Category: Uncategorized

An open letter to the girl who saved me today

gaylor-moon:

wickedlymad:

When I went into the store today after work, I had decided I was going to be brave. I had a pretty good day, and I wanted to reward myself with something I’d been eyeing for quite some time. Mens underwear.

I won’t lie, I stalled quite a bit before I slunk over to the mens underwear section, but eventually I wound up in the aisle looking over my various options. It was while I was trying to figure out what size I would be, that the man is all his socks and sandals glory came into the aisle. I barely had time to look up before he bellowed at me, “you fucking abomination”

I gaped like a fish while I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that yes, this was happening, and yes, he just yelled that at me. He said it again, and began to make his way towards me, very tall and very angry looking. All the clever things I wanted to say died in my throat and tears started pooling in my eyes.

Just as he was getting right up in my face, telling me about how there wasn’t a single god from any religion that would accept a piece of shit like me, you appeared at the end of the aisle. You ran towards us and put yourself between me and him like you weren’t a tiny 5 ft nothing. Then you stuck your finger in his face and told him to “shut the hole in his head that was spewing ignorance and hatred and get out because he wasn’t welcome here”. It was his turn to be the fish then, and before he could say another thing you shouted “GET THE FUCK AWAY” drawing the attention of shoppers who had been so conveniently hard of hearing before. He tucked tail and left.

You turned to me then, put the underwear I had dropped back in my hand and asked if I was okay. I was sobbing and could feel my face doing the ugly thing it does when I cry. I nodded, you asked me if there was anything else I wanted to look at in the mens section, I shook my head. You asked if I had anymore shopping to do. I huffed out that I wanted some bananas. You took my hand and lead me towards produce. You told me I was beautiful. You told me I would look so handsome in the underwear I picked. You helped me pick out bananas and told me my future was so bright and wonderful it was practically blinding. 

You held my hand all the way to the cashier, and then outside. You asked me if I wanted a ride, I told you I’d like to walk, that I needed some time to cry. You stared at me very seriously, then hugged me so hard I could feel all me pieces coming back together. You said “I don’t even know who you are and I don’t care, I love you”

I cried all the way back home. 

Thank you. Thank you for everything. For who you are, and for what you did. Plenty of other people passed by and did nothing, but you came in like a shining beacon and all I can say is thank you. You saved me when I was all alone. Thank you.

This is being an ally

grapehyasynth:

mattxpike:

High-functioning anxiety sounds like…

You’re not good enough. You’re a bad friend. You’re not good at your job. You’re wasting time. You’re a waste of time. Your boyfriend doesn’t love you. You’re so needy. What are you doing with yourself? Why would you say that? What if they hate it? Why can’t you have your shit together? You’re going to get anxious and because you’re going to get anxious, you’re going to mess everything up. You’re a fraud. Just good at faking it. You’re letting everybody down. No one here likes you.

All the while, it appears perfectly calm.

It’s always looking for the next outlet, something to channel the never-ending energy. Writing. Running. List-making. Mindless tasks (whatever keeps you busy). Doing jumping jacks in the kitchen. Dancing in the living room, pretending it’s for fun, when really it’s a choreographed routine of desperation, trying to tire out the thoughts stuck in your head.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen it written out as if it were describing me exactly.

Representation Matters to White People Too

deducecanoe:

antifainternational:

kvothe-kingkiller:

cumbrianabroad:

bethrevis:

Look, when I say “representation matters,” I believe that the most important thing is for people who are often ignored in arts and media to see themselves there. 

But I also mean that it’s important for white/hetero people to see people who aren’t white/hetero. 

Here’s the thing. I was raised in a very white/hetero community. Every friend I had was white. I never had a black person in my classroom until late high school. I never had a black teacher until college. There was one out-gay student at my high school. One. And I saw what shit he had to go through by being out. 

And, if I’m honest with myself, most of the adults in my life were racist and homophobic. They were good, loving people…to me. But they were also racist and homophobic. 

And as a kid through my teen years, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that didn’t affect me. I parrotted the adults in my life, which meant that I often parrotted their hate and their prejudice. I’m ashamed of those attitudes now–now that I’ve had education and met people who were different from me and travelled the world and put aside hate. 

But then? It was easy to excuse racism. People who weren’t white and straight didn’t exist in my world–and they didn’t exist in the world I saw on television and in books and on the radio. It was easier to live in the bubble of that world. 

Representation matters to white people, too. It is important for white people to see diversity. Not as a token, not as “politically correct”–the white people who feel that adding a minority character to a storyline is pandering are horrible people who are entirely missing the point. I’m talking about the white kids who don’t see minorities in their lives, but who see a black girl and a white boy being friends on Sesame Street. I’m talking about the straight teen reading More Happy than Not, I’m talking about the white teen empathizing with Malala Yousafzai. The more representation we have, the more we hold a mirror through the world rather than whiting-out people who aren’t like the majority, the better our world is.

Representation matters.

I swear to god, it’s like every damn word could have come out of my own brain. Brava!

Honestly. As someone who went to a very tiny, almost completely white private school through eighth grade and then to a high school in a city with the demographics of a marvel movie (89.3% White, 0.7%African American, 0.4% Native American, 5.6% Asian, 0.2% Pacific Islander, 0.8% other races, 3.0% two or more races. 3.7% Hispanic or Latino) I never realised that the casting choices in most tv shows and movies vastly underrepresent any race that isn’t white.

I remember being confused about people saying they should hire more actors of color for movies set in like new york because thats what i legit thought the rest of the US and western europe was like.

Representation matters more than you think.

If whiney white boys would have grown up in a world where other races (and genders) were represented in their media from a young age, they wouldn’t be flipping their shit every two minutes cos there is a chick lead character or POC in a previously white role. Representation trains little white boys not to be douchecanoes.