#someone always start another harassment campaign against someone who is neurodivergent specially if they are lgbt

[miasma-my-asthma]

Wow you are telling me that this neurodivergent furry trans person whose people got weirdly obsessed over to the point of being made into a lolcow and having thousands of pages in kiwifarms might have done something bad and have some mental health issues that problably were caused by the overexposure done tho them is "problematic"? WOOOOW 🫢🫢🫢🫢 I cant believe it 🙄.

Hey real quick, did you by chance were heavily invested in the undertale fandom around its release?

[brotheralyosha]

I’ve belonged to a lot of communities over the years. Or at least a lot of groups that billed themselves as communities. These communities were activist groups, political campaigns, and academic networks; they were theater companies, writing groups, comedy collectives, queer scenes, and friend cliques. They were all different; they were all maddeningly the same.

Each of these groups harbored a shared mythology that they were particularly tight-knit, and especially supportive. Most promised their members a strong and abiding sense of connection, as well as material resources: mutual aid, community care, mentorship, and mediation to name a few. Many claimed to be committed to restorative justice, or adopted formal anti-harassment policies. In the majority of these groups, it was claimed there was no hierarchy at play, that we were a voluntary network of equals.

What made each of these groups “communities” is not quite clear, because they were all so different. Some were formally organized. Some weren’t. They existed in the real world, or they operated online. Some had rules and bylaws; others were held together by little more than a group chat. Some required members jump through specific hoops or achieve certain accomplishments before they truly belonged. Others were a loose gaggle of people who didn’t all know one another.

The only thing these communities had in common (other than claiming to be “communities”) was the falseness of their promises. They never actually pooled resources or provided emotional or social support. They rarely lasted long enough to give members any true sense of belonging or consistency. They didn’t ‘show up’ for people the way their mythology said they would. And they certainly didn’t recognize everyone as equals. That always became clear the moment a leader got accused of abuse, or anytime rumors circulated about a marginal member committing a cancellable offense.

. . .

I am especially wary when communities call themselves families. I haven’t ever been part of a group that considered itself a family that wasn’t haunted by all the same problems families-of-origin have: a fear of open conflict, a silencing of those who name abusive power dynamics, and most of all, a crushing pressure to affirm the mutually adopted illusion that we are different, we are special, we get along like nobody else. Which, of course, carries with it a frightening implication: if this community rejects you, you will wind up alone.

. . .

I always love my new community when I first join it. I feel peace when the members envelop me in their good humor and warmth. When someone at the center of the group gives me a knowing smile, and makes me feel like I’m part of all the in-jokes, and my heart soars. I enjoy studying and learning new norms, adopting new language, forming new friendships and memorizing facts about each person and how they relate to everyone else.

But then I see someone repeatedly being mistreated and mocked. Or I realize I’m being pressured to do something I don’t want to do. I notice shared glances and soft, mocking laughter whenever certain people speak. I start to feel disillusioned, or begin to worry I am crazy, because I see pressure and exploitation at work that others don’t find troubling.

Eventually I reach a breaking point. A longstanding member’s bigotry is excused, because “that’s just how he is”. Someone who asks too many questions gets punished for not really believing in our shared cause. Neurodivergent members get mocked for being “awkward” or “weird”. A sexual assault allegation gets covered up. A victim gets isolated from all of her friends. A truth can’t be aired. It would fray the “community”.

At some point, it always becomes clear to me the group is not a functioning space. In order to maintain its illusory status as a positive and uplifting “family”, it has ground down far too many people, and driven even more away. So I leave. And I’m alone. Until another community presents itself, enticing me yet again with promises of acceptance.

I don’t want to fall for this anymore. I don’t want to be a rube to another exploitative “family”. I need connections to other people, but I don’t think I need community anymore. It’s been nothing but a dangerous fiction to me. A fantasy that gets me pulled into manipulative dynamics time and time again.