Waiting for Something Big

I'm just a single person with an occasional double-digit view count. This blog isn't indexed by the search engines and I rarely link to anything. Yet I still have this blog where I air views and feelings that might be best kept private. It's a way of putting things out there in a literal sense without being as out there as I could be. It's like going into a lonely alley at 5am and giving a speech. Maybe a homeless person or early-morning commuter will hear a line or two, but they won't actually care.

I've been quiet about this opinion because it's wrong to have it and the consequences of getting what I want are bad for a lot of people, even for me. But goddamnit if I don't want the United States to go over the fucking cliff right now. We keep getting right to the edge, then get pulled back a few inches, only to start going toward it again. We never have the a-ha moment we need, we never "get it", we never realize that the stupid actions that half of our country does is causing this calamity because mommy keeps saving us from ourselves.

I'm tired of it, I'm so fucking tired of it at this point. We need shocking because prodding isn't working. The corporate media structure needs to be dismantled, we need universal healthcare, we need to stop spending so much on the war machine, we need a higher minimum wage and unions for service workers, we need to raise the capital gains tax and taxes on the highest marginal incomes, and we can't get there because the decision makers think everything is "okay" the way it is. So let's just do it and get it over with. Keep the government shut down, default on our debts, crash the fucking stock market. Let's burn this motherfucker down so we can get some real change going on here.

But I hate myself for saying this, and I hate myself for thinking this. I know that the loss to my measly 401k is nothing compared to the losses others will face. I'm not talking about losses faced by millionaires and billionaires - they won't go hungry or homeless - but I do care about the 95-98-99% of us who will still take a massive hit. I worry about the people who will go hungry and be homeless when the economy crashes. Collateral damage is ugly, but in my most honest of opinions, I think it is the only way out of this mess.

Let's hope I am wrong.

The World is a Strange, Ugly, Horrible, Beautiful, Scary Place

I'm not sure what I can do now. There are so many things happening around me right now, so many horrible things going down and so many misconceptions right next to me that I'm lost. I have an opportunity to share the things I've learned with people who need to know them, but I'm suddenly afraid.

The conversations I have online and with my friends come from a place of mutual understanding. We take it as a given that all people are born with rights, with dignity and the possibility to succeed, but they are born into circumstances that might stop them before they start. The circumstances might stop them before they are even born. I know that I'm where I am because of the privilege of my skin and my place of birth, not just because I'm smart and work hard. I was allowed to be smart, and people noticed my work, and now they reward it. There are many more people like me that aren't where I am now.

I see the future and it looks like the past, but which past? I'm afraid of re-living dark days, afraid of shanty towns in my own country, people suffering needlessly. I'm within the top 10% of earners in this country, but I can barely imagine living on less at this point. How do the rest of us do it?

All my hopes are pinned on 2014 right now - Republicans are so far past the light that they think they can read in the dark. I've got money to shield me now, but it is little solace. I can't pretend the world is alright just because I am. I was raised a hell of a lot better than that.

Intersectionality vs. Being Human

I read yet another screed on intersectionality in feminism that both made sense and irritated me. There is this assumption in a lot of the talk about intersectionality in feminism (which I don' see cropping up in conversations about racism, it's only the women who leave things out, I guess) that individual feminists should talk about the issues of all women whenever they talk about feminism. White feminists talk about the things that affect white women. Cis women talk about what affects them. Straight women are all about talking about dating issues in heterosexual couples. Western women talk about being a woman in America or Europe. And of course they do, because that is what they are, that is their experience. A black cis hetero man still experiences racism and still has things to complain about. A white cis hetero woman, likewise, has issues. Privilege doesn't even out oppression.

I get the complaint that most articles and talking about feminism is coming from a straight, cis, white, western perspective. I get that annoyance that they are the ones getting the big writing deals and having their voices and concerns heard. I get that they sometimes - or even usually - don't acknowledge other types of women, much less talk about the issues facing them. I get it, I really do, because there is something I've left out, maybe two, three, or more somethings. Two because being obese isn't seen as a 'real' disability and three or more because I don't remember every piece of identity all the time either.

One of the things feminist articles - especially those regarding the issue of dating or men hitting on women - is that all women are thin. When a fat woman pokes her head up and says "I wouldn't mind being hit on every now and then", she's told that she really wouldn't. And like clockwork, she backs down in the face of all of the thin/normal sized women's stories of creepy guys not leaving them alone. But as a fat woman, I can say that I don't mind being hit on now and then because it happens a lot more rarely than that. I've had people call out to me on the street. In New Orleans in March, a guy a block away started swinging his arms. When I got closer, he indicated that he wanted a hug. I shook my head and smiled, but I didn't feel creeped out at all. Being bigger than the average male - same average height, more average weight - I am not really afraid of them. In fact, I actually do feel flattered when people call out to me on the street, and I don't give a shit if the guy intended it that way or not. It is my feeling to have.

But I would never begrudge a thin, normal sized woman her feelings about those situations either. I think their experiences are important to understand and those issues are important to talk about. Sure, I'd like to read more about how fat women experience sexism (and without the concern trolling about our health, please). Intersectionality is important, but I can't stand the comments about how this article or that article didn't touch on this type of person or that type of person and therefore their feminism is oppressive, unwelcoming, racist, homophobic, anti-trans, and everything else. Nothing can be everything, so take it for what it is and write your own article that does talk about those kind of people.

Mental Illness is Hilarious and Wrong

There is this article going around about people getting bad customer service because they are bad customers, and I do not doubt the premise. I've seen people be rude, condescending, and arrogant with servers and others in the customer service industry. I've heard stories from people who thought they were getting bad service, but from the events of the story, I could tell that the person was a dick. But this article, in my opinion, does not describe one of those people. Instead, it describes an incident of a woman, disappointed with a mistake in her order, yelling at a service worker.

Others read this and are quick to yell back at this woman for being unreasonable, but having been someone who overreacted to situations, I see it differently. My immediate assumption is that this woman is having significant stresses in other parts of her life andor may have mental illness. She may have been suffering from low blood sugar on account of not having eaten for a while which is a possible - nay probable - reason for why she choose a fast food drive through for her meal. Low blood sugar makes the mind do silly things and think things are right when they really are wrong. Another factor is that an ingredient that she did not want was added to her order, and she could have good f*cking reasons for not wanting that ingredient, like an allergy. She may not have the resources to cope with her mental illness or blood sugar issues, she may not even have the intelligence to understand that is what is happening, and she put some strain on the staff of this restaurant and caused a scene, but she doesn't deserve this criticism from strangers on the internet.

I really hope that the next article I read about an example of a customer behaving badly isn't such an obvious example of someone with untreated mental illness.

Intolerant Vengeance

I am intolerant, I am angry, I have a thirst for vengeance. When a random person dies because someone has a Rambo complex, all of my compassion for the victims of our draconian criminal "justice" system goes out the door. When bloated, moronic thugs think that violence against protesters is warranted or even funny, I begin imagining the cruel things I'd like to do to them, and it is usually exactly what they are doing. I have no sympathy for Johannes Mehserle, though his show of remorse puts him above George Zimmerman. Both killed someone who did nothing to deserve it, who were trying to build successful lives, who were not threatening anyone.

I am disgusted by the Zimmerman defenders on Facebook today. Disgusted with their inability to grasp that no matter what Trayvon did in his life, he did not deserve to die. I am disgusted with their parroting of the uncorroborated story that Zimmerman told and changed over the ensuing months. To them, it is not good enough that a child is dead, that parents are mourning, and that the person that did it is free. I don't know what would be good enough for them. To me, they are without empathy, without compassion, without character. They will cry up and down that they are not racist, and that I am the one bringing race into the situation, but one cannot bring race into any situation in America, because it is already there.

Race and racism are inextricably intertwined, knotted, in the American story. Race and racism are the American story. You cannot tell the story of the early colonies without telling the story of the conflict between those with slaves and those without. You cannot explain the industrial revolution without examining the textile industry and it's roots in the cotton plantations of the south. Race is in everything we do in this country, it is present in every part of our society, and racism is a part of every single person here. It doesn't matter if you're white or not, it doesn't even matter if you have been a victim of racially based prejudice. If you are an American, it is not a question of "are you racist," but rather a question of "how racist are you?"

From that end, it is important to understand how we perceive race and how we act on it. If all you can do when you hear this is think "well, I have friends who are black, I can't be racist," I assure you that you most certainly are. If you never question your thoughts as you walk down the street and see black people walking towards you, you're probably crossing the street to avoid them. You're condescending to them at work and left wondering why they are getting testy with you. Like the addict who has to admit to the problem before being able to solve it, you have to see your own racism before you can consider rising above it.

I contemplated my own racism this week and it bothers me. I see names from certain cultures associated with projects at work that I would like to be doing and I become jealous and irritated. I assume they are in the position because they are cheaper labor, or because of something else, I don't know what. That bothers me and I am bothered by the bothering, and I'm not sure I will ever be able to control those thoughts. The important thing is that I am aware of them, and aware that they are unjustified and racist, and now I can see if my behavior changes because of them.

But the Zimmerman defenders will not do this. They will swear up and down that they are not racist in the least for this reason or another. They will pedantically bring up the idiotic notion that because Zimmerman wasn't completely white, that he somehow can't be racist. Then tell you that Zimmerman had a "right" to "defend himself" while ignoring the fact that he initiated the conflict in the first place. They can't be bothered to think that maybe Martin should have the same ability to defend himself from a stranger following him. The next step is to ask why the kid didn't call 911, to which I wonder if it is good enough that the boy paid for that mistake with his life.

Mehserle got away with murder, but he had remorse. I have enough reason to believe that he will be haunted by his actions for the rest of his life, but I have no reason to think Zimmerman is anything but pleased with what happened. He strikes me as a sociopath that I can't even bear to look at. He projected his own sociopathy onto a random person walking down the street. A person that fit a profile, one that he probably doesn't realize was racist, and just as the BART cops escalated the situation at Fruitvale because of their own unexamined racial anxieties, Zimmerman pursued an honor student coming back from a store with snacks. He didn't bother to talk to him and ask what he was up to; he followed him like a stalker, ensuring that the boy would be afraid and on the defensive.

My anger at this Zimmerman is overwhelming. The things I wish on him are best left unrecorded. That I am open about that is probably ammunition to the Zimmerman defenders - "hey, look, she just wants to see bad things happen to him, she's bad" - but I don't care. I'm human and I have human anger about the death of a promising 17-year-old boy. I'm angry about all of the promising young men who are cut down, and I'm angry at all of the young people who live in environments that don't allow them to be promising, like mine allowed me. I have this thirst for vengeance, and an intolerance for those who would not sympathize.

Exposure

You cannot find this blog on Google, I do not link to it from facebook. I've been insulted with blog comments from friends, strangers, and friends pretending to be strangers enough to be content to blog in the corner. But contentment is not happiness. I would like to have people read what I write and say things like, "wow, that was interesting. I was sort of thinking about it like this" or "I thought that too, but it happened to me like this". Kind of like how I wish conversations would go too, instead of me just blathering on and on and on.

Learn to Let Go

The internets are amused at a sign posted in some store, linked here. This is along the lines of no shirt, no shoes, no service rules that greeted me at eye level as a child when I accompanied my father into various gas stations in rural Wisconsin. I often wondered why "pants" was left off, and then I wondered what the big deal was about the lack of either article of clothing. If it was hot, lots of men wore no shirt, but their wallet was in their pants. When I was on a long car trip with my mother to Cincinnati, we might not have our shoes on when we stopped to use the restroom. But no shoes was an obvious safety problem, shirts less so. And this ban on saggy pants seems even less logical.

I didn't get socialized in a normal way. I've always been on the outside of normal society and thus looked at it from the outside and learned the views of the outsiders. I've only recently realized how abnormal I am, which led me to think that any knowledge I gained in the course of my life was simply the information that all the normies acquired when they didn't invite me to parties.  So when I look at strange clothing, different ways of behaving, music and dance, I don't assume that my initial reaction of shock should turn to disapproval. I assume my shock is simply a result of me being on the outside, so I accept the reality that is and move on. Sometimes, I look into the roots of what I am seeing, but if I find no harm in the newness, acceptance is enough for me.

So I do find the low pants phenomenon to be strange. It has been going on since at least the mid 1990's (see Clueless), so I think it has passed the 'fad' phase and it is now a staple in American dress styles. I've seen pants so low that I wonder how a person can walk. It seems utterly impractical to me, similar to the fad (I can only hope) of the platform high-heel, but without the inherent foot damage. And yes, I can see the plaids and stripes of boxer shorts between the pants and the shirts, but they don't register to me as offensive. One could be wearing plaid pants, or these guys could have briefs on under those boxers.

This is where cultural relativism has completely taken over my value system. I do not believe in absolute cultural relativism by any means, but perhaps my childhood spent not feeling a full part of my own culture, then studying other cultures and feeling ashamed for mocking them has made me immune from the outrages that others of my culture jump to so easily. The only things that bother me are the things that cause real harm, all else is noise or intrigue.

He's Still White

Everyone is on about how there is this new pope. The ABC World News show featured the single sentance news for over 15 minutes on their half-hour show when it happened. I was at the gym, and left at the 15 minute mark, but they probably filled that whole half hour with dribble about the new pope. Here is all you need to know.

Despite being born in Argentina, the new pope is of Italian ancestry and is old. He's a Whitey McWhiterson. In terms of adding more diversity to the Vatican leadership, this was less than the least they could do. He represents Europeans who left Europe and took ownership of land, probably, fraudulently, and set up life there - a colonist. In my eyes, that makes him MORE white than if his family had stayed in Europe. It means all white Americans are whiter than Europeans, including myself.

The new pope isn't a change, it is barely a bump. He's a whitey white whiterson who doesn't like homosexuality and will be replaced in another decade.