Oct. 6th, 2010

axeslade: (tosh bs)
At some point, I need to do a post about the children who have killed themselves recently, why it isn't a tragedy just because they were gay and why we aren't turning them into 'martyrs' (fuck you people who say that) and my issues with people who think those who kill themselves are selfish etc. Oh, and my issues with the It Gets Better project, one being that for a great many it really, really doesn't

Sigh.
axeslade: (ana matronic)
[This post will get edited as more thoughts come to me]

I just read this wonderful takedown of 'It Gets Better' and why it's BS.

So, here's this.

I don't know when the bullying about my sexual orientation started. Probably sixth grade. I'd been bullied for numerous things before that (including not dating and not being an appropriate female in the right ways) so it all blurs together.

What I do remember is my horrifying, now-shameful desire to stay in the closet to all but immediate family and my dearest friends on the internet. I threw out things to try to make myself seem straight. 'Oh, I'd date a boy!...if he wore makeup for me in the bedroom'. 'Oh, if I had to pick one guy from that grade to date? B.' (who happened to have an ambiguous presentation at times). Etc, etc.

I didn't come out because I knew it would get better. In fact, the messages I got told me otherwise--people saying they would come to my funeral and laugh, etc. If what had happened the day I came out happened any other day, I might have stayed closeted until well into high school or later.

And it didn't get better after I came out. It got worse. I was all but thrown out of the girls' locker room. I was called a whore. My secret desires, told to people I thought were friends, were told to my objects of desire and I was shamed for them. Even when the boys asked me what girls I thought were cute, there was always a biting edge behind the words. That I was not a girl, but I was still not one of them because of my bits. That I was something different and less than.

High school got easier, right?

Yeah. I was dating all of my close friends, apparently, and my very knowledge of my desire questioned when I admitted I had never even kissed.

I didn't kill myself. And this is not because I was brave, or I knew there would be something to look forward to. I just didn't. Sometimes, looking back at how much I hurt back then, I don't know why.

I can't tell someone to not kill themselves because it will end. I cannot tell them to step out of the closet because then they won't hate themselves. That would be horribly disingenuous. I can't even say 'if you kill yourself, they win'.

What I can say is this. They are wrong. They are full of hate and fear. You do not need to change. They do. You do not need to come out of the closet if doing so will get you kicked out of your home or beat up or killed. People need to not kick you out or beat you up or kill you.

I'm not telling you to stay in the closet, either. Be yourself. Play football, paint, act, do what makes you happy even if the gender and sexual binary says you shouldn't. If you get hurt and scared because of what people do? Tell people when you are attacked. If an authority figure doesn't listen, tell another one. Tell a friend. Keep telling people until someone DOES SOMETHING. If someone tells you to just shut up and play along, shout until someone realises that you are not the one with the problem.

(I don't think this is finished yet, but the emotional fatigue has set in)
axeslade: (stephen fry)
I have two tests on Friday that I have no idea how to study for and one I will probably fail just because this guy can't write a passable test for shit.

I have two major projects due in the next couple weeks that I have no clue how to start.

Work broke me today pretty hard. Well, it was just during dusting, so it wasn't really usual work, but still. My hand FROZE UP for a couple minutes and I could barely move it until I ran it under hot water.

My bread machine is stupid.

I had ONE piece of pizza last night and my body made me regret it.

For the second day in a row, the landlord hasn't shown up to take care of what he supposedly already took care of that is causing my roommate's carpet to mold and GROW MUSHROOMS.

I started ragging today (at least four days after I expected it).

So I'm mentally exhausted.

BUT.

I have good tunes.

I scraped the batter into a pan, put it in the oven and now have banana bread.

I finished a for-pleasure book for the first time in almost a month.

I have AWESOME friends who took me out last night and we had a blast, which made the icky-after-pizza worth it.

I'm feeling much less like hiding under the bed for a month. Not sure if that'll be the case tomorrow, but it's nice to have it for as long as it lasts.
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