Hot Take: We Don't NEED to Talk About It, You Just Want To

This is going to be tricky to do, so forgive me if I kind of veer off course a bit, but I'll try to stay on-target.

I'm not sure exactly when it started, but as of late, it seems like every other headline starts with the phrase "We Need to Talk About..." And while some of the issues that "need" talking about are somewhat valid, I find that the vast majority of articles that express this level of urgency in their headline end up being about something superficial at best. All this, while it sometimes feels like the world is burning down around us, and I just find it annoying and disingenuine, not to mention irresponsible on the part of journalists. Let me explain.

I think my overall frustration with this has more to do with the extra trivial stuff that isn't going to change any systems of oppression in this world. Here are some examples of this frivolity (some are spoilers for Game of Thrones or Avengers: Endgame, so be warned):

We Need to Talk About Martha Stewart's Instagram

We Need to Talk About the Night King's Perfectly Shaped Nails

We Need to Talk About Rami Malek and Real Life Angel Lucy Boynton at Met Gala 2019

We need to talk about Jaime Lannister's 'f*ckboy' move at the end of this week's 'Game of Thrones.'

We Need To Talk About Nick Jonas And Priyanka Chopra At The 2019 Met Gala

We Need To Talk About The Celebrities Who Didn't Stick To The Met Gala Theme

We Need To Talk About Gwendoline Christie's Fashion Game Because DAMN

You get my drift. No, we don't need to talk about Lady GaGa's (or anybody else's, for that matter) Met gala outfits. The short version is, 

Especially when in the greater context of things we really do need to talk about- and I'll get to that later.
One from that above list, the one about Jamie, could actually have been much better-written/have had more meaningful content, and it's a good transition move for me, here. If you aren't caught up on Game of Thrones, skip ahead to the gif of the puppy, since up until then, 

I had a lot of issues with the latest episode (S8E4), and one of them was that moment when Jamie rode off into the night, leaving Brienne a crying, sobbing mess. I can understand why it was actually REALLY great, development-wise for him, because, as Awesome Boyfriend pointed out to me, it was the first time he actually, undeniably owned up to his sins and his faults. Any other time, he had been dodgy, at best, so good on him!!! Except... it came at Brienne's expense. And thus, it kind of cheapened their entire relationship, made him knighting her two episodes ago and even so far back as when he got his hand cut off for her (which, come to think of it...), makes her nothing but a plot device for his character growth. She showed him how to open up and look, now he can face his sister (my theory is he's going to be the one to kill her, but y'know, whatevs). I mean, it reduced her to his manic-pixie-Big-Girl-with-a-Sword (or manic-pixie-dream-knight? I dunno, but, doubtless, you understand my point). So in the greater context of the show and how shittily it handles its ladies, it just was beyond frustrating and eye-roll-ee (and especially when considering how bad that specific episode was for those ladies, too, ugh).

So yeah, this is something worth talking about. But the above article, for one, doesn't really address these problems and turns it into more of a joke, and anyway, saying we "need" to is still a stretch for me.

Another bit from that episode, and this time, the article at least approaches it from a more analytical lense, as opposed to just comical. 

We Need To Talk About What Sansa Stark Said About Her Trauma On "Game Of Thrones"

As a survivor, especially, this was a really... emotional... bit to watch. I think, like one of the Twitter posts showed in that article, what happened was this:

The writers meant to convey something like, "Yeah, my trauma was pretty shitty, and I certainly wish it had never happened, and wouldn't wish it on my worst enemies. But I've grown past it, used it, and by getting through it, I realized how strong I've been all along. It will always hurt, but at least I can say I lived through it and came out swinging." 

But it came across as, "If I hadn't been raped, I would have stayed an immature prat, so thank goodness for Ramsey!"

Basically, the implication because of the word choice was that, had it not been for her trauma, she never would have matured at all. Which is garbage. But as a survivor, I know for a fact that saying trauma like that contributed to who we are today is a common thing for us- I would never say I was grateful for it, or that I wouldn't have matured or evolved as a person without it. It's a PART of me, but it doesn't DEFINE me. And even if I hadn't experienced that trauma, I still would have evoloved as a human fucking being.

So yeah, I get what they were trying to do, but just, dude, so, so much no. Sorry, D&D, but it has never been more obvious that women don't write your scripts than this episode. And yeah, it thus means that again, they're using that super-tired trope of sexual assault as character development for women. 

Le sigh.

Swing and a miss, bros. 

IT IS NOW SAFE TO CONTINUE

Those GoT things are some of them- here are examples of other articles that are at least about issues worth discussing (more spoilers in these articles, no doubt):

We Need to Talk About How Game of Thrones Treats the Dothraki

We Need to Talk About the Sexist Garbage in 'Octopath Traveler'

We Need to Talk About the Game of Thrones Race Problem

[SPOILER WARNING] We need to talk about the Avengers: Endgame finale

‘Avengers: Endgame’ – We Need to Talk About This Black Widow Situation

What I'm saying is, these are perfectly reasonable things to want to discuss. I think we should, given the range and reach of those two main franchises in those articles. And I have to wonder how I would feel about the "We Need to" part of the headline (at least for Sansa) if I hadn't been inundated with declarations of needing to talk about fucking dresses and hairstyles and music videos, etc. 

Call me a cranky old crone, fine, but don't you dare accuse me of not caring about "isms" in pop culture. This is my blog, so I'll bitch if I want to, and said blog is ripe with critiques of pop culture through various lenses, usually those of feminism, race, and/or disability. Like, so much of it that I'm not going to even bother linking to any of my past articles. Seriously. just scroll back for a while, or read a few of the posts featured as "most popular" on the side (it's kind of obvious from their titles which ones count). So yeah, I'll be the first to call out something as problematic, as sexist, as racist, as ableist, as classist- as whateverist.

But I never claim that my critiques need to be viewed by anybody. I would never presume to title one of those posts in a way that makes the situation sound life-or-death the way this "We Need to Talk About..." stuff goes.

I guess what I'm saying is that since "We Need to Talk About..." gets used in such UNimportant matters, instances where I actually do care about pop culture seem less deserving of the phrase itself. And discussing pop culture or allegories isn't quite as impactful as real events. It can be a platform for starting a discussion about the real world, but that's not quite the same thing.

Even titles like Let’s Talk About Avengers: Endgame’s Big Moment of Pandering/Female Empowerment, Depending on Your View  or LET’S TALK ABOUT AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR’S RACE PROBLEM are too close to the "We Need to Talk About..." type nowadays for me to not get a little grumpy. Probably because yeah, I'm just so inundated with useless crap about clothes and gossip that I've been tainted. 

It gets less frustrating for articles like these:

It’s time to talk about being white in America

Amanda Zhang: We need to talk about sexism in tennis

On Steve, Julius and the Christchurch murders: Why we need to talk about hate speech

We need to talk about death: I was not prepared for how lonely grief would be

We have to talk more about suicide. Even if it means I have to run a 5K.

Because the racism being discussed in these articles is in the real world, is actually happening, and leads to hate speech, as referenced, and yes, hate crimes. The sexism in the tennis community is tangible, is negatively affecting women in tennis every day. Grief is a real thing most of us have to encounter at some point in our lives, and no, we really don't talk about it enough. Suicide is real. It happens. 

But some things about which I would definitively say, "Yes, we need to talk about this," are:

Flint, Michigan

The vast numbers of indigenous women and girls that have gone missing in North America

The Homelessness Crisis

How over 20% of the children in the US live below the poverty line

Climate change, bruh

So, overall: I'm sick of seeing, "We Need to Talk About..." in article titles. This doesn't mean I think none of the stuff these articles are about is of value- social critique, be it of society itself or the consumable pieces of it that get spewed out, is really the only way society as a whole will progress. Citing and critiquing hegemonic discourses in pop culture can make people more atuned to their existence IRL- this is something I fundamentally believe and is fucking why I rant so much about how stuff is "problematic" and why I can't have nice things.

But unless I see that it's about clean water or saving the planet, I'm most likely not going to read an article with, "We Need to Talk About..." in its headline nowadays. And I really wish that phrasing would stop being so overused. I said above that it comes across as irresponsible on the part of journalists. I said this because it creates a numbing, false sense of urgency about some inconsequential piece of, essentially, gossip, while people are starving, the planet is dying, and Flint still doesn't have clean water. And so fucking what if they're entertainment blogs? It doesn't matter. They're still acting like the most important article you'll read that day is the one about Bae's lipstick. And that just makes me do this

On Bravery

If you haven't read it yet, at least skim my last post, otherwise a lot of this will make  zero sense to you. 

I want to address something important. While I keep hearing that I'm "brave" and "strong" for leaving my ex, I want to speak as a victim about what all of this bravery is, and where it started.

I started out brave. Like I said last time, I knew abuse at an early age. And I came out on top, stayed a good person, even make efforts every day to be that way. Even when it's hard, I try to do the right thing, do right by others, and help decrease Worldsuck, as some* would say. And despite seeing some of the worst of people, even having that aimed at me directly, I continue, to this day, to usually by default expect and see the best from them. 

So I was brave for trying. I've been hurt every time I attempted at even a chance at love before. When I first met  the person I discussed in my last post, I had no intention of letting him in. I had big, thick walls up, with trebuchets and a moat with a big goddamn dragon. I've talked about this before. Obviously, that post was before I met him.

I took a leap of faith, like what I talked about there, when I let him in. I was scared as Hell, but I did it. Because I was brave enough to try again. And you know what? It felt good, at least for a while. I'm reminded of a line from The Nightmare Before Christmas, "Well what the heck, I went and did my best, and my God I really tasted something swell. And for a moment, why I even touched the sky..." There were moments where I was flying, where I thought I'd die I was filled with such joy. I did feel safe, and loved, and beautiful. And I was happy. With myself for having taken a chance, with my situation, with him. And as I said in that last post, at least I was actually loved- I never doubted he loved me, which just made the bad parts hurt more. But I kept on, and hid it from the world, because of that love.

So I was brave in staying. It isn't just that I kept telling myself it (i.e. the abuse**) would never happen to me. I also cared for him, even in the middle of his worst outbursts. That Joan of Ark aspect of me... I know a part of me  wanted to help and save him. He didn't want to be saved, of course, but that didn't matter to me, not until I found my line again. I kept loving him, even though it was often hard. I hoped and prayed that maybe  my love for him would be enough, that he would see the damage he was doing to himself and us and me, and that he would then turn a new leaf, and we'd be happy more, I wouldn't be walking on eggshells.

But my love wasn't enough. I was a saint, but it wasn't enough. I comforted and forgave, but it wasn't enough. Belle was brave when she tamed the Beast; I was brave in trying, in holding him when he fell, in picking him up when he had finished crashing. I was brave for wiping his tears before my own. 

I was brave to start getting my own help. Therapy and mental health issues (not to mention medications for "head stuff") are so stigmatized, it's easy to feel like you're less of a person for going in and seeing a professional. I had known I needed help for a long time. I kept making excuses, but I eventually ran out of them when I was promoted to full time and thus had corporate benefits (as opposed to state). So I started going. And it was (and still is- my counselor is amazing) hard. It was brave for me to open up in that office. About the things that have been haunting me for years, say nothing of the relationship of focus, here. And as I said before, I was hoping I would eventually feel ready to get back in touch with my dad. I think a part of me also hoped that if my ex saw how much I was improving because I had and maintained a self-care plan that was working, he would want that  for himself, too. Naive, I know. 

And no, I wasn't stupid. I just hoped, because I believed in him. I wanted to, I needed to, otherwise what was the point of letting down those walls in the first place? I didn't want that risk I had taken to be for nothing.

I was brave to be as honest as I was with  the friend I talked about in the last post. I kept as much as I could hidden for a long time, but I know most, if not all, of my friends knew things weren't good with my partner and I. I was afraid to tell my friend what was going on, but I did it, trembling and crying. That's bravery. It's strength.

I was brave in telling the ex not to come home. In all of the time we had been together, during all of his tantrums, I had stood up to him maybe half a dozen times before, most of them being on behalf of my dog (because, as said, he would get unnecessarily and unwarentedly*** mean with her when he was grumpy). But I did it, I found my line, set it, and told him exactly what it was. It wasn't a request, I didn't downplay it (with something like, "I know this is going to be  hard/ I'm sorry but..." etc.). And it was so hard to do. My hands were trembling as I sent the text. And my chosen method being text may seem cowardly, but that I did it at all was huge. IS huge. And I knew that if I heard his voice, I would be weak and give in, lose that line, so I texted him. So sue me. That I told him an any way at all I didn't want to see him again that day was a HUGE act of bravery, yes. That's the main one everyone thinks about. But there's more.

I was brave somewhere in the middle there, when he was at the house the second night to get more stuff. At that point, I was still thinking it would be a break. And I was brave in two big ways then. First, when he was saying goodbye to my dog. It was like my heart was breaking again, as if it was possible, watching him kneel there as she gingerly licked his chin. She knew something was wrong, and the way his voice cracked... She's my kid, and he was her Daddy. It was as if I was getting a divorce, and my child was saying goodbye. Involuntarily, I jerked a little bit toward them. In a flash, I saw myself throwing my arms around both and having that be the end of the episode. But I didn't. I grabbed the counter, squeezed it so tight that my hands and forearms were sore the next day, and I didn't move. That was brave.

And then, as he hugged me goodbye, he said, "I've fucked up big time," I said, "Yep, you did. Now fix  it." I was brave for saying that. SO fucking brave. The older me would have taken some of the blame off of him, "No, honey, it's my fault, too, it's not just you." But it WAS all just him. And I knew he wanted that, wanted me to absolve him, at least partially, right there, because that's what I always did. But the difference this time was I saw it for what it was: manipulation. And I was brave for standing my ground in the face of it. It was hard, it hurt like Hell, but he left. No matter how badly I wanted to say it was okay, I didn't, and that's bravery. 

I was brave in finally saying the word "abuse" out loud. I didn't even mean to say it, it just came out, flowed naturally with where I was going when I was on the phone with him. And it clicked. It made sense. It gave me the momentum to be firmer. I was brave in standing by that, too, because of course, while he didn't say much to it then (it was the first day that happeend), he had all sorts of nasty comebacks  later about how I was overdramatizing it, how that wasn't what he was doing, he says  and does those things in anger, that's not abuse. But it is, it was, so I didn't back down, and that was brave. He was yelling at me while I was on the phone with him in my counselor's office (I really wouldn't have survived this without her, too), and I was brave for not letting him gaslight me, change the topic, change the goal posts during that conversation shouting match. 

And I've been brave for not asking his mom (whom I've needed to have some contact with for logistical reasons) or brother (still good friends with him and his girlfriend) where he is, if he's okay. Do I worry for and about him still? Absolutely. But I can't let myself go down that path. And the braver, stronger part of me is protecting the other side of me while she heals. 

But I want to clarify something, too.

I didn't stay out of weakness. I don't think anyone has even remotely implied that, except possibly me, maybe, here and in person. Because while in the middle of being emotionally and psychologically beaten down by my significant other, I became a better version of myself. I improved, against those odds. I do owe a lot of that to getting professional help, but as she told me, she's only helping me tap the resources I already have within me. So little did he know, even as he was wearing me down, I was building up. If that isn't strength, I don't know what is.

Also, it wasn't weakness, the falling for him, falling into his net. Like I said, it was brave to try. Letting someone in, even if that person does end up hurting you (like all the rest, in my case) is brave.

Bravery can mean trying to save something because you thought it was worth it. And yes, it's admitting that thing isn't worth it anymore, giving it its proper name, and letting it go.
Love always comes with a risk. I took it. It got me down, but...

I'm getting better each day, like I said, but I'm not  brave enough to try again yet. I will, sooner or later. I still want a family of my own. I mean, my dog is great and all, but I want a husband and kids and the whole nine yards. Call me a traditionalist, but, well, there it is. 

And it's already brave for me to think about that future. I know I'm not ready to try for it again, no, but even being able to consider it again, in the face of what just happened to me, is brave. And someday, I still want to believe, that bravery will pay off, and I'll get what I want. I know I'm worth it, I know I deserve it, and for fuck's sake, I HAVE EARNED THE SHIT OUT OF A GOOD LIFE. Amirite?

You, right now.

So it'll happen. I'm still swimming through all of the emotions. But I'll take that brave step and open those gates again. 




*Nerdfighters, aw yeah!

**And again, let me say, I was never deliberately physically harmed. Sometimes intimidated, but he never hit me, pulled my hair, nothing like that.

***Totally just made that word up, yo.

Next In Line: The Intersection of Disability with Asshole Customers and What Should Already Not Be Okay

In case anyone that has been following this blog (HAH! Followers.... I crack me up...), I'm no longer a grad student. My program ended up pushing me out (and no Mom, I don't have grounds for any substantive lawsuit). But that doesn't mean I stopped thinking academically about life and situations I may find myself in on a daily basis. Like one I found myself in the middle of on the way home a few weeks ago. 

I stopped at Target for a few things before hitting the highway: lotion, shaving gel, TP, etc. There were a surprising number of people checking out at such a late hour, so the cashiers were all kind of backed up and doing their best to get people out the door in a timely manner. I got in a line with two people in front of me, a gentleman in a suit that I'll call Silver Fox from now on (because he was probably in his mid-forties but damn handsome, and the salt-and-pepper hair gave him a very Richard Gere kind of look) in the middle of being helped. And a younger guy in line behind him, wearing one of these specific Dragon Ball/Z/GT shirts: 

Yeah, you've probably seen them, and to the uninitiated in the ways of the Dragonballs (insert dirty Lord of the Rings joke here, right?), the shirt is a mockup of the outfit the Good Guys wear (think of it as their dojo's uniform) (and yes, pedantic fans, I know, it's called Turtle Training School and run by Master Roshi). This guy also had on a hat with a patch in the image of Totoro on it, so I'm calling him Anime Dude for the rest of this post. 

The cashier (whom I'll call Cashier, so as to give him a "name" here, too) was a man probably a few years older than me (God, I'm officially in my 30s now...), and from listening to him interact with Silver Fox, I could tell he has some sort of developmental disability, accompanied with some sort of mild speech impediment (starting words with hard consonant sounds like hard "c" or a "b" usually involved a stutter). He was being pretty jovial, though, and Silver Fox was smiling and engaging pleasantly in the conversation that Cashier was making; I came in late to the conversation, but it seemed like they were just talking about their mutual love of cheese (I can only presume Silver Fox was purchasing some?). When Cashier told him to have a nice night, Silver Fox said, "You too, son," and grabbed his bag and walked away, smiling.

As Silver Fox was leaving, a woman not much older than me put a hodgepodge of stuff on the conveyer belt: some fruit snacks, an energy drink, diapers, and a thing of baby food. So while I'm a feminist and I don't think a woman's identity is based solely on her motherhood, I'm going to call her Tired Mama (because she sure did  look tired- I smiled at her in an "I get it" kind of way,  and she sighed and smiled back). 

Then Anime Dude's turn came, and after the usual, "How are you?"s were exchanged, Cashier asked, smiling up at Anime Dude (who was a good four or five inches taller than him), "So, that symbol on your shirt, is it Chinese or Japanese?"

"Japanese," Anime Dude said, frankly.

"Aaaah," Cashier said, enthusiastically, "okay, cool! Yeah, when they look like that, I figure it's got to be one or the other, so a fifty-fifty chance, right?"

"It's Japanese,"Anime Dude snapped, kind of jerking his head and his hands to emphasize it. His whole aura was prickly and hostile, and it even caused me to jump back a bit, and I was already a few feet away (because I hate it when people crowd me as I'm being checked out, so I try to provide the courtesy I prefer to others). 

"Oh," Cashier said, looking down now, "sorry." And his body language went from open and excited to closed off and sad, maybe even a little scared. I noticed that while he had maintained eye contact with the Silver Fox at every chance he could, save when he absolutely had to look at the screen or some other thing he was using to do the technical parts of his job at that moment, he was now staring at the things he was scanning, and the counter, and anything else besides Anime Dude he could look at (but, I should note, not anyONE else- he was focused on his station). His shoulders were slouched, his head craned downward.

After a few long, uncomfortable seconds in which  Tired Mama and I exchanged, "Did he really just do that?" looks, I finally couldn't take it.

"Well," I said, toward both Cashier and Anime Dude, "actually," and I tried to sound as authoritative as I could, "that depends. See, Dragon Ball-Z," and at this point, I turned directly to Anime Dude, "and yes, I recognize where that shirt comes from, I get it." And then I turned toward Cashier now, "Dragon Ball-Z, the show that shirt comes from, is a Japanese show, but  the Japanese language has three different  alphabets, one of which is based off of Chinese characters. And the symbols on that shirt," and I pointed at Anime Dude without looking at him, "are from the alphabet based off of the Chinese stuff." At this point, I moved a little closer and turned my body so that if Cashier wanted to, he could look at me and  not have to look at Anime Dude at all while still doing what he needed to in order to finish the transaction (which wasn't much, as they were in the transaction phase at this point). "So, it depends on how you look at it. You could say it's Japanese because it's the Japanese use of that symbol, or you could say it's Chinese because of the original use of it, a Japan-ized version of a Chinese thing, as a way of putting it."

Cashier straightened up like a flower blooming and smiled a little again. "Reeeeally?"

"Yup!" I said, smiling, "I took Japanese in high school, so I know all kinds of stuff about that sort of thing." 

Cashier's smile got even bigger. "Wow, I had no idea! That's so cool!"

"Not really," I said, chuckling, "I'm just a nerd that's into super nerdy things, and fixing mistakes is one of them." I looked pointedly at Anime Dude, who was now the one looking down a little. We made eye contact, though, and then he darted his eyes away.  

"Nah," Cashier said, "that IS cool! My New Year's Resolution was to learn something  new every week, and that makes two things for this week, so thanks!"

"Wow!" I said, "That's a really great resolution! Most people pick things they don't stick to, like losing weight or exercising. Lord knows I have tried that."

At this point, the receipt was printing, and as soon  as Cashier handed it to Anime Dude, who already had his bag, I moved into Anime Dude's space to "suggest" he get out. He went around the edge that's parallel with Cashier, and said, sounding defeated, "You have a good night," to Cashier. Cashier looked a little wary as Anime Dude kind of bowed to me and said, "And you too, ma'am." He looked up at me just before scampering off with a very apologetic look on his face.

I turned to Tired Mama, and she had a kind of smug grin on her own face, as if to say, "Hah, you showed him!"

I spent the rest of my time at the register talking to Cashier about his snow boarding trip from earlier that day and how cool he must be because I know I would spend more time with my butt in the snow than my feet on the snowboard if I ever tried that because I'm so clumsy. I could feel Tired Mama's eyes on me the whole time, and when I finally looked at her, she had a kind of... well... motherly look, like she was proud of her baby bird for flying. Cashier was genuinely funny and earnest, and I didn't pretend to laugh at his jokes, and couldn't have been more sincere when I said I hoped he got some good rest that night when he made it home. 

I knew I was justified. Anime Dude had been a jerk. I mean, Silver Fox had been joking and smiling, and Tired Mama seemed as shocked at Anime Dude as I was, and pleased with how I handled it.

But when I got to my car, I was like this on the drive home:

Seriously, I am still amazed I didn't crash... again... Ugh.

ANYhoo, the whole thing brought up so many emotions for me, on as many levels.

The most general is the interaction between a friendly cashier/person in customer service and an asshole customer. Cashier had been nothing but sincere and pleasant, and for absolutely no reason, entirely unprovoked, Anime Dude snapped at him. I don't care how shitty your day has been, it is 100% not okay to take it out on someone else; and if you catch yourself doing it, you fucking call yourself out and apologize. That doesn't make it okay, but at least it lets the other person know it wasn't them, and it makes it easier for them to move forward.  

This shit happens to me all the time. It's annoying, and I get it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bother me at least a little. I've had people yell at me for nothing and snap every time I tried to appease them, and a few times they were bad enough before starting to tell me everything that they had on their mind (that had nothing to do with the store they were in, by the way), I even said something along the lines of, "Well, that has nothing to do with me, and I'm trying to make this experience as pleasant for you as possible, but that's easier when I'm not getting yelled at."

I actually had something like this just a few days ago- a gal came in and was super curt the whole time we were interacting, and the fact that she was shopping for a trip that was the next day made any solutions I offered with respect to ordering what she wanted impossible didn't help; I didn't want to ring her up, she had been so rude, but I did, and so I said, "And since I seem to have done nothing but get on your nerves and disappoint you today, I'm going to give you this coupon." She got bug-eyed and apologized, saying she was annoyed with her husband when she walked in, that must have been why she was so rude. I never said she was forgiven; I just nodded, said, "Ah, I see," and kept doing my thing, to give her the same message: That I had nothing to do with what happened with her husband, and she had been rude to me for no reason as I was bending over backwards trying to find what she wanted. She felt guilty, and seemed distressed. And to a certain degree, I felt bad, but not very much: She kind of deserved to realize she had been a shitty person to a super nice one, and it was entirely unwarranted. 

So Anime Dude. My pointed look and "mistake" comment that was totally for him, obviously, were meant to send that message: That he had been shitty for no reason to a perfectly, frankly exemplary, person behind the register- because not every cashier actually makes jokes and conversation. And I'm fairly certain  he got the point, what with how he basically ran off with his tale between his legs. And I'm happy about that. Anime Dude's behavior was 100% Not Okay. And us retail workers need to stick together, and any time we can educate the assholes we deal with is a win. Right?

But the other, deeper level, and the reason I was such a blubbering mess on my home has to do with disability. I saw my little brother in Cashier in so many ways. High-functioning, curious, sweet, sincere. For my little brother, being a cashier would be peek achievement level. And I hate it. Not because I think he's "above" that in some snobby way, but because I know he'll be in situations like the one I just saw. He'll get his own Anime Dude, that snaps for no reason, and he'll think  he did something wrong, but he won't know what. And he'll be as sad and apologetic as Cashier was. Because he won't be able to understand that it wasn't him, his customer was just a jerk, unless someone standing right there can tell him that immediately. And even if he tried explaining it later, he may not have the vocabulary and grammatical skills to express it in a way that someone besides a trained professional or a person in our family would understand well enough to reassure him it wasn't his fault. 

And that enrages me and makes me  want to scream and sob and break a whole dinner set or just knock  over anything knock-over-able in my general vicinity. 

I was proud and relieved I was there for Cashier, but I can't be there every time, and I won't ever be able to be there for my brother. 

I hate that we live in a world where customers can just be assholes and get what they want. But I hate even more that we live in a world that then makes people with disabilities like my brother feel guilty for that behavior. That allows them to feel that way. Because they don't have the comprehension to see that they didn't do anything wrong, that they did everything right. A world where people like my brother, people that need it more than others, can't defend themselves. A world where we put people that are already vulnerable, that already experience all sorts of systemic abuse, into situations where they are supposed to tolerate abuse like that.

This actually relates to the whole Orange Debate: Those oranges that are pre-peeled for convenience also happen to be more accessible, so they're beneficial on multiple levels. Well, this is the reverse: The fact that cashiers are expected to just take it (even though corporate handbooks claim otherwise, that they don't tolerate abuse and stuff, their actual definition of "abuse" really just comes down to overtly threatening language and physical attacks; being super shitty and snapping and even insulting doesn't cut it) is doubly-hard on people with lower cognitive abilities, since the people with disabilities working in customer service are even less likely than non-disabled persons to recognize they hadn't done anything wrong. And  by perpetuating this "the customer is always right" bullshit, we're actually perpetuating a system of ableism.

Because the system doesn't require an apology to the cashier. There is no remedy in the system for the genuinely distressed or hurt feelings a cashier with disabilities may feel as a result of the combination of their shitty customer's behavior and their own cognitive comprehension levels. There is no recourse for a person with disabilities that entirely, 100% unjustly believes they hurt someone else. That person just goes on thinking they upset someone, and that customer goes on with their day, being shitty to other people and not getting any kind of lesson on manners, respect, or humanity. 

AND  WHAT REALLY MAKES ME ANGRY IS I HAVE NO SOLUTION. THIS  IS HOW CAPITALISM WORKS. CAPITALISM IS INHERENTLY ABLEIST IN THIS AND SO MANY OTHER FUCKING WAYS.

I mean, think about it. What if Cashier had snapped back at Anime Dude? Anime Dude could then have complained and had him fired. And Cashier is already in a precarious state: Unemployment and poverty rates for persons with disabilities are leaps and bounds higher than other demographic groups, even when taking into account things like equal levels of educational attainment (so to put it differently, a PWD with a BA is less likely to have a job or more likely to be underemployed than someone without one). This is exactly how intersectionality works. Customer service workers are already lower in the pecking order and prone to being treated like crap by a shitty customer; a person with disabilities is more susceptible to them and less likely to at least have comebacks like I did with the gal who was pissed at her husband. I mean, if I snapped back, I am certain I could get another job, were I to get fired. But if Cashier snapped back, if my brother snapped back, not likely, or at least with much more difficulty.

Because I don't buy the "equal opportunity employer" line. If every company that claims they're "equal opportunity" actually was, the statistics wouldn't be so skewed against persons with disabilities. That's capitalism. These companies don't want to hire (or promote) persons with disabilities for any combination of these, and I'm sure many other that I'm forgetting, reasons:

1) Accommodations may be "too costly."

2) They may assume less output from disabled employees.

3) Whoever is doing the hiring at the ground level has at least latent, if not blatant, ableist tendencies that influence their hiring process.

4) They fabricate statistics to avoid investigations by any organization that may be monitoring them for discriminatory hiring practices. 

Etc.

I don't  really know how to end this. Except to say that customers really shouldn't be allowed to treat people working at where they're shopping/eating/whatever like shit, especially for stuff that's out of the hands of the people working there. But it's exceptionally vile when the target of the poor behavior is a person with a disability. And I recognize I'm saying this from my non-disabled, fully-employed position; but I can't help but picture my little brother with a mop at a McDonald's getting screamed at because someone just clogged the bathroom he had cleaned less than an hour ago, and  him crying because he didn't know what he had done wrong and had just checked on that bathroom and it was fine...

Sigh.

On Love, Lying, And Sadness

I have a lot of posts in "draft" form, some closer to finished than others, but I kind of want to ramble a little. As I tend to do, I'm going to open with a story.

I was in a pretty great friggin' mood toward the end of my shift at the office supply place I work at recently. Why? Well, I was offered an interview at a place I would love to work and could see myself making a career out of, more so than my clothing store... and certainly more so than the office supply place (oh yeah... I got a second job... in July...). So with less than an hour left, there was a happy bounce to my step and I didn't even care I wasn't going to get my last break. 

Then, and without going into too much detail, a man needed my assistance, and he was invasive to the point of causing physical contact more than once, and where I felt sexually threatened. And unfortunately, I was like a trapped animal and too afraid to call for my manager, so, long story short, I just did everything I could to get him out of there as fast as possible. When he was gone and I could talk freely to the manager, I kind of emotionally vomitted all over him and another worker/friend about it.* And the latter person stuck with me as I started doing my end-of-shift stuff and I told him something I don't tell a lot of people about myself.

I am a liar.

You, right now.

But wait, let me explain. See, the kind of depression I have, it's not bipolar, no, but I have manic episodes, and I can go from very high to exceptionally low in a short timeframe. When I'm in a good mood, I'm loving and caring and tender and funnny and bubbly and all these other sugary adjectives. So people expect that of me, because that's far easier and more pleasant than pouty. It's even preferable to just... neutral or indifferent. I mean, c'mon, I know not everyone would agree, but if you had to see one of these faces regularly, which would it be:

Option 1

Option 2

Mmmhmmmm....

Which means that if I perform any less than that first choice, they start to worry, and if I ever even let a little bit of a truly dark or down mood show... everyone flips their goddamned shit and thinks I'm going to off myself or something ridiculously off the mark.

"Oh, Gab, are you okay? You aren't smiling today!"

"You're not as cheery as you usually are, what's going on?"

"Is there anything I can do for you? You don't seem like yourself today."

Etc. And that kind of annoys me, because  it says there are these expectations people have of me and I can't set a toe out of line. Like rather than being how I feel, I have to be what everybody wants me to be, instead. It's frustrating, and the moment someone says something like that, I do my best to step back in-line, and I also thank them profusely for caring. Which in itself is another act, because while externally, I'm like

Internally, I'm all

So I fake it. All the time. I'm frequently not nearly as chipper internally as I make it seem externally, but I'd rather pretend and have people off my case than actually let it show.

And, weird as it is, I do this out of love. Because while it's annoying to be fussed over, the truth is, I don't like being fussed over (for that, anyway) because I don't want to burden people with worry over me. The moment I start caring about you, that's the moment I try not to ask much, if anything from you, so the last thing I want is to become frustrating or a bummer or whatever. I want people to feel like they're gaining something from knowing me, now losing. And I know how taxing being close to someone with depression is, if nothing else because I know how frustrated with myself I get sometimes. 

What sucks is that I've become very good at lying like this, though. To the point where I even fool myself sometimes. Where I'm not sure what "myself" should even be like anymore. Am I actually chipper, or do I just think I am because I know I'm "supposed" to be?

Then I go to bed, and my back, shoulders, and neck burn and ache and are sore and stiff. And I realize no, I'm faking it. And carrying all of the negative energy in my muscles. Seriously, I have a friend that's a massage therapist, and she said she could see the lumps and tightness, even without taking off any clothing. 

But here's the kicker. The "I Can't Have Nice Things" part of my brain steps back, looks at the situation (hypothetically- not one in particular... you know what I mean!), and goes

Why? Well, see, and those of you familiar with me and/or this  blog prolly see this coming... It's ableism. No, seriously, it is. Because the whole reason people hide being sad is that pressure they get. And that pressure stems from societal norms and expectations on what "proper" behavior looks like. Why  can't people be sad? Because sad isn't "normal." People fake not being depressed because they don't want to be looked down upon, and because we treat people with  mental illness as if they're burdensome. So if course I'm going to be afraid that me being depressed around others is going to cause a burden, I'm trained to think it will because they're trained to treat it as such.

And the twisted thing is, the people getting all helicopter on me/anyone else, they're doing it out of love, too. Because yes, they most likely really, truly are concerned with  the person. But the trouble is in the phrasing. I'll retype the above statements for clarification's sake, but I want you to really analyze them yourself before I spell it out for you:

1) Are you okay? You aren't smiling today.

2)You're not as cheery as you usually are, what's going on?

3) Is there anything I can do for you? You aren't yourself today.

1) Admittedly, the least bad. But the focus is on the lack of smile, pointing out the absence of an expected behavior. And it's that expectation part that makes it ableist. Implicitly, "you aren't smiling like a normal person today." Switch "smiling" with "walking" and it'll make it a lot easier to grasp. 

2) This one is the worst of the three I chose. Here, the big problem is the assumption that it just has to be something specific. This is a real big fuckup that ableism has caused, this false notion that depression or sadness always has to have a specific cause. And as someone with depression, I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to try to explain to someone else that no, nothing in particular happened, I just feel like shit, can we drop it? Usually I don't bother trying and make something up or pick something going on as the catalyst for my sadness at the time, even if it isn't. (Or I just use the timelessly classical line of, "I'm just tired/have a headache.") Because usually if I try to say I dunno, I just feel icky, the other person starts digging and trying to come up with something. "Is it X? Is it Y?" Because we just have to know what causes it. It's very medical. And God, it makes a person feel even worse to be asked something like that if they can't give a precise answer, because again, we don't want to be a burden or let the other person down by not fulfilling yet another expectation (it's bad enough we weren't cheery for them). Of course, sometimes there may indeed be a legit answer to give, but I just hate that people's instinct is pretty much always that there is. 

4) This one's in the middle. Starts out right, but turns, because again, the question pointing to an absence of expected behavior is present. And that's crap. 

But the thing is, the expectations and need to find a "cause," they come from love. At least, I like to think they do. Because people want each other to be happy- we're trained to believe happy is the Best State to Be In. And we're also trained to believe that if we can figure out a cause, we can find a cure (just look at all of the hype over vaccines and autism, even though the original paper that started it all was pulled, the researchers lost their licenses, and one of the authors retracted and apologized). So if being sad is a "disease" or "illness," then we need to make sure people don't "get" it anymore! It's for their own good, right? We want people to be happy, so we push and prod and do what we're led to believe will be helpful.

But ultimately, it's not. At least for some. For people like me, anyway. 

I'd like to see a dystopian satire where being happy is considered an anomaly, while feeling meh is the societal norm. I'd love it, but I fear most people wouldn't get it. Happiness vs. sadness isn't usually associated with ableism, so even people all up in arms over stuff like accessibility and services may not think like I am about it. But here's the thing. If disability itself is porous (which lots of disability scholars themselves say) and you can go from having it to not to back again, I don't see how temporary bouts of sadness shouldn't be considered temporary disability. I mean, yes, there's a difference between clinical depression and being in a crappy mood, but both are looked down upon for the same reasons, reacted to in the same ways, and those societal responses come from hierarchical, socially constructed institutions that dictate how we "should" behave on a regular basis. 

And I don't like that. I don't like that at all. I should have a right to be sad if I want to, and a person that loves me shouldn't automatically assume the worst, nor should they feel like it's their obligation to "fix" the problem. 

Now, do I think we should thus ignore people that are sad? Pretend nothing's going on? No, I'm not saying that, either. I'm just saying we need to be careful how we approach people that "aren't acting like themselves"... and avoid using phrasing like that. Rather than alluding to past behaviors (which means assumptions or expectations), observe current behavior. "You seem a little down, is there anything I can do for you?" Or rather than assuming there is a specific cause, give the person room to say there isn't. "Anything in particular, or is it just a general icky feeling?" I can't anticipate every "wrong" inquiry and every "right" counter, but I'd just encourage you to think carefully about how you talk to someone you think is sad. Because it may not just be "sad," it may be manic, it may be clinical... 

And, honestly,  it's not your business to know. If the person wants you to know, they'll tell you. If you know them well enough, you may be able to figure it out on your own. But if you can't, for whatever reason, don't assume, and don't insist. 


Of course, this can get tricky. I know I sometimes insist I want to be alone when all I want to do is be held. When depression makes us say the opposite of what we want or need, the best case scenario is the person on the other end knows us well enough to see through that. It's difficult, though, because society has trained us all to be such good liars.

We lie  because we don't want to hurt the people we love. And because we're afraid they'll hurt us if we're honest.  We lie because no, sometimes we don't really know what is wrong, we feel like it's us in and of ourselves. And we don't know what we want, we don't know what we need, we just know we're sad and we wish we weren't. But sometimes, we're lucky, and we get someone that loves us enough to know to do this, and that we trust enough to allow it to happen:

That's love. All of it. 

And painful honesty. It's much harder to admit you don't know why you're sad than to make something up or pretend you're not. Honesty is so much more difficult than lying.

And it's joyful, even if sorrowful, too. Because both people know only true love and a bond too tight for words could produce that much trust and loyalty. 

So, what am I getting at, here? I'm not saying I expect blanket forts every time I'm frowning (although dude, that would be kind of awesome...). And I'm not asking anyone to walk on eggshells around me or anyone else they care about. But I guess I just wanted to get things off of my chest, about myself, and about how I think this is a Thing, and not just something I deal with.

And because my neck and back hurt so badly I can't sleep right now. Which says I've been bottling a lot up. And given how much I've cried lately, that's saying something.

And I'm refraining from the disclaimer about all of the positive things I'm happy and grateful about, too, because that's another ableist piece of garbage- I shouldn't have to justify feeling depressed or counter-balance it with a bunch of happy stuff. We don't go around saying a bunch of bad stuff to counter the effects of being in a good mood, it's crap that we feel the need to counter bad ones. I do have stuff to be happy about, and I'm legit thinking of it right now. I'm just sad and can't get out of it and am rambling. And tired, so tired, in every way. 

*This incident of sexual harassment isn't the focus of the post, so please don't freak out. I'm fine now, and my manager and I figured out what to do if he comes back.