#writing about HIV

[dufferpuffer]

Adding up to that Severus has a not-so-secret daughter au! Some good nasty drama

Since the lycanthropy is based on the AIDs and they can be passed down to offspring, let me introduce you to:

After the Prank, Severus did get infected but never went through the actual transformation, so he just carries it in his blood with some side effects (maybe he eats raw meat now and has sharper senses, who knows). But even if he's not a werewolf as such, he still has the infection in him...and his daughter is born with it, turning into a full werewolf each moon and overall suffering all the regular effects of the curse.

Just one more reason for them to dislike lupin (and the marauders in general)

I REALLY hate Lycanthropy being tied to HIV/AIDs. I know the author said so, but she says alot of things that suck, and that's one of them. It's a real stinker.

In any case, Lycanthropy isn't actually passed down from parent to child - that's a myth, perpetuated by the fact so few Werewolves ever have children. Remus was worried - but its just another point on his list of "things he is anxious about that aren't real/don't matter as much as he thinks they do" He has nothing to fear about sex. He would have more to fear about kissing - but even then, that isn't how Lycanthropy works.

It doesn't change your genes. Its a magical disease - you don't become a non-human, your DNA isn't changed. You're only contagious at the Full Moon, about 12 hours a month and ONLY via saliva, not blood or sexual fluids. Even if Severus was partially infected with cursed wounds, like Bill Weasley - as he doesn't transform he cannot pass it on.

Same with HIV/AIDs. A father doesn't pass it to their child. The DNA/RNA in his sperm does not have HIV - just the fluids it is carried in. A mother can pass it down through the pregnancy, childbirth fluids or breastfeeding - but not necessarily.

In order to have a child infected with Lycanthropy Severus would need to be fully bitten by Remus and then also bite his own child - or pick up a child from somewhere that has already been bitten.

And that's cute. Why is Severus so good at brewing Wolfsbane...? He's been doing it for his daughter for years already. But I don't really see how, even if you HC that Lycanthropy can be passed down to children via the fathers DNA, that it is something to 'dislike Remus' about...? Remus wasn't a part of that prank. He was a sick boy who did everything right. He wasn't wandering around, he wasn't being reckless - he was hiding in the shack. He was as much a victim of the prank as much as Severus was.

The Ministry has shifted whether they consider Werewolves as 'Beings' or 'Creatures' for years - and in either case, whether they are considered 'people' or 'animals' - they don't have human rights. Just being found out is a danger to Remus' life.

Remus would be mortified to know he had even partially infected Severus... even more so that his Lycanthropy had been fully passed onto a child. He would be DEVASTATED. He would be torn between feeling some responsibility over the child, to teach them how to manage their condition... and wanting to run as far away as possible, hide in a hole - and die from shame.

[mhaccunoval]

one of my red flags is that sometimes i'm a bitch who will go back and find the research that i'm citing in making my argument

[stainlesssteellocust]

While Alex is obviously besotted with Cassie it is interesting that he, uh,

went on a whole-ass rant about how he’s somehow internalised an extremely conventional, heteronormative idea of what life should be like, wherein he’s expected to find a girl, get married and have kids as part of living ‘properly’, except he’s realised that lifestyle is impossible for him, partly because he’s infected with what he continually calls ‘magical AIDS’

My closeted bisexual alarm bells are ringing, is what I am saying

[cemetery-blooms]

FIRST EXAM DONE TWO MORE TO GO!!!!

[vixvaporub]

Working in healthcare reminds me on the daily that the US medical system is fucked up but a recent example that hasn't escaped my mind for weeks is that a patient with a new diagnosis for HIV was trying to get his medication... but his insurance rejected it and said that they don't cover any HIV meds

[unliikelylovers]

also i think often about the fact that into the woods was written by gay men in 1987 and is some of the very best writing on grief ever

[foxmulderautism]

experiencing novella visions

[wackyweirdwriter]

[pangur-and-grim]

okay sorry, one other thing annoyed me about that writing class. one of the students is this super clean-cut doctor who works at an HIV clinic, and he asked the prof "do you ever get distracted while reading books, because you find yourself analyzing the craft of them instead of sinking into the story?"

and she said "no," and turned away. and the whole class laughed awkwardly, bc it was a pretty abrupt and dismissive answer. so then she turned back to him and said "you wouldn't ask a musician if they get distracted listening to songs. they just enjoy the music."

but I dunno, I'm a newbie writer with only one (scheduled-to-be-published) book under my belt, but I get distracted sometimes when I'm reading. if I find I'm not sinking into a block of text, I'll squint at it and be like "okay, they're using too much passive voice, that's why my brain isn't grabbing on to it." so I'm sorry Mr. HIV doctor, I thought your question was reasonable!

[science-hoes]

A Ray of Fucking Sunshine

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: patient violence, needles, injury, HIV mention, Santos

A/N: I literally cannot stop writing about this old man omg. But I love him. And he is a Good Man. Just some good fluff between an attending and his resident.

—

“I need a doctor!” A voice emerged from one of the exam rooms. “Please, I need a doctor!”

You looked up from your computer and over to Dana, who rolled her eyes. “Is it my turn?” You asked with hesitation.

The Pitt had been flooded as usual, and one of the psychiatric admissions was still being boarded in an exam room until a bed was available upstairs. Fred, the middle-aged opioid addict, was currently going through withdrawals, and he made sure everyone on the floor was aware. You felt bad for him because you know addiction is not entirely the fault of a patient, but Fred was verbally abusing every person who walked through the curtain to check on him.

Dana chuckled and walked over to your chair. “You’re up to bat, champ.” She patted you on the shoulder. “Think you’ll need backup? I can go in with you.”

You sighed and rubbed the aching dark circles under your eyes. “Not if he’s restrained. I’ll be fine.” You mumbled, kicking back on the floor so your chair rolled away from the desk.

You swung your stethoscope around your neck and walked through the curtain. There was Fred. He came in with tremors and sweats, but the withdrawal medication seemed to be helping for now. “Hey, Fred. I’m Dr. (L/N). What’s going on?” You asked, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed.

Fred shook his head. “No, I don’t want a fucking nurse. I want my doctor!” He screamed.

You squinted at his loud voice. “Sir, I am a doctor. Now, how can I help you?” You asked again, with the same patience as before.

“Give me my fucking medicine right now, bitch. I’m not playing any games.” He growled.

You moved to the computer to look up his chart. “I think Dr. Langdon already gave you medicine about thirty minutes ago. What symptoms are you having?” You replied calmly, not taking his anger to heart.

“I want my fucking pills.” He hissed, struggling against the fabric restraints tied to the gurney.

You turned to look at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that for you.” You turned back to the computer to search for the time on his next medicine. “I know you are feeling really bad right now, but the pills will not help you in the-”

You were cut off by your head being yanked back by your hair with strong force. You let out a startled scream and twisted around to look at Fred. He had gotten out of one of his arm restraints, and before you could cry out for assistance, you felt pressure on your cheek. Naturally, your eyes squinted shut when you saw a hand coming at you, so you didn’t see that he was wielding a scalpel. Before you could open your eyes, a closed fist knocked you to the ground.

“I told you to give me my fucking pills, you cunt.” He snarled and spat on you.

The curtain swung open to reveal Langdon and Robby, who both looked ready to tackle Fred if he was free. You crawled away from the bed and shakily stood up.

“Dana, call for security!” Robby yelled out as he and Langdon grabbed Fred’s free arm and tried to tie it back down to the rails of the bed. The metal clang of the scalpel dropping to the tile fell deaf on your ears.

You ran out of the room as a security guard bumped into you, causing you to stumble. Luckily, Dana was there to catch you. “Hey, I’ve got you.” She assured you. But then she stood you up straight, seeing red streaks on your face and dripping to your neck. “Oh, holy shit.”

You felt numb. Numb to everything. Even the pain in your face couldn’t bring you back to reality. “I just…” You mumbled, looking around. All of the nurses and doctors had their eyes on you. It was overwhelming, and the fluorescent lights started to burn your eyes.

And then your cheek began to hurt. The pain seeped across your face, and hot tears pricked your eyes.

You didn’t even realize that Dana had snatched gauze from a patient’s room. She pressed it to your cheek firmly. “Collins, get over here!” She called out.

You sat down in the chair you had abandoned only two minutes before. Collins ran over to you and tilted your head up with a gentle hand.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She asked sincerely, lifting the gauze delicately.

You winced as fresh air hit the cut. “I don’t know. I think he hit me. And he pulled my hair.” You responded, still in shock.

Collins winced at the wound and replaced the gauze. “I don’t know, that looks like a pretty deep cut.”

Before long, the med students and interns surrounded your chair. You reached a hand to your cheek and carefully pulled the gauze away, finally seeing how much blood had flooded the cloth.

“Oh, shit. That definitely needs stitches.” Santos commented.

If you could roll your eyes, you would have. But you were focused on not puking your guts out in front of the team.

“I shouldn’t have turned my back to him.” You mumbled.

Mohan shook her head. “No way. That is not your fault. Sure, never let a patient get between you and the door. But you shouldn’t have to keep eyes on the patient at all times to ensure your safety.” She redirected.

You closed your eyes, but you could hear others agreeing with her. The pain and attention was too much to handle. You just wanted to be alone. So, you stood slowly. Dana held a hand to your back as you did.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked. “You might need a CT.”

You looked to her sluggishly. “I just need some air. I’m just going to the empty room.” You said before quickly escaping from the crowd.

You swished the curtain open and shut. The light above the bed was out, perfect for some peace and quiet. You sat on the bed and crossed your legs. The pain from your cheek was becoming more unbearable by the second as the adrenaline wore off. You closed your eyes and pressed the gauze harder against your skin.

You were incredibly embarrassed. Maybe you were too naive. Fred had a history of violence toward healthcare workers, and you still turned away from him. Trusting him as innocently as a child would. It wasn’t the first time that you underestimated a patient. Langdon always chastised you for being too trusting.

The curtain opened, and you could see the light from the Pitt through your closed eyes. “Dana, please let me have a minute.” You begged.

“I think she’s already given you two minutes.” Robby’s voice responded.

You opened your eyes, and you saw Robby standing in the doorway with a suture pack in his hands. “Oh. I’m sorry, Dr. Robby.” You responded, slightly embarrassed.

Robby smiled and shut the curtain behind him. “No need.” He said and stood over the bed. “Why don’t you let me see what we’re working with?” And tapped your hand holding the gauze.

You moved your hand away from your face and winced. “It’s fine. Just stings a little.” You lied through clenched teeth.

Robby chuckled and shook his head. “No, ma’am. That’s gonna need at least five stitches.” He said.

You watched him move to the side of the room and grab a syringe of lidocaine and some more gauze. He turned the overhead exam light on, and you furrowed your brow at the brightness.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. He titled your chin up and began patting down your neck with the extra gauze, cleaning the blood that had dripped from your cheek.

Honestly, you weren’t okay. You felt like you had been taken advantage of, but you didn’t lose anything besides your pride. And a few precious minutes of charting. You felt silly for thinking that a hostile patient wouldn’t lash out at you, even though he had screamed at someone as sweet as Mel King. You felt the tears prick your eyes again, and your bottom lip quivered.

Robby stopped cleaning your face as soon as he met your eyes. “Oh, no. Sweetie, please don’t cry.” He begged and tilted your head back. “The tears are gonna make the cut hurt even more. Just wait for me to inject the lidocaine.” He said.

You swallowed thickly, taking in shaky but deep breaths. You felt his hand grab one of yours and squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper.

Robby made quick work of the cleanup and grabbed the lidocaine syringe. He pulled his black-rimmed glasses out of the pocket of his scrub top and placed them on the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologize, dear.” He let go of your hand to place his on under your chin to stabilize your head. “Okay. I’m about to inject the lidocaine, and it’s going to burn like hell for a few seconds.” He warned, peering over his glasses to meet your gaze.

You saw the syringe in his hand. The needle wasn’t that big. You knew that. You gave the same injection to patients every shift. But as the needle slowly moved closer to your face, your breathing hitched, and you pulled away from his grasp.

“No, no, I can’t.” You struggled to say through labored breaths.

Robby held his hands up, as if to show you that he wasn’t going to make a sneak attack with the syringe. “(Y/L/N). Look at me. Look at my eyes.” He said, lifting his glasses to rest on the crown of his head.

And so you did. His dark chocolate eyes were framed with permanent laugh lines. Even when he was in a pissy mood, he would smile with sarcasm or exasperation. You didn’t even realize that your breathing had slowed as the silence grew between you. Robby placed the lidocaine syringe on the tray next to the bed, but never broke eye contact.

“Tell me what’s going through your mind.” He said.

You didn’t answer immediately. It almost seemed like a trap. Admitting your insecurities and shortcomings to your boss that he could use as leverage or blackmail whenever he saw fit. But something about his face seemed sincere and almost…worried.

“I’m just…embarrassed. Overwhelmed.” You whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

Robby nodded. “Okay. Those are reasonable feelings to have after an event like that.” He affirmed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m sorry for being a bitch about the lidocaine. I’m ready now.” You said quickly.

Robby reached for the syringe again and placed a hand under your chin. “Okay. I’m going to make a few injections around the cut. It’ll be over before you know it.” He said and tilted his glasses back down.

You closed your eyes and waited. The needle inserting wasn’t painful, but the lidocaine burned like a motherfucker. You furrowed your brow, trying not to scrunch your face in pain.

“That’s a good girl.” Robby praised as he inserted the needle into your skin again.

Oh. That wasn’t something you expected to hear from him. You opened your eyes to see Robby meticulously moving the needle around your cheek, his mouth open just slightly in concentration. You hoped that your face had already been flushed from the anxiety and pain because you could definitely feel the heat rising up your neck. Suddenly you realized just how close Robby was to you. Even while you both sat at the edge of the bed, he was all but cradling you as he worked.

“And done. How does it feel?” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You raised a hand to your cheek and pressed gently. “Oh. I don’t feel anything.” You said, huffing a small laugh.

“Great. That means I can start sewing you up.” He said.

Robby opened the suture kit and began to sort out its contents. You watched him grab the utensils he needed and the suture thread. “Thank you for doing this.” You said.

He turned back to you, ready to start suturing away. “It's the least I can do. I’m upset that one of my residents got attacked under my watch.” He responded, inserting the suture needle. But you didn’t feel it. “After this, I’m gonna write you a prescription for a PEP antiretroviral and do some blood tests.”

Your eyes widened. “For HIV?”

Robby met your eyes for a moment before looking back to your cheek. “Yes, Dr. (Y/L/N). Fred is HIV positive. And while we don’t think the scalpel he cut you with had his own bodily fluids on it, your health comes first. We have to treat because of the risk, even though it’s slim to none.” He explained.

Your heart fell to your stomach, and the tears that you managed to hold back before began to spill over your eyes. “I’m so fucking stupid.” You breathed.

Robby pulled tightly on a suture before beginning the next one. “Hey. Don’t talk like that.” He said. “This is not your fault.”

Your lip quivered, and you looked to the ceiling to try and stop more tears. “Langdon is right. I’m fucking naive. I shouldn’t have ever turned my back to Fred. I knew what he was capable of.”

Robby sighed heavily and tied off the last suture. He placed the instruments back on the metal tray. But then he grabbed one of your hands and lifted his glasses with the other. “You are a good doctor, (Y/N). You are not naive. You are one of the last good people around here.” He said honestly.

Your cheeks flushed again, but you shook your head. “I need to start thinking more like Langdon, like Santos, like…like you.” You said.

Robby frowned, almost in disappointment. “I don’t want you to ever be like me. You are a ray of fucking sunshine, and you make everyone around you smile. Even me.” He said. “As soon as you walk in the room, it gets brighter.”

You smiled slightly. “I can make you smile?” You asked shyly.

Robby chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He replied. “Sometimes you’re the only good thing about my day. The days where you’re off and I’m here…those are a lot darker.”

You watched your attending fidget with his hands in his lap nervously. You placed one of yours over them. Robby looked up to you, and you felt a real connection this time, deeper than holding each other’s gaze. He held your small hand in both of his.

“Well…you’re making a really shitty day turn into a good one.” You said.

Robby smiled, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. You didn’t realize how close the two of you had naturally inched towards each other until you could feel his breath on your nose and smell his scent. A mixture of coffee and what had to be Old Spice deodorant.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first. But Robby’s lips pressed against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling your uninjured cheek. You grinned at the feeling of his mouth peppering small kisses across your face.

“Does this make it better?” He asked in between little kisses.

You placed a hand on his neck, fingers reaching up to stroke his hair. You finally pressed your forehead against his to catch his eyes. “All better, Dr. Robby.” You said before giving him another kiss.

[liminalweirdo]

"We all deserve the right to protect and keep ourselves safe. Implementing a mask ban is not only an infringement on our human rights but also extremely ableist and inconsiderate of those disabled or immunocompromised.

. . .

About 1 in 5 adult New Yorkers have a disability. If a mask ban were to be implemented, spaces such as stores and restaurants might ban masking or set up mask-removal policy. That’s 1 in 5 adults no longer able to shop in public along with others, or participate in gatherings.

Forcing immunocompromised people to remove their face masks would likely violate the federal Americans with Disabilities Act and the New York State Human Rights Law. As a member of ACT UP NY, it’s always my goal to fight for human rights such as healthcare.

Those that are HIV+ are 8% more likely to be hospitalized due to COVlD than those that aren’t and are also at an increased risk of developing Long COVlD.

Masking SAVES LIVES. Masking is community care.”

Behind the Powecom KN95 is Serita @_seritasargent_ and her friend Bri’anna @lanoirede.jpg holding the #StopMaskBans sign.

MaskTogetherAmerica encourages everyone to speak up and write to elected officials to demand they oppose the anti-mask bills S9867/A10057 and S9194! We need to defend our right to masks.

[ebenelephant]

Look, I think you're misconstruing some of my points and since this is reaching way farther than I wanted I would like to clarify for a second. This was kind of a bit of a rant post which I didn't expect people other than like 4 mutuals to... see? So as you can imagine I wasn't exactly my best articulated. Some of my points have definitely come across wrong, so to try and explain what I mean a little better:

I'm not saying we should see more flashbacks to Tom's life. This is a criticism I have of this plot point not being thought through, more than anything. It tells us something other that what was probably intended because you get the impression that Rowling didn't really consider the wider implications of what she was saying in the time period it was set. I'm not suggesting this should be delved deeper into, I'm just suggesting that it wasnt the best thought through.

With the Weasleys I just messed up the timeline on this one. I do genuinely have issues with some of the portrayal of the Weasleys which I won't get into, but this one is my mistake.

The Snape one is more of a personal gripe. My tongue in cheek remark about being "surprised you caught onto that" is in reference to the fact that I have heard/seen multiple people just glossing over that context to his life entirely - either because they missed it of because it was too minor for them to care.

My issue with the Hermione thing isn't actually that she obliviated her parents – as you say, this makes sense with her character – but rather how underutilised they are. We meet the parents and guardians of other, less important characters when they're thematically and narratively relevant, and given how important Hermione's status as a muggleborn is in the books you would think they would be both. It always seemed a weird choice to me that her parents are practically non-entities, spoken of occasionally but never seen. It's the show-don't-tell thing: we are told that Hermione loves her parent a lot, and of course we know this to be true, but the biggest time they are really relevant is when she obliviates them. Even if Harry had just seen them once, maybe sending Hermione to platform 9¾, and had seen them in contrast to the Dursleys this would have given them more weight. Hermione is distraught, but we as the reader are much less emotionally involved because we have no idea who these people are.

The Lily point honestly feels like a bad faith arguement, because she was never just 'the main character's long dead mum', she was the person who saved him, who made him the chosen one, who is referenced throughout the series, and who is directly related to the actions of multiple characters. I would literally just like consistent characterisation for her, because the way she is spoken about doesn't align with the ways we see her acting in the few scenes she has, and even in those scenes she is somewhat contradictory. This is never addressed by Harry the way it's addressed when he learns the negative qualities of his father – though in a book targeted at a 9-12 audience you would certainly expect it to be. This makes me think, again: oversight. Kids books have to guide the reader somewhat, and this aspect doesn't really do that. Could've been a great addition to that "nobody's perfect" theme JKR had going, but wasn't executed in a way properly accessible to a nine year old as opposed to other points in the series.

thinking again about jk rowling being a bad writer. like, we all know about the massive flaws in her worldbuilding and i hope by now it's clear she's a bigot on basically every front. (hello, regular reminder that she doesn't even actually like women.) but like. she's especially good at dropping bits of lore and then those not being relevant in the fucking slightest. riddle was told to go home to his orphanage in london during what would have very much been the blitz? whatever. the weasley's are so strapped for cash that they're sending their son to school with a potentially dangerous broken wand? of course they're spending their lottery winnings on visiting their adult son in egypt, what else would they do. snape grew up in what was likely a dying northern industrial town with abusive/neglectful parents, largely cut off from the magical world? almost impressed you caught on to that, with how little it's expanded on. yes hermione has a supposedly good relationship with both her parents, no we're not going to show you it at all, yes she's going to wipe they're memories like it's nothing. lily evans is the moral compass of james and basically the most important person in the series but fuck you if you want to actually know anything about her lmao. even what little we see is wildly inconsistent.

[genderqueerdykes]

genuine piece of advice for punks, activists, and everyone else honestly: any form of leftist infighting is a waste of your time.

focus on the task at hand: improving living and quality of life conditions for your community. unionize. donate to food banks. cooperate with organizations like food not bombs to distribute free hot meals. volunteer at libraries. participate in homeless outreach. give people access to resources in your community. organize and participate in protests. create organizations, groups, and gathering spots for queer folk in your area who need safe places to go and find community.

help people find access to HRT, surgery and other gender affirming care. carry, hand out, and administer narcan (naloxone). help recovering people get to rehabilitation, methadone clinics and so on. help addicted people practice harm reduction and use safely. help give out menstrual kits to homeless and low income people who have periods. help people get into housing programs. help disabled people apply for disability (SSI and SSDI) and disability lawyers. help disabled people find work or income resources that are accessible to them. donate blood and/or plasma if you can. care for people with HIV and AIDS.

help people apply for food stamps, medicaid, bill and rent assistance. help disabled people find case managers and caregivers. call local lawmakers to voice your opinions on current events. advocate for disadvantaged queers in your area. establish and participate in mutual aid funds. spread awareness and advocate online. write about and share your experiences with disadvantages, abuse and other problems you've faced in life for who you are. gather and organize with people with shared experiences. start or volunteer at a community garden. deliver meals to the elderly. volunteer at a homeless shelter.

organize fundraisers for, spread awareness of, and donate to:

Palestine

Sudan

Congo

i don't care if someone's activism looks different from yours: there are a TON of ways to improve and make change in your and the global community. doing ONE of these is enough, finding a singular way to improve your community is a better use of your time than arguing. everyone can find ways to be good to each other.

rehashing the same talking points, reading between the lines, accusing someone of identifying with politics they've never advocated for, and making baseless accusations isn't helping. it's not fixing anything. mobilize. advocate. stand up for your community and its rights. take action. now. i mean it. we must.

help each other.

[nothorses]

"the public education system is intently evil and all teachers are abusive because it was the worst experience ever for me personally"

guys, look, I'm legitimately sorry that happened to you. that's fucked up. it shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't be allowed to happen again to you or anyone else. I'm sorry.

public school was hard for me too, at times, and I'm still suffering the consequences for the harsh grading, the arbitrary deadlines, the hours of completely useless-to-me homework. I could name a few teachers who have been pretty fucking terrible. the fact that nobody considered getting me evaluated for ADHD has had an impact on my self image and academic success that I can't erase.

and also.

I grew up in an area where education, in particular, is incredibly progressive-leaning. educators are working really hard to create and try out education philosophies and practices that prioritize kids and their learning, rather than teachers and what they think kids should learn.

My sex ed was comprehensive, and came entirely from school. My gay sixth grade teacher taught me about HIV/AIDs in a useful, accurate way. In high school, I learned about the way orgasms work & I was prepared not to feel shame for normal stuff.

I learned that Communism was not what the USSR actually practiced, and what it really means. I learned about atrocities and, specifically, the genocide of indigenous people committed in/by the US. I learned about the military industrial complex, the school-to-prison pipeline, and I learned about manifestations of racism specific to my local area. I learned about Stonewall, and the intersection of the civil rights movement with gay rights and disability justice.

My creative writing teacher taught us about LSD, and the real reasons we shouldn't do it, after a hilariously ineffective assembly run by some local cops. He spoke gently, carefully, and emphatically about his friends and his own experiences. Later in the semester, he read us a story he wrote about two gay men finding each other in a deeply homophobic environment.

My sci-fi teacher made me feel safe & seen as a kid with "weird" interests. My US History teacher helped me research and put together a 10-page paper on the modern relevance and mission of Feminism. My government teacher made me feel appreciated for the work I put into the class, and the thought I put into what I said in it, even though he disagreed with a lot of it. My sixth grade teacher bought me books to read with his personal money, whichever ones I asked for. My third grade teacher made me feel safe. My science teacher in middle school made me excited for and passionate about science, and saw and nurtured the effort I put into her class.

A lot of stuff sucks, absolutely. But I am seeing new teaching methods being tried out all the time, and I am watching teachers get really excited when I teach their students about the roots of modern graffiti in US black history & to question property laws, and just...

There's hope. there are so many people doing so much work to make things better. so many people agree with you on what education should be, and are trying so fucking hard to put that into action, and so many public schools- not just teachers, but whole schools and even districts- are really doing that work. so much is getting better.

I had more to say, about necessary childcare and trusted adults and outside contacts and time away from abusive family. But like. Please just sit down and listen to more people on this, and please talk to educators and education professionals about what's really going on in this big huge world of philosophy, science, and practice.

[halfahundredcats]

Fanfic writers, I love and adore you, you are doing the lord’s work, and you make my life better. I have but one small request:

When you are writing a scene where your characters are about to have sex for the first time, and they exchange information about their respective STI statuses…please consider not using “clean” to mean “negative.” When you refer to having no STIs as being “clean,” you are implying that having an STI makes someone “dirty.” That’s really stigmatizing and also simply not true. Having a sexually-transmitted infection doesn’t make you any “dirtier” than having any other type of infection. When you test negative for covid, you don’t say “I’m clean” (at least, I’ve never heard anyone say it that way). And though I’m sure people having been using this terminology for far longer, I cannot help but think of the way folks with HIV/AIDS were treated in the 80s — even medical professionals acted as if they were unclean, untouchable. It makes me wince when I read “clean” in this context. “Negative” (though it sounds, well…negative) is a value-neutral term, it’s exactly what you’ll see on your test results.

In conclusion, especially if you’re writing about queer men, consider saying “negative” instead of “clean” and help reduce sexual stigma.