it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.
like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips
because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.
bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.
and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.
these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?
and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.
in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.
it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.
and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.
"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."
"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."
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You guys ever think about Zoro having scars from thriller bark?
Like- it was a very serious injury that he felt throughout Sabaody, that HAD to have left nasty scars.
So like- think of Sanji, looking at zoro pushing himself during his workouts afterwards, a crease in his brow as he glares at the new scars and strained movements. How he feels, maybe thinking those scars should be on him instead.
Think about the extra food sanji might have given him without saying a word, snacks slid his way and the like in hopes the extra food would help him recover.
Think of Zoro, dead asleep at night only for Sanji to be quietly crying at his bedside, lips pressed against the roll of his knuckles as he repeats silent apologies like a mantra:
“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t take the pain from you”
“I’m sorry I’m not good enough”
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okay im sorry but just imagine being kageyama tobio. your parents are always working late, your sister quit volleyball years ago and now she's off being an adult and having a career, none of your teammates get why you care so much and the only guy who did, because he cared the same amount in the same way, graduated 2 years ago and also hated your guts. your peers have given you a cruel nickname just so they can reinforce how little they like or understand you, you dont have any friends, you have nothing but volleyball actually, your grandfather is dead and you are clinging to the promise he made you when you were a little kid because if you dont you might just go insane. you are so, so incredibly lonely.
and then, THEN, this scrawny 5 foot nothing kid stares you down outside the gymnasium bathrooms and promises to beat you, and he totally sucks at volleyball. like, he. is. terrible. but he can run, and he has good reflexes, he jumps so high he looks like he's flying, and most importantly he runs headfirst into a wall and then says 'we haven't lost yet' like its the most obvious thing in the world when his teammates ask him why he bothered. and you realise this kid is just like you, the same kind of fucked in the head you are. and youre furious, what the hell has this guy been doing for the past 3 years? your grandfather promised you that someone even better would come and find you are here he is, but you beat his team in less than an hour and you're pretty sure you'll never see him again, despite him promising to take you down, because never once in your life has anyone who was supposed to stick around actually do that. you're angry because you didn't have to be so painfully lonely all these years, you could've had someone who kept up with you, but he just wasn't there, because he sucks and you don't but he doesn't have to and that makes it so much worse than you just being a freak who was completely one of a kind.
and then you go back to your team, back to your last middle school tournament, and you play more games. only this time youre pissed. you know that there's someone else like you now, someone who will. not. stop until the ball has hit the floor and you don't get why your teammates won't just be better, try harder, move faster. and then they abandon you too. you thought you were alone before, but now you have absolutely nothing, not even volleyball. and you didn't get into the school your grandfather went to, and the coach you picked your back-up school for is in the hospital, and your plan for the next 3 years is to essentially bide your time until you get scouted into the v-league because you literally do not have anything left and you are doing everything your 15 years old and incredibly depressed self can because you refuse to let go of volleyball, no matter how lonely it makes you, no matter how much it hurts to cling on.
and then, AND THEN. that same scrawny dumbass from that 2-0 match in middle school is there and he still sucks and he's still the same kind of fucked in the head that you are and you won't give him one of your 'royal sets', not after what happened last time, you can't stop being lonely but you can at least try to not get abandoned again. and he says 'forget all that, i'll be here no matter what', and he spikes the damn set. he shuts his freaking eyes and he trusts you and you have just had the rug pulled out from underneath your damn feet because you understand, maybe better than anyone else, being ready to do whatever it takes to win but who the hell just fully puts their faith in someone else like that and maybe, just maybe, this kid was serious when he swore he'd get better and take you down.
he's invincible as long as youre there and so are you as long as you have him. you ask him if he's prepared to go all the way to the world stage to take you on, because you've never set your sights anywhere else, and he tells you he'll match you every step of the way. he picks up your crown, puts it right back on your head and proves to you that he refuses to leave you just like everyone else did, even at your worst. you tossed and he spiked and he said 'i'm here' and he is.
he is, and he never stops being here for you, chasing after you, making you chase after him, even when he's on the other damn side of the planet. and then 6 whole years after you first met him, first played him, first thought that maybe your grandfather would keep his promise to you, you get to play him again and you realise that he is your someone even better, always has been. actually, they all are. and you're not that lonely tyrant you used to be anymore, youre not that sad, abandoned kid hiding behind anger and obsession, you're doing the thing you love surrounded by people who love it in the same fucked in the head way that he and you do, and the man you love is there across the net from you, playing against you, and he's also there on the court next to you, playing with you, and either way he is here.
you got really, really good at volleyball, and somebody even better came and found you.
he's here.
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