#and i have a lot of shame for how i neglected my own heritage

[sereniv]

Hi I saw your comment under a post about blood quantum and native and reconnecting and I just wanted to ask realistically when do you think you shouldn’t reconnect? I know blood quantum isn’t something we should go by but realistically when should you not reconnect and just learn to accept that you had native ancestry. I’m asking because I wanted to reconnect but I have really really low quantum and I’m a bit scared if it’s my place to reconnect even though I deeply want to.

How i go about it is 1. theres tribes that accept as low as 1/16th BQ, so in terms of low you could say 'that low', but that tends to still leave people out like the descendents of slaves owned by some tribes, who i believe have the right to call themselves by that tribes name and reconnect, that of which also goes for those adopted into tribes.

but 2. most importantly is your reasoning and draw towards wanting to reconnect (and a few other criteria ill mention in a minute)

A lot of people with these questions or wanting to reconnect either are people who just did a dna test, have newly/"newly" obtained info from family, or both (like me). And though the initial feeling can be a swirl of emotions to sadness to anger to feeling like the last puzzle piece to also feeling shame, the first thing to do is to sit with yourself and go through these emotions and figure out why you are feeling them.

Because like i tell everyone, new information about family and heritage and a whole culture can make you feel like the next step is to be part of that culture and claim it, especially if its its like a missing puzzle piece.

But whatever percentage you are, one should first look at the percentage theyve already known themselves to be (or the 'default' in terms of white ppl), like italian or swedish or french- and feel pride in those. explore that- but also you need to ask yourself why you want to explore and if claiming that is also necessary (more on that later)

because when it comes to whiteness it is seen as the default. Youre french so youre 'just french' or 'just norwegian'. But these identities have full cultures and history and language and foods and songs and a 'community' to explore

and if you are neglecting that or have no interest then you have to ask yourself why. But also again, if you want to pursue and claim, ask yourself why.

So you find pride in that if you dont already, because a lot of people without a culture crave one, and because any whiteness (especially americans) is seen as default, any 'Caucasian' culture can seem like not legitimate? if that makes sense

Basically, If you are mostly white, be interested and pursue the cultures that you are mostly made of (im talking french, italian, etc. ashkenazi is a whole other subject and is complicated when it comes to race etc. also different communities/ppl have different ideas on whether youre able to even connect at all). And then you can move on to asking yourself what being native means to you

and this is going off of if you had no struggle before hand, as in identity issues- theres so many situations that i cant cover all of them. Theres poc who are already involved in their main culture. theres people who are white passing and those that arent. theres those that have struggled with identity their whole life etc.

so that out of the way: claiming.

lets say youre a low BQ and youre wondering if you should claim that identity or not- well theres a third option! and that is simply acknowledgment.

instead of saying you are native, you can say you have native heritage. And it might seem like semantics, but it helps with mindset and how you actually live your life and experience it in a way

Being native (among other identities im sure) is...living native? Its not passive, but its also not a 'lifestyle'. Its an embodiment, that of which is different for everyone, that you live. Its being involved and being present, whereas acknowledgment is passive (though you can still be involved)

Claiming is a one and done deal. You either are native or you aren't. You dont just try the identity on and then say its not for you.

Its so hard to explain bc its different for everyone, but this is why you have to sit down with yourself and ask why you want (or need) to claim it. why are you native? not why do you want to be native- not going off of looks or what you do or what percentage, but what does it mean to you

Some people come to the conclusion that it is honoring ancestors, in a way that you feel in your bones. Whereas someone who simply acknowledges their native heritage, honoring their ancestors is more of a 'least you can do' kind of feeling.

Some people feel being native for them is thr connection and the community. Being involved. Which you can feel with acknowledging your heritage, but its more of an outside feeling. Not outsider, just passive.

Again its so hard to explain, but once you explore your feelings you will know. The biggest way to know is to forget about all of it. And if it hurts to ignore, if its frustrating, if it feels like youre lying to people or to yourself, if it feels like an ache to not 'be', then thats your answer

i have acknowledged some parts of me like scottish and irish, that i feel close to because of my grandma and the stories but i am not irish or scottish. Its in me, its in my ancestors and im proud of it and love it, and there is a connection, but its different from being native and italian. Irish and Scottish just somehow always felt outside of me not part of me, and native ended up being a missing puzzle piece that i had always struggled with identity wise growing up (i was always told i was hispanic/mexican but also mention of native, my dad was a mystery so it was always something i focused on)

So

In my opinion, and this is utmost an opinion: Is that BQ, as we know, is a colonial construct.

That even 1 drop of native blood means you can at least acknowledge your heritage and get involved and care about the community or even specific tribe if you know it. But those with not a single drop (like descendents of tribal owned slaves) are also allowed to acknowledge or claim

The best thing for someone to do is just go through how they feel, look into their history, figure out what it all means to them

And that its okay to acknowledge your heritage, to be proud of the people who got you here, to be sad for the plights. But ultimately have no draw, no feel, no actual connection to the tribe or the community beyond that

And that regardless of BQ, if you are native because its something you are just not able to deny, then you are

The focus shouldnt be claiming, and again with the emotions one can get it can almost feel like theres a time limit due to the anxiety of the information and wanting to catch up on lost time.

But you have all the time in the world, especially if this is absolutely new info and you had not previously had any idea- to explore your feelings and see whether claiming the identity is a natural order of things, or if simply acknowledging your heritage is what is natural for you

So in short: BQ is not required to claim native, but to claim native there should be no doubt at the end of exploring your emotions. (ex. "I am indigenous/native. I am Diné) Otherwise its totally okay to be involved and acknowledge your heritage (ex. "I have native heritage/Im a seminole decendent, etc)

Sorry this is so long and hopefully it makes sense and is coherent i tend to get off track. if i didnt actually answer your question pls send me another ask lol!

EDIT: Oh id say you shouldnt reconnect if your intentions are crap, if you feel like being native makes you different or cool or whatever. Or if its something you can see yourself drifting away from. If youre going to reconnect (usually this means claiming the identity) then its something that is one and done. Otherwise you could hurt those around you that take you at face value if you were to just...stop being native.

So realistically, you do some hard thinking. You look at your past and your ancestors past. And you look at your future. You have time to figure it out.

#native #ndn #indigenous #ask #anon #blood quantum #long post #oyster

[moskaisley]

imagine growing up your entire life never seeing yourself in the shows and movies you watched or the books you read. and every time you tried to put yourself there, it was never really you. it was a ‘better’ version of you. pale. blonde. skinny. blue eyes. had a name that didn’t sound weird. pronounced things in perfect english. because in your mind, you made the connection that the characters you love and admire so much could never love your skin or your hair, or your eyes, or your body, your culture or your own fucking name. they liked the pretty white people on tv, on book covers in movies, in magazines, billboards, commercials, and on and on and on. never you. imagine hating those parts of yourself so fucking much that it spilled out of your daydreams and into your real life and suddenly, you don’t want to listen to your family when they try to teach you about where they came from. you stop listening, stop paying attention. you don’t want to eat their food, you want to eat what normal people eat. you get mad when your family doesn’t speak english in public, talk the way normal people talk. you want to be treated like a normal person. like a white person. and over time, you can say with some sick sort of pride that 

“oh, i’m not like the others. i’m normal.”

then imagine growing up. learning and changing and realizing that you actually love your skin and your hair and your eyes and your body and your culture. and you feel your stomach sink with guilt when you think about your past because you spent so much time in misery trying to tamp those parts of you down. to become normal. you ask yourself, ’how could I do that to myself? how could I hurt myself so badly?’ And when you find things that you love and put yourself in them, you try your hardest to see you. cultivate a space of your own, make it feel like home. and it’s beautiful because it’s you and resonates with you and maybe, just maybe other people felt the way I felt, and maybe this can be home for them too. only to turn around and have someone yell that you’re still not normal. it’s still not for you.

#🤪🤪raise ur hand if u wanted to be white growing up because that's literally all you saw 24/7 🤪 #idk idk im just mad that i spent so much time believing that bullshit #and i have a lot of shame for how i neglected my own heritage #even just how i looked i remember almost crying in high school because i tanned and i thought i was too dark #kept telling myself 'id be prettier if i was white' #now i love my culture and my skin and my identity and i want to share these pieces of me with others. #and seeing other bipoc creators here create spaces and fully embrace these pieces of themselves is so inspiring y'all are amazing #so seeing you all get hate for it is Irritating #seeing creators leave because they don't feel included is so fucking sad #but i don't blame them! the way fandom treats bipoc is fucking !! garbage !! #because they refuse to make space for us and have the gall to criticize when we make things for ourselves #ANYWAYS IM IRATE AND ANNOYED #DO BETTER

[gatorbites-imagines]

So For Marvel Can I Request Loki x Healer/Tank Male Reader Where Loki Gets Imprisoned For Green Lad Crimes, This Huuuge Dude Walks Into The Cell, And While Loki's Trying To Skeddale Reader Picks Him Up Like A Couple Of Grapes And Plops Him Down Like "Listen, You Big Baby, You're Gonna Get Sepsis" And Starts Working On Healing Him.

I may have gone completely off track in certain areas, but I tried to stick as close to your request as possible haha. I just really enjoyed writing this, and ended up building a lot more backstory on it than planned. i hope you dont mind

Loyal to only you

Loki Laufeyson x male reader

Summary: The reader was Loki’s guard years ago, but left to Vanaheim to learn magic long before Loki fell off the rainbow bridge. Now he is back and sees the horrible state his prince is in, as the healers of Asgard seem to have neglected treating his wounds. The warrior decides to do something about it.

I’m very loosely basing Asgard politics off my own hcs, which you can read in my nine realms worldbuilding list. If you dont want to read the whole thing, Asgard sees magic as shameful and cowardly and a womens art. 

This is set after Loki is brought back to Asgard after he gets arrested for invading New York, so he is kinda out of it because of the mind control.

Requests open

 Loki couldn’t really tell you how he went from New York to a cell under the castle in Asgard. His mind was quite a mess, having finally become his own after a long time of servitude to that big purple monster. He didn’t even have time to explain, not that he would have, but it was the thought that counted.

And so here he sat, on the floor in the cell his dear “brother” had placed him in. The look on Thor’s face had been pained as he put Loki there, but he had muttered something about it being his duty. Duty, that made Loki snort, as if Thor had ever truly done his duty when they grew up.

Growing up Thor would do whatever he pleased, say whatever, wear whatever, and never once was he scolded by their father, never once was he looked at with hate by their people. Unlike Loki, who just could never seem to be good enough for Odin, or the people of Asgard. Loki grew used to the scornful glares, and buried himself in his magic studies. Father could not hate him more than he already did, Loki thought, so why stop himself from doing the one thing he enjoyed.

But, Loki thought, it all made sense. Now that he knew his heritage. He was not even Odin’s son in the first place, just a political pawn the old goat had picked up and shaped into a perfect tool. You couldn’t convince the shamed prince of anything else. There was no way that someone like Odin had taken in a frost giant child out of the goodness of his heart.

Normally, one would be freezing down in the dungeons of Asgard, but it seemed Loki’s cursed heritage helped him in that. He felt no cold, but that did not make him feel any less sick. Instead of cold, he was hot, his mouth felt dry and his nose stuffy. It felt as if there were balls of cotton shoved into his ears and his head had been split open with a mallet. Of course, it almost had, when that big green giant had flung him around like a doll.

Loki once again huffed at the so-called hospitality of the Asgardian people. You’d think they would at least send a healer to make sure he wouldn’t die from internal bleeding, but no, they had simply dumped him here and couldn’t even seem to be bothered enough to send a guard down to watch him.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen, he thought. But had he really fallen? Never had he been accepted or glorified. Not even when it was his so-called shameful magic that had saved not only his life, but how brother and the idiots 3 and lady Sif.

The second prince of Asgard was so lost in his thoughts, and maybe slight delirium from the untreated and definitely infected wounds, that he didn’t notice someone enter the dungeon. He didn’t see their form on the other side of the see-through wall, and didn’t register the sound of the cell he was in being opened and entered, before it shut again.

It was only when the man stepped close to Loki, and his shape entered his vision that Loki realized. He scrambled away to the best of his ability, his legs giving out when he tried to get to his feet to run. And before he could start throwing curses, he was grabbed by the back of his threadbare shirt and hefted into the air, like a mother cat would lift its kittens when they were misbehaving.

The man placed Loki down on top of the bed, with maybe more force than needed, which the man didn’t seem to realize. Loki tried to protest, spinning all kinds of words and threats, even trying to bribe the man. Interestingly he didn’t seem to react to any of it. He would have gotten up and walked away, but the prince didn’t trust his legs not to collapse under him.

“Sit down, you big baby. You’re going to die from Sepsis or similar if you don’t let me treat you” the unknown man grunted. And so, Loki sat on the too clean bed, as the man placed what looked like a box of tools on the one table.

As he dug around the box, Loki looked the man over. He physique seemed to almost match Thor, if the man wasn’t slightly taller and muscular. Like he was used to swinging large heavy weapons around, or throwing boulders at the enemy. He seemed slightly familiar, his appearance seemed to tickle at the edge of his consciousness, but his sorry state made it hard to keep up with the thoughts.

It was when he saw the green piece of fabric seemingly stitched into the man’s belt, that it clicked. This man was the only warrior of Asgard who willingly took the post as Loki’s guard. He hadn’t seen the man in a very long time, as Odin sent him off to Vanaheim years before Loki fell into the grasp of the mad titan.

The green fabric was something warriors would do to show their loyalty. All warriors had gold of Odin, and red of Thor, and few begrudgingly added the green of Loki. But this warrior only wore green, Loki’s green. What was his name again? Loki pondered. He had not seen much of the warrior, even after he swore his loyalty to the second prince. But that was mostly because of Loki himself, sending the man away and sending him on useless duties so he would not have to be bothered by anyone.

(Y/N). it suddenly appeared in Loki’s mind. That was his name. (Y/N) (L/N). A commoner who battled his way into the royal knights, fighting tooth and nail and used every method possible to gain his place. Normally a commoner could not become the guard of a member of the royal family, but no one seemed willing to take (Y/N)s place by Loki’s side.

As the princes’ thoughts wandered, (Y/N) had found what he needed and turned back around. His brows furrowed at the visible sickness on the prince. Internally he cursed Odin, he cursed Thor, and he cursed Asgard itself. The warrior had always liked prince Loki more, as he didn’t shame for one’s abilities or social status, he did what he pleased and that appealed to the man.

It was because of Loki that (Y/N) had gained quite the silver tongue himself, and had negotiated a transfer to Vanaheim. He claimed it was so he could learn their ways of battle to protect Prince Loki, and he had, just not the skill of the blade. He had been taught magic from the elders. It was mainly Healing magic he had picked up, as he seemed to have little affinity to anything else. He could do some elemental magic as well, but none as strong as his healing.

(Y/N) sighed softly to himself as he stepped closer to his Prince, and got to work. He patched up what he could with the tools and first-aid items. He knew he could be kicked to the curb for using magic, so he wanted to use as little as possible. He couldn’t let his prince lay there, half towards infection and a body that seemed to debate giving out, so he swallowed to himself and called upon his magic.

Using the magic he seemed so unconsciously skilled at, he healed his princes diseases. He left the outer damage alone, as he knew some would notice if it was patched up. It seemed to work, as clarity entered Loki’s eyes, as the sluggishness left his body, and his head stopped hurting.

It was silent for a while, as (Y/N) quickly got to his feet and placed the items back where they needed to go. It was during this silence that Loki noticed the left-over magic in his system that was not his own. At first, he feared Thanos was back, but the magic was not the mad titan, no, it was the tall warrior who could seem to look back at him.

“(Y/N)” Loki said, the sound of his voice filling the silence which seemed to surprise the warrior. He seemed to hesitate, but looked back towards his prince. “You can use magic”. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Loki couldn’t seem to comprehend another Asgardian man using magic, when it was so looked down upon, seen as so cowardly.

“… Yes, my lord. It is why I left for Vanaheim. I wished to become a better guard for you. And it seemed like you needed it as no one else seemed willing you heal you” (Y/N) muttered, his voice steeling at the mention of other as he cursed at them internally.

“Hm… interesting. And here I thought you left because you did not like me. But please” Loki motioned towards the one chair in the cell. “Sit. Tell me about your travels, there is little else to do, and if your dead-set on staying here then you might as well”.

(Y/N) was silent, but sat down, turning the chair to face his prince. The only of the royal family who hadn’t seemed displeased at a commoner like himself being the rank he was. Who wouldn’t judge him for his non-masculine magic. The one who seemed to actually be interested in his tale. Of course, he only knew this as he had worked with Loki for many years, silently observing the prince who would never even look in his direction. He knew when he was interested, and when he was not.

And so, with little hesitancy, (Y/N) opened his mouth and told his prince his tales of Vanaheim.

#loki laufeyson #marvel loki #loki laufeyson x male reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson headcanon #marvel headcanon #marvel imagines #male reader #marvel x male reader #avengers #avengers x male reader #Odin hate squad #Asgard #Asgard was a hyperfixation #specifically the marvel one

[madelynsok]

it takes a lot of love to hate someone

tw: mention of death, neglect, anxiety attack 

Is she to blame for her parent's death? Her sisters seem to think so. And maybe, just maybe, she does too.

“I’m not taking her back to Paris with me.”

“And you think I want to take her back to LA? Fae, I’m pregnant. I’m starting a family. The last thing I want to deal with is a moody teenager especially when that teenager is our sister.” 

“I can hear you two, you know,” Maddie said, her voice loud and ringing out across the room. Both of her sisters, statuesque and beautiful, every bit the product of their parent’s, snapped their attention to where she sat, arms crossed on the couch. Guess she was right. They had forgotten that she was there. 

The term ‘sister’ was more of a placeholder to explain their shared heritage. The word never went beyond that. So it stood to reason that even after all the years of knowing her sisters, Madelyn still didn’t understand what they were thinking sometimes. They had buried their parents mere hours ago and had proceeded to listen to the reading of their will. It was all the usual things you’d expect at a will reading: how their hefty inheritance was being split up, what they would do with their belongings and real estate to name a few. The clause that neither of the sisters were expecting however, was that if they passed before Madelyn was of age, their parent’s last dying wish was to ensure that her older sisters took care of her. 

The statement had hung in the air after the lawyer had read it, and Maddie had cast a glance at both of them seated to her left. Felicity looked like her face would crack at any moment and Odette’s hands had fluttered to her belly, the look in her eyes like they could kill. Maddie hadn’t been thrilled about the idea either. There was no love lost between her and her sisters, but they had just lost their parents. Devastatingly. Tragically. Maddie still bore the bruises and scars from the accident herself, but instead of eliciting sympathy, her injuries seemed to only further prove to Odette and Felicity that she was to blame for their parent’s demise. 

Her sisters seemed to care little about what their constant distaste for her existence did to her psyche. They had always treated her with mild disinterest. But now, after their parents had passed in a car crash that had been no one’s fault but the drunk driver’s, it had transformed. Anyone who could read past the strained smiles and fake displays of affection they gave her at the funeral would have been able to tell that they hated her. As far as they were concerned, their baby sister was the reason their parents weren’t alive anymore. It was, after all, a family outing that Maddie had insisted they take together. 

Odette and Felicity didn’t need to voice their blame. Maddie knew. It was the hot, uncomfortable truth that she had sat with over the last several days, even when they had flown in from opposite sides of the world to visit her in the hospital. Her not-so-quiet reminder that she was sitting in the same room seemed to pass, and Odette and Felicity turned back towards one another, hell-bent on trying to pawn their younger sister off on one another. 

Felicity jumped in before Odette could speak. “I’m still in university! How am I supposed to study and take care of a 16-year-old?” Odette and Maddie both scoffed at the sentiment. They both knew Felicity was making the most of her time flitting around the upper echelons of the Parisian social circles instead of studying. 

“You could figure it out. You have a busy enough social calendar. One more human being couldn’t hurt.” Felicity’s eyes flared at the snark remark from the eldest Sok child. 

“What about you, hm?” She jabbed her finger into the lapel of Odette’s crisp, black designer suit. Maddie saw Odette’s jaw clench, an already defined jawline turning sharp like steel. “Just because you’re Mrs. Hot Shot Film Executive now, you think that my time is more valuable to waste?” 

Waste. That’s what her existence was for them. A waste. Maddie could feel the bile rise in her throat and she wished for what was the thousandth time that her parents were still alive. “You’re the oldest. The one with the most income. It makes the most sense for you to take her back to LA with you.” Felicity fluttered her hands, exasperatedly. “Just stick her in some far corner of that mega-mansion you live in and be done with it.” 

“Want me to collect dust while I’m at it?” Maddie asked, raising her voice again. “Because clearly I’m just an object and not someone that shares your DNA.” Felicity and Odette’s gazes shot back to her, both momentarily blinded by their argument that they had willingly chosen to ignore her presence again. Maddie’s voice was sharp. “Shocked that I can talk?” 

She pushed herself up off the couch, closing the space between her and her sisters within seconds. “First of all, I don’t want to live with either of you so don’t flatter yourselves in thinking that. Second of all, I don’t give a shit who I live with. But can we stop being so up our asses and just honour what mum and dad wanted?” The very thought of her parents wanted to make her cry but she’d keel over before her sisters saw her do that.    

Odette stared at her as if she was seeing her for the first time while Felicity’s mouth fell open wide. Words seemed to escape them and the three sisters looked at each other for the first time in the longest time. Finally, Maddie broke the silence, not wanting to be in the scenario for any longer than she had to. “Figure it out with a rock-paper-scissors match for all I care, just stop being dicks for once. This isn’t about any of us. This is about them.” Her chest heaved up and down having exerted more than she thought she had. As she was turning on her heel to storm out of the room, Odette spoke up. 

“...I’m flying back to LA tomorrow. I’ll get a room ready for you at home. Take as much time as you need here.” Odette’s hands went unconsciously to her slightly protruding belly, something Maddie had noticed that she did often when she thinking. “But we’ll want to find a school that you like before the year starts in September. Just keep that in mind.” 

Maddie turned to face her sisters again, but as soon as her eyes met Odette’s, Felicity spoke up. 

“I know some friends in the city that own moving and packing companies.” Odette’s eyes darted back to Felicity who was standing there with her arms crossed. “I’m sure they’d be happy to help you pack.” They all knew that Felicity wasn’t flying back to Paris for another week or so, but Madelyn would have thought the world was ending if Felicity had offered to help her pack herself. This was the closest that she’d ever get to offering something useful. Their eyes met and Maddie slowly nodded at both of them. 

“...Great.” She paused. “Thanks.” 

The Sok sisters were lulled again into silence. This was new territory for all of them. They never expected to lose their parents this soon. This was probably the closest thing to care that they’d engaged in together collectively in their short lives. Maddie wasn’t sure what to make of it. She had a feeling that they didn’t either. Odette and Felicity both looked at her with eyes that Maddie couldn’t read for the first time in a while. It was a mix of shame. Awkwardness. Contempt. Sadness. Blame. 

She didn’t hate her sisters. She never had. Once upon a time, Maddie had longed for their approval and wondered why they didn’t even pretend to like her, even in front of their parents. Had she done something to offend them? Or was it the mere act of existing and dividing the attention of their loving parents between yet another child? In that moment Maddie had a feeling it was the latter. She swallowed, giving another nod to the two of them before darting out of their dad’s study. She took the stairs of their brownstone several steps at a time until she reached her room. 

With the door slammed shut behind her, she blankly surveyed her room which was in more of a state than it normally was. The energy to clean and keep things in their place had been difficult to come by. Suddenly something snapped. Maddie’s chest heaved, the sound of her heartbeat in her ears as her hands mechanically began pulling at her stiff, black dress. It felt suffocating. She struggled to tear it off, hands trembling from anger, from sadness - she wasn’t sure what - before tossing it aside onto the pile of wrinkled clothing on the floor and collapsing on the bed. The wall of tears she had built up quickly tumbled down, leaving hot streaks down her cheeks. 

The words that her sisters had never vocalized rang in her mind. Her parent’s were dead. It was her fault. They had been the only ones in the damn world that really cared she existed and they were gone. All she was to Odette and Felicity was a waste of space. A waste. An object collecting dust. Not a sister. Just some human that they were bound to by blood. 

She had always fashioned herself as someone strong. As someone that didn’t take shit from anyone. To her sisters, she was a firecracker, unbearable and loud - so different from them in every single way. But it hadn’t mattered because at least she’d had her parents. But without them, without their love and support…

Something in her heart broke. 

Maddie noiselessly pressed her face into the pillow, fists clenched tight around its edges as she screamed. She screamed herself hoarse until they turned into sobs.  

She was alone. 

And she had no one else but herself to blame.

#( ms musings ) #ahhhhhhh #tw: mention of death #tw: neglect #tw: anxiety attack #( ms ch dev )

[antiracistkaren]

On Raising White Daughters

Dear mothers of Black Daughters,

I understand that the ways we parent our babies has to be different. I will not judge you for your ways, and I ask that you won’t get upset at me when I allow my white daughter to be the weird kid who speaks up when things are unfair.

The world will correct her according to where it is, and she will speak out against it when it happens. I hope that she makes the world safer for Your Daughter. I hope I am making the world Safer for both of them right now, but I’m not that optimistic. But I am optimistic for generations to come, as have generations before us have been.

God gave me three daughters into this particular world. To me, that’s no accident. I am meant to learn something from these girls, while also stewarding and investing their lives through a world that will try to force them to conform: conform to the idea that they’re better and have more worth than your daughter when they Do Not. And I have to teach them to identify that lie early, before it’s too late. Before the world has the first say.

I have to raise my daughter differently.

I have to first teach my daughter that she is a woman, and there is pride in being a woman. Women come in all shapes and sizes and skin tones with all kinds of different hair. Women’s bodies are unique each and all, and do different things maybe, and sometimes maybe not.

When my daughter learns that she is a woman, she suddenly realizes she is part of a sisterhood of women, and will start to bond with her peers. Thank you for letting your daughter be one of my daughter’s first friends.

I have to teach my daughter to be an outspoken advocate for your daughter starting on day one.

I have to teach my daughter to break the system, so that when it breaks, it breaks for your daughter too.

I have to force my daughter to see the differences in your daughter and to get comfortable talking about race, boundaries, respect, and consent. I have to teach her before she goes to public school because she will be elevated--as I was--over your daughter every time, even though your daughter is smarter.

I have to teach her that your daughter is just as smart as she is, and that society will tell her otherwise.

I have to teach her about the wisdom of Black women, how to pay special attention to what Black mothers say, what Black sisters say, how to hold space for Black voices in a crowded room.

I have to teach her then, and only then, about the different ways that the world will treat her compared to your daughter. She will speak up for your daughter, but will she have the fortitude to fight for her when it is her money on the line? When she feels entitled to something? Will she still advocate for your daughter because it is the right thing to do, and not the comfortable thing to do?

She will never walk in the same shoes as a Black woman, and although she will feel the warmth of Black culture, I must teach her it is not ours to take. I have to teach her how to observe culture, support it, how to think critically, how to see and respect boundaries, and how to set boundaries of her own.

I must teach my daughter to see the ways that the world will try to change who she is, who she is right now deep inside: someone that loves her friends through everything, that will stick up for them behind their backs, that will tell them who is and isn’t safe. I must teach her to be a bridge while also being a wrecking ball.

I was just taught to be a wrecking ball, but the world trained me to demure and play like I wasn’t smart. To gently turn a head instead of force someone to see.

I’ve lived a life where I have been pushed and squeezed into a very uncomfortable box where women aren’t allowed to think differently, to answer first, to have a differing point of view than The Man Speaking.

I’ve lived a life where every partner has been abusive--looking to me to save their lives, be an in-shape sex symbol, hold intelligent (but not too intelligent) conversations, and also be a stand-in for their mothers.

I am seeing the direct consequences of not confronting and talking about Race play out in my own marriage. I talked about it a lot before we met, and yet I still had to wake up. How quickly I was lulled into complacency with more opportunity to participate in society, to get married, to have a family, to build safety after getting beaten up by a world that did not value women, and especially not Autistic women.

I MUST change this cycle. 

I Must educate my girls about the real ways of the world.

I also Must teach my daughter that the world is Wrong about her. That there is an ideal to fight for: one in which it won’t matter what she wears, where she can go on a run at night and not worry about getting raped, where she and her Black friends can enter the world on equal footing. One without guilt and shame.

If I never tell her that the world is wrong, she will believe that it’s right. She will believe that she is special. She will believe that she has earned everything she gets, neglecting to see that her white skin, her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her trim shape (as well as her parent’s educational background, skin color, White Supremacist heritage and the horror of it in full,) she will think that it doesn’t exist because she won’t be able to identify it.

I was an activist before I was a mom. I fought my whole life to have my own voice. It wasn’t until I moved to Texas--out of my community that basically dealt with me and let me be because I was incorrigible--that I felt the full weight of the world come down on me. The way I think causes me to have physical pain when I feel the need to say something to rebut an untruth.

That’s dangerous. I know it’s dangerous, because what is True for you is not True for me. And that’s not my fault and it’s not your fault--it is the system that has told me that I’m special and that I have earned this house, this husband, this life. I didn’t. My White Privilege did, and hitching myself to a college educated white man did.

It’s also the Truth that lets me acknowledge that if I had known that I was mentally diverse, disabled, or whatever you want to call it at a much younger age, I would have believed more in myself and specifically in my brain and intelligence. I’ve watered myself down, made myself palatable, and enabled my husband and worse, myself, to get comfortable in this white suburban way of life.

I even fooled myself into thinking that I was somehow not participating in this society. The lull of capitalism, of getting a bigger better house, of getting completely out of debt. A light was at the end of the tunnel--we were almost there! Almost Rich! Like, objectively.

And then one of my friends asked me why I was so scared of getting uncomfortable, and the answer in my mind was, “I already am uncomfortable enough.” That was a lie. That was a lie the world had told to me that I bought into and fed. I’ve earned this comfort. I’ve paid my dues.

Those are lies. 

I haven’t honored what God gave to me, the strengths he gave to me. I am supposed to help and be a bridge. I have to teach my daughter to not only be a wrecking ball like me--tearing down her life after she’s already made it--but to instead to intentionally build the life that she wants, and build the world that she wants along with it.

I want to teach her to get out of the way of the Black women in her life, to always seek out voices that are diametrically opposite of hers: the homeless, the physically disabled, the uneducated, the poor, and in all of those categories looking for people of color. I have to teach her how to have a diverse group of friends, because she has to work toward it. She’ll be grouped with only white kids.

So I have to teach her to do the things that will make her the most afraid, and to believe in the people that this world will tell her are untrustworthy (anyone seen as different).

When she aligns herself with the oppressed and learns how to weaponize her privilege for her friends, how to speak up when she sees injustice, no matter where she is , or who she is with, it will be abundantly clear because she won’t be alone. She’ll have your daughter by her side, if I do my job right.

Thank you for helping me, thank you for letting me fight against the system for you, thank you for helping me see that my voice is my gift and I should stop being ashamed of it.

I owe Black women, and it would be my pleasure to strive for discomfort and growth for the sake of our daughters, together. 

#blacklivesmatter #blm #blackwomenmatter #blackautisticlivesmatter #feminist #Biden2020

[scarabaebutch]

Thad

oh no you’ve activated my compulsion to talk endlessly about Jerkass Dictator Grandpa and Angry Green Clone Boi because they are both Thads. 

(Note: This will be a scattering of thoughts and general overview, since there’s no specific topic given. Also I put a read more because it’s a Lot.)

President Thawne of 30th Century EarthGov is Grade A Asshole. His love is strangulation and an unforgiving, stubborn ideal on what his loved ones should be and how they best serve him, not who they are or what they want. He is obsessed with killing and winning over the Allens. Meloni and Bart should have punched him until his nose broke.

It’s basically stated that Thad the First Bitch only thinks of Bart in how he could weaponize and use him, not as an actual grandson, likely because he considers Bart’s Allen heritage to be a corrupting influence. The VR stimulation to weaponize him failed as Bart was taken by Iris, though there was the long term effect of Bart being conditioned to fight ‘bad guys’ and ‘obstacles’ first and save innocents/civilians second (”Bad guys are worth more points.”). 

Thawne openly chided Bart (during the Future Carol arc) for caring about civilian and being able to be swayed by a hostage situation, and remarked that they were going to have to work on that. It’s chilling how ruthless and uncaring about others he is, and how he wasn’t hesitant on killing babies or his grandson, only Meloni because she was his daughter (a Thawne that he was angry that Don Allen had touched). This is a trait that he passes down to Thad II. Or rather, he forces onto Thad II.

(He is also a dumbass because he tried to use the hyper-ray on the entire planet when it was shown that the long-term effects would essentially wipe out all of humanity. His daughter is too good for him and Meloni deserves to live in the 21st century with her son. I can go on a whole tangent about Meloni but I gotta stay on track.)

Since Bart refused to be weaponized, Thad the Second was created.

Thaddeus Thawne II, a.k.a Inertia, is defined by hatred and isolation. He was incubated alone, raised alone, and born alone. He was never taught how to interact with people beyond manipulation and deception, so he believes most people are inferior or a waste of time. The only non-negative relationship he had was with Craydl, the living computer warehouse that was programmed to provide for every physical need and serve him. He has no loving relationships and so cannot comprehend what it means to sacrifice oneself for love. 

Developed for a singular purpose to right a blood-feud for centuries until it was part of the very bedrock of his self, until the hatred he was taught made him violent and instinctively homicidal toward Bart Allen and his associates. Thad only knows what he has been told. Thad does evil things because he believes it is rightful revenge, because it is what he was made to do, because killing and replacing Bart Allen was the promise of a fulfilled mission.

Inertia is the superior of Impulse in every way but one- happiness. For all of his honed fighting abilities, his brilliant intellect, his reduced aging and analytical analysis, Thad Thawne doesn’t have the loving family or personal happiness that Impulse does. 

Thad Thawne is alone. Who loves Thad ? Who raised Thad ? Who would die for Thad to protect him? Who is proud of him? Who will be there to care for Thad when he is sick and infirm? Who is Thad willing die for?

Thad had no one but the vengeful ghost of President Thawne’s ambitions and Professor Zoom’s bitter obsession. The panels in Mercury Falling where Thad realizes this is just so fantastic- they’re some of my favorite moments in comic. 

Because in that moment, Thad hated more than he ever hated before. He hated Bart for existing and having Max’s pride. He hated his creators for lying to him and giving him an empty existence. He hated others for having loving relationships, and he hated himself for being unable to comprehend and have them, only knowing that he wanted.

Thad was a tragic, complex villain. He is compelling and so fucking theatrical it’s hilarious (he should have kept the cloak and ohmygod his monologues). He is much more than the mere evil clone of Bart. He had (has) so much potential and it’s such a shame how DC threw that in the trash just to have him to be Bart’s nemesis. 

It would have been more interesting to see the breaking of the cycle of Allen-Thawne feuding. It would have been lovely to see Thad Thawne slowly grow an identity beyond killing/replacing Bart, beyond serving the Thawnes, and just be a kid, regardless of how long he was in development. I don’t need him to be a superhero or anything like that. But it would have been so nice and warming to see someone as damaged and neglected by circumstance like Thad find his own happiness and family.

(Max raising two speedster sons and teaching them how to be normal people in between hijinks- oh that would have wonderful. DC bring back Max Mercury it’s been years ;-; )

#scarabae answers #i have...a Lot of thoughts on this boi #he could have had a fantastic redemption but damn DC fucks up all their good characters #thad thawne #bart allen #president thawne #scarabae speaks

[destroyyourbinder]

trans experience and social isolation

Following up on that last post I reblogged, one thing I’ve noticed is that a lot of trans people (but not all) were abnormally isolated from other people or from normal social development as children, sometimes up into their adulthood. It’s one of the most consistent strains I have seen in the experiences of both trans and detrans people, from old case studies of “transsexuals” in the 1960s up to experiences of “trans kids” now. It is something I see in the histories of trans people I meet in my day to day life as well as a striking consistency in the stories of the detransitioned and reconciling women I know. I was one of these people, and it is sometimes difficult to explain the extent to which I was socially isolated from others. I think having autism on top of my family’s abuse, my geographical isolation (I quite literally grew up surrounded by corn and soybean fields), and specific cultural environment compounded the social problems I faced. Here are some common things I’ve seen. I can’t possibly name them all. Note again that being autistic or otherwise neuroatypical in a way that makes socializing difficult greatly modifies and intensifies these experiences. I won’t cover this here because it would truly take me all night to discuss how autism can affect and interact with experiencing these different scenarios, as well as can appear to others as a justification for isolating you directly, subjecting you to isolating experiences, or neglecting your needs for stimulation, social development, education, and independent action. These are all also colored by experiencing my childhood as female and predominately knowing female trans and detransitioned people; female children and young adults are often isolated deliberately from others, cloistered in restrictive same-sex environments or prevented from achieving education or experiences in the world, in order to prepare them for being handed off in marriage to a man. While this does not happen frequently in such an explicit way in the modern United States, it’s abundantly clear to any sister who had a brother that they were not treated the same and that they were limited from experiencing the world in ways that male children do not typically experience, either “for their own safety”, because they were not seen to have the same potential, because expending resources on them would be a comparative waste, or for other reasons. Again, I can’t possibly do this topic justice in this space but it is a unique form of harm when you are subjected to isolation and it is considered a kind of good, justified by others who you seek help from or who you try to connect to. Isolation becomes devastating and complete when your remaining attempts at reaching out are grossly and crudely cut off, something that happens to more young girls than you’d know. Isolating experiences common in transgender childhood, youth, and young adulthood, sometimes into later adulthood in particularly abusive environments:

Having parents or caretakers who were abnormally controlling about who you socialize with, sometimes to the point of refusing you most or all social contact with peers or insisting on directly monitoring all socializing. There may just be so many rules and requirements or surveillance strategies for social contact that you find it too burdensome to try to socialize with others. Family or caretakers may require that you allow them to or find it normal to invade your privacy, such as reading diaries, monitoring phone contacts, or reading internet posts, e-mails, and so on. They may demand passwords to your phone, computer, or accounts, or that you leave your personal belongings unprotected. You may have little or no un-monitored social experience outside of your family and possibly certain secretive contacts, sometimes having achieved social contact with others (often exploitative or inappropriate social experiences) only through deceit or “sneaking around”. You may spend a great deal of time and energy concealing not only your socializing but your personal thoughts, beliefs, and experiences from those who monitor you; you may feel isolated even inside your own head, with nowhere to yourself.

Having bizarre schooling experiences such as being pulled out of schools multiple times, changing schools frequently, unusual homeschooling, school neglect or tolerance of truancy, being expelled or suspended in ways that led to schooling gaps. Your parents or caretakers may be unusually controlling about your school experiences, frequently calling the school to insist on interventions, inserting themselves often in your normal school life, or insisting on surveilling your activities during school by demanding others monitor you or continually demanding recorded information. Alternately, parents or caretakers may be neglectful of your schooling needs, not caring that you are missing school or insisting that other things such as making money or family obligations are more important than education.

Having parents or caretakers who are abnormally paranoid about “stranger danger”, break-ins, abduction, rape, murder, or other violence to the point that they dramatically limit your natural play and exploration of the environment. May not permit you to go outside or visit public areas, even when you are a teen or young adult. You may have moved houses, often to an isolated rural or suburban area, so your family could escape the perceived danger of cities or areas with people. The family, general community, or a parent may have been obsessed with personal defense or security or preparing for disasters. They might expose you to inappropriate information about violence and disaster that frightens you so much you have trouble participating in normal life.

Being isolated from cultural peers or from information about people “like you”. You may be a person of color in an extremely white-dominated environment or who has family that has internalized white values, insisting on rejecting your shared heritage or refusing to recognize discrimination against people of your racial or ethnic background. You may feel like you have to choose between your family or your family’s choices and bonding with others of your race or ethnicity. You may be gay with little opportunity to socialize or meet gay people, unable to access information about gay history and culture, often because this information is deliberately concealed or banned from you. You may feel like your family or community would reject or even hurt you if you are gay or are seen socializing with or accessing information about gay people. You may be disabled without knowing anyone else with your condition, possibly not told the name, treatment, or extent of your condition, with family or other environment that refuses to acknowledge the disability, only recognizing it as a pathology or personal failing, or who overcompensates by “doting” on you instead of providing caretaking that respects your agency.

Being exposed to unusual or controlling religious beliefs or participation in a coercive religious environment. You may be convinced that outsiders are morally suspect and that socializing with others outside the family or community will corrupt you. May have had an exclusively or predominately religious education full of misinformation about the greater world. The religious environment you live in may be cult-like. Family may prioritize participation in religion or religious activities above all other activities, and you may have little time unstructured by religious ritual or uninterpreted by religious doctrine. Media, entertainment, and information sources available to you may be strictly filtered, and many sources of learning may be outright banned. You may be taught to distrust learning about anything but religion or your community, and may be taught to abide by strict hierarchy rather than associate with others freely and casually.

Having extremely abusive or neglectful parents. You may have been literally held captive in the house, not permitted to leave family property, or unable to escape family. Family may be so abusive that you cannot safely invite peers to house, or so neglectful that conditions of living are shameful or dangerous. You may be in a“Stockholm Syndrome” type situation where it does not even occur to you that socializing with others is desirable or where all outsiders seem like a threat. You may be so traumatized by your living conditions or treatment by others that socializing is too difficult or threatening. You may have been in an isolated, abusive or neglectful living situation so long, sometimes into adulthood, that you have interrupted social skills, and your social motivation has been lost or distorted.

Being in institutional care or institutionally disciplined for much of childhood. You may have been sent to juvenile detention, family court, observed by social workers, or been on parole during part of your childhood. May be in and out of alternative schooling, particularly schooling provided while undergoing treatment for mental illness or while being jailed. You may have been in residential treatment for mental illness or continually hospitalized for a medical condition or mental illness. Socializing may predominately occur under conditions where your peers are people with severe life issues that may make their attempts at socializing unusual or disruptive, where peers are of highly stigmatized populations, and where socializing is continually monitored by authority figures particularly for signs of pathology or need of discipline. Institutional contact may have led you to be ostracized from your peers outside these institutions, or conditions of institutionalization may make it difficult for you to contact or stay in touch with friends and family “outside”.

Having family or others that seek to make you dependent on them or find it convenient or fulfilling that you are dependent, either through abusively removing ability to support yourself, through neglecting to teach you life skills, or through overbearing parenting that leaves you inappropriately childlike and anxious while trying to exercise independence. Parents may be “helicopter parents” and try to resolve your problems with little input from you, may be inappropriately controlling of your environment or opportunities, and may seek to arrange your life for you even if this is not common in your culture. Parents may seek to accompany you or monitor you during situations where this is extremely inappropriate or unwanted. Family or others may discourage you or prevent you from learning to drive, finishing your education, or seeking employment or employment skills, may encourage you or demand that you live with them even once you reach adulthood. Independence skills or resources may be given to you with “strings attached” that make you dependent on your family or a particular person for opportunities or make it impossible for you to escape an abusive situation. Family or others may find it convenient that you are disabled, mentally ill, or experiencing life difficulties and use their support or its withdrawal as a means of communication or means to control you. Support given by others outside the family or beyond a particular person’s domain may be rejected, belittled, or you may be discouraged or outright prevented from taking it.

Having an unusual or stigmatizing condition or disability. Family, caretakers, or doctors may insist that your condition requires secrecy or isolation from others. There may be the implication that the condition will “taint” others as if it is contagious or “horrify” others so much that it must never be revealed. Your condition might require so much medical treatment that it interferes with normal life and child development. May regularly miss school or socializing due to the condition or its treatment. The condition may be one subject to surveillance that interferes with your trust of others or regular unstructured social development. You might only socialize with a small group of other children, who either all have this condition or are a generalized group of “special education” children, isolated from other peers and perhaps typical family members like siblings and cousins. You might have been isolated from other children with same or similar conditions out of concern that you might accept your condition instead of seeking to normalize yourself at all cost.

Experiencing other frequent, strange, or stigmatizing life events or crises. You may have lost a parent to illness or violence. You may have family members who are in prison or who regularly face criminal discipline. You may have family members with high-need medical conditions or disabilities, who may be in and out of hospitalization or whose conditions require a great deal of care or resources. You may be regularly neglected or ignored because a sibling or parent is deemed to have higher priority due to a medical condition, mental illness, or experiencing life crises. Your family may live in unusual conditions (i.e. hoarding, strangers in and out, too many pets) or have an unusual belief system that is difficult to explain to others and that you may not fully realize is atypical. A parent or caretaker may regularly lose jobs, have wildly inconsistent income or ability to provide resources, have an occupation that is exhausting and disruptive to the family’s life, or may keep the source of their money secretive. You may face an unusual form of abuse or neglect that seems ridiculous or humiliating to explain to others and leads you to self-isolate. Your family may move housing frequently or unpredictably. You may have a parent or multiple parents or caretakers that date frequently or bring unknown sexual partners home all the time. Your home or community life may be so unpredictable or strange you cannot socialize normally, and you have little control over your social contacts or context.

Having a family, community, or schooling that is abnormally “cold” and prioritizes parenting or teaching methods that emphasize authority, obligation, hierarchy, educational development, discipline or other values over loving connection to others. Your family does not touch each other or uses touch to punish or threaten rather than show care. Touch or connection to others is belittled. Sexuality is considered dirty, dangerous, or distracting rather than a normal part of human life. You do not observe parents or others showing warmth to each other, but may observe fighting, rejection, or violence instead. You may observe or be encouraged to develop coldness to those outside the family or community and other beings like animals; coldness may be modeled as essential to certain social roles like working or marriage. Your environment may inconsistently or unpredictably demand warmth and coldness and demands for warmth may occur primarily during abusive scenarios. You may become so confused about appropriate social boundaries that you act out or shut down, alienating yourself from peers or becoming subject to punishment.

Experiencing your sexual development being ignored or hyper-monitored. Parents may comment inappropriately on your development during puberty or neglect giving appropriate sexual education at all. You may undergo puberty atypically early or late or there may be medical issues with your sexual development, making you and your body a subject of discussion among your family, peers, and doctors. Your sexual development might be considered dirty or inappropriate even if it is discussed. Your family or other environments may vacillate between condemning you and distinctly ignoring your sexual development. Family may ban you from opportunities to date or socialize with the intent to form and explore romantic connections, you may have dating opportunities inappropriately surveilled and monitored or arranged with no personal choice, or be completely left with no appropriate social feedback on safe and healthy dating. You may have few social connections outside of romantic or sexual partners, who may be much older, abusive, or otherwise wildly inappropriate; parents or other adults may endorse this behavior or fail to intervene despite knowing. You may be inappropriately exposed to pornography or adult sexuality through sexual coercion or violence or because your few social contacts are in sexualized online environments or abusive/exploitative people. You may be so traumatized by sexual abuse that you cannot socialize without great difficulty or the way you perceive social expectations are distorted.

Seeking social connections exclusively or predominately in age-inappropriate groups, online social groups, or subcultures where norms of social connection are distorted. You may tend to find social connection within groups of people with severe mental health issues, drug addiction, or life instability. Norms of online or peer subcultural groups you participate in may permit or encourage antisocial behavior such as interpersonal violence, self-harm, drug use, narcissistic behavior, abusive or offensive behavior, escalation of conflict for entertainment, etc. Exploitation and abuse are common in your social circle, may be lauded as model behavior, or others may refuse to name this behavior as harmful. You may be manipulated or extorted into harmful behavior towards self or peers that benefits powerful people in the group, or may regularly witness this behavior with no opportunity to intervene or speak up. Your environment may be extremely controlling or even cult-like, and you may lose perspective on the outside world, believing that norms of social behavior common to the group are normal or correct. Group might socially punish pro-social behavior, independent thought, critical thinking, or socializing outside of the group, leaving you isolated and dependent on the group.

#writings

[queenoflongshot-blog]

I certainly didn't know this abuse was going on. When my sister more or less left home when she was 15, all-but living with a neighbour, and officially left home never to be seen again at age 17, all I could think was, "What's her problem?" And it never occurred to me to wonder where my own depression, suicide attempt and constant suicide thoughts, and eating disorder, had come from. We just internalise the stress, and think it's us that's wrong, and horrible, and maybe even crazy. This is assisted by the fact that our Narcissistic Mothers and Enabling Fathers tell us that we're crazy! Maybe not in as many words (although often, yes, in as many words), but every time they gaslight us to tell us our memory and perceptions are mistaken, it's effectively saying we're crazy. On my last conversation with my mother she told me patronisingly that I had a very good imagination - the inference being that I was totally imagining all of what I was saying. We maybe still think our mother loves us because she tells us she does, and we don't know any better to realise that normally love doesn't manifest in such sly put-downs, such undermining, such neglect. And of course our culture tells us, loud and clear and over and over, that our mother loves us, and that we need to love her. And because of this, our friends just don't - cannot - understand any of this, and that's lonely too. And we believe we love her because, well, that's what daughters do. And as normal loving girls we crave to love. The heritage of being a Daughter with a Narcissistic Mother just goes on and on - I've heard it described, bitterly, as the gift that keeps on giving. We feel we cannot be our authentic true selves, even assuming we can figure out who that authentic self even is. We suffer from low self-esteem, often to the level of self-loathing, and we struggle with self-care. We almost certainly cannot love ourselves, and all this is evidenced by our negative self-talk. We may believe we have no right to exist, and almost certainly feel that we're never good enough, that we're not acceptable, that at some deep down level we're inherently flawed. We either are forever self-sabotaging, or burdened with impossible perfectionism. Although there is often euphoria when we make this discovery about NPD, as we realise we're not crazy, that can be quickly followed by anger, grief and bereavement, sadness, shame and guilt, and maybe even hatred. We're weary of our successes being dismissed as of absolutely no interest to them, or worse, even sneered at and undermined. And we're equally fed up of our tragedies being used as drama-queen fodder. We perhaps still always feel like a little girl, and we're probably scared to own, or access, our own power - and that keeps us feeling powerless too. We've had years of being told we're too sensitive, and possibly we are, now. We have difficulty setting boundaries, whether that's with our family or with others. We may well be overly fearful of authority figures, or people being angry with us. We worry about whether we ourselves are narcissistic. We may have body issues - either being overweight, or terrified of gaining weight. We may find ourselves still experiencing huge fear of her, no matter how old we are or how assertive in other parts of our lives. We may find that we're still trying - in vain, of course - to get her approval, or to get her attention. We may want to severely limit our contact with her, but aren't sure how she will respond to that - will it make it worse for us? Or, even more, we might want to cut off all contact- but be worried and confused about the impact of that. We no doubt have difficulties in forming relationships, or maybe we're attracted to unhealthy and abusive relationships. We have a constant fear of abandonment, and huge trust issues. We carry a constant feeling that the world isn't safe. We also have massive issues around deserving. Deep down we may feel that we don't deserve good things, or good relationships, or even that we don't deserve to heal. We may also have beliefs around healing that healing means she gets away with it, for example, which block us, or the belief that being unhappy is a badge of proof that this happened. A lot of Daughters with Narcissistic Mothers also have huge difficulty saying nice things about themselves, or celebrating their own successes. We no doubt have limiting beliefs. They vary from woman to woman but could be things like: It's not safe to be successful, or, I have to be quiet and not cause any trouble. The thing about these beliefs is that often they're so deep down that we don't even know they're there - but they're running, and often ruining, our lives. EFT is terrific for a) identifying and b) erasing these false and limiting beliefs. We may feel the burden of keeping family secrets, and feel guilt and shame around those. We are torn between cutting off all contact - but that's such a big decision, with so many implications around her, and our wider family, and wider society too - and having to deal with her on a regular basis. We doubt our own abilities to be mothers in our turn. It's not surprising when we had no positive role-models. How do we even begin? Are we going to be the same kind of mother as she was? And then, once we are mothers, we have to deal with our narcissistic mother as a grandmother. That brings a whole new heap of conflict and dilemma. No wonder we wryly call NPD the gift that keeps on giving.

Daughters With Narcissistic Mothers

#Daughters With Narcissistic Mothers #personal #i felt every word of this #depression #anxiety #toxic family

[walkingshcdow-a]

🔥 gimme the salt on poto

Satly Saturday | Buckle Up. | Accepting!

Do you want ALL THE SALT or just some of it? Because i feel like I could write a dissertation on everything wrong with PotO and, more specifically, the Phandom and be only a diploma shy from my doctorate. 

One of the things I’m incredibly angry about is that it is still an “unpopular opinion” that Meg Giry is anything but blonde and white. In the novel, she is described as “swarthy” with dark hair and eyes, but even if that were not the case, who does it harm to headcanon her as a WoC? I think it is much more damaging to ascribe white traits and white traits only to her, not only because in the Leroux text, she is not white, but because other interpretations of PotO, whether they be the stage show or a roleplay portrayal, should be more open to diversity in general. The world is diverse. And the world was diverse in the 19th century. Historians, novelists, and filmmakers tend to whitewash history and create a false monolith of Europe and the Americas, except when it furthers a particular narrative (typically revolving around the American South, even when the American South has no bearing on a story, like PotO, which takes place in a different country altogether). It’s disgusting. 

The thing that gets me, though, is that the Phandom largely just accepts that Meg Giry is white and blonde. That’s the way it is in the stage show and since stage shows (and their subsequent film adaptations) are visual mediums, whereas novels rely on imagination, it’s “easier” to use images from the show to make aesthetics, fan art, etc. about Meg. It’s pure laziness most of the time; ignorance in other instances. This, to me, is dangerous in a different way than adamantly demanding Meg Be White for thinly veiled reasons tied up in racism. We know the latter is wrong. We take people to task on the latter. We demand more and better from our fandoms than casual, but intentional, racism. When it’s unintentional… or when it’s intentional because 99 percent of media including Meg Giry whitewashes her, we still hit that like button or that reblog button, instead of demanding better from our fandoms. I’m not calling for people to spam content creators with vitriol over their blonde, cherubic Meg Girys. I am calling for people to create more black Meg Girys, more Asian Meg Girys, more Jewish Meg Girys, more Latina Meg Girys, more Middle Eastern Meg Girys. Take what precious little Leroux gave us about her and expand your interpretation. Be kind to interpretations that are racially/ethnically different than the norm, or even than your own. The headcanons someone is posting about a Romani Meg Giry might be their way of connecting their own heritage to the text, of seeking representation that was hinted at in the book and destroyed in later interpretations. The fan art of a black Meg Giry might be a young woman’s way of seeing herself or her friends or her sisters in an art form (ballet) that has traditionally been unkind to WoC. Meg as a woman of color is so important - especially when you dare to mash up Leroux with ALW because the traits they each give her, when put together, create a complex and nuanced young woman that anyone might be happy to identify with. Whitewashing her takes that opportunity away from fans, especially young fans, who do not otherwise see themselves reflected in this beautiful melodrama. Ad who wants to be the gate keeper to a world of fun and joy? The ones we should be taking to task are the casting directors of PotO productions - especially in the US and UK, since those shows are most widely seen and publicized. Not just the ALW show (although I do hold the ALW show responsible for whitewashing Meg in the first place), but future productions of PotO by other creators. 

I also think that for people who aren’t fans of Meg, who don’t pay her much mind, don’t understand why this is such a contentious issue for those of us who love her, whether we love her from Leroux, Webber, or another iteration. For me, the version I take issue with is the ALW version… largely because I believe ALW Meg to be a composite of Meg Giry, La Sorelli, and Cecile Jammes from the Leroux novel. You see traits of each woman reflected in ALW Meg. She’s aged up, perhaps not prima ballerina, but a principal dancer. She’s superstitious, but level-headed. Kind, almost maternal, but bubbly and fun. She’s bold and fascinated by the strange goings-on around her. If ALW had wanted to give her the blonde, blue-eyed good looks of a Barbie Doll, he would have done better to name her after Jammes, who has a peaches and cream complexion in the novel. He could have even named her after Sorelli, though this move would have been more difficult, since Sorelli was a principal dancer and not the daughter of one of Erik’s employees. No. He chose to name her after Meg Giry and elevate her to secondary character status. The least he could have done was make her look the part. It would not have been the first time a principal cast member in an ALW was a PoC. Ben Vereen played Judas in the Broadway debut of JCS. So, why so scared to cast a black woman (or, really, any WoC) as Meg Giry? Come on, ALW. Would it have been so hard? It could have started the conversation about race in period dramas or the conversation about racism in the fine arts (especially ballet) twenty or thirty years earlier. And even if it didn’t, PotO would still be the beautiful leviathan it is today. 

Of course, I know that in a post-LND world, a lot of people have bigger complaints about Meg Giry’s treatment in modern stagings. I agree with them - the characterization of Meg Giry in LND is painful to watch. It’s inconsistent with what we know of her in the original show; it certainly is divorced from the novel in all ways. The flaws with Meg’s character in LND have nothing to do with the fact that she’s made into a sex worker (although that choice is questionable from a narrative standpoint, not a moral one. What does it add to Meg’s arc that she sold herself to help buy Phantasma? The implication that we’re meant to see her as lesser than Christine for it is the real moral quandary, But I digress). Rather, the flaws with Meg’s character stem from her being inconsistent with all previous and recognizable versions of her character and with the anti-feminist need to pit two women, who were previously the best of friends, against each other over a man… Not even a man who treats one or both of them right… like… it pits two best friends against each other over an abusive narcissist. It does no characters any favors, least of all poor Meg, who is made out to be needy, jealous, emotionally unstable… It does a poor job getting from Point A to Point B. 

This bastardization of Meg’s character would probably seem like a great bullet to dodge, insofar as representation goes. I think it would be absolutely disgusting to cast a black woman as LND Meg, due to all the negative stereotyping that would end up clouding even the best performance. However, LND was not the commercial or critical success ALW hoped it would be. Not even close. It underwent a lot of rewritings, still was not highly successful, and (by and large) disappoints both fans of the original story and newcomers to the PotO story. It is nowhere near the cultural phenomenon that PotO is. And so, then, again I ask - why have we not seen a WoC in the role of Meg? It’s only very recently that we’ve seen PoC in the roles of Christine, the Phantom, and Raoul. Meg is still depicted as white. I’m hoping that the trend of diversifying Broadway is more than a trend, but instead a cultural shift in how Broadway appeals to the masses. I hope to see a WoC play Meg (and Madame Giry, who I’ve neglected to mention until now, woops) within my lifetime. 

Honestly, I think that I only really started thinking about this critically two years ago when my Salt Squad and I got talking about representation in the Phandom, particularly in the RPC. I was rereading Leroux at the time and meditating on Kay (as one does) in my spare time and it occurred to me that if I wanted to see some change in the Phandom, I had to be a part of the side I wanted to see prevail. I had to be some of the change I wanted to see in the Phandom. So I took up Meg as a muse. I’m starting to see more and more racially diverse Megs in the Phandom and that thrills me. I want to @fillescharmxnt because her Meg is what I aspired for mine to be in so many ways. There are plenty of other fanartists, fic writers, and aesthetic makers who are doing such great things with recontextualizing Meg Giry for the 21st century.

I do want to include this disclaimer, though: just because someone is roleplaying, writing, drawing, headcanoning Meg as white, doesn’t mean that their ideas are without merit. There are plenty of very talented artists, writers, and bloggers who depict Meg as white. My goal is not to shame them - a lot of them do great work, both from a technical and emotional standpoint - but rather to invite them to the conversation about Meg Giry, race, and representation. I urge these fans to challenge their notions about Meg Giry and to be open to accepting ideas that are different from theirs. Even those of us who HC Meg as a WoC enjoy and support content with blonde Meg (like… can we talk about the Brazilian actress with the freckles?!). All I ask is that fans of white Meg Giry enjoy and support content with black/Asian/Jewish/Romani/Latina/Middle Eastern/Other Meg Giry in return. 

Fans can question the media they consume. Fans can challenge the media they consume. But at the end of the day, it is the media that we create and ask to be created that make the most difference. The only way media gets created is if there is a demand for. Be willing to demand a more inclusive, more historically accurate depiction of Meg Giry and you will be rewarded with a creative explosion of fan created content. 

#asks #meme response #((this is not what you asked for is it?)) #tw: racism #fictioncoxnt

[sage-nebula]

fandom: pokemon, ship: keitor, character: hiccup!

Putting this under a cut because it’s long.

PokéAni:

Favorite character:

ALAN, as if that’s even a question. He’s the best boy. ♥

Least Favorite character:

Paul. Failing him, Damien.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Mmm, let’s see …

Ash/Misty

Jessie/James

May/Drew

Sycamore/Meyer

Either Dawn/Zoey or Grant/Viola

Character I find most attractive:

Cynthia, probably.

Character I would marry:

Cynthia again.

Character I would be best friends with:

ALAN. ♥

A random thought:

If they didn’t want to make movies about Ash as he is in Alola, they literally could have based the movies around characters that aren’t him instead, and yet they chose not to, smh.

An unpopular opinion:

Alan is the best character in the series, fully deserved to win the Kalos League, and Greninja is a waste of a pokémon.

My canon OTP:

There … aren’t really canon ones, generally, haha. But Ash/Misty, Jessie/James, and May/Drew are all arguably so.

Non-canon OTP:

See above.

Most badass character:

ALAN. Threw himself out of an aircraft to save Lizardon in the midst of a primal legendary fight. Also managed to run the mega evolution gauntlet and win, even though his final opponent was a member of the Elite Four. To date he is the only character to defeat a member of the Elite Four on screen (at least in terms of non-E4 / Champion characters). Additionally, he and Lizardon took on 50% Zygarde and won, and he’s the only one who was able to throw a wall up against Ash-Greninja. Badass. 

Pairing I am not a fan of:

There is no pairing in the whole of the PokéAni (outside of bestiality / incest ships) that I hate more than Alan/Manon. That ship is what NOTPs are made of for me.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

We don’t talk about Alan’s story after XYZ044 because none of the episodes after that happened. They also robbed Manon of any and all development and growth she coud have has a person and character by refusing to allow her to recognize, own up to, and learn from her mistakes and flaws (e.g. recognizing that she should have never sent Hari-san away in an unfamiliar location would make her a more responsible trainer; admitting that she’s afraid of battling and has been trying to use Alan as a crutch could provide the first step on an independence arc, etc), but you know, what’cha gonna do.

Favourite friendship:

Alan & Lizardon, Ash & Pikachu, and Alan & Ash are all right up there for me.

Keitor:

when or if I started shipping it:

After season four. I don’t remember the exact point, or why it happened; I just remember realizing that Lotor was in need of a co-pilot, and that he had saved Keith’s life, and that there were so many similarities between them, and it just … it was like an avalanche after that, and now I’m buried far, far beneath the snow.

my thoughts:

It’s honestly the best and most interesting ship and it’s a shame more people don’t appreciate or acknowledge that. It’s also incredibly annoying that so many people think they would be at each other’s throats if they met when canon has explicitly proven otherwise (5x04, “Kral Zera”), and incredibly, unbelievably, agonizingly boring that people want them to fight over Allura. If you want Allura reduced to a prize for two boys to fight over, go watch ‘80s Voltron. Keith, Lotor, and Allura as we know them in VLD are way too developed and good for any of that shallow, petty, trivial nonsense.

What makes me happy about them:

How perfect they are for each other. They can connect and understand each other on levels that they just don’t have with anyone else, and since they share many of the same pain points (parental abandonment and neglect, past abuse, part-galra heritage, a lack of undersatnding from their respective teams, and so on), that allows them to connect and help each other on those levels as well. They’re so similar, yet they have enough differences between them to both keep things interesting, as well as complement and balance each other out. They’re perfect.

What makes me sad about them:

THEY HAVEN’T HAD ONE FRIENDLY CONVERSATION IN CANON YET, AND AT THIS POINT I’M AFRAID THEY NEVER WILL.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

I don’t read VLD fanfic, generally, because as a general rule I don’t read fic for fandoms I write for. However, I’m still aware of the fact that there are fics out there that turn Lotor into an abusive rapist (why), turn Keith into a submissive victim (why), and otherwise depict the relationship as being full of hatred and abuse (w h y), and I can’t stand any of that nonsense. It’s out of character for both parties and completely disgusting. Give me healthy Keitor or give me death, tbh.

Things I look for in fanfic:

N/A, I don’t read VLD fic. But if I did, again, healthy Keitor or bust.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

I ship Keith with Allura, but I don’t really ship Lotor with anyone else, tbh. I can see why others would ship Lotor with certain other characters, but I just don’t. I don’t know why, they just don’t click for me.

My happily ever after for them:

They come together and form a revolution, acting as the change they want to see in the universe. They succeed in this, making life better for them and those like them, and end up getting engaged and married at a later date.

Hiccup:

How I feel about this character:

HE’S A GOOD BOY AND I LOVE HIM. He’s one of the characters I relate to most, honestly. I’ve got a lot in common with this snarky boy.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Astrid, and for the most part it’s just her.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

HICCUP & TOOTHLESS, OBVIOUSLY. They are literally, DreamWorks confirmed canonical platonic soulmates.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Uhhh, I don’t know that I have one? Idk what opinions are or are not popular in the fandom nowadays.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Again, not sure I have an answer for this one. So far I’ve been pretty chill with how Hiccup’s story has gone. This may well change with the release of the third movie, though.

My OTP:

Hiccup/Astrid.

My OT3:

I wouldn’t be opposed to Hiccup/Astrid/Heather, or Hiccup/Astrid/Eret.

#fandom meme #severalbakuras

[theatredirectors]

Martin Jago

Hometown?

London.

Where are you now?

Los Angeles.

What's your current project?

I’m working on three separate projects.

1. I’m in the midst of planning the program for my theatre ensemble’s international ten-minute play festival in Los Angeles this October. The project features eight previously un-staged plays from around the globe matched with eight LA-based directors and eight separate casts of actors.

2. I’m also in pre-production for a one-act play I’m directing at Santa Monica Playhouse as part of their free annual Binge Fringe Festival, which opens two days before the ten-minute play festival!

3. Additionally, I’ve been workshopping three adaptations of Shakespeare plays with fellow theatre-maker Josh T. Ryan. We’ve been co-directing work in the studio, which is a first for both of us.

Why and how did you get into theatre?

I started out as an actor. My first professional acting gig was at age 13 playing Fleance in a UK touring company’s production of Macbeth. It was a happy coincidence that besides dreaming of being a professional actor from a young age, I was already a Shakespeare nut by the time that first gig came along. After high school, I trained as an actor and subsequently worked for about a decade all over the UK, mostly for smaller touring companies but also in a few big houses too.

I eschewed TV and film work—although, in truth, little of it came my way—in favour of whatever theatre work was on offer. Theatre just felt like the best place to grow as a performer. The fact that work always lasted weeks and months rather than just a few days was something I valued but more than that, it was the theatre artists themselves; their generosity of spirit, respect, and camaraderie.

By 2004 I’d been working professionally for about ten years and was also diversifying by working as a commissioned playwright. Directing seemed like the natural progression. If the writing of plays was about the genesis of theatrical work and acting was about the execution of the work then directing seemed to be the place those different elements came together to be shaped and nurtured with a view to realizing a play’s full potential.

What is your directing dream project?

A female Hamlet with a cast 6-8 bi-lingual actors, diverse casting, lots of gender-bending, masks, puppetry, and a radical adaptation of the text; all that on a world tour that ends in London, after which we do it all again in Spanish. I’ve never directed work in another language before. I speak Spanish quite well and would leap at the opportunity.  

What kind of theatre excites you?

I’ve just described it!

What do you want to change about theatre today?

Some art—usually art with the broadest appeal—can survive and even flourish without subsidy. However, there’s a lot of great art out there, across many fields, which we never get to see due to its lack of public funding. Work by traditionally marginalized and underrepresented voices is especially important, not only because art should reflect and celebrate the breadth and depth of our culture but also because it enriches and strengthens the cultural fabric of society.

We have to stop conflating the ‘value’ of art with the ‘cost’ of art. Art is a birthright, not a commodity. Society has a responsibility to nurture artistic talent and preserve our cultural heritage but since money makes the world go round perhaps we could start by closing tax loopholes that allow huge corporations to avoid paying billions of dollars in tax, and ring-fence that money for the Arts.

And even a cursory look at other areas of public expenditure would quickly reveal the shameful extent to which successive administrations neglect the Arts. The government bailout of financial institutions, for example, came in at around $245 billion while the National Endowment for the Arts has a paltry annual budget of around $155 million, which represents a dollar amount of just $0.40 per citizen. Germany spends the equivalent of around $20 per citizen.

What is your opinion on getting a directing MFA?

Personally, I’m too old and broke and got where I am via a circuitous route through other theatrical traditions and disciplines that were in their own unique ways an education in directing. Being an actor and playwright taught me so much about what a good director is or should be.

However, if I had started out as a director, I would have wanted to do an MFA in Directing because education and training are so important in shaping the caliber of the artist. There are plenty of self-taught artists of course, but a classical education can be so rewarding and can teach humility too, an important asset in an industry of egos.

Who are your theatrical heroes?

Shakespeare, Ibsen, Pinter. Brook, Hall, Finney, Postlethwaite, Rylance, Smith, Dench…the list goes on and on.

Any advice for directors just starting out?

Treat actors with respect. Know everything there is to know about the play.  Be humble, be generous, be brave. Never forget that theatre is the most collaborative of art forms.

Plugs!

All the news can be found here: www.razethespacetheatre.com

#Martin Jago #askadirector #theatredirectors

[boothunters]

BootHunter talks with founder of Mark Albert Boots, Mark Barbera, here is some of the story behind this growing American footwear company.

BH – What would you say were the greatest benefits of Launching through Kickstarter? 

MB – Kickstarter allowed me to start Mark Albert on a true shoestring budget. I had worked as a landscaper for a couple of summers, and I used $300 of money I had saved to hire my buddy to make the video. The reason behind the Kickstarter itself was to fund the first run of Chelsea boots because the factory had set an initial order minimum that was about $10,000 which I clearly did not have as a 19 year old college student – so Kickstarter was really my only option.

BH – You were inspired at a young age (6th grade) to customize shoes and it was your great grandfather who inspired you. How would you finish the statement, “A fine handcrafted pair of leather boots represents..?“ 

MB – Not only creativity, but also incredible craftsmanship that cannot be learned overnight. Making a pair of shoes from the ground up requires the know-how to expertly operate machines in over 150 steps from the cutting of the leather to the finishing of a pair. 

BH – As with the growth in popularity and completion in the denim market, boots are having a renaissance of sorts. Why do you think this is the case? 

MB – It’s interesting because when I got into this industry, I was not a boot guy. I had no idea what the difference was between Goodyear Welt or Blake Rapid, etc. I think that today because of Instagram and platforms like Reddit, many consumers are more informed than ever before about boots and those who appreciate any craft can really become enthusiasts once they realize just how much of an art form boot making is. However, today, a lot of brands are popping up left and right following the likes of Taft. To be completely honest, anyone can fly to Portugal or Spain, choose a stock pattern from a factory, pick some stock leathers and call themselves “designers.” Conversely, the barrier to entry in the domestic footwear industry is much much higher – many of the remaining factories do not have the resources to accommodate small private label brands, and I literally am only in the position I am because I live 5 minutes away from the factory where I design, prototype and assemble each pair in real-time, rather than just waiting a couple weeks for samples to arrive. 

BH – You focus more than anyone we know on the workers who craft your boots, what influenced you in your desire to integrate their story in your brand and products? 

MB – The factory I work with is such a hidden gem, in that most people in our small town (population 8,000) do not even know it exists. This is completely intentional. The owners and workers have been doing it the old school way for so long that it is truly like a family, and it takes time for an outsider to come in and feel comfortable with everyone. To me, it is completely genuine and natural to highlight these fine men and women because I spend each day, 7-4:30 with them as I also work full-time running design and sales for the factory’s in-house brands. I feel that it is so important to tell their story mainly because they do not realize how incredibly badass and skilled they actually are – for example, I am pretty handy and the first time I tried running some machines, I completely butchered the boots I was working on. I just think its so cool what they do day-in and day-out and they deserve to be recognized as artisans, not just factory workers. 

BH – You work with influencers such as BootHunter, how important and why do you consider these types of relationships in your growing your brand awareness and sales? 

MB – Much like the factory, the “boot community” if you will, is a lot like a family. Today, the value that engaged followings on social networks like Instagram and Facebook brings to a business is unparalleled. Having real relationships with influencers is worth its weight in gold and it also should be genuine – a lot of brands just assume that sending random products to influencers will make them get behind your products, but its cool because consumers can totally tell when influencers actually support a brand or are just being paid to advertise. Those influencers who I work with are genuine dudes who appreciate quality, so I appreciate their expert feedback alone without the added value of the advertising they do on their profiles. I think that with how quickly retail is changing; brands that grow these types of relationships will have far more staying power than those brands who neglect leveraging influencer networks. 

BH – I see that you were inspired to develop your first boot, a Chelsea, by your own search for an affordable and well-crafted example on the market. How do you develop your design ideas such as the Outrider Boot? 

MB – Almost all of my newer designs are inspired by the past. I have piles of catalogs from our factory dating back to the 1980s, so I usually find a boot silhouette I like, scour the factory for the paper patterns or the cutting dies, cut my own pieces then meet with our head seamstress. She has worked in the factory for literally 53 years – she is the only one who remembers most of these heritage patterns and how to sew them. Once the framework is in place, I will run a sample pair to work out any kinks. Once the first sample is done, it’s usually a matter of me making the boot modernized with leathers, hardware and outsoles. It’s a truly hands-on design and development process from start to finish. As a designer, having this knowledge of the actual process gives me a huge advantage because I can tell which styles / components will work or give us trouble before starting which saves a lot of time and money. 

BH – How would you describe American heritage?

MB – Growing up, I was a history buff. I used to watch the History Channel for hours, particularly programs about WWII and what I consider to be the Golden generation. My grandfather is an example of this type of grit. Folks back then were just darn tough. They worked for what they had and things seemed to be very cut and dry. My grandfather on my Mother’s side was a butcher and immigrant from Hungary. He took pride in his work. In speaking with our older seamstresses at the factory, many of their mother’s were seamstresses as well; they were raised to take incredible pride in their work. Products back then were made to last because they were consciously crafted by folks who brought that pride into what they produced. I feel that this pride is true American heritage and I hope that my products can reflect the pride of the men and women who make them. 

BH – What makes an American Boot uniquely desirable? 

MB – Mainly, the construction methods and to men, the women and me who are making them. I do not feel that every aspect of foreign-made footwear is inferior. For example, I have seen Indian-made boots with almost perfect upper stitching – probably cleaner than some of my products. Most foreign factories actually have superior and newer machines than most domestic factories. However, it’s a shame because they take that upper and glue the sole on- which immediately makes that product inferior because it will fall apart. Most American-made factories still use the same techniques that were used in that Golden era, like the Goodyear Welt, which makes for products that truly last. This combined with the simple fact that domestic-tanned leather is usually better quality because of the selection of domestic hides being heavier weight creates products that are built to last. 

BH – Where do you see your brand and those who make them in the next two to three years? 

MB – I hope to be an owner of the factory in the next couple years and continue to push the limits of my creativity to create products that will continue to provide for my amazing family of workers at the factory. 

BH – What’s your definition of business success? 

MB – I have a lot of successful siblings and family members, and the most important lesson I have learned by watching them is that money does not equate to happiness. Sure, in order to be a business as a going-concern, you must be conscious of margins but I can almost guarantee that if you are solely profit-driven, you will not find happiness or meaning in your work. I am so lucky to be in a situation where I truly love what I do, I love the challenges, and I am used to the uncertainty by now. I suppose my definition of business success is pretty cliché but true, do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. 

THANK YOU MARK! … BOOTHUNTER

To Check Out Mark Albert Boots For Yourself, Click Here…

Leather Runs In The Family… Mark Albert Boots

BootHunter talks with founder of Mark Albert Boots, Mark Barbera, here is some of the story behind this growing American footwear company.

Leather Runs In The Family… Mark Albert Boots BootHunter talks with founder of Mark Albert Boots, Mark Barbera, here is some of the story behind this growing American footwear company.

[stylexplorers]

BootHunter talks with founder of Mark Albert Boots, Mark Barbera, here is some of the story behind this growing American footwear company.

BH – What would you say were the greatest benefits of Launching through Kickstarter? 

MB – Kickstarter allowed me to start Mark Albert on a true shoestring budget. I had worked as a landscaper for a couple of summers, and I used $300 of money I had saved to hire my buddy to make the video. The reason behind the Kickstarter itself was to fund the first run of Chelsea boots because the factory had set an initial order minimum that was about $10,000 which I clearly did not have as a 19 year old college student – so Kickstarter was really my only option.

BH – You were inspired at a young age (6th grade) to customize shoes and it was your great grandfather who inspired you. How would you finish the statement, “A fine handcrafted pair of leather boots represents..?“ 

MB – Not only creativity, but also incredible craftsmanship that cannot be learned overnight. Making a pair of shoes from the ground up requires the know-how to expertly operate machines in over 150 steps from the cutting of the leather to the finishing of a pair. 

BH – As with the growth in popularity and completion in the denim market, boots are having a renaissance of sorts. Why do you think this is the case? 

MB – It’s interesting because when I got into this industry, I was not a boot guy. I had no idea what the difference was between Goodyear Welt or Blake Rapid, etc. I think that today because of Instagram and platforms like Reddit, many consumers are more informed than ever before about boots and those who appreciate any craft can really become enthusiasts once they realize just how much of an art form boot making is. However, today, a lot of brands are popping up left and right following the likes of Taft. To be completely honest, anyone can fly to Portugal or Spain, choose a stock pattern from a factory, pick some stock leathers and call themselves “designers.” Conversely, the barrier to entry in the domestic footwear industry is much much higher – many of the remaining factories do not have the resources to accommodate small private label brands, and I literally am only in the position I am because I live 5 minutes away from the factory where I design, prototype and assemble each pair in real-time, rather than just waiting a couple weeks for samples to arrive. 

BH – You focus more than anyone we know on the workers who craft your boots, what influenced you in your desire to integrate their story in your brand and products? 

MB – The factory I work with is such a hidden gem, in that most people in our small town (population 8,000) do not even know it exists. This is completely intentional. The owners and workers have been doing it the old school way for so long that it is truly like a family, and it takes time for an outsider to come in and feel comfortable with everyone. To me, it is completely genuine and natural to highlight these fine men and women because I spend each day, 7-4:30 with them as I also work full-time running design and sales for the factory’s in-house brands. I feel that it is so important to tell their story mainly because they do not realize how incredibly badass and skilled they actually are – for example, I am pretty handy and the first time I tried running some machines, I completely butchered the boots I was working on. I just think its so cool what they do day-in and day-out and they deserve to be recognized as artisans, not just factory workers. 

BH – You work with influencers such as BootHunter, how important and why do you consider these types of relationships in your growing your brand awareness and sales? 

MB – Much like the factory, the “boot community” if you will, is a lot like a family. Today, the value that engaged followings on social networks like Instagram and Facebook brings to a business is unparalleled. Having real relationships with influencers is worth its weight in gold and it also should be genuine – a lot of brands just assume that sending random products to influencers will make them get behind your products, but its cool because consumers can totally tell when influencers actually support a brand or are just being paid to advertise. Those influencers who I work with are genuine dudes who appreciate quality, so I appreciate their expert feedback alone without the added value of the advertising they do on their profiles. I think that with how quickly retail is changing; brands that grow these types of relationships will have far more staying power than those brands who neglect leveraging influencer networks. 

BH – I see that you were inspired to develop your first boot, a Chelsea, by your own search for an affordable and well-crafted example on the market. How do you develop your design ideas such as the Outrider Boot? 

MB – Almost all of my newer designs are inspired by the past. I have piles of catalogs from our factory dating back to the 1980s, so I usually find a boot silhouette I like, scour the factory for the paper patterns or the cutting dies, cut my own pieces then meet with our head seamstress. She has worked in the factory for literally 53 years – she is the only one who remembers most of these heritage patterns and how to sew them. Once the framework is in place, I will run a sample pair to work out any kinks. Once the first sample is done, it’s usually a matter of me making the boot modernized with leathers, hardware and outsoles. It’s a truly hands-on design and development process from start to finish. As a designer, having this knowledge of the actual process gives me a huge advantage because I can tell which styles / components will work or give us trouble before starting which saves a lot of time and money. 

BH – How would you describe American heritage?

MB – Growing up, I was a history buff. I used to watch the History Channel for hours, particularly programs about WWII and what I consider to be the Golden generation. My grandfather is an example of this type of grit. Folks back then were just darn tough. They worked for what they had and things seemed to be very cut and dry. My grandfather on my Mother’s side was a butcher and immigrant from Hungary. He took pride in his work. In speaking with our older seamstresses at the factory, many of their mother’s were seamstresses as well; they were raised to take incredible pride in their work. Products back then were made to last because they were consciously crafted by folks who brought that pride into what they produced. I feel that this pride is true American heritage and I hope that my products can reflect the pride of the men and women who make them. 

BH – What makes an American Boot uniquely desirable? 

MB – Mainly, the construction methods and to men, the women and me who are making them. I do not feel that every aspect of foreign-made footwear is inferior. For example, I have seen Indian-made boots with almost perfect upper stitching – probably cleaner than some of my products. Most foreign factories actually have superior and newer machines than most domestic factories. However, it’s a shame because they take that upper and glue the sole on- which immediately makes that product inferior because it will fall apart. Most American-made factories still use the same techniques that were used in that Golden era, like the Goodyear Welt, which makes for products that truly last. This combined with the simple fact that domestic-tanned leather is usually better quality because of the selection of domestic hides being heavier weight creates products that are built to last. 

BH – Where do you see your brand and those who make them in the next two to three years? 

MB – I hope to be an owner of the factory in the next couple years and continue to push the limits of my creativity to create products that will continue to provide for my amazing family of workers at the factory. 

BH – What’s your definition of business success? 

MB – I have a lot of successful siblings and family members, and the most important lesson I have learned by watching them is that money does not equate to happiness. Sure, in order to be a business as a going-concern, you must be conscious of margins but I can almost guarantee that if you are solely profit-driven, you will not find happiness or meaning in your work. I am so lucky to be in a situation where I truly love what I do, I love the challenges, and I am used to the uncertainty by now. I suppose my definition of business success is pretty cliché but true, do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. 

THANK YOU MARK! … BOOTHUNTER

To Check Out Mark Albert Boots For Yourself, Click Here…

Leather Runs In The Family… Mark Albert Boots BootHunter talks with founder of Mark Albert Boots, Mark Barbera, here is some of the story behind this growing American footwear company.

[theresonlysofarnewmoneygoes]

as all my jewish followers and friends know, we have a holiday coming up! the featival of purim is this sunday. purim celebrates hidden miracles and hidden beauty and hidden saviours. there's a lot of hiding. that's why we dress up!

i'm aware that the vast majority of gentiles and a lot of jews don't fully know the story of purim, which is recorded in the scroll of esther, or megillat esther. the megillah's my favourite story, and has so many amazing midrashim (bit like rabbinical fanfiction) that i study year round. this story, which is the story of how a young jewish woman saved our people from a genocide, has a lot of parallels with our current political situation in the u.s., so i thought now would be a great time to tell the story!

some translations:

pasuk=verse

perek=chapter

also, if you’re familiar with the story of esther, and see something here you don’t recognise, it doesn’t mean you’re wrong, just there are about a million different midrashim and i chose the ones i like best:)

okay, so in the first pasuk, we set our time frame. "the days of acheshverosh." achashverosh, we are told, ruled from Hodu to Cush, India to Ethiopia respectively, over 127 provinces. in those days, the megilla tells us, when king achashverosh sat on his royal throne--wait, when did they say he was a king??? that's right. they didn't. they neglected to mention that the most powerful man in the age, possibly any age, was a king. sure, it's hinted, but why not say it?

because achashverosh was not of a royal bloodline. he was rich, but not any more than any other landowner. what made him special was his charisma. he managed to marry his way into one of the strongest dynasty's--nevuchadnezzar. so already, pasuk bet, we're dealing with a pretty impressive guy.

king achashverosh's royal throne (i. e. the castle) is in shushan, the capital of persia. in the third year of his reign, king achashverosh throws a huge party for 180 days. everyone who was anyone was there. and this party was The Shit™. it had the most gloriousness, most splendorous beauty, most majesty of any party ever. 

so why in the third year? and what made this party so special?

i hold by the opinion that king achasverosh finished building his castle in his third year and the party was a celebration. everyone holds by the opinion that the party was so hot because it had the most beautiful objects in creation at the guests service. and where did king achashverosh get these? God's Temple. which is, like, hugely disrespectful.

now, during the last week of his party, king achashverosh was feeling extra generous, so he invited all the men of shushan to stay for a week, and his wife, queen vashti, hosted all the women. so the poor people were included and so, shockingly enough, were the jews.

"but lz!!!" you say. "wasn't the party a hugely disrespectful act unto God??

oh, yes, friends. the jews amused themselves for a whole week with various objects intended only for the service of God. and not only that, they did it drunk. because king achashverosh ordered every type of alcohol be served, "without force," so that each person would have the time of their life.

on the last day, the king was especially drunk. he ordered his head advisors to call queen vashti "wearing the royal crown" to show all the men of the other nations how persian girls do it, "for she was indeed beautiful".

by the way, wearing the royal crown means wearing nothing but the royal crown. meaning this non-royal drunk has just demanded of queen vashti, heiress to the greatest dynasty that ever was, descendent of the man who struck down God's Temple and claimed it all as his own with basically no trouble at all...to appear naked in front of thousands more commoner-drunks. she takes this about as well as you would expect, and flat out refuses, quite loudly, publicly shaming her husband in front of basically the entire world.  

now the king is furious. and embarrassed. so he calls an emergency meeting with all his advisors, seven of them, and asks them what to do. one named memucan (we'll get to him later) says that queen vashti will surely inspire rebellion in all women every where!! and no woman will respect her husband any more!! so, if it pleases the king, let's make a royal decree forbidding queen vashti to every again appear before the king. and let's find a new queen, better than she. and, says memucan, let's also create a law demanding that all households speak the father's language. (so, if your dad's italian, but you live in holland, you probably speak dutch at home. not anymore.)

the king did as memucan advised, and sent out the decree to all 127 of his provinces. 

pretty crappy king, i know.

so, perek bet. king achashverosh wakes up from his drunken stupor and realises what he has done and regrets it. he misses his wife. so his advisors remind him that they decided to find a better queen.

king achashverosh sends out messengers to every province to collect all the beautiful maiden girls of his kingdom, and bring them to shushan. a man named hegai, a chamberlain, would be custodian of the women. the women will be provides with cosmetics and jewels and dresses and the girl who finds the most favour in the king's eyes will reign as queen.

remember, this is the man who just ended the strongest dynasty in the world, according to people of the age. queen vashti was heiress to nevuchadnezzar's kingdom, and this man killed her in her own castle. no one is particularly eager to send him their maiden daughters. 

but a royal decree is a royal decree, and all the people in all the lands must do as he says. 

in shushan, the megillah tells us, is a jewish man by the name of mordechai. the megillah tells us his bloodline; he's descended from king shaul (saul, you'd call him in english). this bloodline, we are reminded, was exiled from jerusalem by nevuchadnezzar. 

mordechai has a cousin named hadassah, who is esther. 

hadassah means myrtle. esther means hidden. the popular opinion is that esther, like many diaspora jews, had a hebrew name and a goyische name. except since both of these names have been used to refer to esther for so long, we've forgotten what's the hebrew and what's the persian! now both are part of modern hebrew. (we refer to esther as esther because that's how {spoiler alert!} she was crowned queen, but many call her esther hadassah.)

anyway, esther was orphaned at a young age, and mordechai, her father's brother's kid, reared her. he loved her as a daughter, and the girl grew to be very beautiful. the most beautiful, in fact. and (my absolute favourite part of the megillah story when i was a little girl, and still high up there now) she had olive-toned skin. (just like me!!)

esther was taken along with all the other maidens. hegai, custodian of the women, took a liking to her, and he gave her the best chambers and served her her meals first, the works.

this whole time, esther kept quiet about her heritage, because mordechai told her not to tell a soul. and every day, mordechai would walk into the harem's courtyard and ask about esther. he was not allowed to see her.

after a year soaking themselves in various oils and perfumes, it was time for the women to meet with the king. every girl was given one night with the king, and she was given whatever she requested. in the morning, she'd go to stay under shaashgaz's care, custodian of the concubines. she would not be granted another audience with the king unless he called her by name.

when it's esther's time to go to the king, she listens to hegai's advice and took everything he told her to. and then she is "taken". that's the exact word the megillah uses--esther 100% does not want to be there. who would?

king achashverosh, of course, chooses her. he crowns her his queen and declares a kingdom-wide holiday and hosts the Feast of Esther and lowers taxes and gives out presents. he's ecstatic, and so are his people.

and then, the megillah says, the maidens are gathered a second time. but what on earth for?

king achashverosh is very curious as to what esther's heritage was. but she refuses to tell him. so he thinks to himself...maybe i can make her jealous? insecure?

it doesn't work. she keeps her secret. she does everything exactly as her adoptive father tells her to.

mordechai takes to sitting at the king's gate, about as close to queen esther as he can get.

a word about mordechai.

we've got seventy one men who make up the sanhedrin. these men need to be wise, just, God-fearing, kind, fair, the whole sha-bang. they're kind of like a court system. mordechai is one of these men. another thing they need to do is speak every language.

now, i assume that really, they only needed to speak every language in the east, which is still, you know, a lot. but anyway, mordechai did.

two of the king's chamberlain's, from...somewhere, i forget where. anyway, they spoke a language that had, like, died out or was just not at all spoken in shushan. except by the sanhedrin.

so he hears them discussing their anger with the king, how he rules, their workload, you know. and they decide then that they want to slip poison into his drink and kill him.

mordechai immediately alerts queen esther, who tells the king. he has the accusation checked out. bigthan and teresh are executed and mordechai's act is recorded in the king's royal diary.

okay, perek gimmel. king achashverosh promotes haman the agagite over all his ministers. and haman is memucan. remember memucan? "legalise oppression of women memucan"?

all the king's servants must bow before haman, decrees the king. "but mordechai would not."

the king's servants were like ????? and mordechai told them he wouldn't bow because he was jewish. now, jews are allowed to bow to people out of respect, so this answer seems a little odd. there are a lot of different opinions here, but the one i like best is haman wore a figurine of an idol around his neck and bowing would be considered idol worship.

haman is the king's most trusted advisor. he is number two in the land. the king himself commanded everyone to bow before him. and this man, this jew, continuously mocks him in front of all of shushan.

at first, haman figures he'll have mordechai killed. and then he hears his reasoning for not bowing--he's jewish. okay, thinks haman. i guess i'll have to kill all the jews.

haman draws a lottery, a pur, in persian, and decides this way that the month of the genocide will the the month of adar.

haman approaches king achashverosh and tells him, "listen. there's a nation living amongst us. they live scattered amongst your provinces. they're different then we are. they don't follow the king's laws. let me issue a kingdom-wide order for their destruction."

king achashverosh hands haman ("the persecutor of the jews") his signet ring--remember what we said about the royal decree?--and tells him to do whatever he pleases. 

haman sent messengers to all 127 of the countries announcing that all jews, young and old, men, women, and children, are to be murdered on the thirteenth day of the month of adar.

and the jews in the city of shushan, who watched the king choose a jewish woman, a daughter of the sanhedrin, as his bride, are bewildered. and king achashverosh and haman sit down to drink.

mordechai heard and tore his clothes and donned sackcloth and ash, jewish mourning rituals. he walked around city of shushan "crying loudly and bitterly". he walked up until the entrance to king's gate, for even the queen's adoptive father is not allowed inside the king's courtyard wearing sackcloth. all throughout king achashverosh's lands, jews are mourning. and queen esther doesn't have a clue.

queen esther's maids and chamberlains recognise mordechai out at the gates and inform her, and she is struck with fear. why is he mourning? so she orders that clothes be brought to him. he refuses to take them and sends them back to her.

queen esther sends hatach, one of her chamberlains, to find out what's going on. mordechai tells him to tell queen esther about the decree, and gives him a copy of the decree to show her, and to tell her to go to the king and plead on behalf of her nation.

hatach delivers the message and queen esther sends him back, saying that it is well known that all who enter the inner courtyard of the king without being invited are executed, except if the king extends his scepter to the person's head. and she has not been summoned for thirty days.

(if that doesn't make sense, think of it this way. entering the teacher's lounge/your boss' office is forbidden, but if they call you in, and you leave, and you forget something, so you come back five minutes later--even though you're uninvited, it's okay.)

mordechai gets a little angry. he tells the messengers to tell queen esther, "don't think that you'll stay safe in your castle. someone will save the jews. if it's not you, it'll be someone else, and you, and your father's household will be lost. and who knows? maybe this is the reason you were brought to the throne."

queen esther ponders this, then sends a new message: "gather all the jews in shushan and fast for me for three days. my maids and i will fast too. then, i'll illegally enter the king's inner courtyard, and if i die, i die."

and mordechai does as queen esther says.

after the fast, esther dresses in her royal garments and enters the palace. king achashverosh sees her, and she finds favour in his eyes. he extends the scepter in her direction, and she approaches and touches the tip.

the king asks her what she wants, saying he'll give her up until half his kingdom.

(here's one of the ways we know he never really loved queen esther. he always loved himself and his crown more.)

queen esther invites the king and haman to her chambers for a feast she has prepared for them.

two things: first, queen esther is very smart. she knows the rumours running around. she knows how the king's head works. and she knows if she invites the king, her husband, and haman, to her chambers, what he'll think. he'll think she's having an affair. and it works. right away, the king is very suspicious and pretty jealous.

second, you might be asking yourself, isn't this a jewish story? where is God? remember when we said this story was about hidden things? this is one of them. when esther invites the king and haman, the words in the megillah spell out an acrostic of God's most holy name. this hints at God being present in the king's court, swaying king achashverosh's heart in queen esther's favour.

so the king sends word to haman to hurry to queen esther's party. once they're there, he asks her what she wants, telling her once again that he'll give her up until half his kingdom.

and queen esther replies, "please come to another party that i have prepared for you two, tomorrow, and there i will tell you what i wish."

haman leaves the party thrilled. he sees mordechai sitting at the gates, and he did not rise and bow in his presence. he goes back to his house and sits down with his friends and his wife, zeresh.

haman says to them, "look, i'm really rich. and i have ten sons. i'm the king's right-hand-man, most respected amongst all his advisors. and queen esther, the most beautiful queen in the world, has invited me to two parties along with the king and herself. but none of this even matters as long as that freaking mordechai the jew sits at the gate and and doesn't bow before me!"

zeresh and his friends tell him he should have gallows built in the king's courtyard, fifty cubits high, and have the king hang mordechai tomorrow, before queen esther's party. haman thinks it's a good idea and has the gallows built.

perek vav starts out saying that on that night, the king's sleep was disturbed. remember our hidden theme? this has two meanings: one, king achashverosh can't sleep. and two, someone is causing a ruckus in God's Heavenly Court. moshe (moses) heard the cry of the jewish people. everyone heard the cry of the jewish people, but they were so tired of the sins, they couldn't be bother to wake. but moshe did, and he ran to "wake" God and urged him to save the nation.

back on earth, king achashverosh still can't sleep. so he calls for his royal diary to be read to him. they get to the part where mordechai saved the king from bigthan and teresh--remember that? the king asks what reward he was given, and the servent reading tells him that no one rewarded him.

king achashverosh hears someone from outside and he asks who is there. 

"haman," his attendants tell him.

"bring him in," says the king.

haman enters, and king achashverosh says to him, "what should be done for someone the king wants honour?"

haman thinks, aha! here's my reward!

"well, he should be dressed in the king's royal garments," says haman, "and ride the king's horse. and the king's noblemen and advisors should dress him and also lead him around the city saying, 'so is done for the man whom the king wishes to honour!'"

the king figures this is fair and says "excellent! do that for mordechai the jew who always sits at my gate!"

now, the king's decree is the king's decree. haman has no choice. so...he does.

when he was done, haman runs home, hiding his face. his wife and his friends are there, and he tells them what happened.

they say to him, "listen...if you're losing to this jew...you're going to lose to the jews."

while they are still discussing it, though, chamberlains from the castle come to fetch him for queen esther's party. still upset, he goes.

at the party, king achashverosh says to queen esther, again, "what is it that you want, my queen? up until half my kingdom, i will give to you."

queen esther takes a deep breath. this is it. "if i have found favour in the king's eyes...and if it please the king...spare my life and the lives of my people. we have been sold to be annihilated, killed, and destroyed! if we had been sold as servants and maidservants, i would not bother the king, but the persecutor doesn't even care that the king will lose his wife!"

king achashverosh is in shock. on one hand, he is literally so glad his wife is not cheating on him with his bestie. on the other, he is pissed someone is trying to kill her. he's like, "who has the nerve????"  

(not the smartest goyische king the jews have ever encountered.)

"the persecutor and enemy," queen esther says. "this wicked haman!"

haman and king achashverosh's jaws drop. haman is shaking in the presence of the king and queen, and the king is so mad he leaves the room to breathe. while he's in the gardens, haman begs queen esther for his life. he knows that the king will absolutely never forgive him, he's seen it in his eyes, but he knows queen esther is kind, and perhaps he can find mercy within her.

you know how in the olden days, people used to lay on those flat couches? that's when queen esther is lying on.

you know how haman is shaking?

he trips over his own two feet, crashing onto queen esther...just as king achashverosh walks back in.

the king is so infuriated, he can barely speak. "it's not enough he plans to kill my wife!" yells the king, "but also tries to violate her while i'm in her chambers???"

haman nearly loses his mind once he hears that--the king can't be more wrong, of course, he would never disrespect either of them that way--but the king won't hear any of it.

just then, another one of the king's advisors pops in. a guy named charvona. "hey, king achashverosh," he says, "just so you know, haman plans on hanging mordechai in the courtyard. you know, mordechai the jew, who saved your life, and is also the queen's adoptive father."

the king doesn't hesitate and immediately has haman hanged on the same set of gallows. after he sees the body, the king calms down. but queen esther's work is far from done.

king achashverosh gives her haman's estate, and gives mordechai the signet ring which had had given to haman, and queen esther makes him in charge of haman's estate.

queen esther goes to the king again and begs him to nullify the genocidal decree. king achashverosh tells her that they can issue out any royal decree concerning the jews they wish, but no royal decree can be nullified.

luckily, queen esther and mordechai are pretty smart. they sent out in the month of sivan, nine months before the date of annihilation, that all jews are hereby permitted to attack in self-defence all who attack them.

the jews are thrilled. they can protect themselves! they have time to get ahold of weapons! many gentiles see what's going on and decide to convert judaism. everything's going super!

the vast majority of goyim decide to back down come the thirteenth of adar, but some do still desire to destroy the jews. miraculously, they defeat their enemies, with the death tally in the city of shushan hitting 500, including the ten sons of haman. outside the city, it's 75,000.

king achashverosh is kind of upset he's lost subjects kingdom-wide, but asks queen esther if there's anything else. there is.

"tomorrow, the fourteenth, all jews will rest and rejoice. i want the jews in shushan to have another day to fight, and we'll rest on the fifteenth." the king agrees, and all who still want to kill the jews in shushan try, and fail miserably.

the jews are victorious, and not one soul touches the spoils of their enemies. 

so every year, mordechai and esther announce, jews living within walled cities (walled at the time of the megillah story, that is), like shushan, will rest and rejoice on the fifteenth, and all other jews will rest and rejoice on the fourteenth. and the will call the festival purim, to commemorate the lots, and all these thing that happened by chance, by coincidence...

and on this day, they command, jews will exchange gifts of food between one another, give gifts to the poor, host a feast for their families, and read this story.

"remember me," says queen esther. "write down my story for generations. all your descendants and all those converted into our faith will hear this and know."

this sunday, jews outside jerusalem will celebrate the festival of purim. jews in jerusalem will celebrate it monday. we will dress up in costumes to hide ourselves, like queen esther did. and we will rejoice in beautiful coincidences coming seemingly from no where, and over the defeat of our enemies. we'll read various blessings that are just for us, but here's something gentiles can do: find hidden beauty. search for the way we're going to find a way out under our modern day haman and achashverosh. find our queen esther...or be our queen esther! you might not save all your people, but do what you can. it's a rather scary time we're living in. we need to create our own miracles.

whether you celebrate or not, i hope the festival goes over well for you!

#lizo talks #purim #jumblr #gosh i hope people read this lol #i can't believe i just wrote 4k words about purim #i love the megillah so much omg

[jeannette-marshall-optioneerjm]

Where a title can’t explain ….

The following is a post I wrote on Facebook when I wanted to share the comments I saw online under job site INDEED …… Maybe INDEED has hired someone to cross the pavement from that other G-spot on Facebook where employees, clients, interviewees can voice their opinion, anonymously or aligned by a brand.  

A very public scathing review of companies and apparently organizations that hire others, is becoming a central voice of opinion.  CEOs tremor at the power of opinion if one of the opinionator’s were approached by a mainstream media or create a video for community support and advancement in ethics.

Our opinions are starting to matter a lot more.  Our opinions are our voice.  There is nobody else like you thus it is impossible for anyone to think, act, voice …. unless we have the acclaim:  “My opinions are my own ….” Does that really protect us (must find out).

I wrote this a few days ago on Facebook with the intent to repost it her on my meanderingsABOUT blog.  I chose Facebook to see it first because that audience is continuously showing and demonstrating their loyalty and support.  Now secondly, it is here on meanderings because this is where a 56 year old woman who is fighting her 50s while trying to be a fashionista fashion voice and social media personality for women 50 and over …. a growing following who like the vibe I transmit and bump into me in other social sites ….. 

Google’s blogspot blog allows me to see stats every single day, subtract my own clicks to keep authenticity, and it has allowed me to grow an understanding of the following I catch vibes with.  Presumably you would think the two ME-generations (Baby Boomers and Millennials) ….

The greatest support for my Blog comes from my Facebook followers so thank YOU!!  However, honorable mention has to be to the WordPress crew who actively engages with YUPPYdom (my blog there).

Perhaps I am scattered around the various blogs but I’m not worried.  Why?  Because I read seven years ago (2010) that content was going to be king in the new generation of opportunities.  Perhaps an honorable follow to comfort which was the retail king launched and mastered by Steve obs’ APPLE was devoted to comfort and ease for customers (with a critical eye on aesthetics to match the quality and value it was going to be branded as).  

Maybe all these scattered blogs identify with a specific audience by looking at the numbers and the hashtags that they’re likely to react (aka click under), I observed a pattern evolving.  If I paid attention to the numbers under an article segment came from a particular strong regional audience from abroad, then I would cater the conversation in that direction.  For example, I blip on my blogging was actually on travel under optioneerJM.  Conjuring the dream to travel and discovery on new lands, unique people, honorable cultures and all-round good people.  I would have to thank Mazatlan, Mexico for that.  I have a blog in the works:  I’m now creating my own art for my posts (an advocate for artists who should be compensated for their work) I started to dabble with painting and then uncork this need to come up with the graphics as I gurgle the ideas in my mind — big multi-tasking to be sure!!

I will write about these matters.  I have a blogging fever!  Being away for most of November, with a major delay in getting into the Christmas spirit (something my youngest daughter told me was one of her fondest memories:  how I went all out decorating and festivities surrounding Christmas.  I remember saying:  “I guess I figured out what must go up, must come down…. there was nobody around to help pack it away or help put it up”.

The following was posted on Facebook yesterday:

An example of the power of statement made online …….. reviews galore! There’s no fire to put out. It appears as though it were lit a long, long time ago. I’ve watched with fascination [wanting to understand the history and learn the culture] and dismay [ Canada’s shameful treatment of so many honorable people, of Canada, at the hands of the residential schools.

There’s a difference, I see. Not so long ago, Many non-indigenous folks, like myself, only saw what we saw closest to our homes, mode of transportation, path, event, city or town street or avenue: sprawled, sleeping or drunken indian man or woman underneath a tree, in the transit station, the stench of vomit mingled with body odor that would indicate bathing and hygiene have been ignored. Sometimes approaching one trying to get from point A to point B, staggering forward with barely audible slurred words requesting a donation towards their next meal, which would also appear to have been neglected or compromised regularity or shelter to have them, a soup kitchen, even kind words.

I admit to be one of the Canadians guilty of ignoring this great people. Hidden behind my own limited self-perceptions based on a VERY small percentage of a proud community and our country’s founders. In so many ways, we have done them dis-justice very likely with shame, no differently one would with a son or uncle or mother struggling with addition.

Then, to make matters worse. We allowed the traditional media to influence those perceptions: NOT stories of courage, overcoming great obstacles, the struggle to keep a culture alive as its youth flock to the city, often recycling the affliction of their adult influences: I wonder how many of the youth of indigenous origin escaping the need to commit suicide, towards severe conditions of negative bias, fall to more dangerous additions like heroine or Fentanyl ? http://ift.tt/1Mbd0Y6

A crowd across the universe is possessed by the cloud, data extrapolation of information from people everywhere to create algorithms :: who knows what Artificial Intelligence AI will tell, what stories will unfold.

If we think that racism and bias is alive and thriving in a pathetic world of people just trying to keep living, without struggle, starvation, addictions, health inflictions …. can you imagine what will happen when some computer generates an algorithm that dictates by stating the pure numbers that this is the preferred response rate, what will happen then?

We’ve already become a toss away society and we cannot blame our offspring, the Millennials, shoulder the cause alone. Because where did they learn that from, the offspring of the war era babies who learned to make one dollar stretch into five [ reference to my meanderingsABOUT.blogspot where I captured a conversation quip from my 82 year old mother, how she wore underwear made from potatoe sacks until her mother figured out that flour sacks made much finer cloth — of Ukrainian heritage, can you say perogies without yum?

I rambled on a little too long. I will continue to blog and want to thank you for your support for a long time!! I am initially writing this on Facebook on my OptioneerJM page because my greatest readership falls like stars in the sky from Facebook.

I’ve started to expel the knowledge I learned about 30 years ago on numbers. I had the best example and will also write about that more.

Okanagan Indian Band review on Indeed

“Tough nut to crack”: There are great people, some amazing employees to work with. Everyone is overworked and underpaid, however. The political climate is intense, and the direction is scattered and usually unrealistic. Don’t expect a long term position, but if you can handle…

CA.INDEED.COM

via Blogger http://ift.tt/2AgHzy2

from Where a title can’t explain ….

#Where a title can’t explain ….

[lepus-the-bun]

Just some talks (It’s a bit long...)

BOOM, I swore I’d do more stories before this, but... I kinda wanna do another OOC talk thing. By all means, feel free to ignore this, I’ll have my talks hidden behind a view more, and if you do wanna read cool! If you wanna discuss? Also cool! It’ll be less heavy than last time though... But uh, it may be discussing personal theological beliefs, so if that’s not your cup of tea, no problem!

So, I’ve struggled for a long time in my life, on a certain point that -many- struggle with... mainly, ‘faith’. I was born Roman Catholic, went to a Roman Catholic middle school, and even got my Confirmation. (For those who may not know Confirmation, it’s essentually ending your time as a child, and declaring yourself fully for your faith, and is the third of three Sacraments of Initiation into the church) I’ve even taken the time when I was in Italy, to go to the Vatican, which took -hours- of waiting to do, and plenty of angry italians mad I did not speak italian. (Woopsies)

So, for the longest time I was surrounded fully by those of my faith, and really... I never once was told to ‘shut up and accept it’, and could ask questions like ‘why do bad things happen to good people’ and the like freely. When I went into highschool, I moved from the private catholic school, to a public school... It went, well, less than stellar at first. I was used to classes the size of 10-12 people and now had a freshman class of close to 1-2k. 

But things work out, and eventually I started hanging out with the more punk/goth groups... And hell, they were great friends by all means. They were also my first insight into the culture of the younger generation that was rebelling -against- organized religion, and the talks of atheism. It began to strike chords with me, and I strayed away... I’d often begin denying any hold in my faith, and making jokes about it. 

Was it the worst thing in the world? Nah. Hardly the worst thing by any measure, as I had stopped going to church, and just held an apathy to it all. Well, eventually, I joined the Navy, and during bootcamp it’d be said “There’s never a atheist recruit” because it was one of the ONLY ways to get out of the instructors sights on sunday, and the masses were far from the most boring things. 

Eventually, I signed on to attend a ‘faith workship’, deciding it’d give me some extra time off, and hey I do like discussing theology. Hell, I even felt a little desire to want to renew that ‘faith’ I had been neglecting. This... This was the first time, I had ever come face to face with someone whom condemned every non-christian to hell, and was not a parody I had always thought was unjust. 

... I was also the only person attending. So holy -fuuuuuuuck- was it awkward. I just smiled, gave a nod or two, and watched the clock fearfully. After that? Hell, I was ashamed for awhile to even say I was christian. Well, fast forward a few years, and I have a WoW addiction. Shocker. Well, the guild I was in was a great introduction to groups with alternative lifestyles to my own... I met and talked to my first transgender individual there, (Female to Male) met poly amorous couples, and plenty others. 

It was... Great. I -loved- to hear their stories, I loved to learn about them and their struggles, their triumphs, everything. But, a year or so passed, and the old guild leader left, along with a few others and... Things changed. Every day, I’d listen to jokes mocking christians, which you know I don’t mind. Hell, I enjoy my jokes -healthily-. But... These weren’t the funny ‘haha everyone chuckle’, and more the “HAHA LOOK AT THESE FUCKING BACKWARDS IDIOTS”. Which... Began to grate upon me. 

Eventually, Catholicism became the focus, and every other day I’d hear talk about how Catholics were all racist/homophobic. Eventually, I spoke out and explained my heritage, and told them the comments offended me because now, it felt like my history, and my family were being shamed for things we are not. The first response I got was... Was bittersweet.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were Catholic, you’re way too accepting.”

It was either a perfect backhanded compliment, or just a simple slip of the tongue, but it hurt all the same. A couple weeks later, I was politely asked to leave the guild, and went my separate way. It felt... Weird.

Now... I ask a lot of questions to my life. I listen to as much philosophy as I can, study other religions, and ask -questions- constantly. For a couple years, I’ve just compiled my thoughts, and struggled with those big questions...

Is there a god? And if there is, what kind of person are they?

Hard questions... Seriously hard questions, that get even more complicated when I look at scripture, and compare it to my own life and experienced... And in the end, I can’t hand anyone a scrap of ‘proof’ to my faith. I cannot give myself a solid, ‘god came down and handed me a piece of paper saying yo dog i’m real’ or even a ‘totally a miracle’ moment. 

So... Do I believe there is a god? 

... Yeah. I do. Maybe it’s all because of how I was raised, or just me being ‘weird’ to some people, but I cannot tell myself certainly there is no god, even with an absence of proof.  

Do I believe that god sculpted the world, and that everything in the bible is one hundred percent fact?

No. While, the bible has plenty of truth to it, and maybe one day long ago, every word was god’s word... It has been written by man for thousands of years, and man is a flawed creature. The bible has it’s good bits, and it’s bad bits... And I don’t believe, that was have to subscribe 100% to both the good and bad. I don’t believe, that because the bible says ‘love thy neighbor’, that I must therefore believe ‘man shall not lay with another man’ etc etc. 

So... What is God to me? Someone whom makes the claim of being Christian?

... I can’t imagine what god is. I cannot tell you if it is man, or woman, or any of the like. I cannot tell you what they believe, or what plans etc they have... Because I cannot fathom what a god would imagine. I cannot even know if they are flawed truly, or if that is the thoughts of man.

(WAIT YOU JUST FUCKING DODGED THE QUESTION YOU ASKED YOURSELF! WHAT IS GOD TO YOU?!)

Touche, caught me. God, to me... Is a loving Mother. A parent whom watches over us, and loves us. That warmth in your chest when you help someone? I feel that’s their love, their little praise for doing good. I -don’t- believe personally, that god is someone whom you just pay the lip service to. I also don’t believe that god hates anyone for who they love, or even if they are from a different religion. 

So to me, god is the goodness in man, short and simple.

Long post just to get to that eh? Well... No. I’m not stopping right there because... I’ve come to grow tired, of being told religion is the source of all problems, or conversely, that people being atheist is so terrible.

I’ve been called a faggot, for loving a Transgender Woman, by people whom make claims to being both great christians, and those whom treat christians like shit. I’ve seen the -dumbest- most ignorant -shit- happen on both extremes, and it’s not okay. Please, as deaf as this may be to some, but if you have questions about a person’s religion, or lack there of... Don’t go into it armed for a fight. 

Don’t ask someone to prove definitively that god exists, and don’t tell someone they’ll burn in hell if they don’t ‘save themselves spiritually’. That, is the talk that divides us, and stifles personal introspection, and understanding. So if you want to discuss religion etc with someone? Ask them, just like you’d ask a question if someone had a foreign culture. I.E. You wouldn’t go up to an German and go “WOW YOU HAVE OCTOBERFEST? WHY DO YOU DO SUCH WEIRD THINGS?” And if you’re asked... Don’t be offended, because they are curious, answer them. Denying an answer and being defensive, will only isolate yourself.

So. TLDR?

Treat each other, as you yourself would want to be treated.

And like I said, if folks have questions or want to say something? Feel free. :)

#christianity #personal views #long post #religion #theology