug War since July 2016 ranges from a conservative estimate of 8,663 people according to the UN Human Rights Council, to possibly thrice as high based on statements from the Philippine Commission on Human Rights. The official record from the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA), the agency implementing Duterte’s Drug War, is at 6,011 deaths from July 2016 to December 2020.

Alarmingly, the national pandemic response is even being harnessed in the service of the Drug War with extrajudicial killings registering a 50 percent increase between April and July 2020. Both COVID-19 related deaths and extrajudicial killings linked with the War on Drugs have been popularly represented by the Duterte government as disconnected from, or outside of, all the range and repertoires of repression at the state’s disposal.

Yet prior to the pandemic, Filipinos were already primed for and inoculated to mass loss of life and human rights violations, precisely because of the militarism that has been the logic of security under Duterte’s rule. We can understand everyday life in the Philippines as part of an ongoing continuum of violence, from the first day that Duterte launched his war on drugs, to the present militarised response to the health crisis. The Philippines was already suffering a ‘murderous plague’ which made death paradoxically both an abstract and visceral reality for many Filipinos, even before the disease outbreak.

It matters, therefore, that we constantly articulate how tragedy and mass loss of life are routine and logical outcomes under Duterte and why this government must be made accountable for the murderous plague it has authored. Filipinos must maintain their demands for better leadership, crisis response and management despite the persistent gaslighting by the President, his spokespersons, and enabling members of his regime. The forthcoming May 2022 national elections have prompted discussions on the importance of leadership among specific sectors mobilised by the question, ‘pangulo’ or ‘pang-gulo’ (‘president’ or ‘nuisance’)? At the highest level of power, does the Philippines have someone who leads, or someone who self-servingly obstructs recovery and fuels division?

Drug war and the limits of militarised security

Duterte’s default approach has been to wield the military and police at every crisis. However, this approach generates its own crises because the truncated lens of militarism comes up inadequate in addressing the multidimensional root causes and consequences to much of the global security challenges we are facing today. Based on the best available science, and what COVID-19 is demonstrating globally, state leaders must be able to address a drastically changed security landscape where the heightened intensity and frequency of extreme events will threaten all areas of human life and ecosystems. What has been undeniable is that leaders disastrously fall short of managing crises—whether in the context of armed conflicts, disasters and climate change, or health pandemics—when they do not incorporate a range of perspectives and expertise.

Duterte’s military and police-driven approach to every national decision-making process is exclusionary. He has sought to frame Filipinos, especially frontline health workers who express their discontent, as ‘enemies’ who do nothing but complain. Because he reproduces and invests in militarising crises, he cannot but interpret differing views as an existential threat to his power. The Philippines therefore has a leader that forecloses spaces for civic deliberation and participation at a time when these are most needed.

The drug war has gradually created the institutional and rhetorical foundations that enable other forms of violence: the use of Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 and ‘red-tagging’ to silence opposition; the compounded suffering of internally displaced communities as resources are diverted away from the forgotten crises in Marawi and Tacloban; and ongoing violence and development aggression against Indigenous peoples and environmental activists. Duterte’s war on drugs has been argued to satisfice the stages of genocide.

Death and disinformation due to ‘infodemic’

The pandemic is also mediated by a pervasive climate of disinformation in the Philippines. The deadly combination of militarism and disinformation has been effective in fragmenting and eliminating political opposition, and in state repression more generally. Over the past years, Philippine democracy has been constantly threatened and undermined by the rapid and increased production and dissemination of misinformation and disinformation. A study has shown how insidious, partisan and curated content is produced and circulated by “architects of networked disinformation”, including influencers, online celebrities, politicians in-house team’s, and marketing companies. These players have weaponized the internet to support and bolster the operations of Duterte’s administration in designing and implementing a political and militarist agenda.

An evident outcome of weaponizing social media platforms is the silencing of dissent. Paid trolls, bot armies and a range of fake news websites run by supporters of Duterte have targeted and harassed individuals and institutions. For instance, in 2018, Maria Ressa, the chief executive of Rappler, was the target of state-sponsored “patriotic trolling”, misogynistic comments and hate speech. Meanwhile, the Philippine government attempted to revoke Rappler’s license in 2018. Notably in 2020, Philippine lawmakers rejected the franchise renewal for ABS-CBN, a Philippine’s broadcasting company also critical of Duterte’s governance.

Misinformation and disinformation also impact the lives of ordinary Filipinos in national and transnational contexts. A report shows that Filipinos spend an average of 4 hours and 15 minutes each day on different social media channels. These online platforms have also been used to sustain ties among overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) and their families. For the ten million Filipinos spread across the world, social media and mobile applications have become valuable tools to remain connected to home. However, these channels serve as key sites for producing and disseminating fake information. For example, a study on the 2019 Philippine election shows how OFWs are targeted by online communities that disseminate falsehoods and manipulative content.

More recently, an ‘infodemic’ has emerged in tandem with the COVID-19 pandemic. The spread of hoaxes and conspiracy theories about COVID-19 and attacks on the credibility of the World Health Organization (WHO) re-victimises all those who have died in the pandemic and the families they have left behind. In a digital environment muddled by falsehoods and inaccuracies, people are afforded narratives that only validate their own pre-existing beliefs and affirm experiences that reflect their immediate or narrow environment. This makes it all the more possible for those in positions of power and privilege to detach (and stay out of touch) from the harsh realities millions of Filipinos are facing.

The use of digital technologies at a time of crisis can stir heightened ambivalence among Filipinos. On the one hand, greater online connectivity affords the maintenance of intimate ties transnationally. However, it is the same connectivity that can potentially be used to distort understanding of social welfare, human rights, and personal and familial futures through the lens of fear. Akin to the pandemic, widespread disinformation is slowly but effectively killing mutual trust and civic participation in Philippine society. It does this by eroding Filipinos’ access to reliable information and their right to thrive in democratic spaces. Crucially, disinformation hinders Filipinos from seeing the structural inequalities, marginalisation and exploitation that implicates us all. There is neither one person nor a “silver bullet” that can magically vanquish—in six months—what has been built over decades by political and economic systems in the Philippines. It will take care, collective action and mutual responsibility.

Stop the killings; stop the strongman

Crises can provide windows of opportunity to overhaul ossified harms done by this government, and repair what good is left. Deaths and killings may be mundane now but they do not have to be acceptable: not now and not in the future. There is a need to develop antidotes that can reclaim, secure and protect democracy. As the COVID-19 pandemic intersects with Duterte’s murderous plague, Filipinos are faced with clear lessons that can be brought to bear in the next election.

First, there is no path to “rapid” recovery and it takes inclusive governance and leadership to realise long-lasting and “crisis-proof” reconstruction. Moving forward, Filipinos might be more sceptical and suspicious of leaders promising to do everything without demanding shared responsibilities and recognising diverse expertise from the Filipino public. Globally, we are also seeing youth-led protests both from afar such as in the US, and closer in neighbouring Thailand and Myanmar, against police and military violence as well as outdated styles and systems of militarised authority. While their rule may seem inescapable at present, young people are taking the lead in sending a clear message: the myth of the ‘strongman’ is no more.

Second, the killings were indirectly enabled by the political fragmentation and societal division accelerated by digital technologies. What proved most effective in stifling collective action was the framing of political engagements in terms of “camp” politics and loyalties—us versus them / DDS versus Dilawan—instead of under a unifying identity of “the Filipino people.” Duterte’s success in fulfilling an initial populist desire for a ‘strongman leader’ is an outcome of previous failures in crisis response under the Aquino government. Rather than see Duterte and Aquino as oppositional, we need to see the violent continuity between the two different models of leadership.

Third, the rise and resilience of Duterte’s strongman rule is connected with his leveraging of underlying sexism, misogyny, class and regional prejudices in Philippine society. Clearly, Duterte’s misogyny is no laughing matter. Rape jokes are neither humorous nor harmless. His speeches form part of, and feed, societal violence. Finally, the path to stopping the killings will be long and difficult, but necessary. The governance challenges ahead will be more complex and difficult. An indispensable step in this direction is recognising and healing from collective grief on a transnational scale. Then the task of refocusing energies toward building new leaders and political agendas can begin.

#Southeast Asia #Philippines #Covid-19 #Politics #Rodrigo Duterte

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deniigi · 4 years

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anyways the discord has fucked me up 6 ways to hell.

Have some Sam/Ned/Peter/Johnny/MJ

Because we couldn’t pick a ship and we discovered Sam/Ned, and now we’re all devastated by it.

Title: Anenome’s an Enemy

Summary: The polycule welcomes Sam into its ranks.

Notes: So the polycule consists of Ned, Peter and MJ who are all romantically involved and established. Peter is also in an on/off relationship with Johnny, but Johnny is just friends with Ned and MJ. Oh. And these are Inimitable Verse characters.

It started with Ned and MJ reading the texts from the groupchat in order to psychoanalyze Peter’s teammates.

This was not new.

Peter let them read the bullshit fairly regularly. It was only fair that they got to see what he was giggling about.

What was new was Ned asking who BT was.

Peter had thought that they’d met at Matt and Foggy’s wedding, but Ned couldn’t remember Sam being there, and, to be fair, Peter had noticed that Sam had an extraordinary ability to blend himself into the background when there were multiple people having a conversation.

MJ barely remembered Sam, too, for that reason precisely, so Peter asked Sam if he could send a selfie ‘for the home team to admire.’

Sam said that he wasn’t comfortable with that.

It was super surprising.

Peter apologized for asking and Sam waved it off, saying that he just didn’t know how to take selfies for anyone besides his sister and friends and he just didn’t want to screw it up. Which was code for ‘I am actually really fucking uncomfortable with this whole thing; please don’t ask me why I’m saying no.’

Peter dropped it.

MJ didn’t forget about it, though, and so he had to explain that Blindspot was a little camera shy.

Ha.

Get it?

Because Blindspot?

Ned told him that it was kind of weird that Sam didn’t want to take a picture for him when he was cool taking them for his other friends; MJ said that it was probably because he didn’t want her and Ned to see his face and Ned relented a little bit.

“We’ve already met him, though?” he pointed out. “Surely that was worse in this scenario?”

Well. In Sam’s world, it was probably better, actually, Peter thought. In real life, he could smile and duck out of sight and stay out of range. A picture was forever.

“He’s probably got a reason,” MJ continued. “Or his folks were probably those ‘put it on the internet and it never goes away’ types.”

Uh.

Probably?

“I think,” Peter said quietly, because he didn’t actually know—because Sam never actually said the words out loud—“That he might be undocumented?”

He got two sets of eyes his way immediately.

“Oh,” Ned said. “That’s completely understandable then.”

“Yikes,” MJ said. “Does he need help? I’ve got some stuff saved if he needs legal stuff.”

No. No, Peter thought that Sam probably knew more about his situation than any of them did. He knew what kind of help he needed and he might take offense at links or brochures passed his way, so he shrugged and told the others that Sam probably had the situation under control.

The other two dropped the subject after saying that the next time Sam was in the area, they should all get dinner or something.

Peter extended this invite to Sam and got back a simple ‘thanks 🙂’.

Sam didn’t talk to him for the rest of the week.

At about week two of radio silence in the chat and in personal texts, Peter asked Matt if he’d overstepped.

Matt didn’t answer the question. What he said was that, as far as he could tell, Sam was okay at work and in their training. He noted that Sam went through cycles of being very open and chatty and then withdrawing into himself for days and weeks at a time. He left it at that.

He didn’t say ‘he has been violently reminded about all the shit he can’t do and is protecting himself from you and your ilk.’

He didn’t say that.

But Peter still felt it.

SM: hey BT, hope you’re okay. Didn’t mean to overstep the other day. Sorry about that. Let me know if you need anything.

BT: I’m okay

BT: I’ll let you know.

BT: ❤

MJ told Peter that he was blowing things out of proportion.

“If Matt says he goes through cycles, then he goes through cycles, Peter,” She scolded. “Matt can’t lie for shit. Not about people he cares about.”

…Right.

But what if—

What if—

“I just feel like shit because I don’t know how to make him feel better,” Peter admitted. “I feel like I broke his trust or something.”

“He’s not not talking to you,” MJ said. “He’s just not info-dumping. And you don’t know his life, it might not have been you making him feel bad. The world doesn’t revolve around you and your mistakes, you know.”

Right, right.

Yeah, he knew.

PP: hey matt did I fuck up?

MM: ?

PP: I think I fucked up. can you tell Sam I’m really really sorry?

MM: Sammy’s fine?

MM: He’s discovered jalapeño Cheetos and he and foggy are making my life hell.

MM: they’re both very cheerful right now.

MM: did something happen?

PP: I think so? I asked him for a picture a while ago for Ned and MJ and he hasn’t spoken to me in 2 weeks. I mean like really spoken. I said sorry but I’m not getting back more than 5 word responses

MM: ah

MM: he’s okay Peter

PP: is he really tho??

MM: lol

MM: yeah buddy he’s okay

PP: what is ‘lol???’

MM: lol

PP: Matt.

MM: I’m a confidante I cannot say. But it is very cute.

PP: ????

PP: Matt I’m spiraling

PP: can you just like tell me I haven’t single handedly ruined our friendship?

MM: HA

PP: MATT

MM: no can do. You’ll have to ask him, friend.

PP: god when did you turn into such a dad?

MM: when I got all these fuckin kids I didn’t ask for. Fuck off squirt

PP: I hate you too

MM: ❤

Johnny held Peter’s face between two palms and told him he was being a dramatic piece of shit and it was Johnny’s turn this month.

Johnny was offended.

Peter made sad sounds at him until he relented and agreed to come sit at the table with MJ to psychoanalyze all Peter’s Bad Friend behaviors.

Johnny did not like to sit at the table with MJ, mostly because MJ kept stabbing him with her eyes, but he came along and gave Ned a big hug in the doorway.

MJ stabbed him with her eyes for that, too.

Johnny paged through the texts Peter had screenshotted and printed out and tossed on the table with a collection of pens and after a while, blinked once and jerked his head up suddenly to stare into MJ’s eyes.

MJ glared at him languidly.

Peter sat on his hands, all highlighters and pen privileges having been revoked after the second guilt spiral two minutes ago, and looked between them, back and forth.

They said nothing to him.

They spoke only in narrowing eyes and squirming eyebrows.

Peter hated when they did shit like this.

“Peter,” MJ finally said after a good three minutes of awkward silence. “When you went back west to stay with Matt and Fogs, where did you stay?”

Where?

Well, their house?

“Where in their house?” MJ asked like she already knew the answer. She tangled a hand into her hair in exasperation. Johnny brought both hands up to his face to hide a huge smile.

Wh—

Where?

In the house?

Well, Angel and Louis had taken the couch and Ellie and Wade had been in the guest bedroom, so he’d stayed in Sam’s room with him.

Ned sighed loudly from the couch. His typing slowed down as he slouched lower and lower into the cushions.

Peter didn’t get it.

Why was everyone staring at him?

“Buddy,” Johnny said kindly. “You’re so fucking stupid, you make me look smart.”

“You are smart,” Peter said. “Why am I stupid?”

MJ held out her hand for his phone. He gave it to her without question.

PP: hey matt its MJ.

PP: does Sam have a crush on Peter?

MM: I don’t know MJ, does he?

MJ held the phone up to Peter’s face while Johnny shriek-giggled into his palms.

Peter felt a little like jelly.

All wobbly and shit.

“He likes me?” he blurted out.

MJ blinked slowly. Johnny pounded a fist against the table, wheezing.

“He thinks you want a picture for your friends,” he said. “He thinks you’ve friendzoned him. Oh my god. Peter.”

WHAT WHAT WHAT

“Give me that,” Peter said, snatching his phone.

PP: matt this is peter this is not a drill

PP: he likes me??? Like likes-likes? Or just likes?

MM: why do you children keep asking me stupid questions?

MM: ask each other stupid questions

No.

“What do I do?” Peter asked the other two.

Johnny hummed and poked at his chin. MJ leaned over towards the couch with an outstretched hand. Ned took it in a show of moral support.

Once she’d powered back up, MJ turned back to Peter with infinite patience.

“Do you like him too?” she asked.

Did he—did he like Sam?

Well, obviously he liked Sam. Sam was funny and brilliant and always down to get in a bit of trouble. He was sensitive to others and he picked himself back up every time shit hit him.

He was warm.

His energy was warm. And welcoming. And he seemed to constantly be fighting that.

But he was Matt’s. Not in that way.

Like, he was Matt’s apprentice. Functionally, he was Matt’s apprentice, but actually, even back when Peter had just met him, he’d known that Sam was more than that to Matt.

Sam denied it. Matt denied it. But they were very, very close. Closer than Peter had been allowed to be with Matt.

Matt would fight to the death for Peter, Peter knew this; there had been a few close calls over the years. But Matt gave off this weird vibe with Sam.

It was a buzz. Peter felt it low in his neck. Humming.

The Spidey Sense didn’t like Matt being behind him when Peter was with Sam. It thought he was a threat.

And that? That was not normal. Matt had stood behind Peter for more than a decade and never, not once, had the Spidey Sense reacted that way to him.

Peter had told Wade about it and Wade’s eyes had softened. He’d clasped Peter’s shoulder and said that he was ‘touched as hell,’ which Peter didn’t understand at first.

He kind of got it more now.

Sam was Matt’s. What he was exactly wasn’t super clear. But Matt was willing and ready not just to die, but potentially to torture, for Sam and he didn’t fucking like anyone being too close to him—especially not another vigilante.

Sam was off limits.

Touch him and suffer the consequences.

That message was loud and clear.

So even if Peter thought that Sam was warm and brilliant and so easy to sink into, it didn’t matter.

Johnny and MJ and Ned considered this by drumming fingers on noses and chins and making humming sounds.

“Red seems okay with BT having a crush on you, though?” Johnny said. “He’s joking about it, after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to make the first move? You do kind of have a track record, Peter.”

That made a lot of sense actually.

“So what, I have to wait for Sam to say something or to get over me?” Peter asked.

“Pretty much,” MJ said. “Unless anyone else has a better idea?”

No one did.

Man, bummer.

Sam came back into contact a few days later like nothing had happened. He was concerned about definitions of seals. He needed people to help him work through them. Evidently, Matt, Foggy, and Kirsten hadn’t done the job.

Matt said nothing about no one, which was infuriating as always.

And so it went.

BT: heyyyyyyyyyyyyy peter

SM: lol hey you what’s up?

BT: m drunk

SM: oh word?

BT: Leilani told me no to taext no one butttttt I hate meself so here we are

SM: Leilani?

BT: fremd

SM: dude red said you finish all your girlfriends drinks?

BT: is my scared duty

BT: scared

BT: sacred

SM: sam you’re like 140 pounds

BT: 😘

SM: okay sure I’m proud of you. how many did you chug

BT: hey teach says that you’re a people eater is that true?

SM: people eater? No. I am spider

BT: hello spider I am dog

SM: ASDF:SAfasFDf

BT: no like he says that you go through people a lot

SM: I have a lot of exes

BT: oh neat

BT: I have none exes

SM: what?? Really??

BT: rly

SM: have you ever dated someone?

BT: I don’t date

BT: fuck em and leave em

SM: oh

SM: does that work for you?

BT: easy

SM: wow okay

BT: I don’t want to be your ex. Can we just fuck and say notging about it?

BT: nothing

BT: like it doesn’t have to matter

BT: donst have to go anwhere

SM: yeah. I’m down with that, I guess?

BT: !!!!

SM: I mean if you are. Next time we’re in the same area we can do smth

BT: nice

BT: I think Imma puke

SM: uh?? Don’t puke in bed

SM: BT?

SM: Sam?

BT: did not we’re good hey thanks

BT: that’s cool of you.

BT: I promise Ima a good lay ❤

SM: you could be more than that too, you know?

BT: Good night!!!

MJ held her face as Peter straddled her hips with his phone two inches from her nose.

Ned snickered.

“Help me,” MJ begged of him.

He shook his head. Peter shook his phone.

“Friend,” he said.

“Fuckbuddy,” MJ told him. “Don’t fall in love with him, Peter.”

Too fuckin’ late, babe.

Ned started shaking with laughter.

Once.

It happened once.

Kirsten was in New York for reasons. She brought backup in the form of Sam and some of his coworkers. They were on a 3 day mission, then Sam was catching a train to go help Clint out with a case down in Florida on Matt’s request.

Three days was plenty of time to get up to some shenanigans.

And Sam’s sides were tight. Strong.

Weirdly flexible?

“You’re great,” Sam told him immediately after their ‘shenanigans.’ “I’m leaving.”

Woah, woah, woah, there cowboy.

What’s the rush?

Sam, already back in his black hoodie, blinked owlishly and then squinted.

“Is this not how this works?” he asked.

Uuuuuuuh.

No?

“Stay,” Peter told him, pulling at his sweater. “Have dinner with me and my partners. They want to meet you.”

Sam smiled at him.

It was a bitter one.

“I’ve gotta jet, Pete,” he said. “For real. Thanks, though. Tell them I said hi.”

When he left Peter felt a little like slamming his hand against the bedside table. But that would shatter the bedside table, so he laid back and let the self-loathing begin.

Johnny thought that Sam was maybe a little insecure and so Peter should chill the fuck out.

“He’s probably never been with a polyamorous person,” he told Peter. “He might be trying to respect MJ and Ned.”

That made sense.

Too much sense.

“And anyways, your agreement was ‘fuck and leave,’” Johnny said. “If you want more than that you’re gonna have to—”

Don’t say it.

“You’re gonna have to—”

Stop singing.

“You’re gonna have to communicate, boo-bear.”

Fuck off.

No words. Only unrequited feelings and misery.

Johnny laughed.

“You’re a mess,” he said.

Whatever.

Okay, but once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, no?

Matt sent a text to Peter that said simply ‘I will end you.’

That was basically proof, right?

That was Matt’s shovel talk, right??

MJ and Ned stared at him in horror.

“I think, Peter,” MJ said, “This is a warning.”

Yeah, a shovel talk. Peter had been through infinite shovel talks.

“Maybe you should talk to BT,” MJ said.

“Rephrasing that,” Ned said. “You should definitely talk to BT.”

Okay, fine.

SM: hey sam

SM: what are we doing, man?

SM: Matt’s threatening to end me

BT: ignore him he’s got zero right

SM: are you sure?

BT: I thought we weren’t talking about this

SM: I kinda want to talk about it?

BT: 🙂 I don’t

SM: oh

SM: sorry

SM: I thought that maybe there was just something more there?

BT: there isn’t. Sorry Peter.

SM: …are you sure?

BT: yes

SM: you’re kind of not giving me confidence that you’re sure, sam. Not enough emojis.

BT: I don’t want to talk

BT: thanks for trying tho!

BT: it means a lot ❤

SM: is it okay if I talk then?

BT: I will not stop you

SM: okay great because I’m kinda? Falling? For you?

SM: like you’re really cute? And funny? And insanely smart and really nice and super good at everything you do? And you have your ideals and you don’t waver?

SM: and idk if you know anything about me or my people that that’s uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh

SM: how to say

SM: my type

BT: I’m not a type 🙂

SM: no, obviously you’re a person. And I just.

SM: I’ve got love disease

BT: don’t say that word

SM: okay?

SM: are you uncomfortable?

BT: yes

BT: profoundly

SM: okay sorry I’ll stop

BT: peter I like you but I can’t be anything more to you

SM: ?? Why not??

BT: why not????

BT: because DD is my teacher, okay?? And you’re his mentee/brother/teammate whatever.

BT: and I’m not ruining what I have with him because I can’t control my fucking emotions.

BT: this is my shot.

BT: I only have one.

BT: and you’re great. You’re amazing. But I can’t throw it away.

SM: oh

SM: no yeah. That’s fair.

SM: sorry I didn’t mean to push

BT: its fine

SM: is that why you don’t date?

BT: I don’t date because no one cares.

SM: sam that’s not true

BT: can we just? Not?

SM: no? On this thing? No? People care about you? And they would be lucky to have you if you wanted them?

BT: I don’t want them

SM: are you aro?

BT: idk what that means

SM: Aromantic? You don’t feel romantic attraction?

BT: I still don’t know what that means

SM: okay well if you are, then that’s totally cool just so you know.

BT: I’m sorry

SM: don’t be sorry, you’re fine. I was the one pushing.

BT: no this is how it always goes. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna step back if that’s okay

SM: ? you don’t have to. Lol. If you think a rejection is the kind of thing to put a dent in my relationships with people, you got another thing coming pal.

BT: I didn’t mean it like that

SM: it’s okay if you did

SM: but sam you also know that it’s okay to be known a little bit, right?

BT: its not.

Hhhhhhhhhhng.

“Peter,” Ned said. “Bud, look at me.”

Peter did--with maximum misery.

“I love you,” Ned said. “You are cornering this guy.”

FFFFFFFFfffffffffffffffffuck.

“I’m never texting again,” Peter said.

“Bro, chill,” Ned said. “He likes you, okay? He literally said that. And he also said that he doesn’t want to fuck things up with his teacher. We know that Matt’s polyamorous. We know that he gets it. But does BT know that? Have they actually talked about this kind of thing? Hell no. Matt won’t talk to Foggy about romantic shit, why would he talk to BT about it?”

Fffffffffffffffffffffair point.

“Dramatic,” Ned scolded. “Here, let me try.”

Beg your pardon, sir?

“I just want to calm him down,” Ned said. “You know, apologize for my idiot’s pressure.”

Ah.

Right.

Phone’s all yours then.

PP: hi BT, this is Ned. I’m peter’s bf.

PP: listen man I just want to say that you’re completely fine. Don’t worry about this stuff too much. Me and MJ don’t mind you two hanging out and doing stuff. We’ve already talked through a lot of this for another guy.

PP: but also like, if you like Peter, that’s okay? He’s infuriatingly likeable. I know, I’ve been here since 3rd grade. If that feels weird to you, though, it might help if you talked to Matt about Kirsten and how they came to be.

PP: it’s okay

PP: whatever you decide, I promise: it’s okay. And you seem super nice and you make my partner really happy (fuckin dopey tbh) so if you ever just want to come and chill, that’s totally good. We’d like to meet you at some point, but no pressure if that makes you uncomfortable.

PP: I’ll be honest, BT, I don’t know much about you.

PP: MJ’s started following you on twitter tho and she says youre funny af. So if you want to join the nerdcrowd over here (unless you’re startrek trash) you’ll always be welcome to our place.

PP: anyways sorry that Peter’s Like That™

PP: he never learned how to quit

PP: hope you get a moment to chill and process dude. –Ned

Read 12:24

BT: are you sure?

PP: oh hey. About what?

BT: all of it?

PP: yeah man I’m sure. MJ is too, she’s just on Peter-beating duty rn so she can’t come to the phone

BT: ok

PP: hey are you shy?

BT: what? No. why do you ask?

PP: no reason. you just seem a little shy.

BT: ☹

PP: lol

PP: you okay?

BT: yes

PP: you want to process?

BT: no

PP: have you already processed?

BT: how do you know that?

PP: because you’re shy and I used to be more shy so you probably either talked it out to yourself or you called your mom or bff or something

BT: I don’t have

BT: sry yeah I talked it out with foggy

PP: you don’t have a mom?

BT: …or a bff. But there is foggy. He’s been helpful.

PP: dude how do you not have a bff? You need a bff

BT: I have plenty of friends ☹

PP: but no bff

BT: AND a sister

PP: but no bff

BT: I COULD have a bff. I just choose not to. For style.

PP: lolololol

PP: peter’s right you’re cute. Okay I’ve gotta give him back his phone before he implodes. Nice talking to you.

BT: okay byeee

Peter straddled Ned and held the phone two inches from his face.

This was witchcraft.

Dark magic.

The least he could do was share.

“I literally just took the pressure off, dude, I don’t know what’s hard about this,” Ned said while MJ watched them over the back of the couch like a cat.

“Teach me your ways, sorcerer,” Peter said.

Ned grabbed his elbow.

“You will never attain my power,” he said.

Peter dropped his full weight on top of him.

Sam came around eventually.

Peter’s heart fucking stopped. Johnny clapped for him when the text came in that said, ‘DD says he doesn’t mind and he’s already doled out threats. So? Do you maybe want to start over?’

Peter screamed.

Johnny took his phone from him and let him scream better.

“I want to seeeee,” Johnny hummed. “Give us a picture, Blindspot. Are you a little hottie?”

“Shortie,” Peter whimpered.

The phone went down and Johnny’s head came up.

“That’s deadly,” he said.

“I know,” Peter told him.

Sam was…how to say.

Light touch.

Skittish.

Not good with even the slightest bit of pressure.

Peter hadn’t realized how much of a front he put up in front of other people until he tried to get him talking about shit that mattered and only then did he fully realize the extent to which Sam was exactly like Matt.

Trying to steer him towards emotions and negotiation and heartfelt discussion was like telling a fish that it could only swim one direction.

Sam’s reaction in every case was ‘okay that’s fine, let’s never mention this again--also I’m not going to do that; you just do what you want to me and I’ll figure everything else out on my own.’

Mind boggling.

Zero skills in that department.

Ned thought it was absolutely adorable.

MJ thought it was funny as fuck.

“Matt is useless,” Peter told them. “Absolutely useless. He’s done this shit for twenty fucking years and he’s just letting Sam work it out on his own?”

“Maybe that’s his teaching method?” Ned pointed out.

No, it absolutely was his teaching method. But that was the problem.

Fuck.

“Sam,” Peter said on the phone a while later, “Listen, buddy. I recognize that you are allergic to feelings, but this is what we have to do to get what we want.”

Sam hung up.

Dude.

“Threatened,” Ned said. “Come on. Gimme.”

Ned accused Peter of not telling him that Sam was Chinese. Peter told him that Sam’s twitter was literally half-written in Chinese.

Ned accused MJ of not telling him that Sam was Chinese and MJ said simply ‘my bad’ and got away with that shit, like she always did.

Unbelievable.

Johnny asked if Sam was interested in a superhero-sandwich and Peter got to take his aggression out on his pressure points.

Still, though, Peter was kind of glad that Ned was leading the charge on this. Firstly, because Ned so rarely stepped into these things with authority and it was really warming and lovely to see him so interested in bringing another person into their polycule. And secondly because Ned had the lightest touch of them all.

Peter, MJ, and Johnny were all helmet heads wielding hammers. The only thing keeping them from self-destruction were all the YIELD signs they’d set around their circle.

Ned typically just waded in between them all to tug Peter and MJ out of the battlezone and into a semblance of humanity.

So it was nice—no, it was cute that Ned was developing a little crush on Sam.

MJ thought so, too.

“I do love fresh meat to tenderize,” she said.

Peter stared.

“That is not the vibe we’re going for,” he reminded her.

MJ waved him off.

“Peter.”

What’d he do now?

Ned held the phone seriously out to him.

“Tell Sam I want a picture of him to put on the wall next to my mirror,” he said.

Peter blinked.

“That’s creepy, dude,” he said.

“It will make him laugh and he’s still not comfortable sharing yet,” Ned said. “But he trusts you more than me.”

Ah.

Right.

Okay sure.

Peter texted.

Sam sent back only eye emojis.

Ah.

“So,” Peter said while Ned tapped a foot impatiently on the kitchen linoleum. “There’s something you should know.”

Ned cocked his head at him.

“Dude,” MJ said. “That’s wild.”

Sam’s eyes were, uh, how to say.

Inhuman.

Johnny shrieked, took the phone and climbed into Peter’s lap.

“He’s so cute, Peter, bring him home, I’ll be so nice,” he pleaded.

Johnny was not the one who was going to need reminders to be nice.

“How does he see?” Ned asked.

Uhhhhhhh.

Oh, you know…

Not well.

Johnny lowered the phone.

“He’s blind?” he asked.

“Not blind,” Peter said. “But low vision.”

The room seemed to go quiet for a minute.

“Is Matt his—”

“No,” Peter sighed.

“Are you sure?” MJ asked. “These coincidences are stacking.”

“No,” Peter repeated. “His dad’s Chinese. He was born in Fuzhou, I think.”

“Oh,” MJ said.

“So he can’t see very well,” Ned repeated.

“He does okay in daytime,” Peter said. “And he does best with high contrast. But like, pictures can be hard sometimes if they’re too light or too dark. He doesn’t really ask for much help, but he and Matt kinda puzzle over stuff if you’re not careful. And if you’re extra not careful, they’ll make their own memes and they’ll be full of blind jokes.”

The room held still for another moment.

“Okay, so what do we need to do?” Ned asked.

The first time the others met Sam, Peter had to chase him down the hall and even then, it was only via Matt’s aid that he was placed back in Peter’s apartment.

Matt pointed a finger at Sam’s eye and told him that he was to stay ‘right fuckin here’ until he was done at the courthouse.

“Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars,” Matt said as Sam tried and failed to bite that finger. “I want an intact paralegal by the end of this trip, and I will not have an intact paralegal if you go around gettin’ noticed by the fuckin’ Irish, yes?”

“I can take ‘em,” Sam said.

Matt sneered.

“I don’t know why I bother,” he said. “Stay. Those are orders.”

“Fuck your orders,” Sam shot back at him, to the horror of everyone else in the room.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘fuck your orders,’ whatever,” Matt said. “Stay put.”

Sam bared his teeth after him.

Only when the door closed, did he finally give notice that other people were in the room. Johnny lit up.

“You’re short and angry,” he said.

Sam rounded on him.

MJ loved Sam now.

MJ told everyone else to get out, Sam was the only person who mattered.

Johnny thought that Matt needed to come back and take his rabid dog with him. Sam told him to stay out of his face and they wouldn’t have any more problems, but, seeing as Johnny was incapable of not adding fuel to fire, Peter kept him behind himself for the time being.

Ned was probably the person in the most shock of Sam, however.

Peter forgot how Sam came off to other people.

Very unassuming. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. His prosthetics hid his black sclera, and even if he did tend to lift his face towards the light more often than other people, he did it so subtly, you’d think he was nodding along to a tune in his head.

Sam looked like your friend.

Your neighbor. Your classmate. The one with the baby face, you know.

His hair was getting longer, Peter noticed. He pointed it out and Sam softened enough to tell him that he was going for something a little more hipster.

“If I let it keep going, it’ll start swooping,” he told Peter. “The swoop is very in right now, Peter.”

Peter believed him.

He had no idea what that meant. But he believed him.

“You know what’s not in?” Johnny asked. “Friendly fire.”

Sad sneered at him.

“I ain’t know you from Adam,” he snapped.

Ned lifted a fist to his face in a sign that Peter recognized well and it took everything in him not to smirk and start teasing.

“Okay, let’s start over,” Peter said. “Sam, these are my friends, or, uh. Our polycule, if you will.”

He had Sam’s attention now.

“Polycule?” he asked.

Indeed.

“’Cause it’s shaped like a molecule,” MJ said. “And everyone here is also a nerd.”

Sam looked at her.

“You’re MJ,” he said.

“You’re Blindspot,” MJ said. “What makes you blind?”

“The trauma,” Sam said without missing a beat.

Peter waved Johnny off and set his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“Sam’s made an invisibility suit,” he said.

He had everyone’s attention now.

“You did what?” Ned said.

Sam blinked and then shrugged a shoulder.

“What, like it’s hard?” he asked.

Oh yeah.

He was gonna fit in fine.

#samuel chung #peter parker #ned leeds #michelle jones #johnny storm #fic #ficlet #inimitable verse #the discord is going to destroy me truly #I love everyone in this bar #Matt is old and grumpy

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

Text

#15yrsago Cory responds to Wired Editor on DRM

Chris Anderson, the Editor-in-Chief of Wired Magazine, has responded to my blog-post in which I take issue with Wired's latest product-review magazine, which breathes hardly a mention of DRM even as it reviews devices that are all crapped up with studio-paranoia-generated restriction technology.

Chris takes a "middle ground" position that I've heard described as "radical centrism" -- his position is that the EFF's opposition to DRM is "idealistic" and that there is therefore a practical "reality" that is better suited to the world. I think it's a false dichotomy, and I'd like to have a little go at Chris's post here and see if I can show why:

Consumers want more content, easier-to-use technology, and cheaper prices. If some form of DRM encourages publishers, consumer electronics makers and retailers to release more, better and cheaper digital media and devices, that's not necessarily a bad thing. This is just being realistic: much as we might want it to be otherwise, content owners still call most of the shots. If a little protection allows them to throw their weight behind a lot of progress towards realizing the potential of digital media, consumers will see a net benefit.

This is the crux of the argument. It starts out by saying that DRM is protection. And protection makes Hollywood comfortable. And a comfortable Hollywood will release more material. And the more material there is, the cheaper it will get.

But all of those propositions are materially untrue. Start with "DRM is protection." DRM is not protection. There has never been a DRM-covered file that was kept off the Internet. Ever. DRM has never once in the history of the field kept a file from appearing online, or from being booted by organized crime pirates. Despite its rhetoric on this, Hollywood is perfectly aware of how bogus the DRM-is-protection claim is; any entertainment exec you put on this spot on this will retreat to a badly-thought-out mantra to the effect that "DRM is a speedbump, it's not meant to keep files off the Internet, it's meant to 'keep honest users honest.'" As Ed Felten has pointed out, keeping an honest user honest is like keeping a tall user tall. DRM may keep a naive user from buying a cheap DVD abroad and bringing it home, and it may make it possible to charge you for things that you used to get for free, like format-shifting, but it won't ever keep an honest user honest.

DRM isn't protection from piracy. DRM is protection from competition. If you believe that "much as we might want it to be otherwise, content owners still call most of the shots," then you believe that the guy who makes the record should get a veto over the design of the record player. That the film studios should be able to ban the VCR. That the recording industry should have been able to shove SDMI down all our throats and make MP3 disappear.

This is a profoundly ahistorical proposition. Never in the history of media from the dawn of the printing press right up to the invention of the DVD have we afforded this kind of privilege to incumbent rightsholders. Quite the contrary: at every turn, brave entrepreneurs have engaged in "piracy" of copyrighted works (through devices like the record player, radio, cable television and VCR) and kept at it until the law caught up with the technology.

It's different with the DVD. With the DVD, the electronics companies completely wimped out. They traded their customers to the studios for two packs of cigarettes, and the result has been a decade of stagnation in DVD players. There's no indication that movies are being released sooner or more cheaply on DVD than they were on VHS; and in fact, the release of movies on VHS was preceded by incredible, absurd hyperbole about the video-cassette's inevitable destruction of the film industry and the complete impossibility of a movie ever being released by a studio for viewing on your VCR.

If you believe that "content owners still call most of the shots" then you believe that the studios will make movies and just not release them, they will amass a great pile of unreleased material in their Hollywood vaults and sit before the doors, arms folded, glaring at the world until it arranges itself into a more accomodating configuration. It is ridiculous. DRM hasn't convinced the studios to put new material online -- the offerings that the studios have put online are a pathetic shadow of the material one can download from the P2P networks. The studios have all the DRM in the universe at their disposal, but they're not using it to bring new material to market.

Nope, they're using it to sell you the same crap for more money. Chris loves his Microsoft Media Center PC, "essentially a DVR on steroids" -- at least, he loves it so far. That's because he hasn't been bitten on the ass by it yet, like this guy, who bought a Media Center PC so that he could catch the Sopranos and burn them to DVD. When he bought the PC, it was capable of doing that. Halfway through the season, the studios reached into his living room and broke his PC, disabling the feature that allowed him to burn his Sopranos episodes to DVD. And if you got suckered into letting your cable company give you a "free" PVR, you've got a nasty shock coming this season: your episodes of Six Feet Under will delete themselves from your hard drive after two weeks, whether you've gotten around to watching them or not.

If you want to watch all the Sopranos or Six Feet Unders in a row at the end of the season, you'll have to do it on Pay Per View. You'll have to buy what you used to get for free: the right to record a show and watch it for as long as you'd like. You get less, you pay more. And the studios can change the rules of the game after you've bought the box and brought it home: the only way you can protect your investment is if you can somehow ensure that no studio executive decides to revoke one of the features you paid for back when the box was on the show-room floor. Remember, these are the same studio execs who are duking it out for the right to limit how long a pause button can work for.

Chris likes the iTunes Music Store, calling it a success, but it's got the same problems as the Media Center and all the other DRM devices. The record labels can demand that Apple selectively break your music player, removing features based on secret negotiations, long after you've made your purchases. Apple will even force "updates" on you that remove features that you've chosen to add to your device, shutting you out of listening to your own music on the player you shelled out good money for.

The problem is that once your device vendor sells you out to the studios, they're 0wned. The studios' protection racket lets them demand practically anything from a device vendor -- check out "selectable output control" for some truly heinous world-domination horseshit.

So, Chris, that's why I disagree with your "realistic" notion:

There's no reason to believe that DRM makes more content available

There's no reason to let the studios "call the shots" -- we haven't before this

There's no reason to believe that DRM makes media cheaper, quite the contrary

The features that make your "reasonable" DRM palatable to the market today can and are rescinded tomorrow

If I were in Chris's seat, I would be sure that every single review of a DRM device carried the following notice: WARNING: THIS DEVICE'S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD'S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE -- BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY'RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT'LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS. Link

https://boingboing.net/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wir.html

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 6 years

Text

The Princess, pt. 2 (S.M.)

Summary: Two months later, destiny finds a way to reconnect two young flames.

Warnings: angsty fluff

Word count: 2120

The Princess - Masterlist

It's been almost two months since the last time you've seen Shawn. You were a very busy person and during the day, you'd somehow fool yourself into believing you were okay, but at night, when the world fell asleep and everything got quiet, your mind seemed to be the loudest. Some nights you'd lay awake, thoughts of him overrunning your need to sleep. His almost ware-wolfish golden hues haunted you in real life just as much as they haunted your dreams.Yes, you managed to watch a whole season of Teen Wolf before you were discovered and your TV privileges got revoked. Shawn kind of reminded you of Tyler Posey with his perfect curls that were so soft to touch, lips so sweet and plush. Well, you saw Shawn in everything and everyone and it drove you mad at times.

„In our dreams“, you whispered softly as your eyes closed and the dream fairy cast her spell allowing you to drift away. Your dreams were always the same way; a fairy tale came to life and you'd find yourself starring opposite Shawn. Once you were Jasmin, a princess oppressed into letting go of her dreams until a handsome thief came along and stole her heart. It wasn't that far fetched at all, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't forget how your heart raced when you were with him. He made your heart skip a beat every time a simple though of him crossed your mind and dreaming about Beauty and the Beast this stormy night didn't help you one bit. It was ironic, you thought, how all you ever wanted was to run away from your life, but not even your dreams gave way to a different reality you so yearned for. Shawn Mendes was all you wanted to let go of and all you needed to hold on to. He gave you a taste of happiness and like an addict you craved more, constantly thinking about how to get your next hit.

„Philip, a word please.“ You called the older man into your room politely, keeping up your princess image before others that watched every move you made.

„Of course, Princess.“ He walked in and looked at you expectantly as you paces back and forth, your hands folded in one another and set behind your lower back. The man you trusted more than yourself cleared his throat and you stopped, a small smile gracing your lips.

„I need your phone.“ You opened your hand, waiting for him to comply. He squinted his eyes and raised his eyebrows at your request.

„May I ask what for, Princess?“ He questioned and you started tapping your foot as your patience dwindled slowly just like the quiet echo of your heels.

„Do you want to know the truth or the lie I came up with?“ You smirked and he sighed.

„The truth, please?“ He pursed his lips and waited for you to come clean. If it wasn't clear by now, your relationship with Philip wasn't exactly the same as it was with the rest of the staff. To you, he felt more like family than your own family, and from what you could tell, he felt the same way.

„I just want to listen to some music, I swear! I cannot handle another symphony, because if I have to hear Mozart once more I WILL RIP MY HAIR OUT.“ You entangled your hands into your hair dramatically pulling at it to make your point and Philip raised his left eyebrow.

„Aaaand?“ His questioning gaze pierced through you, knowing you had more on your mind.

„It's Shawn's music.“ You gulped nervously, watching the unmoving man before you, hoping he'd let this one pass. You didn't have any freedom with your outings, or your future, so why wouldn't your internet access be controlled too? You had a phone and a laptop, but every call was logged and watched by someone in the palace, everything you searched online would come up and you'd be lectured by the Queen an hour later. So, you found a way to cheat the system...Philip. At times, he'd let you take his phone to give you some sort of a normal life and you appreciated it greatly. He could see you were feeling down ever since the Queen’s birthday and his fatherly instinct took over. Philip just wanted you to be happy and he broke a lot of rules to give that to you whenever he could.

„Give it back by 5 pm.“ He placed his phone in your hand and watched in amusement as you did a happy dance. Without a warning, you jumped into his arms, colliding with him with a thud making Philip grunt, but hug you back nonetheless.

„Thank you, thank you, thank you!“ You repeated over and over. Philip left you to your task and with shaky fingers you typed his name in the YouTube search engine. You were left speechless once all the new songs came first in results, 'Nervous' being the first. You listened to the lyrics with a smile spread across your face, tears running down your face. It felt so good to hear his voice once more, to feel your heart beating faster whenever he smiled in the new video. He seemed happy..which made you feel happy for him, but a selfish part of you hoped to see at least a glimpse of sadness and longing in his eyes. You hoped he was still thinking of you, dreaming about the two of you, just like you did every night. It felt like you were haunted and he seemed to be released from the demons that plagued you daily. To say you missed him sounded crazy for two reasons: One – you barely know him; Two – missing him was an understatement as it felt like he was the oxygen and after a dash of fresh air filled your lungs, you've been suffocating ever since that day. It was ridiculous really, how this one boy became a beacon of light for you in a single day. For a person who didn’t care for emotions much, he caused a flood of those pesky little human feelings to flow through you and it was hard to understand why..Why him?

„It isn't in my blood...I need somebody now! I need somebody now...Help me..it's like the walls are caving in..“ The lyrics resonated with you on a deep level, leaving you a mess. You wished you could discuss his music with him, talk to him about the lyrics, about your feelings. Too often have you felt that way, trapped in a world you couldn’t get out. Without anyone to talk to about what was going on in your head, sometimes it felt like you were losing it. You opened up to Shawn, for what reason, again, you weren’t sure. It must have been those puppy eyes that drew you in and made you think you could trust him.

Closing this app, you found his Twitter and Instagram, scrolling through his pictures, stopping every now and then to admire his perfect lips. You could still remember how they moved against yours, fitting seemingly perfectly. He probably didn't realize it was your first kiss either.You remembered how his hands tangled themselves in your hair, how they found their way to your hips, pulling you closer ever so slightly, like any distance between you bothered him.

Seeing him plan a secret London pop up show made you jump up with a squeal. You couldn't help but give in to your innermost desires and made an account 'The Princess', sending a message to his Instagram page in hopes of him seeing it. If anyone found out about it, you’d be in so much trouble, but something inside of you needed to take this risk. So you did.

I see you've come back to a country where the Queen ignores you and the princess snogs you which I can only interpret as a good thing! XO

You knew it was a long shot, millions of people probably sent him messages daily, but you hoped he'd be drawn by your account name to at least read the message.

„Princess, I'm going to need my phone back.“ Philip whisper-shouted from the other side of the door and you sighed sadly, disappointed you never got to interact with him. You deleted every trace of Shawn and 'The Princess' from Philip’s phone and gave it back. Batting your eyelashes at him you pleaded for more time after everyone went to sleep and reluctantly he agreed.

You waited patiently, and by patiently you mean you were a nightmare to everyone who came in contact with you. Being so close to Shawn, knowing he was in the same city had you on edge and all you wanted was to run from your home and search for him. He was like an annoying infection spreading through your body with every heartbeat and every breath you take.

The night couldn't come faster and you kissed Philip's cheek before grabbing the phone from his hands. Plopping down on your bed, laying on your stomach, you quickly download the Instagram app and log in. You gasp audibly, making an 'O' shaped face as you saw a new message came. You took a few deep breaths, reminding yourself not to hope for something that might not be there to ease your potential heartbreak. Swiping to see the message, seeing his name in bold on the screen made your heart stop beating for 5 seconds completely. He read it...he answered.

I couldn't quite forget the best kiss of my life..Does than make me sound desperate? :)

You muffled your excited screams with a pillow, legs flying in all directions as sparks of excitement filled you up and shook you to the core.

I wouldn't say desperate...maybe cute? I'm honored to be crowned your best kiss.

You sent in another message, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You knew how bad this could be if anyone found out, because no social media accounts was a major rule for the royal family and once again, you found yourself breaking a rule that your grandmother would have your head for....they may not do the actual beheading anymore, but she was a scary woman and her punishments were worse than death.

I'm honored you even remember me. A confession: I never stopped thinking about that day.

Shawn's response had you in shock as you read the message 20 times over, word by word.

You're not the only one.

You confessed and the thought of letting him in your private thoughts almost made you sick to your stomach. You rarely let people in or speak your mind anymore, scared of being judged and scorned for your modern way of thinking.

I want to see you again..outside of photos and my dreams.

Shawn wrote and your eyes welled up, your bottom lip quivering. Those words felt like a hand grabbed your heart and clenched it tightly, your brain screaming at you for putting yourself in this position. You wanted to see him..more than anything. However, you couldn't go anywhere without the royal guard and a horde of other people...your meet up wouldn't be private. Not for you, not for the public eye and grandmother would probably freak out over the whole thing. How would you tell her you had fallen for a famous Canadian when she still had issues with Meghan and Harry?

Unless you're secretly Tom Cruise, that might be mission impossible.

You waited for his answer as your chest started to ache and shake, soft sobs coming out of your plush lips. Would you be able to somehow make it work? Maybe somehow, things would go your way. If it was meant to be, destiny would work in your favor, right?

If that's what it takes, Tom Cruise I will be.

His response made you cry openly and you had to put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs that racked your entire body. He has no idea how the court works. Both of your brothers scraped by with girls that weren't blue bloods because they were men..They were also more likely to be kings one day so everyone had a different approach when it came to them. You on the other hand were forbidden to seek relationships on your own, probably because they planned an arranged marriage or something like that. When you told him your future was planned for you, it wasn't a figure of speech. That rebellious streak came back to life once more and before thinking it through, you sent Shawn another message.

Where are you doing your performance in London?

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #the princess

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queen-of-the-sock-goblins-blog · 5 years

Text

Omegle

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: real?

You: Last time I checked.

You: Sadly

Stranger: damn

Stranger: going into the heavy shit right out of the gate

Stranger: what's up?

You: Nothin' much

You: Hbu?

Stranger: same

Stranger: had a pretty low-key day

You: Same

Stranger: you okay?

You: Yeah, why?

Stranger: with the whole "wishing you weren't real" thing, I mean

You: I didn't necessarily say I wished I wasn't real.

You: I just implied it.

You: What even is real?

Stranger: I mean, really....

You: I'm fine, just having a bit of an existential crisis.

Stranger: I'm sorry

You: Nah, it

You: is fine

Stranger: okay,I guess

Stranger: so how may this stranger on the internet enrich your brief time on this earth?

You: You got happiness in the shape of a carton of ice cream?

Stranger: ...I don't know how to do emojis on this thing...

You: I wasn't referring to emoji's. Real happiness comes in the form of ice cream

You: Sorry that took forever

You: I'm freaking out

Stranger: oh, I'm sorry

Stranger: I thought you said "cartoon ice cream"

Stranger: read it wrong

You: Something keeps whacking the side of my house and freaking me out.

Stranger: ...is it windy right now?

You: Yeah, I'm still on edge though

You: I am paranoid af

Stranger: is it daylight right now where you are?

You: Not quite.

You: Why?

Stranger: could you just go out and check what it is?

You: HECK NO

You: It is 2 30 in the morning and I am home alone

You: this scared bitch ass ain't walking out side that late in -30 degrees weather

You: I have weird neighbors

Stranger: ...are you saying one of your neighbors might be knocking on the side of your house?

You: No... i am saying that I wou;dn't put it past one of them to do it. Especially if they knew it would freak me tf out and I was home by myself

You: It's is pretty windy, though, too.

Stranger: it's probably just the wind, tbh

You: Oh, I know it's the wind.

You: But whenever I get scared, or even nervous, my brain pulls the scariest shit from the depths of my brain just for the fun of it I guess.

Stranger: where are you, anyway?

You: Iowa

Stranger: oh, cool

You: Where are you at?

Stranger: California

You: Cool

Stranger: um... I can't really help you...

Stranger: with whatever's going on outside, I mean

You: It's just nerves

You: So... age?

Stranger: 24

Stranger: you?

You: 15

Stranger: m or f?

Stranger: (just curious)

You: f

Stranger: I kinda figured

Stranger: (doesn't want to talk about sex stuff ==> PROBABLY a teenage girl...)

You: Trust me, I hear enough about sex during the day.

You: I just realized how creepy that sounded.

You: I am so sorry'

Stranger: O_O

Stranger: Do you need me to call child protective services?!

You: I live with my older sister and three brothers.

Stranger: (also I just realized that response went to the wrong person)

Stranger: (I have 2 different Omegle windows open at once)

Stranger: (the other person I'm talking to opened the convo with "NO SEX STUFF;" I got you confused)

You: Cool, I used to do that when I had a perfectly functioning memory

You: Anyways, they are very vocal on their sex lives at any chance they get.

You: Not vocal as in...

Stranger: ah...

You: Nvrmind

Stranger: I get the idea, yeah

Stranger: they brag

You: My sister doesn't brag, she just sucks on her boyfriends face

Stranger: it's gonna come off some day if she's not careful...

You: And when she's not found doing that, she'll be found in the kitchen talking as loud as she can

You: Hopefully

You: Maybe then I won't have to see that moron

Stranger: XD

Stranger: or maybe you'll just have a guy without a face hanging around

Stranger: which would be... worse...?

You: Well, if he didn't have a face, I wouldn't be able to hear him speak

You: BUT, if he wasn't around, then I wouldn't have to see the sorry excuse of dick always lounging around our house

You: Tbh, idk what would be better. It would be absolute torture for him to not talk about himself all day

Stranger: oh no

Stranger: he's one of THOSE...

You: Mhm

Stranger: ...I kind of want details, lol...

You: get this, when he's drunk, he's actually really nice and quiet for the most part.

Stranger: HAHAHA

You: He asked me the other day how you cut a banana

Stranger: -_-

Stranger: I hate to be the one to tell you this...

You: I had to teach him how to make kool-aid, season chicken, and cook pasta

Stranger: ...but your sister might be dating a moron.

You: fold towels

You: Tell me something I don't know

Stranger: ...how did she even find this man?

You: I think the only reason she does it, is because she is either blinded by love or stupidity

You: He lives next door

You: close family friend for years

Stranger: SHE'S FUCKIN' THE NEIGHBOR BOY?!

Stranger: oh good god...

You: Yeah, I know right?

You: Fun fact: He graduated last year and always hangs around our housse

You: how he didn't know how to season chicken is a crime

Stranger: you... you put seasoning... on chicken...

Stranger: there's... nothing... to... figure... outt...

You: Especially since his father is the professional grill artist of this side of the culdesac

Stranger: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

You: He covers them completely

You: Like actually douses them in spices and throws em in a pan

Stranger: ...

Stranger: okay, so what you need to do

Stranger: is get your sister a chastity belt

You: THAT'S THE WAY TO GO

Stranger: this guy's privileges are revoked

You: AHHHHH

You: they don't exist though...

You: I wrote a book this Christmas.

You: It's called, "How to Survive Planet Earth When You're Name is Cael and Can't Function Properly"

You: Inside, I wrote VERY detailed basic things and adult-ish human should know how to do.

Stranger: you could sell it

Stranger: no matter what's in the book, you could absolutely sell a book with that title

You: You think?

Stranger: I ACTUALLY laughed out loud when I read that XD

You: It has full coverage from folding laundry, cleaning a house-and this rate

You: Changikng Diapers

Stranger: (congrats on writing a book, btw)

Stranger: (that's not easy, even if it's just a gag gif for your sister's idiot bf)

You: Aww, thanks

You: I think it ended up being about thirty thousand words.

You: He'll still be reading it around next Christmas

Stranger: well, at least he can read...

Stranger: ...that's a start...

You: That itself is a big accomplishment, so I have to give him that.

Stranger: XD

Stranger: Do you write a lot?

You: yeah

You: I love writing

Stranger: GOOD.

Stranger: What kind of stuff do you write?

You: I like writing fantasy, fiction, non-fiction

You: Anything, I just love writing

You: I also right stupid do-it-yourself books for people with an IQ lower than a duckling

Stranger: I dunno

Stranger: I've met some pretty smart ducks...

You: I have not

Stranger: Do you like comics at all?

You: there's this one duck that the people own across the street. her name is Greta the Great (idk why that name), she likes to climb onto cars somehow and sits on them. She does not move and when you try to move her physically, she go all murder duck on you

You: yeah

Stranger: (I promise these questions are going somewhere)

You: I am literally reading ms marvel comics right now

Stranger: YESS

Stranger: I MET G. WILLOW WILSON ONCE

You: REALLY???

Stranger: SHE IS THE SWEETEST HUMAN BEING ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH

You: HOW WAS SHE?

You: WAS SHE MAGICAL?

You: SHE SEEMS LIKE SHE'D BE MAGICAL

You: LIKE, JUST BY HER PRESNENCE

Stranger: THE SUN SHINES OUT OF HER HIJAB

You: AHHHHHHHHHH

You: I KNEW IT

Stranger: (I am a big fancy California person so I get to go to Comic Con hahaha)

You: My parents won't let me

You: YoU'rE tOo YoUnG

You: No I'm NoT GoInG tO gO wItH yOu

Stranger: also tickets are a couple hundred bucks

You: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

You: nope to that shit

Stranger: I am a big fancy california person who also has enough industry ties that he can get in on a free professional guest pass XD

You: HOW

You: I MUST KNOW KIND SIR

Stranger: My dad worked on some of the official Marvel character encyclopedias

You: LUCKY

Stranger: YUSS :3

You: Do you know which ones>

You: ?

Stranger: those big leather-bound ones they used to have in Barnes & Noble...

Stranger: "Marvel: The Characters and Their Universe"

You: DE FANCY ONES

You: That's cool. Those are normally the types of books I just read in store

Stranger: yeah, cause they're $75

You: Yup

You: I almost bought one once, but if I bought it, I wouldn't have been able to go to camp

You: So I put it off

You: It was only because it was marked down for like 54.99

Stranger: you can get them for, like, $25 now

You: Really? I haven't been to a Barnes and Noble for like three months

Stranger: I mean... if you were to send me the money, my dad would PROBABLY sign one for you XD

You: That would be cool...

You: Although it wouldn't be wise to send money to a stranger across the internet

Stranger: yeah, I was gonna say...

Stranger: might be kind of hard to explain...

You: and I don't make enough in a day babysitting the snotty nosed demon down the street

Stranger: "HEY DAD, I NEED YOU TO DO A FAVOR FOR THIS TEENAGE GIRL I MET ON THE INTERNET"

You: I can see why he might be concerned

Stranger: yeah, lol

Stranger: anyway

Stranger: LOOOONG roundabout point I was trying to get to

Stranger: there's a new comic publisher called "AHOY Comics"

Stranger: that prints short prose stories in the back of each issue

Stranger: and anyone can submit one

Stranger: and it pays

Stranger: so if you can do a quirky horror/fantasy story in about 1,000 words

Stranger: it might be worth looking into

You: You don't have to draw?

You: Or anything like that?

Stranger: no, it's a prose story

You: Oh, duh

Stranger: you should probably check out one of their issues first, if you get the chance

You: That sounds interesting, I'll have to check it out

Stranger: They already bought two stories from me :)

You: awesome

You: So is that how people get like "discovered"?

Stranger: I hope so! XD

Stranger: Mine haven't actually been published yet

Stranger: so I don't know how it works after that

You: So do they publish them after they buy them? Just raw, like after no tweaking or changes? Or do you have to do rough drafts upon rough drafts before they release it?

You: Or would you know?

Stranger: they tweak a little

You: I can actually understand why. I mean publishing something that's probably never reached professional editing doesn't really sound like a wise idea to me.

Stranger: the biggest change they made to mine was just shortening it

Stranger: 600 words is the optimum length, even though they accept up to 1,000

You: That is actually a genius program. I wonder how many creators they have?

Stranger: a lot...

Stranger: have you looked them up

You: Yeah, I've been scrolling through their website.

You: Most of their comics look like something I'd read

Stranger: The prose story in the first issue they ever published was by Grant Morrison.

You: have you ever heard of line webtoon?

Stranger: And now they're publishing me.

Stranger: In the same space

Stranger: as Grant

Stranger: Fucking

Stranger: Morrison

Stranger: Yeah, I actually have a webcomic on Line Webtoon too...

You: He wrote that one comic about the asylum right?

You: Really?

You: Which one?

Stranger: ...TWO, actually...

Stranger: One's about a gay penguin, and the other's just stream-of-consciousness, usually R-rated doodles

You: Oh cool, so like the slice of life/ comedy?

You: Oh, have you read Backstory?

You: that's one of my favorites/

Stranger: I haven't, no

Stranger: what is it?

You: One of the creators is Stan Lee

You: May he rest in peace.

Stranger: *crosses heart*

You: not, back story

You: Backchannel

You: Sorry

You: On the surface, Tom Tanner is having an average high school life - struggling to stay on the lacrosse team, hiding his affections for his friend Sally, and trying to keep his head down and grades up. What his father, an LA police detective, and friends don’t know is that Tom is an engineering prodigy and is being recruited by BACKCHANNEL, a decentralized hactivist group causing havoc at prisons across the U.S.

You: There's the description that was on the webtoons page

Stranger: ooohh...

Stranger: Here's mine, if you're interested...

Stranger: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/i-think-im-a-penguin/list?title_no=194476

Stranger: (I really need to update this thing again...)

You: OKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

You: Ima be right back

You: Thud downstairs

You: fam might be home

You: ima fetch a vacuum hose

You: brb

Stranger: vacuum hose...?

Stranger: Also where were they?

You: OH MY LORD AND SAVIOR

You: My sister, her boyfriend, and parents are with my cousin who was pregnant and having difficulty delivering, they were staying until friday

You: One went with while the other is at his dorm in Iowa City

You: And that leaves the little shi-thead, Ethan

You: He was supposed to be at a sleepover.

You: He comes home at almost four in the morning when it is -50 degrees outside and covered head to foot in snow. Banging on the front door, because he forgot to grab his stupid fourth controler for playstation.

Stranger: -_-

You: He left with a muffin

Stranger: ....

Stranger: ...

Stranger: ..

Stranger: .

You: He also left with the little warm air left in this house too

Stranger: ...

You: So there's that.

You: HEY!

You: WHAT IF THOSE THUMPS WERE HIM AND HIS TWAT FRIENDS

You: THE ONES I WAS HEARING EARLIER

Stranger: I was about to ask about that, lol

You: Okay, I'm technically not home alone. I've got ninja. Our small bean of a cat who believes she is a lion.

You: She likes to attack strangers

You: Maybe I should have sicced him on the little shit

Stranger: I approve of everything about your cat

You: Thanks

You: She is sitting with me, growling at the window

You: I am now annoyed knowing that my brother and his friends have nothing better to do than sit outside in -50 and stare at me through the window.

You: I hope their parents are proud

Stranger: I mean... your brother's parents are also your parents, so...

You: Yeah, they are real proud of his accomplishments in life

You: *sarcasm

Stranger: WAS IT REALLY HIM?!

You: Thumping on the window?

You: Walls and such?

You: I have no idea

You: And I don't think he'll come near me for a few days until he knows I won't rip out his intestines

Stranger: you should do it anyway

Stranger: just to show him

You: I just know, I saw four figures waddle back down the street

You: Little shits

You: Ima tell their mommas

Stranger: ALL FOUR OF THEM CAME?!

You: They'll whoop their ass

You: They didn't come in

Stranger: Just... just stay and play video games at your house!

You: (thankfully)

Stranger: They already made the damn trek!

You: I can't

Stranger: god dammit

You: Oh.

You: they are petty and have nothing to do with their lives

You: I'll gove them this pleasure

You: give*

You: Besides

You: that is waaaaay too much testosterone for this house. Plus, I don't have a door on my room and I won't get any sleep at all, let alone with like the two and a half hours I have to do so.

Stranger: ...do I need to let you sleep?

You: Nah, who needs sleep when you have a blanket fort and enough coffee for four thousand vikings

Stranger: And idiot siblings who would've woken you up anyway!

You: Exactly

You: The only reason i'm up this early, is because I never get me time.

You: This is my time to shine baby

Stranger: SAME

You: I'm listening to thirteen reason why, eating waffle crunch, sipping on mostly sugar induced coffee, and on omegle. making friends and bonding over comics and douch brothers and boyfriends

You: Besides, my parents aren't here. I could be like a normal teenage girl and throw a party

You: but why would I do that when I could invite the best person on planet earth.

You: ME AND ONLY ME

You: It is a strictly me party.

You: That's probably why his friends didn't come in...

You: I am tying all sorts of strings together tonight

Stranger: not everyone's a party person

You: I LOOK LIKE A FREKIN MARSHMALLOW MAN RN

Stranger: embrace it

Stranger: BE the marshmallow

You: I have on: tights, spandex, leggings, yoga pants, and sweatpants. two long sleeve shirts and a sweatshirt, four pairs of socks and a beanie

You: Oh, and leg warmers I found under my bed a few weeks ago

You: I also have the heater shooting lava temp air into my pillow/blanket fort

Stranger: Perfect.

You: Ikr?

You: At least I won't freeze to death, even if the power goes out

Stranger: haha, that's good

Stranger: freezing to death should be avoided

Stranger: (I REALLY feel the thing about needing to stay up late to get "me time," btw)

Stranger: (It's 2:17 AM here)

You: Ah, 4;17

You: lol, most the time, this neighbor girl named abi?

You: She comes over and pretends she's part of the family because shes a lonely only child

You: Gotta love her though

Stranger: Not as bad as your brothers or sister's bf?

You: Nah.

You: I can tell her to leave me alone and she listens

You: That's the difference

Stranger: KEEP HER

You: IKR! XD

You: You know that stupid NUN movie?

You: The horror?

Stranger: I know of it, I haven't seen it.

You: Neither have I nor will I ever...

You: An ad just played for it and I think i just had a mini chest pain there at the end

Stranger: I haven't seen the ad, I don't think...

You: At least the devils hour is over. I don't have to worry about stuff like that

You: I've only seen it once before, although it was months ago. I don't know why it'd be playing now.

You: brb

You: THEY CAME BACK FOR THE MUFFINS!

Stranger: MOTHERFUCKERS

You: GOD DANG IT, THEY'RE ALL GONE

You: Oh wait

You: They left a single chocolate chip in the bottom

You: at least they have common decency

Stranger: i suppose it's better than nothing

Stranger: ...but not by much...

You: Yeah...

You: There is literally nothing sweet in this house.

You: i could make something, but I don't want to leave my fort

Stranger: WHY ARE THEY VENTURING OUT INTO FREEZING SNOW

Stranger: FOR MUFFINS?!?!?!?!

You: Who knows

You: HEY, THEY ORDERED PIZZA

You: WHY DON'T THEY EAT THEIR OWN FOOD

Stranger: tell their parents

You: oh they most definitely will hear of this

Stranger: tell their parents that their children are out wandering the streets at 4 AM in the middle of a blizzard

You: Funny thing

You: My cousin?

You: The pregnant one that is giving birth three states away?

Stranger: yeah?

You: that's her mom

You: She's gone

Stranger: what?

You: Brother is staying at cousin's house down the street

Stranger: OH

You: I locked the door

Stranger: lol

You: they ain't getting my heater

You: if they come back, that's probs be what they go for.

Stranger: well, it kind of sounds like you need that to... you know... LIVE...

You: well, unless the furnace doesn't kicks off i'll be fine

You: besides i've got ninja

You: a very irritable portable heater

Stranger: *tapes cat to face*

Stranger: "I'm good!"

You: No...

You: .

You: kitt-ing

You: haha

Stranger: -_-

You: I have no friends

Stranger: I'm sorry

Stranger: I'm a 24 year old man who still lives with his parents, and spends his evenings socializing online with total strangers who--not always but USUALLY--turn out to be teenage girls.

Stranger: ...so you might still be ahead of the curve on this one...

You: I don't know about that one

Stranger: (nothing wrong with being a teenage girl, obviously)

Stranger: (just... maybe not the demographic I should be socializing with the most...?)

You: I'm a socially awkward fifteen year old gorl who has severe anxiety and when tries to speak to anyone that's not related to or known for at least five years, cannot speak to in person without screaming on the inside. If not found caressing my refrigerator or at the back of my public library, I will be found on youtube, tumblr, pinterest, or just staring outside at the field of cows across the street.

Stranger: (the person in my other Omegle window called me out on it and now I'm feeling self-conscious)

You: haha

Stranger: yeah, I have anxiety problems too

Stranger: and I'm starting to dip towards being more comfortable interacting with people online than I am in person

Stranger: which scares me a little

You: Oh, I'm homeschooled too, so... there goes anything that has to do with people

Stranger: cause, you know... real life... is... goof

Stranger: *good

Stranger: OH GOD

Stranger: Okay

Stranger: yeah

Stranger: I'm sorry

Stranger: homeschooling is bad

You: Not necessarily.

Stranger: I mean, it can be really hard on your social life

Stranger: (and yeah, the regular education system is pretty bad too, soo...)

You: I don't have to ding fucks that call themselves teenagers. I can stay at home in my jam-jams all day

You: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

You: WHAT SOCIAL LIFE?

Stranger: ...

Stranger: I don't even know what advice to give you on that one...

Stranger: Most of my friends who need to get out more are, you know... adults... who can leave the house without needing permission and drive and shit.

You: Ok, I will admit. If I put my mind to it and really focus and stuff, I can form a coherent sentence without looking like a mentally sick and deranged horse.\

Stranger: And I do have SOME friends my own age. Lol.

Stranger: ...

You: I do have one friend.

Stranger: Is it Abi?

You: Nah, she's family

You: his names Levi

You: He is nine and his favorite animal is parrot

Stranger: ah

Stranger: is this the "demon you babysit" you mentioned earlier?

You: HOW DID YOU KNOW

Stranger: ...because you mentioned babysitting a demon earlier...?

You: That is some serious string tying, sir

Stranger: > person says they never interact with other people

Stranger: > person mentions one other person they interact with

Stranger: > person mentions interacting with someone recently

Stranger: QED: person they interacted with is probably one person they mentioned

Stranger: ...

Stranger: okay that actually made me more confused...

You: YOU'VE BEEN TALKING WITH ME FOR TOO LONG

You: YOU'RE DEVELOPING A TERRIBLE MEMORY

Stranger: ALSO IT'S ALMOST 3:00 IN THE MORNING HERE

Stranger: SO I MIGHT BE A LITTLE SPACY

You: that might be my excuse as well

You: I am dreading to admit I have a dentist appointment at 8:30

Stranger: FUCK

You: its five

You: fml

Stranger: ...

Stranger: I can't really judge anyone else's life choices

Stranger: especially when it comes to spending too much time on this site...

Stranger: ...but you should not have spent a couple hours talking to me

Stranger: :P

You: Nah, it's fine.

You: I should probably get a little sleep, though

Stranger: yeah...

You: so i don't fall asleep at the dentists office

Stranger: hope this bite-sized glimpse of socializing gave you what you needed...

You: Maybe

Stranger: ...i don't even know what I'm saying anymore I'm tired...

You: probably not

You: good night

Stranger: hang in there

You: actually, good morning

Stranger: it gets better

You: does it really?

Stranger: adult responsibilities really aren't that much harder than teenage responsibilities

Stranger: but you get the freedom of being an adult

You: adulting sounds pretty difficult

You: are you sure?

Stranger: to, like... leave the house whenever you want, and pick your own schedule and shit

Stranger: you've managed to keep yourself alive while your parents were out of town, yes?

You: .

You: barely

You: almost murdered four teenage boys, that's for sure

Stranger: it seems hard when you're not doing it

Stranger: then you just kinda... start doing it, without even realizing it

Stranger: adulting, I mean

Stranger: not murdering teenagers

You: I was gonna say...

You: I was so confused after that first statement

Stranger: lol

Stranger: okay, I'm out of wisdom

Stranger: go get some sleep

Stranger: and... try to... find friends? In the real world?

You: That was real encouraging

Stranger: sorry

You: Go and... find friends

You: Nah it's cool

Stranger: wherever you get your comics

Stranger: see if they hold D&D tournaments or something?

Stranger: or Magic?

You: okie dokie

Stranger: okay

Stranger: good night

You: night'

You have disconnected.

2 notes · View notes

braindamageforbeginners · 5 years

Text

Male Fragility and Male Pattern Baldness

14 months, two weeks, one day post-dx

This week, in addition to The Donald, the big news has been... Gillette shaving products. You might know this company for the various shaving-based products they make, or the catchy slogan, “The best a man can get.” Which sounds a little weird and unintentionally homoerotic, but I dislike bleeding when shaving, and, for travel purposes, they have the market for disposable razors.

In the wake of Brett Kavanaugh being confirmed and Cadet Bonespurs still not being called for using the word “pussy” on a live mic (okay, so, even if we want to accept the idea that men talk to each other in the locker room - we don’t, it is the most uncomfortable and awkward environment imaginable - you don’t repeat it in polite company, and YOU DO NOT REPEAT IT IN A TAPED INTERVIEW), it has come to light that America has a problem with massive, throbbing male egos that go unchecked until they inevitably screw up and alienate so many of their victims that Americans vote in loads of sensible, moderate people (previously known as “women,” but that was also when we voted based on gender and class lines instead of a person’s public record). Gillette then changed its slogan to “The best a man can be,” which, I have to admit, is almost as good as “The Most Interesting Man in the World” for aspirational marketing aimed at men. The goal of all this was, presumably, to start a discussion on toxic masculinity and gender roles. Now, I may have some misgivings about this conversation being helmed and instigated by a company with a definite financial and cultural stake in the (patriarchal) status quo, but it’s still a talk we need to have in society. My reaction of vague misgivings and semi-apathy was nothing, however, compared to white men on the Internet. They used all caps to rain impotent fury down upon this perceived slight, that, maybe, we should have a discussion about how framing masculinity only as it brutalizes and disenfranchises others isn’t such a good idea. As someone who’s had his country club privileges revoked but still gets passing privilege, I’d think it’s a discussion worth having, especially if you’re under the rather idiotic impression that your good health and luck will last forever. Now, even though I still stand by the idea that Rousseau was right, and that most of us are mostly-good; at the same time, when you’re forced into a position of vulnerability, people you thought you knew well can reveal themselves to be utter assholes. Yes, pain, torture, and crippling may reveal my inner nature to some extent, but how you treat me in this period is a much more revealing test of your character, dear reader. So, I’m fully prepared to discuss this whole “how you treat the least among you” idea, with the acknowledgment that, as the least among you (sort of), I am fully in favor of toppling the patriarchy and rebuilding it with something less creepy and predatory.

Then I got Rogaine. Full disclosure, Mother Dearest actually got it for me, because I still wear my hair in a rather severe mohawk to cover up the weird, radioactive/thin patches that were scalded off by the nuclear fire (undergoing cancer treatments is like puberty - you change pretty dramatically, physically, and you’re left looking almost, but not quite, like you used to, which is disconcerting to see in a mirror). Normally, the word “regrowth” is not a good one for a brain cancer patient, but, since everything else in my life has been completely upended and vivisected, I figured, “Why not?” In a weird way, even though I’m not in a position I’d wish upon someone I despised (well..), I don’t feel terribly emasculated. After all, how many rounds of chemo and radiation have you gone through? I know I can take a severe beating and get up afterward; even if that beating comes in the form of neurosurgery, radiation, and chemo (I realize my framing of that in terms of violence is probably typical of the problem, but we’re working our way toward other, more humorous topics).

If ever there was a physical embodiment of the sort of mindset that would fee attacked by Gillette’s rather flaccid suggestion we sort of talk about problems with traditional masculinity; it’s Rogaine. First of all, it comes with all these warning labels on it - I am not making this up - saying things like “Not intended for women” or “Not for use by women” (that last one is verbatim). It doesn’t actually go full-blown Alex Jones manthrocyte (or whatever male virility cure he’s hocking this week), nor do the words “male jelly” or “He-Man Woman Haters Club” appear on the box, but it’s amazingly close. What’s especially delightful - to me, anyway - is that a female friend of the family (who has issues with hair stress-related hair loss) is the one who recommended it. However, I am trying to be somewhat more sensible about what I put in myself these days, so I did some quick Internet research (that’s enough to make me an expert on the subject, I figure), and it’s a vasodilator - it’ll open your blood vessels (I still haven’t pieced together how that leads to increased hair growth, but I’m willing to take some things on faith). Apparently, you’re not supposed to take it orally. Which opened up a whole new set of questions, like, 1. What was the study where they found out someone was dumb enough to drink hair tonic? and, 2. If you do drink it, is that some sort of suicide warning? Bearing in mind that this is just the packaging - which, again, I get it’s targeting insecure middle-aged men and/or those of use who want our youthful appearance back while we’re still actually youthful; both of which are vulnerable to suggestion and hesitancy, and maybe they’d turn back at the thought that maybe someone would think less of them for using feminine hygiene products (supposedly, army medics have used tampons to seal wounds in combat, so even the most-feminine of feminine hygiene products is helpful to all genders under the right circumstance), let’s go on to what’s inside the box. Which is a series of bland-looking bottles that are perfect for not indicating someone is insecure about baldness. And an applicator. Let’s hold for a moment. In most medical products - even the CBD/THC oils I take (orally, but maybe I should try them on my hair) the “applicator” is either a glorified eye-dropper or more-glorified Q-tip (side-note: you don’t see Q-tips exclusively marketed to women, even though their most common use is as a mascara applicator)(this is true; you’ve probably been sticking them in the wrong orifice for years). Not so with Rogaine. This comes with - depending on how you look at it - either a miniature turkey baster (perfect for basting Cornish hens), or a Cyclopean eye-dropper. In other words, there’s virtually no way you could screw up where you stick this thing and apply it nasally (again, I’m sure it’s been tried, and they rewrote the warnings and repackaged it). It is, in short, not only catered to male insecurity, it’s designed to completely idiot-proof (I guess they got that one right, most intelligent people wouldn’t be fooled into thinking that fancy, medically-worded hair tonic works)(normally, neither would I, but the woman who recommended it is smarter than me, so I’m willing to try it). It’s the perfect product for Homer J. Simpson.

After drizzling this stuff onto your radioactive-seared flesh, you’ll notice a slight tingling sensation. Either that or just the sensation of something liquid-y runnning over your scalp, I have a lot of scars, so it’s hard to tell. Then... nothing. Admittedly, I’ve only been using it for a few days, Apparently, you have to use it for a month or two before seeing results, at which point you’re either supposed to discontinue use, or, for the truly brave, drink it. Again, I just went 12 months straight with chemo, it’s not like something as minor as not seeing results will be a major deterrent.

For those of you wondering how I do it - go the full 12 rounds of chemo, radiation, and surgery, knowing I will eventually have to repeat it, and eventually lose - that’s how. You have to be able to look at every miniscule step on the path (and not much further ahead) and chuckle at how extraordinarily weird and fucked up it all is. And realize you want to be around to chuckle at the next weird, fucked up moment, even if you have weird, striated baldness on one side.

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toldnews-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/travel/mother-russia-south-florida-sees-a-boom-in-birth-tourism/

Mother Russia: South Florida sees a boom in 'birth tourism'

Every year, hundreds of pregnant Russian women travel to the United States to give birth so that their child can acquire all the privileges of American citizenship.

They pay anywhere from $20,000 to sometimes more than $50,000 to brokers who arrange their travel documents, accommodations and hospital stays, often in Florida.

While the cost is high, their children will be rewarded with opportunities and travel advantages not available to their Russian countrymen. The parents themselves may benefit someday as well.

And the decidedly un-Russian climate in South Florida and the posh treatment they receive in the maternity wards — unlike dismal clinics back home — can ease the financial sting and make the practice seem more like an extended vacation.

The Russians are part of a wave of “birth tourists” that includes sizable numbers of women from China and Nigeria.

President Donald Trump has spoken out against the provision in the U.S. Constitution that allows “birthright citizenship” and has vowed to end it, although legal experts are divided on whether he can actually do that.

Although there have been scattered cases of authorities arresting operators of birth tourism agencies for visa fraud or tax evasion, coming to the U.S. to give birth is fundamentally legal. Russians interviewed by The Associated Press said they were honest about their intentions when applying for visas and even showed signed contracts with doctors and hospitals.

There are no figures on how many foreign women travel to the U.S. specifically to give birth. The Center for Immigration Studies, a group that advocates for stricter immigration laws, estimated that in 2012, about 36,000 foreign-born women gave birth in the U.S., then left the country.

The Russian contingent is clearly large. Anton Yachmenev of the Miami Care company that arranges such trips, told the AP that about 150 Russian families a year use his service, and that there are about 30 such companies just in the area.

South Florida is popular among Russians not only for its tropical weather but also because of the large Russian-speaking population. Sunny Isles Beach, a city just north of Miami, is even nicknamed “Little Moscow.”

“With $30,000, we would not be able to buy an apartment for our child or do anything, really. But we could give her freedom. That’s actually really cool,” said Olga Zemlyanaya, who gave birth to a daughter in December and was staying in South Florida until her child got a U.S. passport.

An American passport confers many advantages. Once the child turns 21, he or she can apply for “green card” immigration status for the parents.

A U.S. passport also gives the holder more travel opportunities than a Russian one; Americans can make short-term trips to more than 180 countries without a visa, while Russians can go visa-free only to about 80.

Traveling to the U.S. on a Russian passport often requires a laborious interview process for a visa. Just getting an appointment for the interview can take months.

Some Russians fear that travel opportunities could diminish as tensions grow between Moscow and the West, or that Russia might even revert to stricter Soviet-era rules for leaving the country.

“Seeing the conflict growing makes people want to take precautions because the country might well close its borders. And if that happens, one would at least have a passport of a different country and be able to leave,” said Ilya Zhegulev, a journalist for the Latvia-based Russian website Meduza that is sharply critical of the Kremlin.

Last year, Zhegulev sold two cars to finance a trip to California for him and his wife so she could give birth to their son.

Trump denounced birthright citizenship before the U.S. midterm election, amid ramped up rhetoric on his hard-line immigration policies. The president generally focuses his ire on the U.S.-Mexico border. But last fall he mentioned he was considering executive action to revoke citizenship for babies born to non-U.S. citizens on American soil. No executive action has been taken.

The American Civil Liberties Union, other legal groups and even former House Speaker Paul Ryan, typically a supporter of Trump’s proposals, said the practice couldn’t be ended with an order.

But others, like the Center for Immigration Studies, which advocates for less immigration, said the practice is harmful.

“We should definitely do everything we can to end it, because it makes a mockery of citizenship,” said Mark Krikorian, executive director of the Center for Immigration Studies.

Vladimir Zhirinovsky, an outspoken Russian lawmaker, said the country can’t forbid women from giving birth abroad, and many of them also travel to Germany and Israel.

“Trump is doing everything right, because this law is used as a ploy. People who have nothing to do with the U.S. use it to become citizens,” Zhirinovsky said.

Floridians have shown no problem with the influx of expectant mothers from Russia.

Yachmenev, the agency manager, says he believes it’s good for the state because it brings in sizable revenue.

Svetlana Mokerova and her husband went all out, renting an apartment with a sweeping view. She relished the tropical vibe, filling her Instagram account with selfies backed by palm trees and ocean vistas.

“We did not have a very clear understanding about all the benefits” of a U.S. passport, she said.

“We just knew that it was something awesome,” added Mokerova, who gave birth to a daughter after she was interviewed.

Zemlyanaya said that even her two nights in the hospital were a treat, like “a stay in a good hotel.”

In contrast to the few amenities of a Russian clinic, she said she was impressed when an American nurse gave her choices from a menu for her meals.

“And then when she said they had chocolate cake for dessert, I realized I was in paradise,” Zemlyanaya added.

She even enjoyed how nurses referred to patients as “mommies,” as opposed to “rozhenitsa,” or “birth-giver” — the “unpleasant words they use in Russian birth clinics.”

Zemlyanaya said she was able to work remotely during her stay via the internet, as were the husbands of other women, keeping their income flowing. Yachmenev said his agency doesn’t allow any of the costs to be paid by insurance.

Most of the families his agency serves have monthly incomes of about 300,000 rubles ($4,500) — middling by U.S. standards but nearly 10 times the average Russian salary.

Yachmenev said he expects that birth tourism among Russians will only grow.

Business declined in 2015 when the ruble lost about half its value, but “now we are coming back to the good numbers of 2013-14,” he said.

———

Associated Press writers Curt Anderson in Miami and Varya Kudryavtseva in Moscow contributed to this report.

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eichy815 · 5 years

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Indecent Composure

Originally Published on June 29, 2014 on Eichy Says

Prudishness is making a comeback. And, at the same time, it's quickly going out-of-style.

In recent weeks, social media had been abuzz with the antics of Quintin L. Murphy, a graduating senior at Jack Britt High School in Fayetteville, North Carolina. During his graduation ceremony, Murphy stripped down to nothing but a leopard-print Speedo as a prank upon accepting his diploma on-stage.

A police officer escorted him off the grounds, which I can understand. His hijinks were funny and harmless, but not exactly "dignified" in the view of folks who treated the ceremony as a serious occasion.

The real kicker, however, was when Cumberland School District Superintendent Frank Till publicly announced that Murphy would not be receiving his diploma. He will still technically be allowed to graduate, but his actual high school diploma is being indefinitely withheld.

So what's the problem, you may ask? It's just a symbolic piece of paper...and he's still considered a legitimate high school graduate. Maybe so...but you could just as easily argue that the graduation ceremony itself was purely symbolic, as well – and that the parents or spectators who were so drastically offended by Murphy's prank should just "get over it."

Such puritanical actions from administrative-level mouthpieces are nothing new.

Also in North Carolina, Central Davidson High School (in the city of Lexington) graduating senior Violet Redwine was kicked off-campus during her last day of school (as a graduating senior), after school officials measured her dress and claimed it was violating the school's dress code by half an inch too short above the knees.

Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with a public school enforcing a reasonable dress code for students – except that, in Redwine's case, she had already worn that same dress to school on five previous occasions throughout the year.

If a school is going to enforce its dress code, it should do so all year round – not simply on "Senior Day" in order to make an example out of a student

Even though Redwine went home to change into different clothing (after they'd instructed her to), when she returned to the school she was then told that she'd receive detention for "tardiness." Her parents advised their daughter to just stay home for the rest of the day. And, as a gesture of support, Redwine's mother, Amy, wore that exact same dress to her daughter's graduation ceremony (while Violet donned a traditional-cap-and-gown).

Is it any coincidence that this "Violent Redwine Incident" occurred barely one week after the much-publicized "Quintin Murphy Incident" – only three counties apart?

Getting kicked out of one's last day of school – or being removed from one's graduation ceremony – might appear to be minor sanctions, in the greater scheme of things. But it can lead to greater abuses of power from those in authority positions, as it clearly has in the past.

Earlier this year, fifteen-year-old Christian Adamek committed suicide after being publicly castigated by school officials in the aftermath of his September 27 streaking prank at Sparkman High School in Huntsville, Alabama.

As could be expected, Adamek faced disciplinary action from the school. But all of that should have been handled completely in private.

Principal Mike Campbell gave a public interview where he stated that Adamek's behavior could result in the teenager having to register as a sex offender. Campbell also confirmed for local media that the school district had recommended Adamek undergo a judicial hearing with the Madison County court system to explore any further formal charges that could have been filed against the teen.

Yet, in the same interview, Campbell acknowledged how teens usually streak due to "losing a bet" or showing "school spirit." The principal then followed that acknowledgment with the vague statement pertaining to how Adamek's conduct was "much more than a mere prank" and "totally different, something not related to that at all."

So if Campbell "wasn't at liberty" to divulge these super-secret details of this other awful and unspoken-of crime that Adamek allegedly committed, then why bother to give the interview at all? If Adamek's prank was supposedly "much more than that" and posed such a great threat to public safety, then doesn't Campbell have a responsibility to inform the public about what mysterious-and-dastardly deed the adolescent did?

Or, if that wasn't really the case (regarding Adamek's offense), then why would Campbell agree to appearing in front of a news crew in the first place? Why not just handle everything privately, within school walls (or, if the case legitimately warranted it, within the confines of juvenile court)?

The answer is clearly that Campbell, and probably his masters (and cronies) within the school administration, wanted to make an example out of the kid.

According to Adamek's sister, Danielle, her brother was facing expulsion for his prank. Adamek also had a history of depression. When an online petition called for Campbell's resignation, its creator was pressured by Adamek's parents to remove the petition from the Internet. I would bet anything that Daniel and Angela Adamek made this request because the Adamek family was still grieving from their son's tragic death, and they very likely just didn't want to deal with anymore negative publicity.

However, all of this "media-scrubbing" and "backpedaling" being done to protect Campbell doesn't change the reality that Campbell's public statements could have very prominently contributed to the young man ultimately deciding to hang himself, rather than enduring a potential onslaught of legal excoriation (especially if he was suffering from depression or any other psychological conditions). We'll never know, because Adamek took his own life – and more discrete steps could have been taken to prevent such a horrible outcome.

This is not to suggest there should never be consequences to one's actions. Although I personally see nothing wrong with (non-aggressive forms of) public nudity, there were still more reasonable punishments that could have been doled out to Adamek.

Community service. Paying a monetary fine. Having some extracurricular privileges revoked. Or even making restitution for any property damage that was inflicted during the prank – although I'm assuming there was no actual property damage...otherwise, Principal Campbell would have bothered to explicitly mention that during his haphazard interviews with the local media. Right?

What probably happened was that Campbell clumsily shot his mouth off in front of news cameras, out of some sense of prudishness and/or self-righteous indignation. It wouldn't surprise me if Campbell thought he was "protecting" the school's reputation by making an example out of Christian Adamek in order to discourage other students from engaging in similar pranks in the future.

And then, when those actions backfired (following Adamek's tragic suicide), the school administration "circled the wagons" in order to protect Campbell (who, they probably realized, had mishandled the situation in a premature, tactless fashion).

Is it any wonder why people have such cynical views toward bureaucratic school administrations and teacher's unions? Not that a majority of teachers or faculty members in the school district necessarily agreed with Campbell's verbal diarrhea...but it just goes to show how authority figures – be they in education or law enforcement – will jump to "protect their own," yet, allow justice for the "common people" to fall by the wayside.

Six years ago, the notorious "Pumpkin Run" in Boulder, Colorado made national headlines when twelve university students were arbitrarily arrested for "public indecency." The ritual involved local residents (usually college-aged) running naked with carved-out pumpkins over their heads as a way of blowing off steam around Halloween.

Silly and juvenile? Sure – but relatively harmless, especially since it was done at night when young children were likely to be indoors or asleep (not that the nude human body, by itself, is something of which we should be teaching children to feel ashamed).

However, then-"Pumpkin Runner" Eric Rasmussen expressed, after his arrest, how he could understand the consequences for this mass prank resulting in community service or a monetary fine to the city. But certainly not being forced to register as a sex offender.

Yet, more than 150 people participated in the "Pumpkin Run" that year...and only a dozen of them were randomly selected by local police for arrest. Again, an inconsistent process where nonviolent citizens are "made an example out of"...in order to promote puritan "values."

In 2009, Boulder police chief Mark Beckner openly announced his intention to shut down future "Pumpkin Runs" indefinitely, even though the activity had been ignored by local authorities for the better part of a decade. He lambasted this event as a "free-for-all" that was getting out-of-hand.

While some people would argue that Beckner was merely "doing his job," he clearly wasn't – since the tradition was nothing new, and police hadn't made "indecent exposure" arrests during the "Pumpkin Run's" previous ten year history. Even then-Mayor Matt Applebaum, who still vowed to support Beckner and Boulder's police department, admitted, "I'm a little old for it, but it could be pretty cool to be running around with a pumpkin on your head and not much else."

And Boulder has also hosted an annual Naked Bike Ride to promote energy independence. So nudity in town, for select occasions, already had a precedent.

But the intent of sex offender laws is to stop those who engage in either sexual assault, the propositioning of minors, or full-fledged child molestation. Colorado state law deems it to be a Class 1 misdemeanor for citizens to expose their genitals with perverse intent or under circumstances "likely to cause affront or alarm."

Yet, any intelligent person can see the difference, in terms of both intent and effect, between someone who sexually preys upon an innocent child versus someone who's blowing off steam by running around naked after dark.

Beckner was caving into the "complaints" of Boulder-area prudes by placing sex offender charges on the table against "Pumpkin Runners," rather than simply recommending community service or a monetary fine. By fostering an environment where the punishment clearly doesn't fit the "crime," Beckner proved himself to be emblematic of precisely what is wrong with American society and our priorities as a culture.

Much like the University of Michigan's now-extinct "Naked Mile" (where arrested participants were also forced to register as sex offenders, under Michigan state law), the "Pumpkin Run" has basically faded from existence. By abusing the sex offender registry – forcing nonviolent and non-predatory offenders to be included in it, when that clearly was never the intent of the registry – these fearless community "protectors" are trivializing those crimes perpetrated against victims of sexual abuse or sexual assault.

Campbell, Till, Beckner, and their ilk will claim they are simply following the letter of the law, and that their actions are supposedly being done to "protect" schools and neighborhoods. They feel that "bringing down the hammer" in this manner will ultimately dissuade others from engaging in raunchy pranks, and prevent their respective jurisdictions from gaining shameful reputations. I'm sure they've convinced themselves that they are also preventing copious acts of assault, vandalism, and child abuse in the process.

What they are doing is actually resulting in the opposite – misplacing their wrath toward fun-loving pranksters, rather than directing it at actual rapists and pedophiles who continue to lurk unfettered in the shadows.

At the end of the day, I believe their underlying goal is to preserve systems of patronage and maintain bureaucratic privilege. By keeping "us reckless whippersnappers" in our place, they hope to cultivate a Victorian-style "Nanny State" where people become subdued and sexually-repressed.

There's no doubt in my mind that such a "Nanny State" would foster an environment where federal, state, and local governments "encourage" (both officially and informally) the promotion of theocratic, overly-judgmental, culturally-conservative "values."

Anyone who doesn't want to endure (which, I truly believe, would be a majority of Americans) such a restrictive culture should speak out against bullies such as Campbell and Breckner – calling them out and "shaming" them for their mismanagement of discipline or law enforcement.

Maybe if they received a taste of their own medicine, they (and other like-minded authority figures who seek to maintain similar privilege statuses for themselves) would learn to get their priorities straight...rather than grandstanding as a method of pandering to a myriad of Culture Warriors.

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savetopnow · 6 years

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2018-04-01 06 TECH now

TECH

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rhiannonkthomas · 7 years

Text

But it's just a joke!

Okay. Let’s talk about Pewdiepie and the “it’s just a joke” defense.

Quick intro, for the unaware. Pewdiepie is a gamer and the most popular creator on Youtube, with over 50 million subscribers. In recent years, he’s been curating a persona of Youtube’s Biggest Troll, and has been increasingly making “shock” jokes that are racist, sexist or otherwise offensive. Then, a couple of weeks ago, he made a video where he paid two men $5 on the freelance site Fiverr to film themselves holding up an incredibly anti-semitic sign (the link, like all the links in this post, is not to the video, but to a website unaffiliated with Pewdiepie). This was just one of a string of recent videos with anti-semitic language and Nazi imagery, which, of course, he claims were jokes. But it’s not been so funny to Disney, who cancelled their creative partnership with Pewdiepie in response on Monday night. Or, apparently, to Youtube themselves, who have now cancelled the second season of his premium Youtube Red show, Scare Pewdiepie, and revoked his place in their elite advertising program, Google Preferred.

Pewdiepie, of course, said that the Fiverr video was a statement on society — to show “that people on Fiverr would say anything for 5 dollars” — and that he does not support “any kind of hateful attitudes.” “I make videos for my audience. I think of the content that I create as entertainment, and not as a place for any serious political commentary. I know my audience understand that.”

But the most important part of his denial and apology, to me, was this final statement:

“As laughable as it is to believe that I might actually endorse these people, to anyone unsure on my standpoint regarding hate-based groups: No, I don’t support these people in any way.”

I, at least, believe him. Or I believe that he believes everything he’s saying, to the point that he never considered he would get serious backlash for this. Although Pewdiepie makes racist, sexist and anti-semitic jokes, I doubt they represent the beliefs of Felix Kjellberg, the real Swedish guy behind the channel. Everyone knows that Youtubers create personas, and although I’ve never liked Pewdiepie’s gaming content, I’ve seen Felix appear plenty of times in the daily vlogs of his girlfriend Marzia, and he comes off as a completely likeable, caring, normal guy. Obviously, that could be fake almost as easily as his Pewdiepie character, but it at least gives the impression that he’s a very different individual in real life from the one who plays games in front of a camera.

But even if that’s true, even if Felix Kjellberg is one of the nicest and kindest people you’re ever likely to meet, even if he means absolutely no harm… that doesn’t matter. His jokes are still harmful.

Felix claims that it is “laughable” that he could mean any of the hateful jokes he makes, and I think this disconnect in perspective is one of the main reasons that people use “but it’s a joke” as a defense. “It’s a joke” memesters see the world as a much nicer place than it is, where these jokes are counter-cultural, rather than maintaining systems of oppression. In their view, these hateful things are so extreme that no real person would actually believe them. The entire joke is based on that extremeness. And you have to be really oversensitive to take offense, because who in their right mind would actually mean these things? Clearly it’s a joke. It’s like an extreme form of deadpan sarcasm, relying on the mutual understanding that whatever is being said is shockingly outrageous and that the joker believes precisely the opposite.

And it falls apart because that mutually understanding does not exist when broadcasting to an audience of millions around the world.

First, people who actually hold these view don’t see these jokes as jokes. Anyone following the news will have heard about the sharp and violent rise in anti-semitic attacks recently, and people with those kind of hateful views usually believe that everyone else agrees with them, but are just too scared or stupid to say anything. So when Pewdiepie makes these jokes, they see it as “megastar Youtuber Pewdiepie agrees with us.” They see it as validation.

And that counts even if they also think Pewdiepie is being funny. Remember the Colbert Report? The show, perhaps surprisingly, had bi-partisan appeal, because liberals saw it as a send-up of extreme conservatives, and conservatives saw it as a send-up of liberals’ ridiculous beliefs about conservatives. Both thought he was making good political points that supported their own perspective. Similarly, people watching Pewdiepie’s videos might see them as a parody of extreme views, but they might also see them as a parody of what liberals believe about anti-semitic people. The joke, to them, would be in the magnification and exaggeration of the beliefs, and not the potential beliefs themselves.

Then, of course, there’s the fact that not everyone who watches Pewdiepie has the privilege of believing that these viewpoints are too extreme to be real. These people most likely have faced discrimination in their lives. They have encountered people who genuinely believe these “jokes”. They live in a world where Donald Trump got elected president. They are currently seeing public policy enacted based on these sorts of views. This isn’t funny to them, because, beyond anything else, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to build that shared understanding that yes, this is a joke, because to people who face discrimination, these statements aren’t comically extreme. People don’t want to see a Youtuber they admire treating them as less than a person, even in jest. Enough people do genuinely believe these things, so how can they know that this Youtube doesn’t believe them too? “Does this Youtuber I like watching genuinely think I and everyone like me should be killed?” is not a question anyone should have to wonder, not even for a split second. And when people are treated as over-sensitive for contemplating that anyone could actually believe that, it’s a form of large-scale societal gaslighting, where an individual knows they’re hated by others, based on other people’s words and actions, but is treated as insane for believing it of people who say those exact same words as “jokes.”

Pewdiepie has made it clear that he wants to be subversive and say “screw you” to the very concept of Internet fame. And there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. He can throw as much shade at the Youtube fame machine as he likes. Take on clickbait, take on Youtubers pretending to be preteens’ “friends” to sell them products, whatever. But there’s nothing subversive about invoking Nazi imagery and making anti-semitic jokes. It’s an extreme take on an increasingly mainstream perspective, and it causes real harm to Pewdiepie’s own viewers, whether or not that is his intent.

But it’s just a joke! was originally published on Feminist Fiction

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englishchinesetranslations · 3 years

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On the face of it, China’s new Civil Code wasn’t supposed to be controversial. In fact, when it was introduced at the start of this year, its very purpose was to focus on the mundane. Take, for example, the growing problem of so-called “train seat thieves” — railway passengers who refuse to move from their seat despite not having a reservation. Here in Britain, that hardly seems a big deal. But in China, where it’s simply not the done thing, a number of videos exposing “thieves” have gone viral on Weibo, its version of Twitter. So the new Code empowers train conductors to kick them off.

So far, so inoffensive. And yet over the past month, the Code, which is now the binding authority over all civil disputes in China, has become the subject of fierce internal criticism. Its origin? China’s increasingly outspoken new generation of feminists, who are furious at its introduction of a one-month “cooling-off period” before a divorce is finalised.

During that time, a husband and wife now have the power to revoke a divorce application without the other’s consent. That may seem like a mere technicality, but for China’s feminists it represents an infringement on women’s freedom to divorce, as well puts the victims of domestic violence in a potentially dangerous situation. They are also concerned that the ultimate purpose of the “cooling-off period” is to remedy China’s decreasing birth rates by keeping marriages afloat. In essence, they argue, it treats women as resources instead of rights-bearing individuals.

Since it was first mooted last year, Chinese feminists have launched a number of anonymous online social media campaigns against the move. And while they would seem to have failed, they have certainly succeeded in making their presence felt. Whether China’s ruling Communist Party (CCP) likes it or not, over the past year the country’s nascent feminist movement has become a force to be reckoned with.

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For while some members of the LGBT community support surrogacy — largely because they cannot conceive naturally— China’s feminists refuse to stand with them. One post by an anonymous user on social media platform Zhihu summarised their concerns: “Let’s use some imagination. What will happen if surrogacy becomes legal in China? The giant e-commerce companies will lead the price war. They will try to attract customers by promising the best surrogate mothers and the desired gender of babies. What do you think they will do to keep the promises? Don’t think I’m talking nonsense. Capital will trample on all human laws for profit.”

It was a comment typical of today’s generation of feminists in China: in many ways, despite feeling empowered by consumerism, much of their ideology is also rooted in the CCP’s political project. No doubt that will sit uneasily with a number of Western feminists. But just as Western women are a product of their culture, so too is the case with Chinese feminists. And while their priorities are certainly rooted in a different world, it is increasingly becoming clear that they do have the power to change it.

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years

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Coronavirus crisis' impact on rural India exposes inequality and pitfalls in access to education

Tarabai Sonawane is scared of the risk that the lack of internet has brought to her. For the last nine days, her three daughters are forced to leave the house for a few hours every day. The reason – access to the internet for e-learning.

From 13 April, the education department of the Maharashtra State Government started rolling out e-learning content to students from both Government and aided schools for grades I to IX. It’s hosted on the DIKSHA app – an e-learning platform of the Ministry of Human Resource Development.

Along with these videos, the respective school teachers send out several videos of science, maths, English, stories, images of paintings, assessments, online tests, PDF files of English sight words, and much more.

Tarabai’s daughters, Pallavi, Akshata, and Tejaswini, who stay in the Dhakale hamlet (Bhadole village in Hatkanangle taluka of Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district), go to their friends’ house to ensure they don’t miss out on the learning.

Why do they go out though?

Their stories reveal how education has become a privilege. Tejaswini’s father, Vilas, who works as a Gavandi (mason), ran out of mobile balance in the first week of April. Tarabai puts things in perspective, “There’s no work since 22 March. We didn’t have ration to eat.” Now in her mid-40s, she works as an agricultural labourer. An ill-planned lockdown forced her to buy grains on credit. “So far, we have bought grocery worth Rs 1,000,” she says. An extended lockdown brought in more risk, and now she anticipates that a further extension from 3 May might ‘kill them of starvation.’

File photo of a zilla parishad school in rural Kolhapur

The Sonawanes can’t afford a mobile recharge now. Every money ill-spent means inviting starvation. Also, it delays the time by which they have to repay the grocery shopkeeper.

Although Tarabai’s daughters cover the face with a handkerchief or stole, her fears resurface in the conversation. “Shikshan tar jhala pahije (The education should happen),” she says on the call. She’s particularly scared about her younger daughter, Tejaswini, who’s in grade VII at Vidya Mandir, Dhakale, because her friend Sanika lives on the opposite side of the hamlet (500 metres away). “It’s risky so she goes out early in the morning or the evening,” she says. “What can we do?”. In the afternoon, the police presence makes it difficult for the kids.

Her elder daughter Pallavi who is in grade XII and enrolled in Indira Gandhi Junior College, Vadgaon in an art course, says, “The teachers send us videos and assessments on phone. I’ve to go to my friend’s house to watch this.” For the Sonawanes, bargaining with social distancing comes at a cost which she can’t quantify anymore – the cost of inequality.

Education never came easy for Vikram Sonawane, 18, who awaits his grade XII result. For the past two years, he has been working odd jobs to support his junior college education and family. Today, he has many more responsibilities than just choosing the stream he wants to pursue post-XII.

Two months before giving his board exams in March 2020, he took a break from a firecracker factory in Vadgaon, where he worked as a labourer.

Immediately after his exams got over, he had planned to find a job for helping his family. There was no ‘vacation’ or ‘de-stress’ time for him. It was from the second week of April when his younger brother Suraj’s school teachers started sending the curriculum, videos and reading material on WhatsApp. Vikram had run out of mobile recharge in the last week of March, and recharge now seems farther than his hopes of the lockdown being revoked on 3 May. The pandemic and the subsequent lockdown have forced several people to take loans for buying grains and medicines in the hamlet already.

Suraj, unfortunately, has been finding it difficult to cope up with this. A grade VIII student, schooling has been no less than a challenge for him. He’s a student at Shrimati Indira Gandhi Madhyamik Vidyalaya in Vadgaon. For a few months, he could afford the bus fees of Rs 70 monthly, but since January he had to reduce it to a one-way trip. “While returning, I walk 5 km to my home,” he says. “We can’t afford it.”

An ill-planned lockdown has ushered a big risk of drop outs amongst upper primary and secondary grades to support their families

A lack of access to the internet has invited several risks for Suraj. Every day he goes to his friend, Mayuri’s house to borrow her single notebook. She jots down the things she understands from the e-learning material, and it becomes a reference or go-to point for at least five of her classmates in the hamlet.

When I ask Suraj, if he understands the concepts from the notes, he answers honestly, “I just copy it down and learn.” Suraj isn’t responsible for this. The system has failed him.

His father, Vijay, 45, travels the remote villages of the Konkan region in Maharashtra for nine months a year to cut bamboo and rests for the remaining three months. With the lockdown, he is stranded in his home. Suraj’s mother, Shalan, 40, works as an agricultural labourer in the nearby villages.

When I was talking to him on call, they had received a PDF file with the names of elements (periodic table). Suraj didn’t understand a word of it but had no other resort rather than just mugging it up.

Students are even asked to take online tests related to their subjects. A lot of students like Suraj are deprived of it. While Vikram managed to give his board exams, now he fears, if he will be able to continue with the education. For him, the most pressing thing is finding a job immediately.

In the second week of April, the headmaster of Vidya Mandir Dhakale, KB Patil, started surveying the households and made a handwritten contact list of parents with their WhatsApp number. Of the 31 students enrolled in grade V, VI, and VII, about 16 had WhatsApp. The school has a strength of 66 from grade I to VII.

File Photo of a group of students returning from school

He says, “The ones who are interested will even go to other’s houses to see the videos, and the ones who want to do nothing will be home. The output of such initiatives is only 50 percent, but we try for 100 percent. The students have to see the videos and solve the questions in their notebooks and send it to us so that we can assess them." The success of such steps “depends on how much the students want to learn and how much do their family members support,” he adds. He plans to send the soft copies of local newspapers also.

However, times have become much more difficult for Sangeeta Sonawane, 35, an agricultural labourer from the same community.

“Divas dhaklat jayecha (We keep passing the days),” she says. The Sonawane family with five members got 25 kilograms of rice from the State Government in the second week of April. Sangeeta has bought other required grains, dals, and groceries from a shop in her hamlet and has a credit of Rs 500. “We don’t have any money left to buy a notebook,” she says.

Her son, Sanket, who is in grade V, goes to his friend, Pranav’s house, wearing a handkerchief wrapped as a mask – to not miss out on the e-learning material. “My son understands that we are going through a tough time, and that’s why he doesn’t even ask us to buy a notebook.” He is taking the notes of seven subjects in a single 180-page notebook and will exhaust it soon. “Another day, he told me that once we get some money, we’ll buy the book.”

Sanket jots down what he understands. However, how much of the content he can comprehend remains a big question mark. “Sometimes he asks me doubts,” says Sangeeta, who dropped out of grade X.

One of the 108 households in the Dhakale hamlet

Mobile recharge is something not in the vicinity of the Sonawane family. “We’ve to go to Vadgaon (5 km) for getting a recharge done (Roughly Rs 500 for three months),” she says. Vadgaon, however, has been facing a brutal lockdown after a Corona positive patient was found on 27 March. “We don’t even have the balance to make a phone call,” she rues.

Her husband, Vinayak, 35, is a mason and goes to the nearby villages as and when he gets the work. From 22 March, both haven’t been able to go out for work. While the restrictions on farming have been lifted, Sangeeta says that the police and village authorities don’t allow them to go out.

The education department has planned to air the content on radio and television for students who don’t have access to a smartphone. Director of Maharashtra State Council for Educational Research and Training, Dinkar Patil, said in an interview to Hindustan Times, “MHRD’s Swayam channel will host this content for two hours in the morning and evening every day. We are working on the content and it should begin in a couple of days.”

There are 66,033 Zila Parishad schools in Maharashtra. As per the State Education Department, there are roughly 2.25 crore students enrolled in schools (both private and government) in Maharashtra. As per the Economic Survey of Maharashtra 2019-2020, the dropout rate in primary schooling is 1.09 percent which increases to 2.15 percent for upper primary and reaches a stark 8.8 percent for secondary schooling in the state for 2018-2019.

A crisis like this can fuel drop-out rates quickly and has even forced several students in Dhakale to consider picking up odd jobs to support their families.

Several parents said that even the Anganwadi teachers are sending the content on mobile now

Ravindra Sonawane, who awaits his previous month’s salary, is scared of his daughter dropping out. Around 20 March, he had to return to his hamlet from Kasegaon village (Walwa taluka in Maharashtra’s Sangli district) where he works at a dhaba. Upon asking for the due salary, the owner just said, “Baghuya (Let’s see),” he tells me on call.

However, Ravindra can’t say ‘let’s see’ to ration. His elder daughter Mayuri, who’s in grade VIII, goes to a guardian’s house in the community who has internet. With public service announcements on Covid-19, Mayuri is now scared of stepping out. A few days back, she asked her father, “Why can’t we see the videos on our phone?” Ravindra wasn’t prepared to answer this.

“It’s important to educate the children, but I need money for recharge,” he says. His hope from education stems from his past. “I couldn’t go to school, so I want my children to get educated.”

Mayuri takes the help of Vishal Sonawane (the local guardian) to understand the concepts. “We don’t have any resources like glue, motor, battery, etc for science experiments,” she says. This adds more to the misery. Frustrated, Ravindra describes the plight in four words, “Kaam nahi, ration nahi (There’s no work, no ration).”

All images courtesy of the author.

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biofunmy · 4 years

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I Don’t Know How To Talk To My Parents About Kashmir

Lucy Jones for BuzzFeed News

I didn’t have a great year, if I’m being honest. In all fairness, my most recent years haven’t been great thanks to my own inherent pessimism, and I really did think that 2018 was going to kill me. But I was wrong. 2019 is the one that almost did me in: I moved to another country, tried to navigate an incredibly hostile city, survived the first year of marriage, and almost bought out the entire country’s worth of antibiotics thanks to a litany of increasingly rare and peculiar illnesses. When I recently complained to my doctor about toe stiffness, he suggested it might be gout, like I’m a rich baby living in the 19th century. (Don’t worry, it’s merely the debilitating arthritis I inherited from my mother.)

Maybe I could’ve navigated 2019 better if I didn’t simultaneously feel like my family was cracking under the pressure of a confusing geopolitical conflict. I talk to my parents a lot — every day, which is shocking even to other brown people. But in my defense, what if one of them dies and haunts me, saying, “Oh, and this is what you were doing that made you too busy to pick up a call from your mother???” This year, though, I called less and less. I just couldn’t do it. My mom is smart and my dad is funny, and I like wrapping up my worst days by complaining to them and having them calm me down and build me back up. But lately, they’ve just made me feel alone.

This is confusing and somewhat niche, but bear with me, because you’ll need it to understand why I’ve blocked or muted about half of my family on WhatsApp: In August, the Indian government revoked Article 370, which up until then, had given the state of Jammu and Kashmir a special status within India, preserving its autonomy. Kashmir, tucked between Pakistan and India, is a much-contested region both India and Pakistan have fought over in a conflict that has spanned decades. In the late ’80s and early ’90s, Kashmiri Hindus were driven out of the land after being targeted by Muslim insurgents. This is, at least, the narrative my family, along with other Hindu Indians, tells me, but according to some separatist leaders, the Indian state constructed the exodus in order to incite further conflict and be able to intervene. A hundred thousand Hindus left the valley, with only a few thousand remaining. My family considers their forced removal to be an ethnic cleansing; Kashmiri Hindus have lived in refugee camps for decades since. The conflict in Kashmir is long and complicated, but this New Yorker story is a solid primer on recent tensions in the region.

Since the revocation, Kashmir has been placed under curfew, there are internet and cell service blackouts, journalists trying to report on the region are being turned away, and Muslim residents live in fear. None of this is necessarily new, just better reported, and it’s certainly not unique behavior from Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his Hindu nationalist government. Modi’s record as an Indian politician has been punctuated by his anti-Muslim rhetoric, namely during the 2002 Gujarat riots. India is a stark example of how any country can fall into the deep, dark trap of religious nationalism.

Both of my parents were born and raised in Kashmir, as Hindus in the Muslim-majority state. My mom waxes poetic about Srinagar, her hometown and the largest city in Kashmir; a tourism poster of the city hangs in my brother’s home, and my half-white niece ignores it every day, proof of the privilege my parents wanted her to have when they moved to Canada. As a kid, my mom always told me stories about how my grandparents fled in the early ’90s; they were, as my dad tells me, fearful of being ethnically cleansed as Hindus in the region. I accepted these stories, believing — as I continue to believe — their fear to be sincere. Why wouldn’t I? Children of immigrants often have little history to hang on to — my brother, who was the last of our nuclear family to be born in India, has a birth certificate that’s just a handwritten note that reads “Boy, Koul.” There’s no reason to suspect your parents of biases you’re too naive to understand at 6 or 7. Other than these little stories, I dutifully ignored Kashmir. It was complicated, and I was just trying to fit in around white people. The solution, as far as my child brain was concerned, didn’t involve trying to understand the specificity of a conflict between two brown countries that I didn’t really feel a part of to begin with.

The Indian government’s logic behind the revocation was to create a space for Hindus to return to the region, decades after they had been run out or killed. But what the government did — imposing curfews, blocking internet access, creating a police state — has cut Kashmir off from the rest of the world. Kashmiri Muslims are being targeted by a government that wants to control India’s only Muslim-majority state.

As a human being, it’s been heartbreaking to watch. As a Kashmiri, it’s fucked with my sense of self.

Getty Images

Kashmiri protesters save themselves from the tear gas during a protest against Indian rule and the revocation of Kashmir’s special status in Srinagar, the summer capital of Indian-administered Kashmir, Aug. 30.

I don’t talk about Kashmir a lot because I don’t feel like I have a right to. I was born in Canada, and nothing really betrays my particular heritage other than my last name. Only other Kashmiris can pinpoint where I’m from, and they do it with glee, which does indeed tickle me, for some reason. Kashmiris find each other all over the world and we cling to the specificity of our heritage. Your mom screams at you all the time? Me too!!!! Kashmiris eat a ton of meat, we perfected rogan josh, we love nadru and tsiri tsot and sheer chai (this last one is truly one of our worst culinary contributions to the world and we should be ashamed). We were raised on Kashmiri ghazals that our other brown friends didn’t understand, because our language was particular, with no real script, and a set of some of the most specific insults known to man. Who knew there were so many ways to tell someone you’re going to fuck their sister? My mom was proud of me when I graduated high school, but she was really proud of me when I got two conch piercings in my mid-twenties.

I wouldn’t argue that 2019 is the worst that Kashmir has been through — 1990 and 2001 and 2016 were pretty bad too. But this year, the revocation of Article 370 led to more visible coverage about Kashmir than I had really seen in recent memory. It’s a region of the world rarely reported on, and the research coming out of the area is often written by and for Kashmiri Hindus. The Hindu narrative is now the prevailing one in most Indian media, aided by the current Indian government, which is deeply nationalistic and outright hostile to Muslims.

The confluence of my age, my recent status as an immigrant (but, like, from Canada so, you know, come on, Scaachi), and my increasing existential dread forced me to read more and pay better attention and, ultimately, get angrier. Maybe the only thing that’s really changed is now, in my late twenties, it’s not really possible for me to say nothing. The privilege of passivity isn’t mine anymore. I’m the youngest in my family by far, and have been treated as such for most of my life, but you can’t get away with acting like you’re 12 just because your dad still can’t believe you’re competent enough to pay your own rent. (That said, please send money. Beti here needs a new coat.)

There’s no reason to suspect your parents of biases you’re too naive to understand at 6 or 7.

But also, my god, does it not feel like every book and television show and movie and article has been about Kashmir this year? I know, logically, that’s not true, but when I was browsing the selection at a bookstore in Miami’s airport last week and found a book about Kashmir tucked between romance novels and thrillers, I felt like I was being followed by a heritage I’ve ignored for most of my life. Information and art about Kashmir reached a fever pitch in my own brain and, seemingly, in the world around me.

It’s easy, when you’re young, to tell yourself that you’ll deal with the hard things when you’re grown: I’ll learn how taxes work when I’m bigger, or, The electoral college will make more sense to me after college. These excuses work just fine when you’re a kid, but time moves faster than you do, and one day you’re 28 and sunstroked and half-drunk in the Miami International Airport and trying not to cry because you don’t understand who you are or where you came from or what you’re supposed to believe. You know you should buy the book about Kashmir, but it feels like an anvil in your hands, like it could crush your own heart. Instead, you get a bottle opener shaped like a woman, her butt connected by springs. She twerks, so you can ignore the fact that your mother’s mother tongue is dying and that you’re fighting with your whole family about the future of your little community.

My family is Hindu — so Hindu that, for years, their stories about Kashmir didn’t include the existence of Muslims at all. Like a lot of Hindus, we were taught to be friendly to Muslims, but not too friendly. We couldn’t marry them or foster any kind of real intimacy. Friendship was fine, but we were warned to not get too close. I didn’t interrogate this with my family. I merely ignored their advice, dated whom I wanted, made close friends with whomever else I wanted, and did my best.

My best wasn’t very good. It rarely is. This year, when I saw my cousins posting celebratory meals and messages of joy after the revocation, I felt like they were living in an alternate reality. It was hard for me to fathom that my own family, who is otherwise quite liberal and thoughtful, could sustain such heartlessness about Muslims in Kashmir. The seeming focus of my family, and of other Hindus in general, was that the ends would justify the means. By disrupting the region further, by creating a larger Indian military presence in the area, by refusing to protect Muslims as a minority class in the region at large, “we” would somehow be able to “return” “home.” For the first time in my life, I engaged in a pastime that I thought was largely reserved for white people: fighting with my family on Facebook about their terrible politics.

Nurphoto / Getty Images

Kashmiri women shout pro-freedom slogans during protests after Friday prayers in Srinagar in September.

One particular cousin and I went back and forth for a day, on his page and then mine. One of his friends watched our exchange and called me “a fucker” in Hindi (finally, my weekly lessons are proving useful). My smart, educated, thoughtful family referred to the New York Times’ coverage of Kashmir as “fake news” and the “biased media” refusing to hear the “Kashmiri Pandit side.” The Kashmiri Facebook groups and email lists I’m part of stopped being fun; instead, I was bombarded with chains of people trying to figure out how to get “the real story out there.” On Facebook, my conversation with my cousin dwindled thusly: “It is pretty arrogant to talk as if you have mastered the constitution of India and are able to pass judgment,” he said to me. “Your arguments are passionate but hollow to me, because you haven’t lived the life in that part of the world.” My cousin grew up in Rajasthan, a hot, arid state in Western India, hundreds of miles away from Kashmir’s cold mountains. His context is uniquely Indian and Hindu and exclusionary. Mine is global and anxious and lonely.

We haven’t talked since. I haven’t attempted to. I’m too tired.

My husband, who is white enough to get mad that turmeric stains our kitchen countertops instead of accepting placidly that everything in our home is now yellow, initially found this very funny. “See, now you’re going to have an awkward Thanksgiving dinner too!” He compared it to white people going home to their relatives to argue about their Trump-voting ways, which I guess is apt, but somehow mine feels much worse: My family has real trauma in their history, real fear, and real marginalization. It complicates their narrative significantly. I get where they’re coming from. I just think they’re wrong.

What makes my conflict with my family over Kashmir different than, say, a white person begging their relatives not to vote for Trump, is that my family is suffering from intergenerational trauma. A lot of white people don’t have a history of ethnic cleansing, a family line that’s been disrupted by government and war and death. When my mother talks about her parents having to flee Kashmir in the middle of the night, I believe her, because I can see the light in her eyes dim. I wish I could fix it for her, as if I could make the world less cruel. That doesn’t mean we should consider it acceptable that another family — any family, different from us only by religion — will suffer the same fate, decades later.

It was hard for me to fathom that my own family, who is otherwise quite liberal and thoughtful, could sustain such heartlessness about Muslims in Kashmir.

I’m not interested in fighting over who I think is or isn’t responsible for Kashmir’s lifetime of havoc; I’m similarly not interested in hearing arguments that Muslims need to be “punished” for whatever hand a few of them may have had in destabilizing the area. But for my family, there is real fear there. They remember losing their home. My mom was already in Canada when her parents were driven out.

That’s cold comfort when it comes to seeing my own community commit the same infractions against others. The cruelty that Kashmiri Pandits experienced doesn’t mitigate our callousness toward displaced Muslims. If our home was taken from us, why would we foist that onto someone — anyone — else? None of our trauma, real or interpreted, is a valid reason for generations of lies and propaganda spread about Muslim people. It doesn’t justify Hindus reacting placidly to the subjugation of another religious group. It’s not a mistake that Modi’s government has made Muslims the target of his campaign: It’s a great, quick way to whip up Hindus.

It’s a deceptively simple thought that I keep returning to: When this happens to us, we call it ethnic cleansing. When it happens to Muslims, we call it righteous. In one context, Kashmiri Pandits are victims looking for retribution. In another, we’re a privileged class: fair-skinned, high-caste, with a religion that isn’t constantly being policed by white and brown people alike. (Or, at least, just not in the same way that Muslims are interrogated globally.)

It’s a conflict not dissimilar to the ones progressive American Jews are having now about Palestine. Though the specifics of these conflicts are different at heart, there’s a commonality there. There has to be a way to maintain and understand the historical context of your own people’s suffering while also refusing to pass that legacy down to other disenfranchised groups. There has to be a way to ask for accountability for your family’s grief and displacement without displacing others. Right? I say this to myself every few days, and sometimes it rings so naive and gullible that I can’t trust myself anymore.

I don’t know how to talk about Kashmir with my family, which makes it hard for me to know how to talk about it publicly. I have been told by some of my own blood that I’m not entitled to an opinion on it because I’ve never been to Kashmir, and because I’m not really Kashmiri since I’ve been so whitewashed by the West. But this, to me, just feels like a silencing tactic. If Hindus who live comfortably around the world, who don’t worry about being oppressed by other brown people, aren’t going to speak publicly about the harm their own community is doing, who will?

Over the course of the year, I have attempted to write about Kashmir six or seven times, both for my day job and just for myself. I interviewed other Kashmiris for my forthcoming book to try to make sense of it. At our company holiday party a few weeks ago, I cornered the only Indian immigrant I know in the newsroom and forced her to talk about Kashmir, which mostly meant me screaming in her ear over Pitbull songs. (Sorry, Tasneem, I got excited.) All of my attempts have felt like failures, mainly because this doesn’t feel like my story to tell, and yet it’s the only thing I want to talk about. The topic makes me feel stupid and uneducated and illiterate. My dad, whom I love terribly, finds my anxiety about this all very funny. He has always been liberal, believed in the same things I did, full of compassion, and has always been mindful of how racism and religious prejudices have affected me and our family. Kashmir is his big blind spot. I feel almost desperate when I talk to him about Kashmir, like I just want him to be better about this.

Weeks ago, we fought about the lack of internet and cell service in Kashmir. I argued that it was a tool to keep the people there even more oppressed. He brushed me off, laughed at me, his silly pyari beti. I didn’t call him for a few days after that. My dad has, many times in my life, launched silent treatments against me because of whatever disrespect he seemed to glean from my behavior. This year was the only time in my life I felt completely unwilling to speak to him, a Koul family first.

I don’t even think he noticed.

In March, my family is supposed to go back to India for a wedding, and I’ve asked my mother to go to Kashmir with me. It feels dishonest, somehow, to keep visiting the same places — Agra, Jaipur, Jammu, Delhi — and never go to the valley. My mom hasn’t been back there since she first left, now more than 40 years ago. She’s been afraid to return and refused to bring me as a child in case of regional unrest. She’s willing to go now, but my father is trying to chip away at the idea. His current argument is, incredibly, that it will “rain,” so why bother taking my mother to the very place she was born and grew up? As if rain might wash away the roads completely. As if he isn’t afraid of something darker, more nefarious in the region.

We may have been the hunted, sure, but now we’re the hunters. We know better, but we’re not doing better.

My parents are old as hell. Their parents are dead. My brother has forgotten his Kashmiri, and his daughter is so detached from it I’m not sure if she even knows where it is. I feel like I’m running out of time to understand a family history that will soon turn into dust. All year, I felt like something indescribable was being wrestled away from me, and I want some of it back. But do I have the right to it to begin with?

India and Pakistan have been fighting over Kashmir for my lifetime and my parents’ lifetimes. I’m not arrogant enough to think that it’ll get solved in 2020. What I’d actually like is for the unafflicted in this conflict, people like myself, young first- and second-generation kids, to recognize the legacy of trauma that we’re encouraging. I’m not asking for an answer or a definitive explanation. All I really want, to close out this terrible, year, is for my family to acknowledge a hard, complex, and unfair fact: We may have been the hunted, sure, but now we’re the hunters. We know better, but we’re not doing better.

It used to be that when an Indian person heard my last name, or where my family emigrated from, they’d smile and say, “Oh sure,” and we’d move on. But now we talk with trepidation. We’re all trying to figure out where the other has landed. Muslim Kashmiris have, rightfully, treated me with caution. Pandits, meanwhile, assume we all agree. I’ve been most disappointed with the twentysomething kids with no attachment to Kashmir beyond their grandparents’ birthplaces, who parrot what their elders are telling them about Hindus and India’s superiority. India — a country I’ve never lived in but a place that, I assumed, had to take me as I was, in a way that Canada or the US never could — has become more foreign to me.

Does being Indian mean anything, namely as someone who very much might not be Indian? Does it mean anything good? Can I, this late in my life, eons detached from the place itself, begin to refer to myself as Kashmiri instead?

In my parents’ house, on a long table in the living room, they have a few model shikaras, wooden river boats found on Dal Lake in Srinagar. As a kid, these were merely toys that represented a fantasy world to me, like something you’d see if you fell through the looking glass. It was easy to pretend as if Kashmir wasn’t real, that it was a dream my parents had, and I’d never have to think about it beyond looking at those little boats. I wasn’t allowed to, but I’d play with those boats anyway — tipping them back and forward, peering inside their windows, pushing them along the table, all while imagining a world much less fraught than the one I ended up living in. ●

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mikemortgage · 5 years

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Mother Russia: South Florida sees a boom in ‘birth tourism’

MIAMI — Every year, hundreds of pregnant Russian women travel to the United States to give birth so that their child can acquire all the privileges of American citizenship.

They pay anywhere from $20,000 to sometimes more than $50,000 to brokers who arrange their travel documents, accommodations and hospital stays, often in Florida.

While the cost is high, their children will be rewarded with opportunities and travel advantages not available to their Russian countrymen. The parents themselves may benefit someday as well.

The Russians are part of a wave of “birth tourists” that includes sizable numbers of women from China and Nigeria.

An American passport confers many advantages. Once the child turns 21, he or she can apply for “green card” immigration status for the parents.

Travelling to the U.S. on a Russian passport often requires a laborious interview process for a visa. Just getting an appointment for the interview can take months.