Photoset with 11 notes
My sister’s cat died a few days ago. It was a sudden, and very sad death, and it has been tough trying to get things back on track.
I have never been so sad losing an animal before. It kind of threw me through a loop, really. I am really going to miss Squish, and I do already. The worst part though, is knowing just how much her absence is hurting my sister. They were such good friends, such a good team. More than most people and their companions, Stacy and Squish deserved each other. She waited for years to find the right cat, and it was Squish. They only had a year together, but it was such a good year. I can’t stop thinking about my sister’s pain right now.
Losing Squish affected a lot of people, she was an important cat. In my back yard, we spent 2 days burning charcoal on the ground, and digging up the dirt that thawed. On the second night we wrapped her up in her towels, pet her for the last time, and sealed her up in her coffin. We buried her at around 10PM with some friends and some fire.
I never really imagined having a funeral for a cat, and that wasn’t what we intended, really. But we organically got together, and ended up spending two days digging, burning, eating, drinking, crying, and saying goodbye. For her it just happened.
Today I saw a picture of Squish, and instead of getting sad, I felt happy for a second. I just hope that can happen for my sister soon.
Rest in power, Squishy.
When [an abusive man] tells me that he became abusive because he lost control of himself, I ask him why he didn’t do something even worse. For example, I might say, “You called her a fucking whore, you grabbed the phone out of her hand and whipped it across the room, and then you gave her a shove and she fell down. There she was at your feet where it would have been easy to kick her in the head. Now, you have just finished telling me that you were ‘totally out of control’ at that time, but you didn’t kick her. What stopped you?” And the client can always give me a reason. Here are some common explanations:
"I wouldn’t want to cause her a serious injury."
“I realized one of the children was watching.”
“I was afraid someone would call the police.”
“I could kill her if I did that.”
“The fight was getting loud, and I was afraid the neighbors would hear.”
And the most frequent response of all:
"Jesus, I wouldn’t do that. I would never do something like that to her.”
The response that I almost never heard — I remember hearing it twice in the fifteen years — was: “I don’t know.”
These ready answers strip the cover off of my clients’ loss of control excuse. While a man is on an abusive rampage, verbally or physically, his mind maintains awareness of a number of questions: “Am I doing something that other people could find out about, so it could make me look bad? Am I doing anything that could get me in legal trouble? Could I get hurt myself? Am I doing anything that I myself consider too cruel, gross, or violent?”
A critical insight seeped into me from working with my first few dozen clients: An abuser almost never does anything that he himself considers morally unacceptable. He may hide what he does because he thinks other people would disagree with it, but he feels justified inside. I can’t remember a client ever having said to me: “There’s no way I can defend what I did. It was just totally wrong.” He invariably has a reason that he considers good enough. In short, an abuser’s core problem is that he has a distorted sense of right and wrong.
I sometimes ask my clients the following question: “How many of you have ever felt angry enough at youer mother to get the urge to call her a bitch?” Typically half or more of the group members raise their hands. Then I ask, “How many of you have ever acted on that urge?” All the hands fly down, and the men cast appalled gazes on me, as if I had just asked whether they sell drugs outside elementary schools. So then I ask, “Well, why haven’t you?” The same answer shoots out from the men each time I do this exercise: “But you can’t treat your mother like that, no matter how angry you are! You just don’t do that!”
The unspoken remainder of this statement, which we can fill in for my clients, is: “But you can treat your wife or girlfriend like that, as long as you have a good enough reason. That’s different.” In other words, the abuser’s problem lies above all in his belief that controlling or abusing his female partner is justifiable….
"Natives Rule The World" in red paint on a statue commemorating the fur trader.
This is could be the best graffiti we ever get to share with you.
Do not read fur trade or even first contact, this is a statue commemorating JUST the fur trader. Likely the most exploitative and destructive ‘profession’ in Canadian history, all while depicting a nameless First Nations person.
"This sculpture commemorating the fur trade is one of the most visible representations of a First Nations person downtown. The artist "just created the Indian," says Lewis Cardinal, rather than honouring an aboriginal leader"
Edmonton is on stolen land and this statue commemorates that history in the heart of downtown, right by city hall.
Note: We did our best to try and concisely summarize our interpretation of the politics and context around this graffiti along with some links. If you have a correction, more information or an insight into this graffiti please share it in the notes.
Don’t fucking kid yourself.
By Spencer Evans.
Post with 3 notes
Trigger warning: sexual assault, abuse, family violence
Jesus Christ, the decision not to talk to my brother is reaffirmed every time his presence re-surfaces on the Internet. I guess he is calling himself, [offensive name deleted so my blog is less google-able] now, so that is a thing, Jesus.
Regardless of this (and, pardon me while some bitterness comes up), I am still the bad guy in this situation. Forever. And, “But he is family” and, “He just bullied you, that is what siblings do. It wasn’t that bad” and, “It would be a lot easier if we could all do Christmas together next year”.
I just have to remember [offensive rape joke name]the next time the family starts to wear me down, and my resolve to stand up for myself will be as strong as ever. Because, really? Really. “He has changed this time”? “Going to prison was the kick he needed to turn his life around”? That’s strange, because I thought that his attitude and actions towards other people were what caused him to go to prison. The name he just chose for himself is a shitty rape joke that he wears with pride, because it’s funny to him.
Other people, their feelings, their safety, their lives, have always been funny to him. Pain has always been a joke. I am not kidding myself for one second by thinking that he wouldn’t treat me the same way that he treats his partners, the same way that gets him sent to prison, the same way he treated his 16 year old girlfriend who pressed charges, the same way he treated her friend who warned her about him who also pressed charges, if I ever gave him a chance again. Been there, done that. But when the truth about it finally came out, “it was just bullying”.
Aaaaand I totally get it. I get why it bums my parents out that I can’t deal with him and his abuse anymore. But it’s not my problem (…right?), I’m not a punching bag (I don’t think…).
…Right? Or maybe this is just another brief moment of fire, I get those. But how is it OK that the people closest to us get to treat us like this?And that finally saying, “NO” causes so much stress, and heartache. How is it that I am over-reacting? If he were anyone else my family would be begging me to never speak to him again, to change my phone number, to be careful, to look out, to watch out for myself.
Just remind me of this if I ever say that I am going to cave, be in the same room as him, accept him. Remind me of this next Christmas, OK?
I didn’t even know if I should put a trigger warning, this garbage is just something I deal with every day. It never feels like something that happened, it is just something that is. It never ends.
Edit: Re-reading this post, I should clarify: My brother did not go to prison for sexual assault, nor has he sexually assaulted anyone that I know of. His name is the sexual assault that I put the trigger warning up for, and his attitude towards people, especially women. He is extremely physically abusive however, is very violent, and dangerous. That is the abuse I am talking about.
Today I have had to say goodbye to somebody who was both a mentor and an inspiration to me in every aspect of my life. I feel completely dumbfounded, and I hope its not glib of me to say a few words about somebody who was one of the best friends I’ve ever known without ever really knowing him at all. This is somebody who has without a doubt left and indelible mark on my life and there are so many things I wish I could have said and done. I have never lost anybody close to me ever before so just please excuse this but this was a man who was in his prime and that I loved so fucking deeply as a human being and an artist and he is dead now and I just don’t know how to make sense of anything now.
Dave, you always stood as shining example of somebody unafraid to really be a human being and do the things that make you feel good and to give everything you you could in your endeavors, to share your thoughts and skills with those around you, whether as an artist or just as fucking good friend. There are so many things left I feel are left unsaid and it really eats me up inside that the closeness we found when I was much younger (going on ten years) was never regained in these last few years. Since reading Hesse’s Demian I often think back to those people in my life who bore the Mark of Cain and who I was lucky to cross paths with in ways that were meaningful and enriching, fleeting though they sometimes are. I suppose some things just get left too long to come to fruition. I always dreamed of being in my ‘dream band’ with you. I will never forget you. I love you David Finkelman, and I will see you on the astral planes. To all of my friends, I offer my deep condolences and assure you I am suffering this loss there along side you.
Dave, you put this song on a mixtape for me six years ago and it changed alot of things for me. And above all I always felt it possessed a great deal of tragedy, as much of New Order’s early material, no doubt the sound of a group of young people losing a great mind of their generation far too early.
Dave was a great human and a seriously real person. It’s been over 4 years since I last saw him (in Edmonton when he walked into the room at CJSR during my visit to the Bringin’ It Down show), and about 2 years since I’ve even been in touch with him, but I’ve always respected him and the impacts he had on me during my (our) formative years were always for the better. Our most recent exchanges were just buying records off of each other a couple times, but hosting his band twice, some great internet shenanigans, and listening to his show on CJSR from time to time are memories I’ll always be fond of.
My heart goes out to everyone in Edmonton and beyond left hurting today. I really did not know Dave well at all, but it has always been clear that he had a huge impact on a lot of people. So many people in my thoughts right now.
An open letter to the ‘nice guy’ who tried to hit me because I stopped him from taking home a drunk girl who was begging him to leave her alone (or: why you should never ask a poet if she’s really an ugly cocksucker or if that’s just her day job):
The thing is, everyone assumes that by taking away our rights, you make us weak.
In reality, just the opposite occurs. We are used to the sling of insults - there is nothing you can say that hasn’t already been said to me. We are used constantly being on the outlook for our aggressor - so yes, I can spot an asshole from across the room and it’s because I often have to.
The thing is: you are making our skins thicker and our spines stronger than anyone who doesn’t have to put up with the shit that we do. We are the same generation that can wear pretty dresses and cut up your corpse in the same moment: because trust me, we know how to get blood out of our clothing.
You think women are little helpless flowers but I know at least a quarter of my lady friends with self-defense classes under their belts, at least half who can fight their way out of a chokehold with nothing but their carkeys like daggers in their fists, at least three-fourths who are so used to any kind of slur you can throw at them that they have four witty comebacks just resting on their backburners, and all of them - all of them - are baptized in the fire of another person’s violation, whether verbal or otherwise. You are not making the submissive housewives or the shy secretaries of your wet dreams. You have made dragons.
You have made mothers with sharp teeth who can balance eight different tasks and still remember your favorite dinner. You have made CEOs who do better work because they’re used to being told they’re sub-par. You are making artists and poets and musicians who’ve seen the dark in the world. You are making social justice warriors - I use this not as a defamation but as a banner, as the way they brand themselves because it is a battle, isn’t it, and nobody’s come out without their share of scars - you are making a generation of caustically beautiful ladies who have seen more shit by six a.m. than you have all your life and they still walk better in heels than you do in your boat shoes.
We do not invite your ‘nice guy’ into our beds, you’re right, because the nice guys of our lives have been our fathers asking us if we ‘are really going out in that,’ have been our best friend telling us that his girlfriend should give up sex because he’s paid for dinner, have been our uncles and brothers and the great gentlemen who hang out of their cars and laugh when the thirteen-year-old they just honked at jumps and looks terrified (but should totally accept the compliment as if it was a gift instead of the moment she recognizes she’s never going to be safe) -
you wanna know why we don’t let nice men into our beds? Because we rarely find them.
They’re out there, I know it, but they’re not the ones wetting themselves when a woman asks ‘why do you think that?’ instead of sitting back and letting him laugh with his buddies about femi-nazis. They’re out there and they’re probably as pissed as we are that at least one third of their population has openly admitted there are times when they think it’s okay to force their significant other to have sex: they’re out there, and the sad thing is, if you’re a male, you’re statistically not one of them. As far as we know, you don’t exist. You are a white knight only you believe in.
Here’s the thing about forcing people down: eventually they’re going to get strong enough to push right on back, and when you’ve spent the whole time sitting on your ass sinking your teeth into your healthy wage gap, you’re not going to be ready for it.
You’ve hurt us, over and over. When the time comes for us to hurt back, do you know how many of us are going to ask ‘Where was the mercy when I was begging like he is now? Where was that mercy when I got pregnant? Where was that mercy when I was called selfish for being a single parent? Where was that mercy when he forced himself on me? Where was that mercy, in anything?’
The thing about oppression is that it can only last for so long. You are not making yourself dominant, you’re making yourself weak. I’ve seen men crumble because they feel uncomfortable when they get hit on by other men as if the stench of their own mistakes is strangling them. I’ve seen them get impassioned because a teacher preferred females and I’ve laughed because I had eight other classes where it was reversed and in all of those eight, it went uncontested. I have legitimately punched a boy who said that a show for girls was shameful because it tries to teach lessons instead of catering to his desire for sex - as if just by liking something, he owns it. I’ve seen boys growl about women’s history month and had to wonder if they’ve ever held a textbook where the only names of girls are tiny footnotes. I’ve seen fathers ask why the curriculum I use for my six-year-olds is carefully gender neutral, why I let his son play at cooking or his daughter be a doctor.
I have never heard a mother complain except to beg me to get her little girl to talk more, to do more, to succeed - do you see? Do you see?
Here’s the thing about stepping on us: we have learned to stop licking your boots
and now we want to ruin you.
trust me, I know actual nice guys and they are nothing like your type. p.s your fly was down the whole time. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
there’s just something in my eye. like a log.
"White feminism" does not mean every white woman, everywhere, who happens to identify as feminist. It also doesn’t mean that every "white feminist" identifies as white. I see "white feminism" as a specific set of single-issue, non-intersectional, superficial feminist practices. It is the feminism we understand as mainstream; the feminism obsessed with body hair, and high heels and makeup, and changing your married name. It is the feminism you probably first learned. "White feminism" is the feminism that doesn’t understand western privilege, or cultural context. It is the feminism that doesn’t consider race as a factor in the struggle for equality.
White feminism is a set of beliefs that allows for the exclusion of issues that specifically affect women of colour. It is “one size-fits all” feminism, where middle class white women are the mould that others must fit. It is a method of practicing feminism, not an indictment of every individual white feminist, everywhere, always.
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