My sisters do not look at me as much as I look at them.
She thinks that I am my mother’s favorite but they are each other’s favorite and I have nobody if not my mother. But my mother does not listen to me, so in reality, I truly have nobody.
My elder sister will not know how I make my fried rice. She will not know about my 6th grade unrequited love, about my favorite authors, and my talents. She will not know.
But I will know her like the back of my hand; I know how she loves watching true crime, I know how much she adores dogs and how particular she is about her stuff and I will take all of this to the grave.
(I do not want to, I think, but I feel more than that.)
I know how she’s still hungry after, in a fight with mother, she says she isn’t.
I know she is so I will stay behind and eat a little bit slower. I’ll whisper to mom hushedly, “I’ll wipe the table and wash the dishes” to get her off my back, even if I don’t want to, but because I want my sister to eat.
I see her and she doesn’t see me. Or, she does see me but she doesn’t understand me. She looks at me like I’m darkness looming through her and she looks at me like I’ve somehow ruined her life and I don’t know what I’ve done.
I haven’t done anything but it’s almost like I’ve died in my mother’s womb, and I am now just a ghost haunting them for when I speak they respond but their arms dig past my heart and instead of feeling through me, they feel past me.
I’m here and they’re choosing to ignore me.
I’m here and it’s like I’ve never been.
I stand on my right foot and contort my body into a woman when I am barely a teenager, and I would do so again and again just for her to see me.
I would tear my body in half for her to see me for me.
I am afraid that she will only do so when my body has long decomposed in its casket and she receives my folder of files just like this one, detailing how I’ve felt.
Shivers may pass through her veins, and instead of satisfaction, she will feel guilt. She will feel rotten and disgusting.
I do not want that.
I am torn into bits and pieces and my lungs have been removed and yet I am still breathing and I am already inexplicably dead when I feel shame for dying out of guilt for living.
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I LVOE BLACK WOMEN OK?
I love hood black women
i love nerdy black women
i love dorky black women
i love high femme black women
i love stud black women
i love ratchet black women
i love loud black women
i love black women
i love fat black women
i love twiggy black women
i love THICC black women
i love trans black women
if youre black and a woman, i love you so much
I love mean black women (they have their reasons)
WE are the BLUEPRINT, dont get it twisted!
ALL BLACK WOMEN ARE CELEBRATED HERE!
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Dude. I think me and my sister, @frootychick ,are time travelers🤯⏰️
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Had a really good talk with my sisters last night. My middle sister told me that she was disappointed I stopped updating my fic and I was like girl, it’s at 210k now, and she was like @_@ where’s the link? And now my middle sister is trying to talk my younger sister into reading my Malcolm/Leandra fic so they can talk about it.
I’m so lucky to have an awesome family.
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Look I love my sisters, right? But they come up with the craziest things. For instance, I got the following message from them at ten o'clock at night:
"Sis, we have a problem:
Peter Pan is Link.
Think about it--"
Peter Pan has a Shadow self. Link has a Shadow self (sure Link and his Shadow try and kill each other most of the time, but not ALL the time, which is how Peter and his Shadow get along).
He's got a pet bird or a pet fairy, depending on who you ask (In the play, "Peter and the Starcatcher", which is the origin story of Peter Pan, Tinkerbell starts as a bird and then magically gets turned into a fairy--and this is from the original story. Link has a Loftwing, which gets subbed out for a fairy later down the line.)
They both wear green. Self-explanatory.
...Okay, this is a weird thing. Wendy's Mother Molly, fell in love with Peter Pan. And when she did, but realized she couldn't stay with him forever, she wished that Peter would fall in love with all of her daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters. For all time. And Link and Zelda got that whole "eternally bonded for all time" (Side conversation: "You know, Molly is Ganon!" *laughter*)
They are both CHILDREN (okay, Peter is eternally a child but Link is usually a child when he's called to adventure)
They are both orphans.
They both use swords.
"So we have ruined Link but made Peter Pan better because Peter is annoying." (their words, not mine)
(Random Fun Fact for Peter Pan: Captain Hook gave Peter his first name and magical mermaids gave him the Pan part of his name.)
Me: ... what in the name of HYLIA???
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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Felt like sharing an old conversation between my sister and I about her sneaking out of the house.
Classic sibling shenanigans
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