#woke authoritarianism

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Yes, let's talk about "your" pronouns for a moment, because I have some thoughts on the matter...

What's that? Oh, silly me. By "let's talk about," what you actually mean is "unquestioningly comply with my demands."

Be that as it may, "we" - which is to say, "I" - am going to talk about it regardless.

Let's analyze this for a moment.

She gives the game away right up front: blue heart is for boys, pink heart is for girls. This ideology is based on stereotypes. If you still doubt this, I don't know what else to show you to convince you.

Secondly, her "gender" isn't a profound knowledge of personal identity, because it changes faster than the weather. I'm not even sure it's her personality, because anyone whose personality changes that rapidly and that wildly has some kind of severe disorder. What she's calling "gender" seems to be nothing but her mood.

Thirdly, and I keep having to repeat this, if your "gender" requires others to participate, then it's not a "deeply personal sense of self." Just like your faith cannot be "a personal relationship with Jesus" if everybody else has to pray or refrain from pointing out the flaws in the bible. "Gender is a social construct" means that your "gender" only "exists" to the extent people play along. People are sick of being bullied into pretending for narcissists.

More importantly, you don't get to make others participate and then deny them any say or input. You can't give people an obligation with no authority, because if you think you can, then others can give you an obligation with no authority.

And you don't get to make others responsible for your mental wellbeing, to carry the burden you cannot or will not, and then get angry when they don't meet your standards or decline the obligation at all. You are responsible for you. Trying to make other people responsible for your emotions or mental state is psychotic. Xians insist that humans - and particularly children - are responsible for keeping their god happy, evidently because he cannot do it himself. You're just as much of an immature psychopath. We are not responsible for keeping you from bursting like a fragile soap bubble.

You can have a personal, unquestionable conviction, or you can have a matter of public interest and discussion. As soon as you insist others participate, you forfeit the right to cordon your beliefs off from scrutiny. If you want your beliefs to go unmolested, then keep them to yourself.

If it's nobody else's business, don't make it other people's business. You can't claim your "gender" is nobody else's business, nobody else gets a say, and then insist it is their business to comply with these demands and prop the whole delusion up.

Private concern or public interest. Choose one.

Fourthly, anyone who comes up with rules like this is a sociopath who is trying to control, manipulate and trap others. Since third-person pronouns are used primarily when someone is not present, when referring to an individual when talking to others, this is a form of authoritarian thought-control. You do not get to dictate how others must see you or think of you. They get to decide for themselves what they think of you, regardless of whether or not you like it, and it's none of your business. And if your sense of self is so flimsy that you must coerce them to conform their view of you to your own view of yourself, then you have bigger problems than "your" pronouns.

When she walks into room, people stiffen because they have to talk like idiots around her - and that's part of the appeal. She wants to be "misgendered," because who is she if she's not a marginalized victim and the center of attention? That's the trick: either you comply, and she wins, or you refuse, and she gets to pretend to be a victim and she wins. Nobody's obliged to pay attention to these insane, imaginary rules, much less play along. When she's already gamed it to win no matter what, the only way for you to win is to retain your integrity and self-respect and tell the truth.

And finally, you do not have pronouns. The pronouns belong to the language, in this case, English. The English language has pronouns for you. You don't have your own pronouns any more than you have your own conjugations or your own adjectives. Other languages, such as German, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Chinese and Japanese, have their own structures, and they're not for you to "fix" with your stupid activism.

And yes, languages change. They evolve through common usage and common acceptance, not through narcissists performing blunt-force creationism enforced with emotional manipulation and vilification.

She's an average, unremarkable girl who's found a socially acceptable way to control other people and pretend to be interesting.

My adjectives are amazing/brilliant/impressive.

Misadjectiving is hate. #BeKind

P.S. I miss the days when pink, green or blue dyed hair was a sign of rebellion and uniqueness, rather than a predictable trope and red flag that warns the world about all your views and opinions before you ever open your mouth. #MakeDyedHairCoolAgain

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Censorship is telling a man he can't have a steak just because a baby can't chew it.

- Mark Twain

[jensorensen]

I can't believe I'm still drawing cartoons about the word "woke," but its idiotic usage just won't go away. 

George Orwell's 1984 gets invoked a lot these days, but what happened to the word "woke" is exactly what was intended with Newspeak. Per Wikipedia, "Orwell explains that Newspeak follows most rules of English grammar, yet is a language characterised by a continually diminishing vocabulary; complete thoughts are reduced to simple terms of simplistic meaning." With "woke" we see the entire project of humanism reduced to a stupid insult. Shamefully, many political commentators not on the authoritarian right still use this lazy shorthand to belittle activists or anything vaguely socially conscious, invoking the right's pejorative framing.

Help keep this work sustainable by joining the Sorensen Subscription Service! Also on Patreon.

[globalzombie]

Ed West writes on our hip contemporary ruling class & its feel-good progressive ideology. 6 April 2023.

[old1ddude]

As usual, Glenn has the correct take on this.  I’ll just add a little quote:

Once a government is committed to the principle of silencing the voice of opposition, it has only one way to go, and that is down the path of increasingly repressive measures, until it becomes a source of terror to all its citizens and creates a country where everyone lives in fear.

Harry S. Truman

[penguinlover27]

I predict that DeSantis’ authoritarian ways are going to backfire on him and the GOP spectacularly. This may serve the short-term interests of getting MAGA behind his campaign for POTUS, but these antics are not going to win him a lot of support nationally and outside of that narrow base.

DeSantis and his enablers in FL are also running the risk of a serious brain-drain, with college professors choosing to work for institutions elsewhere without such an authoritarian grip. The threat to the status of tenured professors is definitely going to cause a stir.

Add to that the decimation of AP courses for high school students in the name of ideological purity. These moves are hardly based on the needs of students and are instead purely the product of authoritarian, right wing ideology. 

DeSantis likes to say that Florida is “where woke goes to die”, but I think that the push for greater inclusion and diversity in our society is not going to end there or anywhere else just by fiat.

The rage against “woke” by conservatives is nothing more than the ravings of the white-supremacist movement in its death throes. They define “woke” as being anything that threatens their hold on power over our politics and our culture, rather than the definition that those who initiated the term used.

In a sense, the anti-woke reaction can potentially be killed in the crib by destroying it in Florida before other GOP governors attempt to follow DeSantis’ playbook. Just as by stopping Putin in Ukraine we can prevent further Russian invasions of other European nations, we can stop DeSantis and his regressive agenda in Florida before it spreads. Frankly, the importance of stopping both men cannot be overstated.

[calvincell]

This week, lawyers for Trump went into the Supreme Court & argued in order to protect their client, that a president explicitly could assassinate a political opponent & in turn any dissenting or opposed senators, judges or even average citizens and be immune from prosecution and in the face of that lunacy multiple conservative justices (who once again make up the majority) on the SC signaled their open support of that argument without any hesitation or doubt & with zero reference to actual case law. Multiple supposed icons in the practice of law in this country openly signaled their support for a rewinding of our country back to monarchical rule with collective straight faces.

This is what we have to look forward to if Trump is allowed into office again. Justice Jackson, one of the few competent & progressive justices was as usual also one of the few rational actors in this farce & pointed out explicitly that all the granting of presidential immunity would do is make the presidency a desired office for out & out criminality. Whether conservatives want to acknowledge it or not by supporting Trump’s claim, there is nothing stopping a president from not just being a dictator who jails & slaughters all opposition but could also just become a drug lord, using the apparatuses & authority granted by our country to make the US a golden state of the drug trade. There is nothing stopping a president from trading away government & military intel to every last one of our enemies dooming soldiers we’ve sent abroad & leaking prime targets for attacks that would kill citizens & cripple infrastructure. Conservatives claiming to be outraged about the acts of scumbag predators like Epstein have done nothing through their support for Trump’s argument than assure that if you are an abuser & an outright predator who explicitly targets children, there is no better protection than becoming president where you can openly assault anyone of any age & be immune from prosecution. Said president could literally hunt for their prey amongst the children of White House tourists or those amongst the staff in their administration & by declaring the acts a “duty of office” victims & their families would have ZERO recourse for justice.

Like I wish this were exaggeration or hyperbole but it’s explicitly the type of country that conservatives want to usher in for the explicit & soul purpose of granting their messiah Donald Trump the chance to avoid accountability for his actions. People embedded in political & legal scholarship are clear about the realities:

Like I’ve said before, I wish this was all a big joke but we are only at this point because of how deeply & willingly the right has embraced not just Trump but fascist, inhumane & anti-citizen/anti-democratic ideals over the past decade. The response to this though is not cowardice or apathy but action. If you can register to vote, then vote. If someone you know needs help to register and/or to get to their polling place in November & you have the ability to help them, then help. Nothing is gained by watching these travesties of government & justice and despairing & sitting on your hands saying that nothing will change. If people were able to win their freedoms & rights generations ago, then we can do it again today. Fascism, bigotry, cruelty & hate only succeed when good people do nothing in response. If you’re breathing, you’re still alive & you have a voice & you can fight & make change. If there was a time when giving up was on the table it is absolutely NOT NOW

[boggart23]

Posh Peoples Banker Humbled By Public Backlash To Authoritarian Debanking Policy

Much discussion in UK media and as far away as The USA and Australia this week has focued on the decision by Coutts (the posh people’s bank,) to ‘de-bank’ former UKIP leader Nigel Farage, the political outsider who successfully steered the campaign to take Britain out of the EU to victory in a national referendum. According to Coutts initial responses to media attention the decision was taken …

[cutevirgo]

violence is always the correct answer when it comes to fascists and those who wish horrific violence on others :)

[artkiddies]

.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Cancel Culture Is Real - Andrew Doyle

"Cancel culture doesn't exist!" is a mantra we often hear from its most obstinate practitioners.

In October 2022, the comedian and BBC presenter Graeme Norton suggested that a better term for cancel culture would be "accountability." But is it really fair to harass, defame and ruin people's lives simply for expressing commonly held opinions? What exactly are they being held accountable for? A much better synonym for cancel culture was coined by the singer Nick Cave. He said it was "mercy's antithesis."

Given that the very existence of cancel culture is so often denied, I thought I'd take this opportunity to outline precisely what is meant by cancel culture, and why it matters so much for those of us who still care about liberal values.

But let's begin with that thorny question of definitions. Now, most of us understand what cancel culture means. But perhaps it might be more instructive to consider what it isn't.

If someone criticizes you for something you've said or done, that's not cancel culture, that's free speech. If someone blocks you on social media, that's not cancel culture; someone has just decided you're not worth listening to and is exercising his or her freedom to ignore you. If you've not been invited to speak at a certain event, that's not cancel culture either; no one's entitled to a platform.

No, what cancel culture actually means is a form of public shaming or harassment, often for relatively minor mistakes or unfashionable opinions. It's the difference between criticizing someone for something they've said or done, or systematically attempting to see their reputation and livelihood obliterated. Cancel culture is not criticism, it's denunciation. it's contacting employers and demanding that people are fired because you don't agree with what they've said. It's spreading lies about them online so their future work prospects are diminished. In other words it's a hugely disproportionate and vindictive form of revenge, dressed up in the guise of virtue.

Here's a way to think about it: let's say a colleague has attempted a joke via email and maybe you feel a bit offended by it. Do you have a conversation with them in private and say, "look I think that was a bit misjudged, but I know that wasn't the intention so let's just move on and go for a pint." Or do you screenshot the offending email, post it online, invite all your followers to pile on to the person who wrote it, and denounce them publicly and then demand that the employer fires them for hateful conduct?

Now if you're opting for the latter, I've got some bad news for you. You you're not the good guy here.

"But free speech has consequences," the cancel culture skeptics cry. Well look, I'm inclined to agree. If a person says something stupid or offensive, they can expect criticism, ridicule, counterarguments, even protest. But if the consequences of free speech are that someone becomes the target of a campaign of public shaming and personal ruination, or worse still, that they're arrested for so-called "hate speech," then that's surely unjustifiable.

A common misconception is that cancel culture is simply a matter of holding the powerful to account. The failure of activists to cancel JK Rowling is often cited as evidence that cancel culture is a myth. But as one of the most successful authors of all time, Rowling cannot be cancelled, much to the irritation of those who sender abuse and threats on a daily basis. The vast majority of targets are those with limited means, who don't have the public profile or financial resources to protect themselves from such attacks. This is why the Free Speech Union has been invaluable, offering support to so many people who found themselves at the center of witch hunts.

Perhaps the most sinister aspect of cancel culture is that it has successfully generated a climate of fear, in which many are afraid to express even their most cherished convictions. Once a few high-profile individuals have been cancelled, this can be sufficient to discourage others from speaking out. The relentless and cruel attacks on JK Rowling are driven not by any serious belief that she'll suddenly become impoverished and unemployable. But rather by the desire to send a message to others who share her point of view. After all, who would want to be on the receiving end of such malicious and continual harassment.

And so, the full impact of cancel culture is pretty difficult to quantify. Like "no platforming," which is the practice carried out by universities of denying platforms to individuals with controversial views, most of the targets of cancel culture are pre-emptive. Just as speakers with heterodox views will never know that they've been deprived of an opportunity to speak on campus, many of us will have been passed over for promotions, or not hired at all, simply for the opinions we've expressed in conversation or on social media. We will never know who has been cancelled, because we can only ever be aware of those handful of instances that have been publicized.

So, while the press will report on pop singer Róisín Murphy's cancelled shows, a consequence of her entirely reasonable comments about the dangers of puberty blockers, the supermarket employee who loses his job for an offensive joke on Twitter is unlikely to garner the same attention.

For all that, there have been numerous examples of cancellations that have made the national news. And the evidence of cancel culture is there for anyone who wishes to see it. And although these examples represent a fraction of the problem, they should be sufficient to disabuse those who cling to the comforting misapprehension that cancel culture is just a fabrication of right- wingers. Not least because so many of its victims have been on the left.

And so, to counter the pervasive and false narrative that cancel culture doesn't exist, I thought it might be helpful to provide an overview of just some of its victims. And now, needless to say, this list is by no means exhaustive.

So, in June 2015, the Nobel prizewinning biochemist Tim Hunt was forced to resign from his honorary position at University College London after a journalist misrepresented jokes he'd made at a conference in Seoul in South Korea.

In August 2019, school teacher Christian Webb lost his job when it emerged that he'd been performing viral comedy rap videos under the pseudonym MC Devo in the mid 2000s.

In December 2021, choreographer Rosie Kay was compelled to resign from her own dance company after investigation processes began because she expressed her gender-critical views at a gathering with dancers in her own home. And although she had cooked them a meal and invited the company to her house, some of those present took it upon themselves to report her to the board.

In December 2018, tax expert Maya Forstater lost her job for saying that women are female and human beings cannot change sex. The decision of the tribunal was initially upheld, so she was forced to take the case to the High Court, which eventually ruled that gender-critical beliefs are protected by law.

The comedy writer Graham Linehan has been unable to work in the comedy industry for six years due to his gender-critical beliefs. His musical adaptation of his hit sitcom "Father Ted" has been halted by the rights owners, Hat Trick Productions, who had offered Linehan a substantial sum of money to have his name removed from the project.

In 2018, barrister Allison Bailey, a lesbian with a long history of gay activism, raised concerns about her chamber's decision to join Stonewall's "Diversity Champions" program due to its uncritical stance on gender self-identification. For raising these concerns, she was labeled as "transphobic" by Garden Court Chambers, who publicly announced that Bailey was under investigation. Bailey later won a court case for discrimination.

In 2018, the children's author Rachel Rooney published a book called "My Body is Me," which challenged sexist stereotypes and promoted a positive self-image for children. It was branded as "transphobic" and Rooney was subjected to a campaign of harassment by figures in the publishing industry. Some bookshops capitulated to activists and stopped stalking her work, and her publisher told her to stop expressing her opinions on the subject of gender.

In June 2023, it was reported that Sibyl Ruth, an editor at Cornerstones literary consultancy, was dropped because of her gender-critical views. Following an employment tribunal she received an apology and substantial damages.

In October 2023, Newcastle United fan Lindsay Smith was banned from the football club stadium for three seasons for her belief that sex is immutable, and that men shouldn't have access to women's changing rooms or compete in women's sports. In addition to her ban, she was investigated by a secret unit at the Premier League, who created a dossier on what they described as their "target." They attempted to find a home address, they assessed photographs from her social media accounts, and they even downloaded images in which Smith could be seen walking a dog.

Dr. Neil Thin experienced what he described as a devastating couple of years when he was falsely accused of racism by student activists. Thin is a senior lecturer in Social Anthropology at the University of Edinburgh, and he had criticized a conference called "Resisting Whiteness" because it offered racially segregated spaces. He also objected to the renaming of the David Hume Tower as 40 George Square. It had been renamed on the grounds that Hume had written some passages in an essay in 1753 that would today be deemed offensive. Thin stepped back from teaching while an investigation was underway and was eventually exonerated in September 2021.

Also in 2021, the actor James Dreyfus was dropped from the audio range of Doctor Who stories for signing a letter to Stonewall calling for an open and respectful debate on the subject of gender identity ideology and its impact on the rights of women and gay people. The company not only dropped him but erased his episodes from a compilation in which he was meant to be featured.

In July 2020, the children's author Gillian Philip was dropped by her publisher for tweeting in support of JK Rowling. She's since retrained as a trucker and has written that the haulage industry is far more supportive and inclusive, and a lot less misogynistic, than the world of children's writing.

Criminology Professor Jo Phoenix was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder after a campaign of harassment by colleagues after she co-founded a gender-critical research network. In early 2024, she won her constructive dismissal case against the Open University.

In November 2021, social worker Rachel Meade was sanctioned by her employer Social Work England because of gender-critical posts she had shared and liked on Facebook. This led to her being suspended on charges of gross misconduct by Westminster City Council. Meade later won her claim for discrimination against her employer and the judge ruled that the disciplinary procedure amounted to harassment.

In June 2020, Nick Buckley, the founder of charity organization Mancunian Way, was ousted for criticizing the radical politics of the Black Lives Matter movement, most notably its calls to defund the police and abolish capitalism.

In August 2020, Sasha White, an assistant at the Tobias Literary Agency in New York, was fired after a campaign by trans activists who took offense at statements posted on her Twitter account expressing her view that gender neutral pronouns were unhelpful to the feminist cause.

In January 2020, veteran television presenter Alastair Stewart was forced to resign after tweeting a quotation from Shakespeare which included the phrase, "an angry ape." This was misinterpreted as racist because he was replying to a black Twitter, user even though it was a phrase he had used previously in conversation with white people.

In April 2019, philosopher Roger Scrutin was sacked as housing adviser to the Conservative government as part of the "Building Better, Building Beautiful" commission. And this was after a journalist at the New Statesman doctored his statement in an interview in order to make them appear racist.

In June 2019, Asda Supermarket worker Brian Leech was fired after sharing a video online by the comedian Billy Connelly which mocked Islamic suicide bombers, even though the source of the offending excerpt was from a DVD sold by the company that employed him. He was later reinstated following an outcry.

In June 2019, BBC Books removed the writer Gareth Roberts from a Doctor Who short story anthology because he expressed his view that the trans activist movement reinforces outdated gender stereotypes.

In June 2021, the textile artist Jess de Wahls had her artwork removed from sale in the Royal Academy gift shop, having already been driven out of her hairdressing salon in the Soho theater. Simply for her gender-critical opinions. She was bombarded on Twitter with vitriolic messages and calls for her to commit suicide.

In June 2021, it was reported that the Reverend Dr Bernard Randall, a school chaplain at Trent College in Derbyshire had been reported to Prevent, that's the government's anti-terrorism program, and this was because he delivered a sermon on why it was reasonable to challenge ideological viewpoints. And this was in response to a training session that he'd been obliged to attend in which school staff were told to chant "smash heteronormativity."

In June 2021, the cricketer Ollie Robinson was banned from playing for eight months due to offensive tweets that he posted as a teenager. In addition to the ban from the Cricket Discipline Commission, he was fined £3,200 and was compelled to participate in anti-discrimination training.

In June 2021, it was reported that law student Lisa Keogh had been investigated by authorities at Abertay University in Scotland for saying that "women have vaginas." Although she was cleared, she described the two-month investigation as needlessly cruel given that it coincided with her final examination period.

In October 2021, the philosopher Kathleen Stock resigned from the University of Sussex following a campaign of abuse and harassment from student activists who claimed that her very presence excludes and endangers trans people.

Ann Henderson, rector of Edinburg University until February 2021, was falsely smeared by activists as "transphobic" and antisemitic and not fit to hold office simply for tweeting about a meeting at the House of Commons on proposed reforms to the Gender Recognition Act. She experienced a vicious campaign in which the University refused to tackle her abusers.

So that's just a sample of some of the victims of cancel culture.

And if it's true that cancel culture isn't real, it's got a hell of a lot of casualties.

==

They know it's real, because they think it's good.

Until it comes for them.

[wandasaura]

GOLD THATS IN YOUR EYES

summary — you’ve known natasha romanoff since she first defected to shield, but it’s taken you years to realize that you’ve loved her since then too

warning(s) — fluff, mentions of the ohio mission, hurt/comfort

prompt — finding excuses to be alone with each other x noticing their individual quirks

song — mood ring by kira kosarin

🌞⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰🧺꒱ 🌷 ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Natasha Romanoff was not a very sociable person, in fact, she was quite the opposite. Most people would be surprised to learn that the infamous ex assassin was admittedly somewhat of an introverted homebody, preferring the chosen silence of isolation over bustling crowds where judgment ran wild. For a woman with such a bold way about her, she was admittedly rather soft. She was soft in the way she moved around the kitchen when nobody was around to watch her frolic through cabinets on the balls of her feet, arches deep and perfect, and heels exquisitely raised above the floorboards. She was soft in the way she spoke, too. Her words were always calculated, always direct, and blunt enough to be chalked up to dry humor, but if you listened closely, if you closed your eyes and let the weight of her spoken sentence weigh on your heart in the way she’d never intended for anybody to actually do, you’d notice the soft hitch to her tone that was endearingly Russian, and the way her nose twitched whenever she wasn’t sure how a comment would be received by the masses. Natasha Romanoff was a lot of things, but an arrogant agent was not one of them; not that she’d ever admit that. 

You supposed that she felt a crippling need to assert herself as if she were in a position of calculated authority. Some could say that she was in a stance of power, having been deemed not only a level six agent but also an Avenger by time she was twenty-nine, yet even with the moniker of being the only reformed Black Widow to escape Dreykov’s grasp, Natasha was never the authoritarian she prided herself on being when others were around. Granted, you were never one to challenge the way she raised her chin when she was at the center of a room full of men, and you were never one to comment on how her shoulders squared defensively whenever someone took a step to close for comfort. She radiated confidence and certainty, but beneath all of the hurt that she had turned into defensiveness, she was merely a woman that had been wronged and burned by every bridge she’d ever dared to build. You saw her as such, she knew that you did, so maybe that was why she never tried to act that way with you. It was an unspoken mutual understanding that all bets were off when fate brought you two together. 

Natasha Romanoff played a lot of games. She liked the challenge of breaking down her opponent before they had the chance to break her down themselves, but the second anyone got too close she pulled a mask over her features and her bleeding heart became a loaded gun. You’d never met someone so guarded in your life, and yet she placed all cards face up on the table whenever she got you alone. Natasha Romanoff was not the sick and twisted woman she allowed the general public to believe she was. She woke up screaming from nightmares bi-weekly, the rasp in her gravely tone not natural but consequential. She closed her eyes whenever she washed her hands in fear of the clear water becoming red with the blood of her innocent victims. She stepped only on the tiles that she knew were silent, scared to make ripples in the water and alert attention. People who didn’t know Natasha Romanoff would say she was something similar to the atrocities that occurred beneath the midnight sky, but you would say she was the shadow of sweet flowers that disappeared after sunset. 

You noticed every miniscule detail there was to know about Natasha Romanoff, but you know that she noticed every detail about you as well. She noticed the way you avoid going out in the rain when it’s cold, and how none of your socks ever seem to match even on missions. She noticed how you migrate down to the kitchen in the ungodly hours of the morning just to bake pastries for the team to eat at breakfast, usually cinnamon rolls or blueberry muffins with a crumb coating that Wanda particularly is a fan of, but eventually, she’d unraveled that your little habit wasn’t merely because you wanted to be hospitable toward the people you fought alongside with when extraterrestrial disasters fell to earth, but rather because your mind needed something to focus on when the nightmares of human travesties became too paralyzing and suffocating to handle alone in the dark. The first time her attention to detail became apart was a gloomy day in November, the leaves not all fallen from trees but the air frigid enough to belong in a barren January day. At that point, you’d fallen into a routine of going out for a run through central park each morning, always returning with not only a coffee for yourself, but one for her as well, but with the downpour of raindrops the size of nickels, you’d chosen the lower level gym as your route that day. Natasha wasn’t much a fan of the rain, but she never minded freezing temperatures. She found you in the debriefing room that early afternoon, her hair sodden and crimped from pallets of rain that fell overhead, but in her hands were two cuts of still steaming coffee from your favorite little cafe. She’d tried to say that she was just in the area, but you knew that she had gone out of her way to assure that at least part of your morning remained unchanged throughout the storm. 

Your relationship with Natasha had been an unspoken arrangement for as many months and years as you could remember, but recently things had changed. You’d always found yourself alone in a room, two friends existing within the same space naturally, but lately even that hadn’t felt so innocently charged, and you were as much at fault as Natasha was. The Russian lingered in the kitchen just to watch as you mixed together batter for muffins that Tony would eat half of, but you hung around in the lower level gym just to hand off a water bottle when she completed her workout. Any excuse either of you could grasp onto just to spend a few uninterrupted minutes together had been abused and properly overused, but there was no admission of feelings anywhere close to the tip of your tongue. 

There were some days that passed, even now years later, where when you looked at her beneath the kitchen lights, or against the punching bags, you only ever saw the broken woman that Clint had brought in from the KGB. She’d been merely a shell of herself at that time, fiery red hair matted with knots and the blood of her targets, face smeared with dirt and gunpowder. You hadn’t been on base when she’d been dragged in wearing heavy metal shackles and dehumanizing cuffs, but Maria had filled you in on everything prevalent regarding Fury’s newest asset. It had taken you three weeks to run into her when you returned, traumatized from the loss of your team and spiraling into shallow thoughts of death and finality, but from the very first moment you’d never seen her as a threat, and she’d never seen you as the lucky survivor that walked away from a raid. Her eyes were soft, softer than the wings of a newly hatched butterfly, and when she stood beneath the sunlight on the deck of the helicarrier, accent thick and sweet like the spring breeze that carried pollen beneath its current, you’d seen the daintiest twinge of gold within the green of her eyes. Maybe it was at that moment that you’d known you wanted to spend your entire life at her side, or maybe that had come much later, but what you’d definitely realized in that first month of knowing her, was that she wasn’t as complete as she wanted everyone to assume she was. There was so much despair and longing beneath her mask of confidence and casualty, so many agonizing emotions that she’d never fully overcome. There were times where you wondered what could be missing from her life that even now, deemed a hero and residing amongst people that just wanted to do good by the world, but you always circled back to the heavy acknowledgement that aside from you and Clint, nobody truly knew Natasha Romanoff. She’d spent her entire life beneath the thumb of power hungry generals, and when she’d gotten a taste of freedom and self identification, she’d conformed to be the woman that everyone else wanted her to be. 

Some days however, you saw someone entirely different beneath her eyes that still held specks of gold when the sun fell upon her the right way. You saw a woman that was confident albeit flawed, painfully witty although reserved enough to hide within the walls when she didn’t want to be seen fully. But sometimes when you looked at her, you saw a woman yearning to love in the fullest sense of the word, and that broke your heart the most. She had never been shown unconditional love, never been held softly yet tightly, never been allowed to love back. Natasha Romanoff had been taught that love was the greatest weakness any woman could surrender herself to, and yet she was finally at a point where she wanted to experience the tragedy of loving something temporary. Death was unavoidable, she’d learned that young, but love transpired through isolation even if it never felt entirely complete again. For the first time since you’d met Natasha, she wasn’t scared to submit herself to the experience of loving someone to a fault, even though it meant she could very well lose it all tomorrow. Even if it didn’t seem like it to others, you noticed the subtle ways that she made progress as the years progressed, and each time you looked at her and saw a willingness to explore emotions rather than suppress them, you wanted nothing more than to squeeze her tight and be the one to teach her how to love. 

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, delicate as it filled the otherwise silent kitchen. You’d heard her sneak up behind you minutes ago, but only now did it feel like the right time to greet her. She was close, but too far, pressed against the island in the middle of the kitchen whilst you stood beside the sink, hands full of strawberries that Tony had asked you to turn into something delicious. You’d rolled your eyes at the billionaire who had made a habit of soliciting you for pastries, but here you found yourself in the kitchen anyways, trading hours of sleep for muffins that would be gone by the early afternoon. “Wanna help me?” You laid the freshly washed strawberries on a clean kitchen rag, falling into the process of patting them dry without much thought or intention. All of this came so naturally now; she came so naturally now. 

“I, um, I could actually just go for a hug. If it’s not too much trouble for the busy, Chef.” Her voice was hoarse, scratchy and thick as it fell onto your ears. Without the running tap, you could hear the quiet hitch in her breathing, wheezing exhales falling out into the space between your warm and yearning bodies. Your eyebrows furrowed, hands abandoning the strawberries in an instance. In all the years that you had known Natasha Romanoff, in all the years that you had seen her in the aftermath of a nightmare, she had never asked for a hug. You could count on one hand the amount of times you’d ever hugged her, and they’d all been for your own selfish reasons. You spun around to face her, palms dragging across your pajama bottoms and riding the water that clung to your palms so you could embrace her fully. 

You hadn’t spared her a single glance when she’d first entered, wanting to give her the chance and time to make herself known by her own judgment and comfortability, but now that your eyes traced the delicate shadows across her face, you could make out the unbridled tears brimming in her eyes. She was ghastly pale, a fitful sleep indicative by the deep bruising beneath her eyes. You’d never seen her so distressed, but for a single second you thought about how she’d chosen to seek you out instead of trailing down to the gym and bullying a punching bag like she’d gotten into the routine of doing. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked carefully, not wanting to make any sudden movements and spook her back into her shell of isolation. This was progress, and selfishly you wanted any excuse to pull her in close and hold her tight. When she nodded, a weak and fragile incline of her head, you closed the gap between your bodies and melted into her chest. She held you protectively, like she’d needed to feel you to ensure that you were safe and real. A single hand reached up to cradle the back of your head, and her lips found a home on the crown of your head as she inhaled your scent deeply. “You know you can always ask for hugs. Not just because you had a nightmare, but whenever. I mean that.” 

Natasha cleared her throat, though she simultaneously tightened her grip around your waist as if whatever she wanted to say would be enough to make you either run away or disappear entirely. You didn’t comment on it, letting her have the time she needed to get her thoughts in order. You grabbed onto her sleep shirt, tight fists bunching up the material and holding it possessively. Natasha felt the motions, felt the way the cotton shirt hugged her belly tighter now that most of the slack was taken up by your grip, and you smiled softly against her chest when you felt her breath out evenly.  “Today’s the day we left Ohio.” She started, and immediately your head shot up to search her blue eyes. You’d heard little about Ohio, even littler about the little blonde haired sidekick Natasha found herself protecting for three years, but you knew that what had happened had ruined her. You knew that something as little as moving away was never as simple as it sounded for her. “It was spring break. I left without being able to tell anyone I wouldn’t be coming back. They- They ripped Yelena out of my arms. I– I will always come back for you. You’re the first place that has ever felt like home outside of Ohio. I just– I needed to tell you that I’ll always come back to you.” 

“I will always come back for you.” You meant every word that you said, but you could see a cloud of disbelief hanging over Natasha’s gaze as she let your eyes meet again. There was something different about ehr now, something softer and smaller than you’d ever seen. It wasn’t unpleasant, but you couldn’t bear the thought of her so distraught, you especially couldn’t bear the thought of what she had looked like at only eleven. She’d been so young and the world had been so cruel, you just wanted her to know that she was loved, and she was cherished now. She wasn’t just another soldier anymore. “Nat, can I kiss you?” 

She froze for a minute, arms slackening around your waist as she stared deep into your eyes, an onset of fresh tears threatening to fall from her own, but before you could withdraw your question, before you could backtrack and excuse your vulnerability as simply being exhaustion, she was pulling you impossibly close, settling both of her hands on your cheeks as she cupped your face and settled her forehead against yours. Her touch was familiar and foreign at the same time, a coming of age to all the daydreams you’d fallen into with her at the center of them all. You’d thought about this moment for months, thought about how her calloused palms would feel against every inch of your skin, her she was always cold but not uncomfortably so. Now, beneath the kitchen lights and her greenish-gold gaze, you realized that you’ve wanted her since the very first moment you met her. “I thought you’d never ask.” Her lips, still impressionable with sadness, curled upward into a smirk, but you didn’t waste a second to kiss it away and show her the truth about love and connection. 

Natasha Romanoff had kissed more people then she could keep track of, but never had any of those intimate encounters come voluntarily. For so many years her life had been a means to the mission, but she was free now. Finally, she was entirely free. In so many ways, more than you could even contemplate, you were her first, and desperately you hoped that you would each be each other's last.

[layla4567]

The Medical

Summary: An incident causes you to have to take care of an injured Sanji.

Warnings: Mention of blood and wounds of course, sword fights, not proofread

Pairing: Sanji!opla x Fem!reader

Wc: 3k

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You could say that it all started when Luffy was the first to get hurt. Days before he had been kidnapped by Arlong and gagged and tied. When they rescued him, Luffy was unconscious due to a blow to the head, and you noticed with horror that he was bleeding slightly on the back, staining his dark curls.

"My God Luffy!! What the hell happened?!"-You shouted as Nami, Zoro and Sanji held him by the legs and arms to take him to his room.

You ran to them so you could heal him. You were in charge of being the "nurse" of the crew. You were not an expert but your intensive care and your desire to help always worked miracles. Despite the few nursing things that were on the ship and your little knowledge, your kindness and maternal affection seemed to be enough when it came to treating wounds.

They gently placed the boy in his hammock, resting his head on a pillow. You approached, worried, rolling up your shirt sleeves, ready to cure him.

"You need something? Do you want us to help you?"-Sanji asked

"No, I want everyone to leave now."

Your authoritarian tone brooked no reply. They knew you were firm when it came to doing your job as a nurse and needed to work alone and quietly. The three nodded silently and left, Zoro being the last to close the door. You turned to see Luffy who was still unconscious and got to work. Gently lifting his head to see the wound better, you brushed away strands of hair until you found it. Luckily it wasn't that big, you carefully disinfected it and put a patch on it so the wound could close.

After a few long minutes the brown boy slowly opened his eyes and woke up. With a grimace of pain he looked at you confused and you gave him a comforting smile, resting your hand on his wrist and caressing the back of his hand.

"Ugh my head... what happened?"

"You received a blow to the head but don't worry, I've already bandaged you up. Now you have to rest for a few days, okay?"

Luffy tried to smile but he still felt like his head was throbbing. Nami, Zoro and Sanji entered the room to see how their captain was doing. They were happy to know that he had finally woken up. Days passed like that and you stayed close to Luffy the whole time so that he wouldn't get bored. For a boy as hyperactive as him, staying in bed resting was a nightmare. He wanted to go sailing and have adventures, but you were firm and convinced him to stay in his hammock.

You went to great lengths to entertain him and provide relief. You read to him, you told him stories from your childhood, you held his hand and drew small circles with your thumb on his arm to calm him down. And little by little all your efforts paid off because Luffy was recovering. Sanji was in charge of feeding Luffy with foods that have protein and fiber to give him energy.

Knock Knock

The cook opened the door entering with a tray of mixed salad with pieces of chicken. Seeing the food, Luffy jumped up in his hammock and licked his lips hungrily. You laughed, shaking your head, and stood up to grab the tray of food.

"Thank you Sanji, you are a charm"-you said smiling

Sanji felt his heart begin to pump more blood upon hearing your sweet words but he simply smiled at you again.

"My pleasure, darling"

You left the tray to Luffy who had already started stretching his arms and flexing his fingers repeatedly as if he were a baby trying to reach his favorite toy and you left the room along with the cook. Sanji had work to do so he returned to the kitchen to continue preparing the next dishes of the day. You sat on a stool sighing tired but satisfied with your work and relieved that Luffy is feeling better. Sanji was cutting carrots when with a small laugh he said

"I'm glad that our captain is better but I almost get jealous seeing that he received so much care"

You rested your elbow on the table and your chin on your hand, looking at him funny. Was he implying that he wanted you to take care of him? You hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid and get hurt on purpose so he could spend more time with you and your miraculous hands.

"I take care of people that's my job Sanji…"

He smiling focused on continuing cutting the vegetables, but you quickly added

"But I take care of each one differently.. if that's what you wanted to know"

You smiled tenderly and mockingly, leaving him speechless. Then he laughed again and smiled at you, biting his lip slightly as he watched you walk away from the kitchen to go to the deck.

WEEKS LATER

And this brings us to today. Days after Luffy's accident he had recovered wonderfully thanks to you. You, Zoro and Sanji had decided to go on a mission together to stop Arlong and his minions, a little revenge for Luffy. The straw hat captain along with Nami tried to stop the fishman and distract him away from where the three of you were. Unfortunately, Arlong's minions were too many and they had you surrounded.

You and Zoro were dedicated to slashing with sabers while Sanji was very good at delivering kicks like a karate fighter. Each dodge was followed by a thrust from you and Zoro also helped you by staying close to you, back to back. Although the cook knew how to defend himself, he did not have any weapon and every now and then you would cast worried glances at where he was to confirm that he was okay. Zoro noticed that your movements were becoming sloppy.

"Y/n focus!"-He said while with a quick movement he cut the torso of an enemy near you.

You growled softly and forced yourself to be more attentive to your surroundings, briefly neglecting your blonde companion. There were already several enemies fallen and there were not many left to take down when a scream froze your blood and made you turn to see where it came from. A fishman had wounded Sanji with his sword near his waist.

"SANJI!!"

You broke away from Zoro and ran towards the blonde boy who was holding his left side as he knelt on one leg with a contorted grimace. You crouched close to him feeling like your world was falling apart and looked closer at the wound. He had a cut on the left side of his waist and was bleeding, soaking his clothes. You swallowed your panic and grabbed Sanji's arm, putting it around your shoulders to lift him up and stabilize him.

"Zoro come help me please!!"-you begged in anguish

He sighed as he stabbed his sword into an enemy to let him fall into the sand. He ran towards you as Sanji growled under his breath. With your help Zoro put the cook's other arm over his shoulders and together they helped him walk. Unfortunately the three of them were on a kind of round rock in the water and had to follow a path of separate platforms to get out of there. So with a lot of effort they had to help him jump.

"Come on Sanji you can do it"

You encouraged him as you grabbed his wrist and held your other hand on his back. Each rock became more difficult and on one Sanji was about to fall to his knees but you caught him just in time.

"I got you"

When you reached dry land, you detached yourself slightly from him and took off his jacket so you could temporarily bandage the wound.

"Dear.. that's not necessary"-He said with a grimace as he held his wound.

"For god sakes Sanji you are bleeding, I think it is necessary"

You took off the scarf that you had on your hip as a belt and wrapped it around his waist, tightening a little so as not to cause hemorrhage and stop the bleeding. As Sanji squeezed the handkerchief he let out a grunt. They soon arrived back at the ship while Nami and Luffy followed them after noticing the cook's condition and having explained to them what happened. Sanji still had an arm on your shoulders so he could walk better.

"Where are you taking him?"-Zoro asked

"To my quarter, now"

You didn't want to waste time, you knew that in your room you would have everything you needed to cure him. This time the wound was more serious and you needed many things to disinfect it. When you got to your room with the others following you, you placed Sanji on your bed, taking care not to touch the wound. You did everything quickly and so nervously that you didn't even realize that the other crew members were with you.

"Let's go, let's leave them alone, c'mon"

Nami pushed Luffy and Zoro towards the door as you thanked her with a nod. When you were both alone, you went to look for a first aid kit and a bucket with water and a clean cloth, your hands were shaking slightly and you were so nervous that you looked like a hummingbird flying frantically from here to there. God you had to act quickly or the wound could get infected and you didn't want that, you couldn't even think about what would happen if you couldn't cure him, if he didn't survive you… you. You felt a hot sting in your eyes and a lump in your throat. Sanji just looked at you realizing your affliction so when you sat on the bed to heal him he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll be fine my missus, you are the best nurse I know"

You closed your eyes, lowering your head and laughing softly, no matter how mortally wounded Sanji was, he would always find a way to continue flirting with you. While he was lying down, you removed the scarf from his waist that had gotten stained and you noticed that his shirt was also red on that side. You raised it a little to see the cut and let out a gasp. It wasn't that deep but it was quite big. You grabbed a damp cloth and began to clean the wound and put pressure on it. Sanji grunted again in pain as he felt the pressure of the cloth.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize darling, I know you're being as delicate as possible, as always."

Damn it. His words tickled your stomach as he looked at you with his blue puppy eyes. You avoided looking at him and continued cleaning the wound. The chef in love studied your face as if you were an indecipherable manuscript. He concentrated on your eyelashes, your cheekbones, your lips. Then he looked at your soft hands working his wound and how your fingers lovingly avoided touching the cut.

"You know, despite everything I feel satisfied to finally be able to be part of your magical care, sweetherart"

You laughed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. If he kept calling you cute nicknames in less than 5 seconds you would rush in to kiss him. But you held back and finished cleaning up the traces of blood. You were going to put disinfectant on him when you realized that you couldn't work with his shirt closed and rolled up.

"Sanji…uh"

"Yes? What do you need?"

"I n-need you to open your shirt"-you said in one breath, embarrassed.

He saw you nervous and just smiled "Oh, sure"

The blonde boy quickly unbuttoned from the bottom up, exposing his bare chest. You didn't want to look like a pervert but your eyes quickly strayed to his pecs and abs that were well defined. You blushed and quickly looked at his wound, trying not to see him, Sanji chuckled, amused by your embarrassment. You grabbed a cotton pad with disinfectant and placed a hand on his abdomen to better look at the cut and place the cotton pad properly. When you did that, Sanji gasped, feeling the heat of your fingers near his navel. You mumbled an apology but he let you continue, despite the heat coming from your hand he felt a chill run down his spine.

"Alright I'm almost done, now I have to bandage you. Could you sit down for a few seconds?"

He nodded and slowly sat on the bed next to you, taking care of his movements so as not to awaken a wave of pain on his side, you helped him by keeping a hand on his back. You also told him to take off his shirt so you could bandage him better. Why would you have told him? When he took off his striped shirt you got a better look at his defined torso and broad back. If before your cheeks were rosy, now your whole face was the color of rubies when they shine in the sun. Good heavens, you couldn't take your eyes off his body, his muscles were always hidden, capriciously imprisoned in that striped shirt he always wore and now you could finally see them in all their splendor, free. You were tempted to run your fingers over his skin and caress it but that would have been too much for you and him. Sanji knew you were looking at him and smiled flirtatiously.

"So? Will you finish bandaging me now, miss Y/n?"

You looked into his eyes with enormous surprise, feeling caught red-handed and you shook your head to get rid of the dirty thoughts that had invaded you a while ago. With trembling fingers and your face still red you hurried to wrap the gauze around his narrow waist. You pretended to be calm even though inside you were dying of nerves and certainly having Sanji's eyes boring into you didn't help. Despite the speed you tried to be gentle and considerate with him. When you finished, you jumped up, moving away from him as if he were a hot arm and you sighed in relief, the worst had already happened.

"Thank you very much lovely nurse"

You smiled shyly. Sanji was about to put his shirt back on when you stopped him.

"Wait, your shirt is stained!"-you exclaimed

He seemed to realize it at that moment and looked at the stain. He was going to reply that it wasn't a big deal when you quickly exclaimed again.

"Stay here, I'll bring you a new one."

You trotted towards his room and felt strange when you entered it. It was the first time you were in his room and it was something…so intimate. You felt a chill remembering that he was also in your room now. You quickly grabbed a random white shirt and went back to where he was. He was waiting for you sitting smiling, you gave him the shirt and he stood up to put it on. This time you looked away and covered your eyes to give him privacy. Sanji looked at you and laughed happily, you were standing in front of him and you covered your eyes with your hands as if you were going to play hide and seek, he thought it was cute.

"Ok you can look now"

You slowly uncovered one eye and then the other, how could it be possible that he always looked good in shirts? Sanji threatened to head towards the door but you stopped him by putting your hands on his chest, he looked at you surprised.

"Ah, ah, ah, nothing like that. You will stay here until you recover, like I did with Luffy."

"B-but the food…"

"Don't worry about that, we'll take care of it."

You laid Sanji back on the bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead, brushing away his blonde bangs as you left your room.

"How is he?"-Nami asked you that same afternoon while they were in the kitchen.

"Better, but his wound will take a while to heal."

"And who will make the food?"

"We will, who else but?"

A muffled, mocking laugh was heard near you. Zoro was sitting on a stool drinking.

"What a good joke Y/n, you should be a comedian."

"I'm serious Zoro"

"But how do you expect us to cook something? We don't even know how to boil water"-Nami said

"Well, we'll learn how, we'll have to do it, I have to bring Sanji lunch…and the rest of us have to eat too, of course."

Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Fine, why don't we prepare something simple like pasta?"

"Good luck trying to boil water"

Nami hit Zoro in the back of the head.

"Well instead of complaining why don't you help come up with ideas?"

"Don't pay attention to him, pasta is fine"-Nami said smiling at you and placing her hand on your shoulder.

You looked all over the cupboard for packets of noodles but oh surprise! There was nothing left…

"Great, I better go before we starve to death"

Zoro snorted and turned away from there. You sighed in frustration as Nami stayed with you for whatever. Suddenly you remembered that your mother used to prepare a very good risotto for you when you were a child, you used to watch her cook your favorite dish and because you insisted so much she taught you how to cook it. You weren't as good as your mother at cooking but you did it carelessly. You grabbed a package of rice and the other ingredients and with Nami's help you managed to finish a quite edible risotto.

After serving the straw hats' dishes you went with a plate to your room where Sanji was. You found him lying down flipping through a book of yours. When he saw you come in with the food he smiled widely.

"I hope you didn't have any problems cooking."

"Let's say we manage not to burn down the kitchen…and the entire ship"

Sanji laughed warmly and then looked at the risotto you had prepared. He closed his eyes breathing in the delicious aroma and could feel his mouth watering.

"Is that.. what I think it is?"

"Yes sir, an old recipe from my mother. She used to prepare it for me every time I asked her"

Without thinking it twice, Sanji grabbed the plate and put a slice of rice in his mouth. You anxiously hoped that he would like it and that it wouldn't taste horrible. When he swallowed the bite, the blonde boy opened his eyes and looked at you in surprise. Oh no, he didn't like it you thought.

"Sanji I..-"

“Y/n this is really good!”

Wait, what?

"I didn't know you also had cooking skills."

"Do you really think it's delicious?"

"Of course I do! Why would I lie to you?"

You sighed in relief and smiled until your eyes narrowed. After eating you stayed with him chatting, you caressed his hair and cheek and he melted with your touch, sighing with happiness. Sometimes you would sing to him to entertain him or put him to sleep and then kiss him on the cheek or forehead. The days passed and he recovered more and more, he could even stand up and walk around the ship, but secretly sometimes he continued sleeping in your room just so he could be close to your presence.

"That story was beautiful, sweetie."

"I'm glad you liked it, good night Sanji"

You smiled as he closed his eyes and settled into the sheets. You were sitting near him, you liked to watch him sleep, not in a creepy way but he looked so peaceful like an angel. You got up and walked over to see him closer. Her eyelashes caressed the top of her cheeks, her soft skin shone with the moonlight, her thin lips seemed more rosy and velvety. Without being able to help it, you kissed her lips softly as if they were going to break, it seemed like you wanted to wake up the sleeping beauty. You moved a few centimeters away from his face and noticed his corners curl into a smile. Horrified, you covered your mouth and Sanji opened his eyes slightly, laughing softly.

"Sorry, I thought you were sleeping!!"

Sanji pulled you back to him laughing.

"There's no need to worry sweetheart, I know I'm irresistible"

You were about to protest but he gently pushed you towards your bed so that you lay next to him causing you to gasp slightly. You decided not to resist, a part of you wanted this anyway. The cook caressed your cheek with his thumb, his face close to yours.

"I never thanked you for saving my life. Thank you really Y/n"

"Oh don't exaggerate, it's the least I could do for you. I like to take care of you"

You could swear that despite the darkness, Sanji's face turned slightly reddish. You kissed his nose and laid on his chest. Now he was the one who felt butterflies in his stomach. Stroking your back and with his chin on your head you both fell asleep deeply.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

oh man i just love writing one character bandaging/healing the other's wounds. chef's kiss

[half-life-crisis]

I'm super excited to announce that my second book is ready for pre-order in all major bookshops as an eBook. And it will be released 06DEC2023. The paperback will come on 05FEB2024. This thought-provoking book is intended to provide a historical context to this often-misunderstood term, and how it has become an incendiary catalyst ripe for propagandistic use. I hope you find this reading as fascinating as I did when researching and writing this book!

https://store.bookbaby.com/book/woke-and-proud

[wilwheaton]

"Woke," you see, expands and contracts depending upon the momentary needs of authoritarian figures like DeSantis. When teachers are stocking shelves, "woke" is a massive category, covering thousands of books, to the point where it's easier not to let kids read at all. But when deflecting criticism, "woke" is minuscule, covering almost no books at all. The brilliance of "woke" is that it is Schrödinger's cat as a political concept. A book is both "woke" and "un-woke," depending on the moment. In the classroom, the book is "woke" and forbidden. Outside, when speaking to reporters, it's not "woke." Indeed, the victims are blamed for misreading "woke," probably because they are too "woke," but of course, they will never actually be told what it would take to not be "woke." This is hardly the first time that Republicans have latched onto deliberately amorphous terms to convey a sense of outrage while evading responsibility to define what exactly the hell they are on about. "Marxism," "socialism," "political correctness," "demonic," "sexualization": The world of right-wing propaganda is rife with terms that have been appropriated and rendered meaningless, allowing conservatives to apply them to everything. A Republican loves an empty signifier. Specificity invites rational discourse. And rationality is the death of reactionary politics.

Why the GOP is obsessed with "woke" — but can't define it