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zvtara-was-never-canon · 3 months

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Can you give examples of Aang showing Empathy? Oh wait, you can't.

Actually, I can - because unlike you, I base my opinion of the characters on the actual stuff that happened in the story, not the bad faith takes dumb people on the internet come up with.

Zuko literally only survived past book 1 because Aang was the ONLY person amongst the heroes that gave a single fuck about his well-being. Aang offered to be FRIENDS with him as early as episode 13, even though this dude is trying to kidnap him.

In the first damn episode we see him realize and try to remedy Katara's struggle with no longer being able to act like a kid and have fun. He wants to travel with her so SHE gets to learn waterbending. He willingly lets Zuko take him into his ship because he understood that a conflict could lead to the people of the water tribe getting hurt or killed.

In Warriors of Kyoshi he apologizes to Katara for letting all the praise and admiration go to this head. He makes sure to put out the fires Zuko and his crew started in Suki's village.

He tries to help remedy the Hei-Bai situation, even though he is unsure of himself and even scared, because he knows he is the only one that has any chance of helping - and the thing that allows him to connect with Hei-Bai is the fact that he is ALSO upset about the destruction the Fire Nation has caused AND hopeful that the world would eventually heal.

He thinks Jet is awesome because he wants to help people that are being oppressed by the Fire Nation - and then is horrified when he finds out his intension is to "free" them by killing everyone

He wants to help the two rival groups not only safely cross the Great Divide, but also stop hating each other.

He confesses that he hid the map to Hakoda because Bato, Katara and Sokka are showing how much they appreciate and trust him and he feels unworthy of it after what he did because he knows it'd hurt him if the roles were reversed.

He is so devastated by the fact that he ACCIDENTALLY hurt Katara that he swears to never firebend again. He is also able to recognize the same principle behind his mistake in Zhao's fighting style, allowing him to win the battle against the bastard.

He accepts the fact that the Northern Air Temple is now occupied by people who not only don't belong to his culture but also don't understand it and unknowingly destroyed something sacred to him (and that one of them had been forced to make weapons for the Fire Nation) because these people have nowhere else to go and he doesn't want them to suffer.

He is furious at Pakku for refusing to teach Katara waterbending, because he knows how much it'd mean to her and how unfair it is that she can't learn it just because of her gender.

He is so devastated by the death of the Moon Spirit that the Ocean Spirit latches onto him to avenge it and save the day - and the leve of destruction it causes haunts Aang, even though the violence was against his enemies. And still, he tries to go into the Avatar state again because people are dying and he can't accept that.

After the fall of Omashu, he wants to rescue Bumi, not because he needs a teacher, but because they're friends.

He felt empathy for Toph when she was explaining to her parents how lonely and unappriacted their over-protection made her feel.

He and Katara both feel bad for snapping at Toph during "The Chase" and wanted to apologize for not understanding that being part of a group was a radical change to her, even though she had refused to even try. He also didn't have a problem with fighting alongside Zuko and Iroh against Azula, AND he looked concerned when Iroh was injured.

After Katara comments on the fact he called Toph Sifu but not her, he calls her Sifu while bowing, to show that he respects her both as his master and friend.

The hopelessness and downright depression he was feeling after Appa was stolen only starts healing because he saw a couple being happy with their newborn baby - the same couple he decided to help cross the Serpent's Pass, even though he and his friends had just been allowed to take a much safer route to Ba Sing Se.

His understanding and sympathy towards Jet, even after everything the guy did, was so strong that it freed him from literal brainwashing.

He doesn't want to push his love for Katara aside to gain power because he cares about her too much - and then does it anyway because, even though not making her his main focus 24/7 offers the risk of her being hurt, him neglecting his mission guarantees she'll get hurt.

He is devastated to learn that the world thinks he is dead because he knows he was everyone's last hope - and yet in the end he still accepts the burden of failure because he understood that, at that moment, everyone would be safer if no one else knew he was still alive.

He goes to a Fire Nation school and bonds with the kids, wanting to give them a taste of freedom and joy, as well as trying to understand what the war is like from their perspective. The same episode also has him pull Katara for a dance because he noticed she was feeling left out.

The boy felt empathy for, and understood the mistakes of, both Ruko and Sozin. SOZIN. Aang could see the humanity in the monster that is responsible for him losing his entire culture and everyone he loved.

When Zuko spoke about wanting to control his impulses so he wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone, Aang explicitly connected with that struggle and saw them being teacher and student as fate, and Zuko agreed because that's how deep their connection was.

Aang is not happy about Katara wanting to murder a man, but he still lets her take Appa on her mission and is not disapproving when she ultimately spares the guy but does not forgive him and makes it clear she never will.

He feels empathy for freaking Ozai, to the point that refuses to kill the guy - even as he has the balls to say that Aang's family, his people, deserved to die. He spared that guy - but only after he had a way to do that without it meaning the death of more innocents. Aang, the pacifist, was going to turn his back on everything he believed in just to avoid more human suffering.

So yeah, miss me with your bullshit and don't come back until your brain is developed enough to understand a cartoon aimed at kindergarterners.

#anti zutara #pro aang

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genderkoolaid · 10 months

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Do you genuinely believe we can somehow change the hearts and minds of billionaires and politicians in power in for example the USA in a way that will actually result in a radical change in and improvement of conditions for folks currently oppressed under capitalism in the USA and hopefully globally? If so, how?

This is coming from someone who really would like to believe pure nonviolence is possible but who does not see much of an actual way forward for that. That said I do not see those billionaires and politicians as "nonhuman", I don't think that's productive and I think dehumanizing anyone who is factually a human person as a practice is dangerous so I am in agreement with you there. Thanks for your time if you choose to share your thoughts.

What I like about Against the Logic of the Guillotine is that it isn't for pure nonviolence. It breaks down the false binary that our options are "let the streets run red with blood until our every thirst for revenge is slaked" or "punching nazis makes you as bad as them 🥺"

& i think that binary is tempting because it absolves us of a responsibility to think deeply about things. if all revolutionary violence is good and justified, then you don't have to think too hard about the violence, you just see it & condone it. If all violence is bad and morally evil, then you still don't have to think too hard to condemn it. Our options are like, moral baby food.

But if we reject that binary, then there is no easy answer. Its not as easy as "yes leftist violence is always justified" or "any violence ever is always unjustified." You have to ask yourself, what am I doing? Why? What does this accomplish? Who is affected by this? What do they have to say? It makes us look at the actual nature of our violence and pick it apart and see where we have fucked up and where we might fuck up again. Its a lot more messy and also requires that we form relationships with others & genuinely listen to what they have to say. Its much much harder than Violence Good or Violence Bad but its also much more capable of adapting to the needs of people in the complicated situations where we find ourselves.

My opinion is that we will not reach anti-capitalism and anti-imperialism without violence. But more than anything, its because the systems in power will not let us. I think the foundation of the Revolution (in a more abstract sense of the word) must be community. We should focus our efforts most on building local networks of mutual support. If people suddenly find themself in a community that has free public food gardens & a community fridge, where people are already practicing transformative justice, etc. etc. then it will become materially obvious that we don't need to rely on the current system to survive. It will become clear that the current system is more of a hindrance to what we could do if we were not being controlled. And then people will be more likely to support any revolutionary violence that becomes necessary, because they will see their neighbors and know that when the dust settles, they know how to care for each other through shitty situations. Violence should really be the topping on a cake of community & indispensability politics.

Also this line from AtLotG really changed my perspective on "punishing the rich":

The worst punishment anyone could inflict on those who govern and police us today would be to compel them to live in a society in which everything they’ve done is regarded as embarrassing—for them to have to sit in assemblies in which no one listens to them, to go on living among us without any special privileges in full awareness of the harm they have done. If we fantasize about anything, let us fantasize about making our movements so strong that we will hardly have to kill anyone to overthrow the state and abolish capitalism. This is more becoming of our dignity as partisans of liberation.

"If we fantasize about anything, let us fantasize about making our movements so strong that we will hardly have to kill anyone to overthrow the state and abolish capitalism" really sums it up for me.

#sorry if this is kind of a mess i am So pain and fatigue rn #my body is taking disability pride month way too seriously #m.#ask box

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snaccpopstudios · 3 months

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From the River to the Sea.

The staff of SnaccPop Studios wanted to reach out to our fans regarding our stance on the genocidal acts committed against Palestine. Though the conflict thrived well before 2023, these last few months have shown an escalation of cruelty that has become impossible for the rest of the world to ignore.

To state the matter frankly; we stand by Palestine. We acknowledge that blood is not only on the hands of the Israeli government, but also the American, British, and other world governments who have and continue to enable Israel's actions. Any government, company, or corporation that attempts to accommodate "both sides," or inadvertently shows support through inaction is equally complicit in creating a climate in which this genocide is allowed to take place. It is for this reason we feel compelled to speak out and condemn these acts for what they are; genocide, theft, ethnic cleansing, and mass-murder.

We believe that all those responsible for these innocent deaths must be called for and prosecuted as murderers in the first degree, regardless of status. But we also acknowledge that this will likely never happen.

In light of this, what can we do? We believe that it is not the citizen's burden alone to end this genocide, and yet we must call upon every individual person to reflect on this matter and do what we can to make things right. An initial step for many of us would be to seek to educate themselves on this matter. We must learn from history to avoid unwittingly contributing to further oppressions. We will be providing a few trustful sources for you all to further educate yourselves and donate to, if you are able to.

We must also ask everyone to remember that these lives are irrevocably lost. Children who are now without parents, families separated and lost–these people's lives will be permanently affected by these events, if they survive. Their pain and trauma will impact the future for everyone on our planet. It is vital to acknowledge this and treat it with the gravity it is due. It is so easy to distance ourselves from these events, to compartmentalize the trauma of people we don't know, people who live so far away from many of us. It is easy to get caught up in the narrative disseminated by mainstream media, to detach ourselves from the real human suffering, to view it as a story that has nothing to do with us. We must perform due diligence to discern the truth and act accordingly. Acknowledging the suffering and remembering all that has been lost is vital to holding Israel accountable for their genocidal acts.

We must also use our empathy to realize that this is one of the great injustices of humanity; by allowing it to happen now, we further enable it to happen to other disenfranchised groups in the future. None of us are truly safe if we allow this brutality to wage unchecked. We cannot allow our governments to believe that we will tolerate or condone this, now or ever.

Links:

Care for Gaza. Providing distribution of cash, food, or other supplies needed like medicine or clothes to displaced families in Gaza. https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza. As of writing this, the GoFundMe is no longer accepting donations, but their PayPal in their Twitter (https://twitter.com/CareForGaza) still is.

Pious Projects. Providing menstrual/hygiene kits to those who menstruate in Gaza. https://piousprojects.org/campaign/2712

eSims for Gaza. Helping those in Gaza remain connected to the outside world, stay connected with families, and show what’s happening within Gaza. https://gazaesims.com/

History of Palestine and debunking myths spread: https://decolonizepalestine.com/

PDF Booklet provided by Bisan on her Instagram. Advocating for Palestine that recounts Israeli propaganda and how to spot and debunk them. https://sites.google.com/view/advocatingforpalestine/?fbclid=PAAaZtxfP5EBAZSRP6h15wi96-dnCuOgOlE0aXKVB8gCtQbokaSE9N1nxzkuA_aem_AaIBVrty_hSHN28vgu0T-rJly_eLH5YAFKxLcCLLBNBXl8QZiUe4fvR-pkBV_8x6UyM

Boycott, Diversity, and Sanctions (BDS) website: https://bdsmovement.net/

Please note these aren’t all of the available resources out there, but a few collected, trusted ones. Take the time and effort to look and reach further yourselves, as we will continue to do so ourselves.

SnaccPop Studios 🍉

#snaccpop studios

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autistichalsin · 3 months

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I said it before and I'll say it again:

The beautiful thing about Halsin is that he finds meaning in everything and everyone. He wants to see good in people, even where there is none, until he is finally forced to admit there is none. He sees beauty in a tree. He dreams of making a community here those in need can live in harmony with nature. He sees meaning in what he's learned in his life, in community, even in the hardships he's faced. It all means something.

He "outgrew cynicism around the age of 200". He doesn't want to assume the worst of unfolding situations or of people; he wants to live in a world where his sufferings meant something, even if that was a meaning he'd have to make himself. Where he can learn from what he suffered, turn it into something good (like the Shadow Curse) and pass his knowledge on.

There is a reason that in the cut scenes in the end, where the Nether Brain would have conjured illusions to get at the party members with their insecurities, that Halsin's would have had an illusion of him crying that life was hopeless, meaningless. That sense of optimism something Halsin fights so hard with himself and with the world to retain, especially at 350 years old, especially with the suffering he's faced. Of course his biggest insecurity would be that perhaps he was wrong all along, that he was doomed to live for 350 MORE years in a world where nothing at all mattered.

It's a fear that matches his age; a five year old fears the monster under their bed, a teenager fears rejection, a young adult fears being unable to find a place in the world, a middle aged person fears being unable to provide for their family, an older person fears loneliness as their loved ones start to pass on. But what would someone with a 700 year lifespan fear when they're already at an age three times that of a human's lifespan? When they've already faced the loneliness of surviving where others don't, and had to learn how to live with that pain? It's no longer a fear, because he's already lived it for so long.

It's a deeper, more existential fear. It's the kind of fear you feel when things that can happen to your body no longer scare you. Death happens to everyone, loneliness and loss are universal, and rejection is just a fleeting pain. But the idea of living a long life full of sacrifice and pain and loss, and then having that turn out meaningless, and in turn, for all the people he's lost to turn out to be ultimately meaningless too? THAT is a deeper, much more oppressive fear, and one that can be a lot harder to shake unless you actively fight against it (as he does).

It makes so much sense on a philosophical level.

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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utilitycaster · 2 months

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The thing with Imogen saying that she's normal there is that, heartbreakingly, it's not true.

She's less abnormal...because instead of being one low-level young woman with psionic powers in a rural town, she's a relatively high-level young woman in a rural town that has been under the thumb of an Imperium that wields those same powers as a means of control. She's "normal" to the Bormodos because she has a similar powerset to the military police and to the Ruby Vanguard, with whom they're all too familiar. And, to be clear, she is not using those powers to oppress them—she's in fact using them quite brilliantly to blend in and betray them—but that still sets her apart.

I've wondered a lot about what will happen with Imogen's powers, and what she wants, because that's been the leverage that Ludinus and the Imperium have had on the Ruidusborn. Imogen started this campaign searching for a way to be normal. That was how Liliana started on her path as well. That was the selling point she made to Imogen when she was contacted in her dreams: "In a brief instant, you remember what it was like to not be like this, to just be you."

And yet: that same episode, Laudna tells Imogen she always could, gods or no gods, just be herself, and still, Imogen continues on. She embraces her powers, even willingly taking off a circlet she initially called life-changing because those powers could allow her to foresee potentially risky actions from the rest of the party (though, to her credit, she has not used this, and from a metagaming perspective it is unlikely she really ever could). Her first two times connecting with Predathos, in dreams and then on the surface, are entirely willing. She boasts to Groon that she is the storm; she is excited by her connection with Fearne.

And yet: she's exclaims how she's normal, here in a town where she is quite literally an alien, and where the overwhelming majority do not share her powers. Her speed to claim a connection to her powerful mother is understandable for the party's survival, but she does not seem to show reluctance to do so, despite the possibility of this getting back to Liliana. She's normal on Ruidus: a place that wishes to pull her in and she fears she will never escape it.

Like her mother, Imogen can't decide: does she want to be normal or special? Should she join or run?

It's hard to define what "normal" would even be for Imogen. I think at this point giving up her powers would feel like giving up a part of her; at the same time, the only place for her to be truly "normal" is within the Vanguard. The place she feels the most like she belongs is when she's being sucked in by Predathos, and she doesn't want that either.

And that's valid! Even with control over her powers, they will always give her insights others simply can't gain. And even on Ruidus, the place that made her, she will be a foreigner and something they wish to use. She is, in fact, caught between places; neither is entirely home. But I think to accept that, instead of eternally bouncing between the two (as Liliana does) she needs to realize it, and to realize it she will need to look at it from the perspective not just of the people on Ruidus who have powers like hers; but from those on Ruidus who don't.

#imogen temult #cr spoilers #critical role #yes very narrative foils with ashton indeed

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star-anise · 2 years

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You just posted like ten different things about potatoes in the span of maybe five minutes, and I gotta know your take on "The Martian".

Like, the (fictional) man alone on a planet literally only survives because of potatoes shrink-wrapped in plastic for a Thanksgiving meal. If they weren't slated to be on Mars for Thanksgiving, he would have died.

And Andy Weir (author of the original novel) did such a good job with the science of every other element to the story, I honest-to-god believe that potatoes could actually manage to grow in Martian soil (even if that's not been proven for certain afaik).

Which means..... could potatoes terraform Mars into sustaining life??? Are potatoes the key to the universe???

Haha sorry for going so hard on them! Those were mostly all posts from 2020 when gardening and fantasy worldbuilding were lockdown fixations for me. One of them blew up recently so I wanted to give The People more of the content it seemed they were looking for. I don't actually know a lot about potatoes. I just think they're neat.

I do not want to take apart the concept of "colonizing Mars" as some kind of woke gotcha. I want to take your question seriously and charitably. However, I just am the kind of person who's like "Hmm, 'colonize', we should really stop and unpack that word," so let's do that, without forgetting the potato element.

(What "I don't know a lot" means: Potatoes were a crop my family grew several acres of for a few years on our farm before we switched our focus to sheep. I am about 50% as reliable as a horticultural brochure on various potato diseases and growing condition issues. I have listened to two University lectures and read perhaps four historical journal articles beginning-to-end on how the Columbian Exchange affected early-modern Europe, that and half as much again on medieval and early modern European farming practices and population changes, and perhaps three science/history articles specifically on the domestication and proliferation of the potato. I am a white Canadian who actively seeks out information and training in Indigenous history and culture in the Americas, but that's probably still only equal to like, two Native Studies classes in university. I know more than the average person on this topic, but I am also not an expert compared to people who have devoted serious time to learning about this.)

But I have some intuitions in a couple of ways:

The Martian is probably being wildly over-optimistic about its potatoes. They would probably have been irradiated into sterility before being vacuum-packed, and I don't think you can split and propagate them that quickly or successfully. However, potatoes can definitely grow in all kinds of conditions (including under my sink).

They might not be the world's healthiest or happiest potatoes, tho. Soil quality definitely affects the end product. Presumably Watney, being a botanist studying Mars' soil composition, knew how much he had to ameliorate his soil with latrine compost (which would definitely have needed a LOT of processing, since human waste is generally not good for plants, but maybe he used chemicals to speed that up?) to get good soil. However, we would probably need to add a LOT of shit to Mars' soil (and air, and water) for it to host plant life.

Mark Watney makes a joke about having "colonized Mars" because "colony" is Latin for "farm" and he farmed on Mars so haha, funny joke! And we talk about colonies on Mars partly because that's what science fiction did, and a lot of science fiction has been into that colonialism aesthetic. But colonialism and empires actually aren't great, not just because they necessitate huge amounts of racism, oppression, and genocide—I know, you asked me a fun question about potatoes and did not sign up for this, I'm not here to drag you, hear me out—but because they're also really sucky models for agriculture and successful societies generally.

My British ancestors tried to be colonial farmers in a place that is sometimes colder than Mars (Canada's Treaty Six), and let me tell you: IT SUCKED. Most of the crops and herbs and vegetables and flowers that settlers here brought from home and are used to? DON'T FUCKEM GROW. For the Canadian prairies to become conventional farmland, farmers and scientists had to scramble to find, or produce, cold-hardy varieties of everything from wheat to roses. A lot of flowers and plants that are unkillable invasive zombie perennials in other climates don't survive our winters no matter hard we try. The trees and flowers that hold cultural or sentimental attachments for us often don't grow here. The climate is so harsh and population is spread so thin that we cannot do the 100 mile diet and eat foods we're familiar with, and can hardly even manage the 1000 mile diet. (Not that I try, but, my family did once look into it)

A huge number of colonial homesteads, where the pioneers go out on their little covered wagon and build little houses on the prairie? Failed miserably and got bought up by land speculators. My own family came out to Alberta in the 1880s and moved around from land assignment to land assignment, like, six times before settling at their current place in the early 1900s.

Meanwhile: POTATOES

Potatoes are less than ten thousand years old! I am not any kind of expert on archaeology, please nobody throw things, but humans showed up in the Andes (think: high, cold mountains) of South America roughly 9,000 years ago. There are hundreds of wild potato varieties, but they generally produce fairly tiny tubers. It took active work of Indigenous Andean people around 8,000 years ago around Lake Titicaca to cultivate specific strains of potato, doing oldschool genetic modification to make them bigger, more delicious, and hardier. From that cultivation effort around a single species of wild potatoes, they produced thousands of cultivated potato varieties.

Ancient Andean farmers and botanists also played a big part in cultivating quinoa from wild amaranth, as well as producing modern food crops you probably haven't heard of, like oca, olluco, mashua, and yacon, and also coca, which may get a bad rap because it's what cocaine and coca-cola are made from but you cannot deny it's got kick.

Basically, Indigenous people of the Americas (South, Central, and North) went all in on botany and plant cultivation. Plants that we take for granted now have mostly been developed by Indigenous people in the past few thousand years: Tobacco, sunflowers, marigolds, tomatoes, pumpkins, rubber, vanilla, cocoa, sweetcorn, maize, and most kinds of pepper except peppercorn. These things were not found; they were made, by careful cultivation of the world as it was.

This gives us a vision of the future. Colonization, and industrial agriculture, both lean us towards the vision of a totally uniform end product, with the same potato varieties grown on each farm because we have made every farm the same. Instead we could embrace biodiversity and focus on privileging local knowledge and considering the interactions of environment, plants, microbiota, and people. We could create potatoes that were happy on Mars. We could create Mars that is happy to have us. We could create a society that can accept what Mars has to offer.

A lot of why we dream about colonizing Mars is the idea that the Earth itself is dying, that we are killing it, and we need to abandon this farmstead and seek out a new frontier. I acknowledge that shit is bad, but I don't agree with that framing. I am increasingly persuaded that there is a third path between ecological destruction and mass exodus, and I think we need to reject European colonial mentality that creates the forced choice. I find far more use in privileging the knowledge of people who live on and with land than their landlords and rulers, and I especially find value in Indigenous knowledge of land management practices and food production.

I am absolutely not saying that Indigenous people were or are wonderful magical ~spiritual beings~ who frolicked in an Edenic paradise that only knew death and disease once white people showed up. This isn't noble savage bullshit, nor am I invoking people who existed once but whom I have never met. I am saying that I have Indigenous neighbours, colleagues, relatives, and elected representatives. I have learned about mental health, leatherworking, botany, and ecology from Metis and First Nations elders and knowledge-keepers. And like. They have good and useful shit to say.

This is about culture, not race. It is not that their biological DNA means that they know more than me about how to get food from this landscape. It's about cultural history and what we learn from our heritages. What have our cultures privileged? Like, Europe has historically been super into things like metallurgy, domesticating livestock, and creating dairy products. If I want to smelt iron or choose animals to make cheese from, European society would have a lot of useful information for me! And what Indigenous cultures in the Americas have historically focused on instead of cows and copper* include 1) getting REAL familiar with your local flora and figuring out how to make sure you have lots of the herbs and grains and roots and berries you need, and 2) how to make a human society where people can live and have good lives, but do not damage the environment enough to impair the ability of future generations to have the same sort of life.

*Several indigenous American cultures did practice various forms of metallurgy. It's just one of those proportional things, about what societies really go for

Conclusion

I think we could use the processes that formed the potato to find and foster forms of life that could survive on Mars. It would involve learning to think that botany is a sexy science, and understanding just how rich and complicated the environment is. To oxygenate the atmosphere, we'd have to get super enthusiastic about algae and lichen and wetlands. We would have to learn to care deeply about the microorganisms living in the soil, and whether the potatoes are happy.

We'd have to create an economy that counts oxygen and carbon dioxide production on its balance sheets. To learn how to wait for forests to grow back after a fire, instead of giving up in despair because the seedlings aren't trees yet. To do the work now and be hopeful even though we might not see the payoffs for decades, or our victories might only be witnessed by future generations.

So yes, I think we could totally plant potatoes on Mars

But I also think that if we ever got there, we'd have turned into the kind of people who could also save Earth in the first place.

Which makes it a good enough goal in my opinion.

#staranise original #agriculture #potatoes my beloved

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stonebutchwritings · 21 days

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begging my fellow transmisogyny-exempt lesbians to please get rid of transmisogynistic people from your circles that are not open to learning.

yes, for that minor transmisogynistic microaggression they refuse to back down on.

yes, even because they "just" believe in "afab socialization" but "still accept trans women".

yes, even if they just keep talking about "sex-based oppression" but "also believe in gender-based oppression".

yes, even that popular blogger you really like.

yes, even if that means losing a LOT of popular bloggers/mutuals/friends you like

yes, even if they're "just neutral" on transmisogyny. (all tme people already are participating in transmisogyny)

yes, even if you're told being anti-transmisogyny is inherently harmful to the kink/transmasc/lesbian/female/whatever community (newsflash: transfems exist in almost every marginalized community, and the ones they aren't in, they are oppressed by).

yes, even the ones who aren't terfs.

yes, even the other trans people who are transmisogynists.

yes, even if they "just believe they (as other women or other trans ppl) don't oppress transfems" and "still recognize interpersonal harm between x community and transfem communities"

yes, even if they "have transfem friends who agree" with them

yes, even if what they're saying they're hurting transfems for is generally a noble cause (anti-pedophilia, anti-sexual-abuse, anti-republican, etc.) but they're only ever taking offense to transfems who are/are perceived as offenders

yes, even if the transfem they're being transmisogynistic to is someone who you don't like or is even a bad person in general

transfem-inclusive spaces do not happen overnight because we all share a post about how much we support and love them and think really hard about hypothetical scenarios in which we stand our ground. they happen when we intentionally work to call in, call out, and deplatform transmisogyny in our communities.

(and when you start sharing and donating to their survival funds. yes, the one you just scrolled past.)

if you're looking for an actionable step to take rn on that front btw, donate to this ma fund from @blackwomenexhale on instagram, info, id, and photo below 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

[ID: A purple graphic that says "Disabled, homeless trans woman in urgent need of immediate funds for lifesaving seizure/asthma medication & temporary shelter. please don8 if possible & share! cash/app: $pinkhottie68, ven/mo: @tatamiii" End image description.]

+ transfems, trans women, and tma trans ppl please feel free to add your own f*ndr@iser on here <3

#text #mine #transfems feel free to correct me on any aspect of this i’m speaking to my own community but obv want to communicate your needs accurately #lesbian #butch/femme #butch4femme #femme4butch #trans #lesbiansafe #also anyone can rb even if i disagree with you on other stuff for this but still do not interact with any other posts....

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

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Code Broken (Chapter 2) Mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze.

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [f receiving], Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk

word count: 5.1k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 2: House of the Rising Sun

Its months later, the beginning of fall in Jackson city. The homes are decorated with paper cut outs of black cats and witches. Streamers of orange and black curve around the poles of the canteen. Pumpkins are carved and placed on doorsteps in preparation for next week.

It's your favorite time of year here. The time after the oppressive heat of the summer yet before the blankets of snow that overstay their welcome a little longer each year. It's the time when you pull out your favorite knitted scarf and go for long walks within the expanse of the community.

Trish is getting married to one of the butchers in town. He's shy but quick to smile with white blonde hair that falls into his eyes.

As with most celebrations the entire community is invited and involved in some way. You're making the dress. The girls from work are joyfully putting together decorations, citing that these will be even nicer than the ones done for Tommy and Maria's wedding party. The event is still months away but you want it to be perfect. Trish means so much to you.

You have a basket overflowing with multicoloured foliage to decorate your home but when you notice a pale yellow groundsel amongst the sleeping earth you stop. You bend down and pluck the flower, marvelling at the softness of its plush petals. Under your fingertips they feel like the gentle lips of a lover.

The sudden, intrusive thought that comes with that unbidden thought causes you to scowl, crumpling the delicate flower in your fist. You drop its crushed body to the ground as you continue on your walk.

You know with the encroaching cold weather you'll have a lot to mend at the office tomorrow. Pants, jackets, curtains, blankets. You're never in need of something to do, that's for certain and you like that. You like a purpose, you like seeing people walk by in your knitted scarves or patched jeans. It gives you a satisfaction that just surviving from place to place for years never could.

You like the people you work with, they always invite you for a drink at the end of the week as if the job you all do is such a strain. As if you don't all work half a day, mending and darning around the circular table over coffee and laughter, taking turns using the sewing machine for the bigger projects.

It's at your job where you'd first met Trish who was bringing in a stack of fabric she hoped could be turned into curtains. She was one of the teachers of the younger kids, desperate to bring some color into the drab classroom she'd been given. You'd been new, shy and Trish had taken you under her wing. She had always looked out for you, always supported you.

It's why you want her wedding to be as perfect as possible. You know she would just borrow some nice dress a neighbor owns instead of getting one made by you. You know she wouldn't ask for the work you’re putting into her dress, but you do it anyway. Those extra touches mean something to you and to her.

The dress is far and above the hardest thing you've ever made. Designed it, sewn it, and cried in frustration over it.

When a pile of old lace had been brought in to the sewing room you'd squealed with delight and claimed a bit for yourself. It would be the perfect accent to the dress, only the lace is yellowed with age. You've tried a few home remedies but nothing gives it that snow white color you need. You'll need a bit of bleach.

It's that thought in mind that sets you off early the next day, your scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, your cheeks pink from the wind. You're heading for the general store before going to work, hoping you can find what you need.

The slanted wood roof comes readily into view just off the main square. You come at the start of every week to the general shop with its tall ceilings and solid shelves to see what can be salvaged for clothing or other textile needs.

Everything non perishable that gets salvaged in travels comes through the main building and sorted. Fabric, paper, soap, shoelaces just to name a few. Some of the older folks spend a few days but divvying up where each item goes - kitchen, stables, general shop.

You push the green door open, the familiar tinkle of the bell ringing overhead to announce your arrival.

"Here for fabric if any came in last week," you say with a smile to Ralph, one of the folks who mind the shop day to day. He's sitting on a stool near the side of the space reading an old paperback. He gives you a warm smile, showing off the whitest teeth you've ever seen.

"Just got a box yesterday."

He pops off his stool, the recent page of the paperback dog-eared for later reading. Looking at the yellowed pages you think back to the lace soaking in your sink at home.

"Oh and bleach if you have any extra. Just a little."

Bleach is a hot commodity here, used for everything from cleaning to drinking water if there's a need for it. But Ralph knows you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.

"Might have a small container of it in the back. Gimme a second."

Your eyes drift to the back of the shop as he says this. "I'll browse for a bit, then."

"New ones in the lower right," he laughs while he heads to the storage in the back room, calling out to you from the space. "Lucky you came today, had a few people asking for extra fabric for the kids costumes last week."

"Really?" you ask, but you're not really listening to his reply. Your eyes are already going to the back of the shop that leads into the little lending library.

It's modest, barely bigger than an elevator but its shelves go to the ceiling and are weighted down with books. You've read almost all of them. This space is where books come to live, be read, returned, traded. It's one of your favorite places in your small world.

You step into this sanctum, greeted by the scent of aged pages and feel your heart skip a beat. It always feels so good to be here, to be surrounded by so many topics and worlds. These are world's you'll only see in the written word, a world with no outbreak, a world bigger than Jackson City.

Ralph asks you about your plans for today as you browse and you answer distractedly, dropping to a knee when you see a book you've never seen before in the lower right, just like Ralph said.

Jane Eyre.

You skim the back and read the summary: haunted mansions, an orphaned heroine, a brooding romantic lead? You decide this will be a good read for tonight in front of the fire.

You right yourself as the tinkle of the shop door sounds behind you. Something in the air changes, an electricity that you can't explain. It's like the world expands and contracts all at once and then suddenly you just know.

It's him.

"Morning Joel," Ralph says cheerfully.

"Mornin'."

The rumble of his voice is unmistakable. You'd know it even if you hadn't heard his name. That low rasp of Texas twang in the richness of his timbre. Your pulse skyrockets, the world growing quiet under the sound of your heartbeat.

Immediately you're moving to the far shelves, ducking your head and trying to regulate your breathing. Boxes are stacked at one end, meaning the odds of him sneaking up on you are minimal.

"Need help finding anything?" Ralph asks helpfully.

"Nah," Joel replies in that quiet, even way of his. "I know where the shampoo is."

His boots shuffle over the grainy floor, slow and deliberate. You haven't seen him yet which means he hasn't seen you. There's a chance you can just slip out unnoticed. You place the book on the shelf next to you beside the canned peaches. You'll come back for it tomorrow. Right now you need to get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

Despite living next door to him, in the past few months you've managed to stay off Joel's radar. After that horrible experience in his house you've gone to great lengths to avoid him. You go early to work during the week, you don't go to the movie nights anymore, you'd never been a big rider but now you don't even go near the stables.

Sometimes you might see him in the crowd during a meal but you're always able to avoid him, to duck away before his cold eyes land on you.

But here now? There are three of you in the shop. It's still early, most folks aren't even at their jobs yet.

You see the top of Joel's head over the shelving, his dark waves gliding until he finds what he's looking for in the hair care section. You catch yourself thinking of his hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his head tilted back under the water of the shower, rivulets of ---

Stop it.

"Here ya go," Ralph calls your name from the front of the shop. "All packed and ready to go."

You see Joel's head snap in your direction as your called and you press your forehead against the cool shelf in frustration. So much for getting out unseen. You take a beat, gathering your courage and your focus.

It's simple. Joel's on the other side of the shop. You'll just dart over to Ralph, grab the bag and go back to work. It's simple. You'll be fine. You won't look back.

Then you see it out of your peripherals.

Two dark brown boots stopping at the end of your aisle with a gentle scrape. You can't go backwards, the boxes behind you form a cardboard wall. The only way out is through, past the man with the wide shoulders and strong hands. Past the man who gave you so much only to immediately take it away.

He hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. You don't dare make eye contact with him. Your face flushes red, your head ducking as you shoulder past him. He makes no attempt to stand or shift back so it's easier for you. He just takes up space at the end of that aisle and you can feel him watching you maneuver past him, desperate not to touch him.

He lets you pass without issue. You think you're safe until you feel the back of his hand brushing your knuckles as you pass by. It's gentle, a ghost of a touch. You're not even sure it happened; a part of you is convinced you imagined it. But you don't slow, you don't look back, don't want to see if he's watching you.

You don't care even if he is.

Fuck him.

You mumble a thanks to Ralph, taking the heavy bag swiftly and rushing out of the shop. You're only steps away when you hear the door to the shop tinkle open and Joel's voice calling you by name.

You instinctively pause in the street, your eyes blown wide at the gravelled sound. But you don't turn to face him; you don't even tilt your head to show you've heard. But he knows you have all the same, his distinctive footfalls coming in your direction until he's standing front of you. Your eyes remain on the ground, on his boots.

He says your name again, this time softly. You didn't even realize he knew it. You refuse to look him in the eyes and decide his chin will do. He's so close you can see the spot he missed shaving just under his jaw.

He extends his full hand. "You forgot this."

You look down to see Jane Eyre, the book you'd been about to purchase, the one next to the peaches in his grip. How had he known it was yours? Your eyes swim over the cover before glancing back to his chin.

You have so much you want to say to him and none of it is kind. You want to scream at him for treating you so poorly. Want to punch him across the jaw for calling you pretty eyes and making you believe it. You want to shove and berate him until he confesses why he did it, why he went warm and then turned so cold. But you know you won't because there's a large chance you don't want to hear the answer.

He hates you. He was using you. He was fucking with you after you fucked with him.

Your hair stirs in the wind, twisting and knotting in it. You say nothing when Joel's right hand comes to touch a wayward strand, smoothing it between his fingers and if testing it. The shock of his nearness is broken by this gentle action and you take a large step backwards, your hair jerking out from between his fingers.

"That's not mine," you mumble motioning to the book.

Before he can say anything else you've turned and jogged off in the direction of your job, your heart smacking harshly against your ribs with each step.

///

In your house that evening with lace soaking in the bleach solution you pull on a sweater and pour yourself a cup of tea. When the tea is prepared you go to the fire with your teacup and a distant look on your face. You wish you had that new book but grab something else from your shelf instead.

It's the photo album, the one non necessity your mother brought with you from place to place. The only sentimental item that shows there was a time when the world wasn't on fire.

When you first got to Jackson city you looked at it every night. You spoke aloud to your favorite photograph of your mother, the one where she's laughing at the beach while the two of you build a sandcastle.

Now that it's been a few years since you arrived here you only look at it once in a while. It used to make you happy and bring you comfort when you first got here. Now when you look at the photos of your childhood all you can feel is robbed.

No prom. No college. No career as a graphic designer. No sweet sixteen party like the one you'd been planning when the world went to shit.

The day you'd come home from school to see your neighbor writhing in her front yard, tendrils peeking out of her mouth and straining for sunlight. That had been the day your mom had packed you up and . . .

You don't like to think about it. You thumb through the photos until you get to the second to last grainy image. The photograph that brings tears to your eyes and a pounding of your heart.

You close the album.

You drain your teacup; shuffle to put it in the sink. You peek at the partially submerged lace and smile. The bleach solution worked perfectly. The lace, once yellowed with age is now a beautiful white. It'll look perfect on what you've done so far with the dress.

You rinse the lace before placing it into a bowl of lukewarm water to sit in overnight and then head upstairs feeling warm but not contented.

You get to the bedroom and change into your nightdress, yawning. You feel strange, keyed up. Today has you feeling off kilter and you know it's because of your interaction with Joel Miller this morning.

You glance at the window that faces his house. It's propped open slightly to let the breeze in. You like the crisp air of Jackson city at this time of year. There is music playing faintly, The House of the Rising Sun. You draw slowly over to the window, bathed in the blue of the light. A cursory glanced tells you all the lights are off in Joel's home. He’s either asleep without turning off his record player or he’s out and left it on by accident. You’d bet money on the former.

You go to close the window when your eyes fall to something placed on the ledge of the windowsill. Your heart hammers when you realize what it is.

Jane Eyre.

The book you'd left with Joel Miller.

You frown, gripping the book and righting yourself. Still frowning you crawl under the sheets, your eyes scanning the book’s cover but not really paying attention. Joel obviously did this. Was it a message? A warning that he could enter your home at any time? Was it an apology for how he treated you?

You turn off the light, falling into a restless sleep.

Its hours later when you sense something isn't right.

There is a creak behind you and a hand is over your mouth, stilling and silencing you. Immediately you panic, flailing under the bed sheets.

"Don't scream."

Its him.

You know that if his hand wasn't over your mouth you would be. You'd be screaming shrilly in his face trying to wrench free of his grip. As it is, now that you know it's him you feel the panic subside, but only minutely.

"Don’t scream,” he repeats.

You nod, staring up at him in the darkness. He removes his large hand then he steps back, still staring down at you. You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

"What are you doing here? In my room?"

"Fair is fair," Joel counters placidly. "You broke into my place, I break into yours."

You don't know what to say to that. This whole situation is so surreal. Joel is in your bedroom, standing at the side of your bed staring down at you with that familiar, heavy gaze. His frown deepens but his irises remain unreadable in the shadows.

“Why’d you run from me this mornin’?”

You sigh, rising to a seated position in the bed, bringing the blanket up with you. You never take your eyes off Joel as you do this, and he doesn't hide the way his eyes are sliding along your body.

You motion for him to take a seat on the edge of your bed, near your feet. Instead he comes closer, sitting inches away from your hip with his right leg crooked in your direction. The bed creaks under him and you glance down at his knee, so close to you. The coverlet of your bed, a delicate pale blue, is a stark contrast against the dark stonewash of his jeans. Your eyes move from his knee back to his face.

He's waiting for you to explain with his brows raised. You swallow finding your mouth impossibly dry. After a beat you manage a shaky reply, a half shrug.

“I dunno.”

There is a cleave between you, as wide a chasm if it physically existed. You hold tight to the blankets, not releasing them. You stare at your fingers gripping the fabric tightly.

“You do so.”

He leaves the words hanging there in the semi darkness.

You make a gentle sound of surprise when his hand tugs the blanket down out of your hands. His eyes drink you in, shivering in your nightdress. Is it from the chill or from Joel's gaze? You're not sure.

"The way . . . Last time," you utter quietly. The shame of that last interlude is still a stain on your mind, a humiliation you've replayed a thousand times. "Why?"

"I couldn't control myself," Joel explains without hesitation, his gaze dipping to the collar of your nightgown. "Just like I don't think I can control myself now."

You absolutely loathe the thrill that goes through you at those words. You despise that the low rasp of his voice and the soulful eyes combine to make your entire body throb. You wonder if Joel can tell, if he can sense the way your pulse has started tripping into a gallop.

But you need to say it. Need to explain that it wasn't okay how things ended last time. You keep your eyes on the blanket between you.

"You made me feel," you search for the words, glancing from him so you can think clearly. "Used."

There is a pause, a clearing of his throat. His voice drops a bit.

"I'm not a good man."

If you thought he was looking for sympathy that belief is erased when you look to see his challenging gaze fixed on you.

You search his face, looking for doubt or for pain or for something he's trying to hide and you see it all there barely hidden in his eyes. You muse that one day you'll learn more of his secrets, but for now you're content to wait.

You'll wait for his secrets, but not for his touch. You move up onto your palms and with a short crawl you close the gap between you. He sits still, watching you approach in measured breaths.

You press your lips to the side of his neck, knowing that kissing his mouth would ruin you. It would make it so much harder if Joel turns cold again. Instead you'll enjoy the quiet groan it elicits from him vibrating against your lips.

You move back, looking at him from under your hair in a way you hope communicates that he has permission to continue. There is a moment where he looks unsure, as if he’s fighting an inner battle. But then with a low growl he pushes forward, crawling over you and pressing you back until you're lying under him, your knees pressing into his sides. His body is heavy on yours but you don't want it any other way.

He's kissing your throat, wild open mouthed things that make you keen. His hips grind against yours as he kisses and nibbles. You feel the bulge grow in his jeans and this makes you groanw wantonly. When one large hand goes to cup your breast through your flimsy nightgown you whimper.

Then he's stopped, holding himself above you and breathing raggedly.

"I'm not a good man," Joel repeats. And now you see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he looks at you.

You take his hand, still wrapped around your breast and slide it downward. He lets you do this silently, allowing you to move his wide palm down over your tummy, your pelvis and then finally . . . Over the soaking gusset of your panties.

"I don't need you to be good," you sigh.

This is all the encouragement he needs. His hand jerks your panties to the side, so desperate to continue touching you his finger begins sliding along your damp slit. It’s a short tease. You hiss as one of his fingers curls inside your cunt abruptly, the slick allowing him to slide in with ease. You jolt at the intrusion, your fingers flexing into his shoulders.

He stares down at you, your eyes creaking open to watch him. His face is neutral save for the way his dark eyes stay on your mouth. His fingers curl, coax, pleasure. His thumb taps your swollen bud and you give a strangled whimper. It feels so fucking good.

Your hand is at his belt buckle, preparing to undo it when his free hand bats yours away.

"We've done enough for me," Joel murmurs as his hands go to the waist of your panties, dragging them down slowly. They glide over your legs, the fabric leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trails down your body and is then tossed onto the floor.

You're lying back on your elbows watching this when he pushes you back into the bed. He follows you, kissing your collar with a dizzying softness. You arch as his mouth moves down your body, his hands teasing and grazing you everywhere until you feel about to unravel.

You give a ragged breath as he kisses you, just below your navel. Your skin twitches at the sensation of his facial hair rasping against the smooth flesh of your abdomen before he pulls back. Your eyes crack open to see he’s still fully dressed, not even palming himself through his jeans.

Instead he’s gripping your ankles and with a soft pull he brings you to the edge of the bed before he moves between the vee off your thighs. His eyes linger along your lower half, a tongue coming to trail the seam of his lips. His intent is clear. He's not going to stop at kissing your belly.

You draw your knees together, anxious. You're nervous. You know what he wants but you've never had a man do this before. You don't know what to expect and Joel seems to sense your hesitation. Much like your first time he's serious, all business. Warm calloused hands are on both your knees.

"Open for me."

It seems he feels most comfortable when he's in control giving orders. You can imagine that's how he survived outside the walls of Jackson City.

The blunted tips of his fingers dig into your flesh, a silent way to prompt you. You'll feel so exposed like that though, in front of Joel Miller of all people. He's so serious, so intimidating. And he's looking down at you as if he wants to consume you whole.

"Open."

His voice is a low purr, and his fingertips start to move in slow circles over your kneecap, gentle and stirring. You know you're absolutely soaked, probably dripping onto the blanket under you.

You swallow before you allow your thighs to fall open for him. His eyes dart down to your slick cunt, the trembling of your body, the way you're looking up at him with a look of fear and deep need.

You aren't expecting the almost pained look that crosses his serious features, the slack of his mouth as he hits his knees on the wood floor beside the bed.

"Fuck," Joel moans, his hands coming to grip the blanket on either side of you. "I need a taste."

Without ceremony he's gripping your thighs and moved his mouth between your legs, a flat tongue slipping between your slit. Immediately you arch back, the sensation fucking divine. Your head hits the pillow so quickly you see stars.

He holds fast to you, even when you begin to wriggle. He’s making soft groaning noises, kissing you, licking you there. You feel helpless to stop from opening your eyes and looking down the length of your body. The sight of Joel Miller between your thighs makes you moan,

You aren’t expecting Joel’s eyes to be open, fixed on your face as he tastes you. You expect him to look away, caught, but he doesn’t. If anything his gaze pierces you and he begins fucking you with his tongue. You had no idea it was possible.

You wish you could say you held out, that you were in control. But soon, too soon, you feel the warmth in your lower belly start to spread. As if he can sense it, Joel's mouth drags from your cunt to begin pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.

You give a sound that is both pleading and desperate. Joel lets out of soft rumbling chuckle that you can feel grazing against your cunt.

"So impatient," he rumbles, huffing warm air against your exposed clit.

You let out a shuddering exhale. He's holding you with one arm over your abdomen; the second snaking is way between your thighs. His fingers comes to circle your clit as his lips move back between your legs, working together to bring you to the edge. Your head falls back sharply and you try to hold yourself back from bucking into Joel's greedy mouth.

"Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body as he tastes you. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze.

"That's she is" he croons, his lips pressing sweet open mouthed kisses to your cunt. His fingers are removed and now it’s just him, his talented mouth pulling you deeper into the pleasure you can’t hide from. But it’s almost too much, the pleasure frightening you and you move to inch back from him.

His grip is steel and instead of his arm banding across your waist, he moves to your hips, holding you in place. His tongue is flicking now, causing choked noises to emit from you. Your entire body is trembling, and now Joel’s tongue laves your swollen clit.

"Give it to me," Joel groans. "I need it."

You arch up off the bed, your hands groping the blanket for purchase. You can feel yourself rocking into his mouth, your fists holding tight to the blanket on either side of you as you begin to give short, rasping cries as you stare at him.

"Give into it," Joel demands. "Come on my fucking tongue, pretty eyes."

Pretty eyes.

There it is.

You feel a cascading pleasure move through your limbs like water. Subtle at first, but then it spreads so quickly, so different than orgasms you’ve ever experienced. More potent, flooding the length of your body. The sensation is so overwhelming that you jerk at the waist, a loud wail of release echoing within your bedroom as you tremor against Joel’s waiting mouth.

You fall back, your eyes on the ceiling as you come down from your high breathing raggedly. You feel Joel’s warm hands slide down your waist, dragging along your legs until they reach your ankles. That's where they lift off, the warmth of his touch gone. Normally you would raise up, you would make some attempt at conversation. But this is Joel Miller and something tells you he doesn't care for it.

You know he won’t say goodbye. He won’t even acknowledge that he’s made you come so spectacularly you’re ruined for any future encounter. But when you finally raise your head and see your empty room you don’t feel as alone.

The book, Jane Eyre, sits on your side table.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller #fanfiction #mean!joel #joel miller x f!reader

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socialist-microwave-laser · 6 days

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hi, recently i learned from your blog about the true meaning of zionism and what it actually means to jewish people, so i dont use the word zionist anymore and now i say "pro israel people" (but is that still problematic?). ive read from a couple palestinians who expressed their frustration about being policed on using the word "zionist" and having it taken away from them, as it is what they've called their oppressors since the occupation began. and as for the pro pali circle, especially the one that im in, we all support jewish self-determination but we do not support the state of israel because it was built on the nakba. we don't want "death to the israelis" and we also believe that the state of israel needs to be dismantled because its existence is what continues to oppress the palestinians.

so i explained all this because im not exactly sure if there is any antisemitism in this line of thinking? i want to be pro pali but i dont want to be antisemitic while im at it. i wasnt sure who to ask about this but since im learning a lot from you, i hope its okay that im asking you about this. thank you

hi! i hope it's alright i took a bit gathering my thoughts on this, i wanted to make sure i had a good array of opinions to give your response the proper attention it deserves. i ran my ideas past some people and gathered some additions from them, so hopefully it's at least a start

i'm gonna put this under a cut bc i just know it'll be long. sorry in advance about all my parentheticals lmao

first, i want to mention that for palestinians specifically, i honestly don't blame them for not accounting for the wide spectrum of usage of the word zionism. zionism is an incredibly present and specific threat in their lives, even if it is a very very narrow zionism in the wider scheme of things. when you're spending all your time in fear and trying to survive oppression or trying to just keep yourself alive, you don't exactly have time for nuance. my gripe is with non-palestinians who do have the luxury to be nuanced and take a step back and learn about this sort of thing

second, don't be complacent about your circle all supporting jewish self determination. if there's anything i've learned in the last six months and five days, it's that a lot of leftist spaces, even ones that say the right things and have the right discussions, still have very antisemitic biases. a lot of leftists (at least in the circles i run in) are always going on about needing to be self-questioning, self-examining, open to accepting that they may be wrong, open to """unlearning biases""" but there's a line a mile long between talk like that and actually doing it. i don't know your community, but i can't begin to count the number of friends i've lost lately. just don't get complacent about this, please

third, some people identify using the phrase "pro-israel" to talk about being for its ideas rather than its actions (even tho that's not really the language i use). there are a lot of people (a lot of jews!!!) who love the state of israel and have been advocating against its actions and policies since day one. my rabbi gave me a list of books to read that address these other visions of a medinas yisrael that is more focused on coexistence and justice, if you're interested i can attach it.

i also want to note that "pro-israel people" includes the tel aviv protestors, who have been protesting against the government's attempt to get rid of democracy. all the organizations i list below can be called "pro-israel people" one way or another. i highly recommend just saying what you mean: "people who support the disproportionate response of the israeli government and military," "people who support the marginalization of palestinians and non-israelis in the region," that sort of thing (thank you @vhenadahls). a lot of zionists, "pro-israel people" are your comrades, and we need all the help we can get. don't alienate who you don't have to

i also want to bring up, since we're talking about the jewish definitions of things, the meaning of "israel" is also important to note here am israel – the people of israel, aka what we now call "jews" b'nei israel – the children of israel (same meaning as am israel) eretz israel – the land of israel medinas/medinat israel – the state of israel it's important to mention that in most jewish texts and prayers, "israel" tends to refer to the people. i can't speak for anybody else but i know personally when i see someone identify as "anti-israel" my brain understands it as how it's used in jewish spaces, even when i logically know they tend to mean the state. that's just a personal thing tho, idk if this is something that also happens to others

fourth, and this gets into me-being-an-anarchist territory so head's up haha. i think like "we don't support [state] bc it was built on violence"—on one hand, yes and therefore you need to apply that to all states that fit such a mold with the same amount of vigor instead of only focusing on The Jewish One (tho if you ask me, an anarchist, i would say that violence is inherent in every state, and therefore every state should be dismantled). and if we're going that route, are you going to decide what takes precedence based on number of people dying a day? total number of deaths, or number per capita? or are you going based on length of time a conflict has been going on? whatever you do, don't base it off whatever's on your timeline the most. most people have already let ukraine leave their minds, and yemen and sudan never entered it to begin with. here's the acled's conflict watchlist for the year 2024 (side note, rather wild seeing the us on this list lmao), i recommend you take a look through this and really think about where your priorities should lie, or how to even choose. it's something worth thinking about, even if/when you decide that israel/palestine is the best usage of your time/energy [link]

okay but. on the other hand. even if you do all that, what are you going to do about it? great, you believe a state is bad. how are you going to make the world better? how do we balance that with the fact that for the past 2000 years most jews have been getting kicked out of one place and the next, and the hope of zionism is that finally jews will be able to rest and live somewhere. if we're proposing the introduction of a new state apparatus, how do we accommodate that (incredibly understandable!!!) jewish generational trauma? (side note while making challah today i started listening to an audiobook of "people love dead jews" by dara horn that i think is a really good book for other reasons obvi but you may personally be interested bc it is a very good expanation for why so many jews identify as zionists) how do we create a state that doesn't depend on the subjugation of The Bad Guys? how do we ensure that palestinians, israelis, armenians, the bedouin, christians, jews, muslims, are all represented and empowered? how do we set up a framework where those groups can not only coexist, but that those who were once kicked out may have an opportunity to return?

i think a lot of people kinda see "[state] is built on violence and needs to be dismantled" and then pat themselves on the backs and say good job everyone we did it, but the more important thing is "what next?" not just "we're yelling at underpaid starbucks employees and harassing our local city council to release a statement advocating for a ceasefire" which does NOTHING politically or socially, it's just fucking performative. how are you going to personally help take the steps necessary to not only dismantle that state but also make it do that in the absence of the state there won't be a shit ton of people in fear and desperate and who don't know how to live with the people around them and without creating a power vacuum that will inevitably lead to this cycle repeating for the hundredth time since 722 BCE and the assyrian overthrow of the kingdom of israel

in the words of another friend: "“What does it mean to support ‘Jewish self-determination’ while still calling for the dismantling of Israel? Through what means, in a time where we are constricted by nation-states, could an exceptionally small and marginalized minority population that is geographically and ideologically surrounded by nations that have called for its extermination, have self-determination, which requires basic safety, if the only nation-state designed to be a safe haven for them no longer exists? Why are we starting, of all of the nations currently engaged in explicit, harmful violence against others, with this very small country as the one that must cease to exist for its crimes?”"

i'm honestly not trying to make you feel hopeless, but i also think these are important questions we all have to deal with right now. in a way, i'm lucky—i'm an advocate in this subject because i'm becoming jewish, and through encountering antisemitism and disinformation, i've become kinda forced to start doing all the research i can. others can't answer that so easily. my recommendation is finding something concrete that you can address and focus on. for me, it's become facilitating and having difficult conversations about this very thing, to help emphasize the humanity of everyone in this situation and help us hopefully learn how to live together

i recommend looking into groups like: breaking the silence – an organization focused on providing both current and former members of the idf the ability to anonymously talk about their experiences in the occupied territories b'tselem – a group to advocate for human rights in palestinian territories and to document any violations combatants for peace – coalition of ex-combatants in the israeli/palestinian conflict who have come forward to work towards ending the israeli occupation and advocating for peace in their shared land the forgiveness project – this is a uk-based group focused on using stories of both victims and perpetrators to explore alternatives to seeking revenge. i cannot beg everyone enough to please watch this discussion they hosted between pcff's rami elhanan and bassam aramin hadash – leftist political coalition working towards the establishment of a palestinian state alongside medinas yisrael, worker's rights, and much more mesarvos – young israelis refusing the idf draft parents circle families forum – organization of israelis and palestinians who have lost loved ones in this too-long conflict, focused on promoting dialogue the road to recovery – organization to take chronically ill people from gaza and the west bank to israeli hospitals so they can get treatment standing together – israeli-palestinian organization advocating for peace, equality, and social justice this is not ulpan – joint hebrew-arabic school working to break down cultural divides by first addressing the language divide zochros – organization advocating for the recognition of the nakba and instating the palestinian right to return

#tsiyyonus definition #anarchist #palestinian liberation #jumblr #jewish history #medinas yisrael #עם ישראל חי #peace activism #radical compassion

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