The First Time I Saw A Scared Human
The first time I saw a human scared was when I was only 6 years old.
The Irdbay species had adopted a human on board to get them used to children of different races. I was the more socialable one inside of my nest, and the human was very kind. Always got onto our level when we were learning and helped us when we were learning to fly.
The older Irdbay’s loved the human whose name was Jo’an. One day, they had to leave on important business. By then, human Jo’an had aquatinted with my entire nest and we were comfortable with being around her.
That’s when the Enahyay attacked.
The ship flashed red, alarms blared, blood of my fellow nest mates fell onto the group. The Enahyay was ruthless. They ripped apart younglings, smashed eggs that had yet hatched, and didn’t hesitate to rip into Human Jo’an’s leg. To this day, her scream has made its own nest in my mind.
I remember hiding with Human Jo’an, now the last of my nest.
Her hand covered her mouth, trapped in a closet as I tried to quiet down. Even with Human Jo’an right next to me, I couldn’t hear anything but her heartbeat. The loud thumping was quiet compared to the blaring alarms, however I could hear it.
If I could hear it, so could the Enahyay. Footsteps echoed from our hiding spot, the growls making Human Jo’an’s heart speed up even more. The pounding thumps made a rhythm that I could follow. The footsteps continued on, the growls slowly growing quiet.
I tried to shift to fix my wing and possibly squeak to Human Jo’an about her leg, but her gaze made me stop. A gaze of fear, worry, but also anger. Her eyes were that of a predator backed up into a corner and the gaze of a caretaker who lost all of her young. Her eyes were telling me not to move, even though I could not hear the predator anymore.
With my head, I barely motioned to her leg. Blood dripped down from her thigh. It stained her shorts, her socks, and even her shoes that she wore around the ship. She looked down only briefly before her entire body started to shake. The anger slowly dwindled down in her gaze until it was only fear. I didn’t understand what was wrong until I remember what my mother had told me.
‘Most predators can smell a range of things. Blood is one of them, myy atchlinghay. If you’re bleeding, fly as fast as you can as far as you can-‘
I could barely make out Human Jo’an’s slowly movements to grab the metal rod that was in the closet. She had a bone crushing grip on it.
‘If you get caught, it’s over. Just screech for me or Jo’an, and we’ll come over.’
The door ripped open and the bloodthirsty eyes of a Enahyay flashed through the dark lighting with the occasional flash of red. My wings bristled with fear. Before I could act, Human Jo’an let out a yell that rang throughout the ship. The metal rod in her arms swung towards the Enahyay, knocking him away from the closet.
I could only curl in fear, but I heard it. The Enahyay’s whimpers, Jo’an’s screams, and the sound of a metal rod connecting with skin. The whimpers eventually died down as the sound of metal against skin slowly sounded like metal hitting a liquid. Human Jo’an screams did not stop.
I heard more Enahyay coming, yet I could only hide and quiver in fear while Human Jo’an kept screaming. I could hear both her blood and tears drop onto the ground along with the bodies of Enahyay.
The rescue team and older Irdbay arrived only a mere 10 minutes later. By then, I was in Human Jo’an’s bloody arms. Black stained every part of us. Human Jo’an still had the tight grip of the metal rod, rocking me back and forth with tears streaming out of her dead eyes.
When I was just 6 earth years old, I learned the terror that humans feel and the actions that come with it. I learned what a scary existence scared human truly are.
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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Toph + Zuko friendship is something that can be so personal
[ID: a digital line drawing of toph leaning on zuko’s head as he sits on the ground, cross-legged. “toph,” sokka says, offscreen, “you can’t just use zuko as an armrest.”
“what?” toph asks, irritated. “do you see him complaining? get off my dick!”
to which katara exclaims, also offscreen, “toph!”
zuko doesn’t seem bothered. an arrow points to him with the text, “just happy to be included”. /end ID]
ID by @maileesque
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