An anti-Semite shot a wake-up call for Jews in Baltimore.
I have close friends who live right near there.
I think it speaks to my current mental state vis-a-vis anti-semitism that I’m breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a real gun instead of being outraged at the fact that a hate crime was perpetrated against Jews on Rosh HaShanah.
yes but take a step back and realize how truly fucked that is
"yes there was a gun crime but thank god it wasn’t a real gun this time, it’s better than normal!"
it’s not normal to be shot at at your site of worship, or at all
why is this our normal
It really shouldn’t be. It really shouldn’t. But between the shootings, the property damage, the assaults, the shops refusing Jewish customers, the removal of the Kosher sections, the continued denials that anti-semitism is an issue at all… My expectations for humane treatment have been severely lowered this year. This blog’s existence is largely a product of that frustration and disappointment. I’m worried that our “normal” is going to get a hell of a lot worse before a critical mass of goyim notice or care.
We, the undersigned, do not support your lawsuit against Lisa Rabey and nina de jesus. As librarians and educators, we value open dialogue and believe the proper response to accusations of harassment is understanding and engagement. Instead, you have chosen to use legal action to silence future discussions about a critical issue in our profession and furthermore will likely prevent other victims of harassment from speaking out against their abusers.
hey. tumblr people:
can u all do me a huge favour and sign this petition?
a white cis man is suing the editor of biyuti publishing for defamation after she called him out for sexual harassment.
I love you to death, but perhaps one of you could demonstrate that your female protagonist is “strong and independent” without giving her an alpha male boyfriend to be strong at.
Hey, maybe if you want to demonstrate your lead’s strength maybe give…
Thank you for your thoughts, Madame Thursday. Bless you for being able to read so much about me in my throwaway two sentences!
As I never expected this post to gain so much traction beyond the few friends who follow me, I do encourage you to read my follow-up post, which covers my thoughts and opinions in far greater detail.
Best of wishes to you and your strong, independent girl cooties.
So you’ll write an open letter telling fantasy authors what to do with FEMALE CHARACTERS IN GENERAL in an entire genre, but they’re throw away sentences now that you don’t like the analysis that comes from them?
Gotta say, not really feeling a driving need to read anything further from you. If this is was your throwaway, I dread what your detailed opinions might be.
I love you to death, but perhaps one of you could demonstrate that your female protagonist is “strong and independent” without giving her an alpha male boyfriend to be strong at.
Hey, maybe if you want to demonstrate your lead’s strength maybe give her a career in science, engineering or IT. Just a thought.
I think it says way more about you than any book that your complaint is that this hypothetical character has a strong alpha male boyfriend that she’s “being strong AT”. Note your use of the word “at”. The same way you’d say “yell at” or “get angry at”. Or “bitch at”, even.
Then you say “giving her an alpha male boyfriend”. It’s like the idea of a male character being inserted as a prop for use by another character just because of gender bothers you or something.
We women obviously can’t relate to what THAT would feel like.
You never specify a type of assertion, an example of an interaction. No, you just went straight for the old standards. It’s clear. Sure, you want strong women, just not strong in that annoying way when women’s strength becomes an irritant to you.
You just want authors to tailor the actions and relationships of female characters so that their “strength and independence” appeal to you, a man.
Your bizarre suggestion for an occupation shows that you just want back into your misogynistic comfort zone. STEM fields are by and large, as you cannot help but know, overwhelmingly male dominated. Even in pockets where there’s more even distribution, men still dominate in leadership, recognition, and pay. Her strength and independence are contained and channeled. Even at her most extraordinary, she’s a blip, an exception. She can go put on a sexy lab coat and be sexy at microscopes and not men, so you’ll be more comfortable.
A woman in a job that’s male-dominated isn’t stronger or better. Yes, it takes a lot to deal with it, but it takes a lot to deal with ALL the jobs that women do. Every from sex worker to nurse to stay at home caretaker to artist to teacher and beyond. That’s the magic of misogyny in all it’s forms. It makes every woman’s existence harder in some way.
So implying that a male-dominated occupation is a sign of strength is a way of saying that femininity is inferior and weaker. It’s saying it’s better if a woman is as distant from other women as possible.
In short, a woman’s occupation says nothing about her strength or weakness, but a man’s attitude concerning the matter says EVERYTHING about his.
No Love but All My Strong and Independent Girl Cooties,
A couple of years ago, when I was newly pregnant and reporting in the West Bank, some of my local colleagues insisted that I skip covering a protest at an Israeli checkpoint. At first, I was resistant to letting pregnancy stand in the way of my work, but they knew from experience that there might be tear gas, and tear gas, they said, causes miscarriages.
They were right: though rigorous studies are few, there is evidence that tear gas is an abortifacient. In 2011, Chile temporarily suspended its use after a University of Chile studylinked it to miscarriage and fetal harm. Investigating the use of tear gas in Bahrain in 2012, Physicians for Human Rights found that local doctors were reporting increased numbers of miscarriages in exposed areas. And UN officials have connected tear gas to miscarriages in the Palestinian territories.
This means it’s likely that police in Ferguson, Missouri, have been spraying abortion-causing chemicals on crowds of civilians. Recently at TheNation.com, Dani McClain wrote about the killing of black youth as a reproductive justice issue, one that goes to the heart of the rights of parents to raise their children in peace, safety and dignity. She’s correct, of course, but if the anti-abortion movement were actually concerned about the well-being of the unborn, then the violence in Ferguson would be a pro-life issue as well.
I used to investigate child abuse and neglect. I can tell you how to stop the vast majority of abortion in the world.
First, make knowledge and access to contraception widely available. Start teaching kids before they hit puberty. Teach them about domestic violence and coercion, and teach them not to coerce and rape. Create a strong, loving community where women and girls feel safe and supported in times of need. Because guess what? They aren’t. You know what happens to babies born under such circumstances? They get hurt, unnecessarily. They get sick, unnecessarily. They get removed from parents who love them but who are unprepared for the burden of a child. Resources? Honey, we try. There aren’t enough resources anywhere. There are waiting lists, and promises, and maybes. If the government itself can’t hook people up, what makes you think an impoverished single mom can handle it?
Abolish poverty. Do you have any idea how much childcare costs? Daycare can cost as much or more than monthly rent. They may be inadequately staffed. Getting a private nanny is a nice idea, but they don’t come cheap either. Relatives? Do they own a car? Does the bus run at the right times? Do they have jobs of their own they need to work just to keep the lights on? Are they going to stick around until you get off you convenience store shift at 4 AM? Do they have criminal histories that will make them unsuitable as caregivers when CPS pokes around? You gonna pay for that? Who’s going to pay for that?
End rape. I know your type errs on the side of blaming the woman, but I’ve seen little girls who’ve barely gotten their periods pregnant because somebody thought raping preteens was an awesome idea. You want to put a child through that? Or someone with a mental or physical inability for whom pregnancy would be frightening, painful or even life-threatening? I’ve seen nonverbal kids who had their feet sliced up by caregivers for no fucking reason at all, you think sexual abuse doesn’t happen either?
You say there’s lots of couples who want to adopt. Kiddo, what they want to adopt are healthy white babies, preferably untainted by the wombs and genetics of women with alcohol or drug dependencies. I’ve seen the kids they don’t want, who almost no one wants. You people focus only on the happy pink babies, the gigglers, the ones who grow and grow with no trouble. Those are not the kids who linger in foster care. Those are certainly not the older kids and teenagers who age out of foster care and then are thrown out in the streets, usually with an array of medical and mental health issues. Are they too old to count?
And yeah, I’ve seen the babies, little hand-sized things barely clinging to life. There’s no glory, no wonder there. There is no wonder in a pregnant woman with five dollars to her name, so deep in depression you wonder if she’ll be alive in a week. Therapy costs money. Medicine costs money. Food, clothes, electricity cost money. Government assistance is a pittance; poverty drives women and girls into situations where they are forced to rely on people who abuse them to survive. (I’ve been up in more hospitals than I can count.)
In each and every dark pit of desperation, I have never seen a pro-lifer. I ain’t never seen them babysitting, scrubbing floors, bringing over goods, handing mom $50 bucks a month or driving her to the pediatrician. I ain’t never seen them sitting up for hours with an autistic child who screams and rages so his mother can get some sleep while she rests up from working 14-hour days. I don’t see them fixing leaks in rundown houses or playing with a kid while the police prepare to interview her about her sexual abuse. They’re not paying for the funerals of babies and children who died after birth, when they truly do become independent organisms. And the crazy thing is they think they’ve already done their job, because the child was born!
Aphids give birth, girl. It’s no miracle. You want to speak for the weak? Get off your high horse and get your hands dirty helping the poor, the isolated, the ill and mentally ill women and mothers and their children who already breathe the dirty air. You are doing nothing, absolutely nothing, for children. You don’t have a flea’s comprehension of injustice. You are not doing shit for life until you get in there and fight that darkness. Until you understand that abortion is salvation in a world like ours. Does that sound too hard? Do you really think suffering post-birth is more permissible, less worthy of outrage?
“Pro-life” is simply a philosophy in which the only life worth saving is the one that can be saved by punishing a woman.
For two years now, I have suffered from steadily worsening back pain and mobility issues. Chronic pain. This pain isn’t just about some discomfort. It is about the kind of pain that will make me physically ill. You see, if I walk for more than a short distance or so, my back begins to hurt and the muscles lock up. They lock up until I have very little balance, I’m shaking, and the length of my stride has to short. If I do this for too long, between the pain and the inability to move, I have to sit or lie down.
Let us be clear. Yes. I am obese. People seem to think that I don’t know this, as if obesity also causes your eyeballs to malfunction so you can’t see it. People also seem to think that if you’re obese you’re obviously only that way because the Gospel of Health has not been preached to you, that if you would stop eating Bad Foods and start Doing Exercise, you would cease to be obese and join the multitudes of the virtuous thin.
Doctors apparently think that we obese people are, across the board, so incapable of understanding things like facial expressions and tone that we don’t know when a doctor is telling us something because they believe we are doing wrong. Wrong. Not something that’s simply unsuccessful. Something wrong for which punishment and correction are called for.
We obese people know when our doctor feels that it is an insult that they should have to treat us when we obviously, in their view, should be left to endure the consequences of the poor choices that made us obese. Because we obviously MADE ourselves obese, we constructed our bodies into these fat shapes because when presented every day with clear, easy choices, we simply said “cake!” and “pizza!” and “no I think I’ll watch TV for twenty hours”.
You can imagine how this makes everything from going to a grocery store to wanting to go out and do fun things with friends difficult to impossible. Suddenly, I can’t say “it’s just three blocks from here, let’s walk it”. I used to be able to. Then some time in 2012, very suddenly, I couldn’t.
I have sought treatment from three separate doctors. The first took me seriously enough that he prescribed physical therapy (12 sessions) and then twice injected steroids into my back. The relief I got from these was temporary and minimal.
During this time, I had to deal with other issues. Namely that my mental health collapsed entirely and I was quite literally fighting for my life against constant suicidal ideation and the urge to self harm.
When I finally had that issue under control, I resolved to continue to find a way to make my back better or find some kind of solution (or at least a reason why!). You see, for me the issues of mobility and pain are not just physical. They are also mental and psychiatric. My mental state is greatly improved when I’m able to move the way I need and like to. When I didn’t have these issues, I got a lot of benefit personally from my morning walks and it gave me a kind of boost, it helped me stay more focused and clear headed. It did good things for my brain chemistry and in New York City, a place made for walking, you could go anywhere. Working in Manhattan, I loved that at lunch I could pop over to Madison Square Park and do laps and see the art installations or write or draw and know I could walk back to work with time to spare.
When we moved and walking outdoors was not an option, the gym in our apartment complex did just fine. The place had a view of the pool and some nice trees and being able to sort of let myself enjoy that view and listen to music was nice. I liked challenging myself to see if I could go for longer and longer at higher speeds. And when I could do these things, I had a lot less problems. They by no means cured me, but in my case they did take the edge off because it became not only exercise, but a kind of meditative state I could get into.
Worse yet were things taken from me. Going to the botanic gardens and spending hours, taking pictures. I’d always wanted to go with my sketch book and water colors and try to paint what I saw. The Ren Faire that I’d loved so much, walking around all day in the autumn in a place that looked kind of magical, the Scottish festival and the big lush green grass of the late spring, the bagpipes and watching grown men throw logs. Walking to hockey games and being able to walk through the stadium.
Having that gone felt like being robbed. I thought “is there really a point to me continuing to live anymore? What joy do I have now?”
I have had to fight tooth and nail against such thoughts, I have had to invent joy to have. I have been diligent, I have had times when I saw my therapist once a week, when I stuck close to my psychiatrist so we could adjust dosage until I was better.
Suffice to say, being able to move is a matter of survival for me.
I went to a doctor at a fairly big name orthopedic clinic here in Charlotte. He concentrated most on telling me that he could not prescribe narcotics on the first visit. He took an x-ray and seeing nothing wrong with my back from that point of view, gave me a photocopied page of stretches to do and told me to take Tylenol.
I was greatly disheartened. It took me a long time to get up the courage to try again, and I got a recommendation from, of all people, my therapist who had a friend who said a certain doctor was the man to see.
I got up my nerve, made an appointment.
The first appointment seemed to go well. I had a copy of the MRI taken of my back in April and he pointed to an area and said there was fluid build up or a cyst and said “you have a legitimate reason to be in discomfort”. He said that since it had been months since that MRI, he wanted to get another to see what was going on.
I left thinking, “Yes, thank you. Finally. Finally. Someone who’s gonna help me get to the bottom of this so I can get to where I need to be, so I can get moving again.” He talked, making it clear that we’d need to see what the latest MRI showed, about perhaps a shot or even perhaps going in surgically. I wasn’t jumping for joy, and back surgery is a very serious matter but at least it was a path. It was the hope that we could come up with a plan and stick to it.
Then I went for the MRI, and the results were forwarded to him.
He sat down and one of the first things he said was that he had a patient who had my same back problems. Then he added, “But she’s 20 years old than you.” My heart sank. I know a jab like that when I hear it. I know this was calculated to engender shame in me. I have been told all my life that if I have a problem that people only associate with older people, it is obviously a sign that I am making poor choices, that I’m not living my life correctly, that I have no right to have such a problem and expect to be treated for it, or at least not treated with any kindness.
He then said that the MRI showed my back was completely normal, and that this was good news. I looked at him and at the piece of paper that looked photocopied ten times over that said my back (this back that has been the bane of my existence!) was normal.
I felt stricken and asked what we were going to do.
And then that’s when he went right for my weight like a fat seeking missile. He said merely, “You’ve gotta take the weight off” and he said it as if he were lecturing me and telling me that I had to stop causing my own pain. I felt immediately judged, as if any of the validation that my pain was real and worth treating was completely gone.
A breath after that, he suggested bariatric surgery. I grew terrified. The very idea of it terrifies me on a visceral level. It is a mutilation of the digestive system. It is a surgery. It is people cutting on me, cutting inside of me. It is also a world of invasion by people who require you to prove for six months that diet and exercise don’t work, a psychiatric exam, and an amount of money that we cannot afford right now. We can barely afford for me to go to doctor’s visits because even the co-pays build up.
I immediately told him that I was not a candidate for bariatric surgery because of medications I take. Wellbutrin, for instance, is not something you’d want to take if you are going to be at risk of throwing up a lot. Wellbutrin is currently saving my life.
And because of my psychiatric history. I self harm and not just by cutting, I have issues around food stemming from the fact that it was used abusively against me from the time I was a young child. If by some miracle I got through the gatekeeping and could afford it, I would self harm. Because in the past I have gone through long periods of making myself throw up both after binging and sometimes as a method of self-soothing (odd as it sounds). I would also, possibly, have even more anxiety around food than I do. It also worries me that I might turn to abusing alcohol, deciding to forego food and simply drink my calories because at least after drinking alcohol, I don’t feel anxious.
I asked what I was supposed to do. He told me that I needed to exercise. I think that’s where I started inwardly shaking and not knowing whether to be angry or in profound despair. I think both. It seemed he didn’t get the inherent contradiction and that he was making even that (which I didn’t want anyway) impossible. How can I become a candidate, a thing that requires exercise, if you’re not helping me to regain mobility?
My entire problem was not being able to exercise and move and walk! He suggested a treadmill to me, an exercise bike, an elliptical machine. As he said that I thought “but I have to stand and walk or stand and move for those two and the bike doesn’t help, I’ll be seated! I don’t need help being seated, I need help standing and walking!”
I just kept thinking of the humiliation of having to go find an elliptical machine in a gym and getting on it knowing that at best, I would be able to do a couple of minutes before stopping because if I pushed harder, that would make further activity for the rest of the day out of the question. It’s like having a bad battery that drains quickly. You can use it on that or you can use it to go the store and walk your dog, which do you need more?
He then said he was going to write me a prescription for exercising/therapy in water. At first I thought that might help, but as he went on and on about how I needed to be in a pool because I’m so heavy and that I need to feel like I’m less than I weight, because my body is so big. I could not have missed the disdain and disgust in his face if I tried. He spoke of me as if my body was this tub of lard that had to be temporarily lifted from me.
I knew that he was only prescribing it because of my weight. I knew in my heart that he would have prescribed conventional physical therapy to a thin patient. I pictured myself in a pool, in a bathing suit (a thing that I despise being in), with some therapist telling moving my limbs very slowly or telling me to walk laps. I pictured having to shell out co pay after co pay after co pay for this aquatic farce. And for what? How is anything I do in water going to help the problems I’m having on land.
I honestly felt like I’d just been called a whale. I let him know that there was no need to write the prescription, we couldn’t afford it anyway.
Then, when I asked about the pain issues, he shrugged. He said that some people just have to endure. Then he said (and for some reason I remember the gestures he made with his hands): “you need to normalize you pain” and “make it part of your every day life.”.
I think that’s where I lost it. I’ve been normalizing my pain my entire life. Physical, mental, emotional, psychological. It’s been a part of my every day life for a while now, especially this particular pain. I work around it when I can, through it when there’s no other option. It tires me to the point that I honestly consider death. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I feel as if I am an animal who has, by virtue of being in so much pain for so long and losing so much function, earned the right to have a compassionate owner put them down because it is cruel to leave them alive.
Normalizing pain is what has gotten me to this point.
I cried. I burst into tears and I honestly don’t think this doctor understood why. I think it annoyed him and I think he just wanted to get out of the room. He said he wanted to see me again in six weeks.
I looked at him and very nearly asked, “Why?” What would he want with me in six weeks? If my back still hurt, what was he going to do? Tell me to exercise in a deeper pool, give me another photocopied sheet of exercises?
Help me make rent as I finish job seeking after cancer recovery.
I’m sorry I’m asking for more money… but sigh. this recovery took longer than I thought and so has job hunting. If you got anything you can kick in, or pass along to people who can kick in, thank you so much!
Because of financial and medical troubles as of late, I’m getting ready to try to sell some of my clothes online that are gently used and many that aren’t the right size for me anymore. I was wondering if anyone had done that and what methods worked best for them as I have a lot of things I’m selling.
The sizes will range from 18/18W to 26/26W (US), and include jeans, slacks, tops, blouses, sweaters, and dresses.
What would be the best way to go about listing them and making them easy for people to buy? I don’t plan to ask too much, just shipping and probably $5-$45 based on the item.
Here are 13 figures that illustrate how bad health care access for women of color in our country really is.
136%. How much America’s maternal mortality rate has increased between 1990 and 2013.
Colorlinesreports that the United States jumped from a rate of 12 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births to 28 per 100,000 — all in the span of 23 years. That’s twice the rate of Saudi Arabia, and three times that of the United Kingdom. The primary reason cited is a lack of access to quality insurance and adequate medical resources.
3-4. The number of times higher the national maternal mortality rate is for black women than white women. This figure has held relatively steady for the past 40 years, according to the CRR report.
94. The number of black maternal deaths per 100,000 live births in Fulton County, Ga., which includes the city of Atlanta.
That’s more than three times the national average. The rate for white women in the same county is “essentially zero,” according to Colorlines, i.e., “too insignificant to report.”
77%. How much higher the maternal mortality rate is in states with higher populations of people living below the poverty line, when compared to states with smaller impoverished populations, according to Colorlines (citing a 2010 Amnesty International report).
Low-income populations in the U.S. are disproportionately made up of black, Latina and Native American women. The report claims these disparities are especially apparent in Southern states with high black and Latino populations, namely parts of Georgia, Mississippi and Texas.
1. The number of clinics in the state of Mississippi that provide abortions. Mississippi’s population is 37.4% black and nearly 25% poor — significantly higher than the national average for both categories.
19. The number of states (including almost all in the South) that have opted out of Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act. Needless to say, this is disturbing: Expanding Medicaid would allow for unprecedented access to affordable contraception for low-income women, and women of color in particular.
This is important for one key reason: Contraception is not only a vital component of effective family planning, but according to some, a proven means of combating poverty.
72%. The percent decrease in women receiving health care services in Texas’ Rio Grande Valley over the past few years, Colorlines reports. The region has recently become “ground zero” for America’s ongoing debate around treatment of immigrants without documents for the U.S., originating primarily in Mexico and Central America.
70%. How much greater the likelihood thatan immigrant woman of reproductive age will lack health insurance, as compared to her U.S.-born peers. This figure has a clear racial bent: Most immigrants to the U.S. come from either Mexico or Asia.
5. The number of years immigrants must wait before they’re eligible for Medicaid under federal law. Texas, home to the nation’s second largest Latino population, makes them wait even longer, according to Colorlines.
1 in 3. How many Native American women will be sexually assaulted or raped in their lifetime, according to the Center for American Progress. That’s 3.5 times higher than any other racial group. An added problem hereis that federally funded health care facilities on reservations — where about 30% of Native Americans live — lack the capacity to treat and care for victims: CAP reports that women often must travel hundreds of miles just to receive a rape kit and STI screening.
35.1. The number of new black female AIDS cases per 100,000 women age 13 and over in 2009, according to a 2011 National Healthcare Quality and Disparities Report. Compare that to 7.9 casesfor Hispanic women and 1.5 for white women.
66%. The percentage of new female HIV cases nationwide which black women comprise. Forbesreports that HIV/AIDS is now the leading cause of death among black women age 25-34.
4.3. The cervical cancer death rate per 100,000 among black women nationwide — twice the rate for white women. The difference is so stark it has attracted the attention ofresearchers, who examined the disparity by focusing on the state of Maryland and published their findings in PLOS ONE health journal.
Among their troubling discoveries: Between 1999 and 2008, black women were far more likely to receive radiation or chemotherapy as their only form of treatment, regardless of their stage of cancer. White women, on the other hand, were significantly more likely to receive “multi-modality treatment,” incorporating surgery, chemo and radiation, andresulting in higher survival rates.
Researchers concluded the disparity is rooted in a few key factors. Oneis the lack of health care access for black women; the other is a deliberately discriminatory approach to treatment from medical practitioners.
The takeaway: The next time someone tells you we have a functioning and equitable health care system in America, show them these numbers. Any nation that claims medical equality but allows factors like race and gender, compounded by corresponding issues like poverty, politics and legal access, to prevent specific groups of people from healing is nothing short of hypocritical.
I Asked my 9 year old cousin Emma if she wanted to be on the phone with me when she watched DW tonight. She’s only allowed to stay up late when DW is on - it’s on an hour later here in Denmark, timezones yo. (she has watched all episodes in the past year and I introduced her yay!)
But her response broke my heart:
"no he’s making fun of Clara. She’s not fat, mom says. He’s not nice. I don’t like it anymore."
Her mom then told me Emma had asked her if ‘she was big and had big hips? and if the doctor wouldn’t like her either?’
Her mom said “but the doctor loves Clara!”
she then simply responded “no, that’s not how you treat friends. I would be told off in school if I did that.”
and that’s basically all have to say. My almost 9 year old’s biggest hero has made her feel fat. Please, Moffat, can’t you write one single episode without making sexist jokes. Please. Please.
Quitting Doctor Who was the best decision
I also just can’t help but thinking of all the fat girls out there watching DW who are normalizing this, who are thinking that “okay, if a guy supposedly loves me, then it’s okay if he makes jokes and disparaging remarks about my body, because he loves me and I should feel lucky just to be chosen.”
I’m just thinking of the kids who will that that 9-year-old’s good senses and instincts scraped out of them by the time they’re teenagers.
Seriously, OP, you tell your niece to never distrust herself when it comes to things like these. You tell her that she’s right. And that if something feels mean and cruel and bad, she is a freaking champ for knowing that and saying so. Nurture that in her. Any girl who can make it to adulthood with that inner compass still intact is a miracle.
God, could Moffat make it any clearer that he despises any children that aren’t white middle to upper class boys?
it is very important that you do not tag pictures of me with “body image” because that’s pretty shitty and rude to me and really triggering. if you gotta tag for something, which is honestly reasonable, why not tag “bodies” so you don’t imply that my marginalized body is inherently triggering
"body image" is something that should be used to tag discussions about body image, NOT to label marginalized bodies as hurtful
petition for Taraji P Henson, Lucy Liu, Kerry Washington, Nicole Beharie and Rutina Wesley play either a coven of modern day witches or a team of deadly bad ass assassins. either scenario would work for me tbqh
Or deadly badass assassins who are witches.
SOMEBODY MAKE THIS A TV SHOW RIGHT NOW. I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND. RIGHT NOW. TV SHOW. MAKE IT HAPPEN.
How Trayvon Martin can be killed for walking back to his crib for wearing a hoodie, but 200-300 white kids can break into a black Ex- NFL players vacation home and cause $20,000+, and none of them get arrested? On the contrary, the parents of said kids threaten to sue him for posting the pictures that their kids posted on twitter and IG? That is the America we live in. Marinate on that.
Right now I’m having tremendous pain and mobility issues because of my back. I still don’t even know what the problem is. I just know if I walk more than a certain amount, my back starts to hurt and tighten up progressively until I have bad balance, I am shaking, sweating, and have to take smaller and smaller steps until I can’t.
Sitting and laying down are fine. This is only a problem with standing or walking.
I have had very, very bad luck with the most recent doctor. He zoned in on my weight, kept repeating that I needed to “take off the weight and exercise”. His suggestions were to exercise in a pool and use a treadmill, exercise bike, or elliptical trainer. He did not address any of my concerns that those things are not feasible for me right now because of the pain that eventually restricts all movement if I push too hard.
When I asked how to cope with the pain and the inability to move, he said: “you need to normalize your pain” and “make it part of your every day life”.
I was wondering if anyone else who’d been in this kind of situation had any ideas about what to do as far as mobility limitations and pain relief. Has anyone found that any kind of back brace or a cane works? Or any kind of natural remedies or anything else?
I’m just really getting desperate and it is affecting my health in such a way that I am fighting hard against urges to self-harm and/or commit suicide because I am terrified of never being free of this pain, of never being able to get any mobility back.
I’m real tired of seeing skinny white kids painted as THE AVERAGE QUEER. Like please show me a curvy Indian agender kid from Brooklyn, a hispanic lesbian and her black girlfriend. A trans demisexual dude from Korea. GIVE ME SOMETHING OTHER THAN LANKY PALE PEOPLE WITH COLORFUL HAIR PLEASE GOD.