#2 people that i keep comparing myself to waaaaay too much

[secretgiftsforshaman]

Doin’ Real Healing Shit

I’ve been reflecting on and comparing my dynamic with you to my relationship with Sweetie (we were together for the majority of my 20s, and I haven’t had any other relationships as an adult, just only puppy love things as a teenager, so my time with him is my only frame of reference for relationships) and it’s allowed me to pinpoint many of the specific ways in which he wasn’t a good fit for me, and the ways in which he might have been better for me if I had allowed him to be. This has all been part of the larger task of identifying what I need from a future partner/relationship, and who I need to be to be ready for it. Sweetie was my first love, the man I intended to spend the rest of my life with, have children and a cat and a dog and a huuuge garden with, the Data to my Geordi and the Captain Picard to my Lwaxana Troi, but he was often not the best partner for me. I have a lot of guilt with my grief about this, because while I would NEVER EVER for ANY reason wish him to be dead, there is a level on which I am grateful that our relationship is over and I am now free to seek a partner who will meet my needs on a regular basis, instead of only me meeting his.

Sweetie was an addict, pure and simple. I won’t go into what substances and behaviors he used because that’s not what is important. What is important is that he poured so much of himself - his own power and energy and resources - down the drain of those addictions, and because I loved him, I poured myself out into him in a misguided attempt to care for him. Only trying to take care of him this way was like trying to fill a bathtub without plugging the drain - it was never enough, and the only thing that really happened was that we both became depleted, and very codependent. I very much need both to be able to take care of myself (and to feel allowed to take care of myself) and to have a partner capable of (and willing to) take care of himself as well. You have already shown me that it is possible to have a relationship that includes and prioritizes my own needs and desires - and that I don’t need to give myself away in order to be met and fulfilled <3

For all kinds of deep-seeded reasons, I have spent my life trying to need and desire as far less than I do - and to ask as little as possible from the people around me, even my closest loved ones - because somehow early on I internalized the belief that needing anything from anybody was bad: that asking people to meet my needs would push them away and make them resent or dislike or reject me, because my needs were burdensome to others. I assumed that I had to justify my existence and the resources I used to take care of myself by compulsively tending to what other people wanted and needed, and I thought that this is what being of service and being a good person looked like. I was manipulative because I couldn’t bring myself to ask for what I wanted outright, and endlessly hungry, greedy, and unsatisfied. For some time I have been working to affirm my right to prioritize myself, with slowly building success, with my friends (family is a work in progress - is it ever not?), but I had not yet been able to address this issue in the context of a romantic or sexual relationship (cue you :P).

Because of everything above, my lifelong experiences being raised and conditioned in my family of origin and our patriarchal culture, and interacting with the toxicity wounded men I’ve encountered, I started to believe that there were only three types of men out there in my dating pool. 

First, those who were not attracted to me and I don’t want either, and so don’t care about in the context of finding a partner.

Second, those men who want me but that I don’t want/are bad for me, because they want to take something from me that I don’t want to give, or want me to take care of them without really giving me what I need to thrive in return. It pains me to admit but, for as much as he loved me and I loved him, Sweetie was this kind of man. I see this kind of guy every damn where, and I completely recognize that it’s because I’ve been wearing “interest from men is a threat” tinted glasses (like rose-tinted glasses, but with waaaaay more fuckboys). I’ve been reflexively reacting as if ALL men who so much as glance at me are like this for years, to the point where I bolt from so much as making eye contact with any single guy even when doing something as innocuous as crossing paths in the supermarket: this is how vulnerable I’ve felt to being taken advantage of, because I couldn’t trust myself to stand up to protect my own boundaries and honor my own needs. Especially when faced with someone who started out good but eventually got worse and started to leech from me after I started to love him. 

Third, those men of integrity and honor who are capable of giving me what I need (that is to say, men I find desirable), but who do not wish to be with me. My default assumption has been that any man I find attractive or a strong potential mate would find me repulsive. Given the terrible self-worth issues I alluded to in the paragraph above about doubting my right to exist or need anything, I think you can guess one of the roots that the idea of my inherent unattractiveness might have sprung from. Because it is an irrational thought, I have not been able to rationalize my way out of believing it to be true, and have felt like I’ve been up against a brick wall on this front for a while now.

I have been assuming that any guy who wants me couldn’t possibly be good for me, and that anybody I want could never want anything to do with me, for years. Which, given the list of experiences I’ve had, makes a twisted sort of sense, but does me no good. I had never, to my recollection, encountered the mythical fourth type of man (those who want me AND are good for me) - until I met you. We both know full well that (for many reasons) you are not the marriage partner I want or need, but you have given me proof - sight unseen! - that the class of man that I want to attract DOES, in fact, exist: I sure as fuck want you, and by every indication you want me enough to WORSHIP me. And furthermore, you’re living proof that I can (and will!) attract the man that I need in any given moment without even trying to ^.^

The past few months I have been wishing for and craving someone who can help me explore and heal myself and my energy, a lover to give me the sweet affection that Sweetie used to shower me with, and a dominant Alpha man to walk on the wild side and sexually satisfy me. I don’t usually broadcast my more woo-woo, chakra-spinning, magical witchy self with the wider world, which makes the first type of person difficult to cross paths with. I thought that with COVID keeping everyone (smart and compassionate) away from each other, and my own unreadiness for dating, it would be months or years before I could find the second type of person. And as for the third type of person? Let me be absolutely honest with you: I’m *very* inexperienced with sex irl. Sweetie is the only sexual partner I have ever had. We only ever gave each other oral and manual sex - never penetrative, vaginally or anally. We were both suuuper paranoid about unplanned pregnancy (both of my siblings and I were ALL conceived while my mother was taking birth control exactly as prescribed - its only paranoia when it’s not a real possibility!), and I have some serious hangups around allowing physical intimacy. Sweetie and I struggled to connect and communicate in bed, and I rarely, if ever, felt able to surrender to him, largely because of the unhealthy and imbalanced dynamic I described above. I couldn’t even *imagine* being able to let go with someone new and enjoy the passionate sex (let alone the kinky fuckery) that I crave any time soon - maybe even ever.

To my absolute astonishment and delight, I have found all three people in you, and even more things that I had no idea I wanted or needed until you provided them for me. And, to my surprise, I am far more independent within, and detached from, our dynamic than I expected my habitually codependent self to be. You are exactly what I want and need right now - but I don’t *need* you in the dependent way that a younger me would have. I am enriched by our relationship, but I could leave it at any time without it destabilizing me at all. And I achieved this with you in less than a week - what CAN’T I do?!?!? 🤣

To recap: the work I have been doing lately is twofold -

1. To believe that I have every right to exist and use resources and ask for things and receive what I want and need without having to ‘earn’ it or prove myself, and that in this way I can care for myself, heal myself, protect myself, manifest my dreams, catch my own damn fish, and live my best life full of Love, Lust, and Light.

2. To believe that it is not only possible but *probable* that I will find a partner who does everything above for himself, and that such a man will both find me enchantingly, mouth-wateringly, cock-throbbingly attractive AND joyfully put forth the effort for me and our relationship that we, and the family we will both want to build, need to thrive.

You started helping me believe BOTH of those powerful ideas from the word go. Challenging and testing you the way I did, and the way you not only rose to my challenge but ENJOYED doing it (!!!) proved to me that meeting my most basic need - safety - was absolutely a priority for you, and that I can expect other good men to enjoy rising to the challenge of providing me with what I need as well. That you would not grudgingly or resentfully but JOYFULLY meet my needs for safety, affection, pleasure, support, encouragement, and so much more has healed me deeply. I am crying with gratitude as I write this. Because of this experience with you I already feel confident in challenging the future men I encounter to meet me where I need them to, and to expect that the good matches will enjoy it to boot ;) AND the fact that you refuse to baby me and meet *all* of my needs yourself, only the my needs that *you enjoy fulfilling* - you affirm both that I deserve to have everything I need to flourish AND you model that I shouldn’t feel pressured to meet anybody else’s needs that it doesn’t bring me joy to fulfill, either.

Namaste x 10000, Weaver. You were the answer to a prayer I did not know how to say. It feels like I’ve been working for a spiritual PhD these past two years, and then I knocked out my whole dissertation with you just this week.

HOLY FORKING SHIRT-BALLS SPIDER-MAN!!! LOOK WHAT WE DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*tackling you and showering you with kisses and love*

Your Lioness

[uberrapidash]

Okay I am having so much anxiety over starting my solo music stuff it is RIDICULOUS so I guess I’m gonna have a journal psychoanalysis session type thing like I keep thinking of doing, finally

I am SO BEHIND in my solo rep. I NEED to get this shit done. It is SUPER IMPORTANT. It should be THE MOST IMPORTANT part of my college work, but I keep doing LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE before I start working on my singing stuff, and it’s REALLY BAD. 

I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack, it’s so bad. Like, right now. I keep inching closer and closer to starting to get some work done, but every time I think about getting started, I get a huge rush of anxiety.

WHY.

#1 - Maybe it’s because it’s so abstract? Maybe it’s because there’s no concrete way to go about it and to measure it. It’s not like, “answer these questions.” I can’t even really set up a routine for myself where I sing the exact same warmups and vocalizes daily because my vocalizing needs will be constantly changing and evolving, often on a daily basis. I mean, I guess I could do that--it would definitely be better than the whole-lotta-nothing that I’m doing now.  Possible solution?: Create a routine/method/protocol for the stuff that is concrete. A checklist, maybe. “Research,” “Artistry worksheet,” “IPA,” “translation,” maybe daily listenings where I listen to a different singer every day--I could set that up in a Google Doc ahead of time. I sorta already have this kind of thing, but it’s not easily accessible and it’s not neat, because it’s just a handout from the professor. It’s not easy to look at, it’s not succinct. I could make a better one. Then maybe if I have a concrete “section” of stuff like this, it’ll be waaaaay easier to knock it off a task list because it’s no longer a part of one big blob of an abstract project, and it would separate the more scholarly part from the more abstract/artisty part.

#2 - Maybe it’s because I’m afraid I’m doing it wrong? Actually, I’m already pretty sure this is a big issue. Practicing isn’t something that I can easily compare with other people. Practicing takes place privately, usually. For most singers, practicing and learning music is a highly vulnerable act. And, the ways that people practice could be highly variable. I have tried many, many times to ask my voice teachers (I’ve only had two so far) if they could tell me how to practice. I never get a satisfactory answer. My current teacher has helped more than anyone else, so far, but it’s still not... concrete enough. She can’t tell me “do this specific vocalize for this long at this tempo,” for example, because some days I might not need as much warming up, or I might not need work on that technical area at the moment, or I’m vocally fatigued and I need to do something different. Singing is soooo variable. Anyway, the point is, I can’t “get instructions” by watching other people practice because 1) it’s private, and/or 2) it’s so variable. And for these same reasons, I can’t compare what I’m doing with what other people are doing. It’s just not reasonable, and it’s hardly even plausible. But why is this such an issue for me? Is this an autism or ADHD thing? I feel like it kinda goes along with the issue that some people with ADHD have if instructions aren’t clear enough. I think there’s also a big low-self-esteem component in this for me. Possible solution?: Easier said than done, but if I could just STOP measuring my success and worth by comparing myself to other people, even subconsciously, I think that would help a ton. This, of course, is not something I can just fix. This is a long-term self-improvement project, probably involving more unraveling of subconscious beliefs/morals/values wrongly instilled in me by toxic family members and religion. A lot of this issue might stem from CPTSD?

#3 - I care what Aaron thinks about me. This is more clearly one of the reasons I am struggling. Because of the pandemic, I can no longer go up to the campus and use a practice room--I have to do this at home. I know Aaron isn’t judging me. I know Aaron thinks highly of my singing. But he was in college for vocal performance at a prestigious conservatory. If he wasn’t a singer, I wouldn’t be having this issue. This one is tied to #2, for sure. This is a self-confidence issue, too. This one can possibly lead to other questions: Am I afraid he will think less of me if I don’t meet his standards? I don’t think so. Am I ashamed that if I am nervous to share something so vulnerable as practice then that means I am not intimate enough with him, and therefore I’m somehow letting him down? Like, I’m ashamed of my anxiety over tearing down this wall? I do feel like I should be able to practice unashamedly around him. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I really don’t know why I’m so nervous to sing around him, other than that I think highly of him and what he thinks. But is it really that simple? Possible solution?: It’s been recommended to me that I get him to sing with me to help with this, but we haven’t done that yet. Other than that idea, all I can think is to just “get over it.” ...Not really helpful.

#4 - It’s physically demanding. Sometimes I can practice for an hour, but sometimes I need a break after 15 minutes. And I don’t always know ahead of time how it’s going to feel. My relationship with my body is mostly “hate” right now, and I know that’s detrimental to my well-being. It’s hard to love and accept my body when it feels like my biggest obstacle. I’m always tired, and I’m so tired of being tired.  Possible solution?: Redefine my idea of success. My professor is willing to work with me by not expecting my practice to look the same as others’, and by not expecting me to practice as much--so why can’t I be willing to work with me? I talked to another student (who has a different teacher) that has physical health problems and asked what they do when they can’t sing, and they said they have alternatives like lying in bed and working on memorizing the text, just doing breathing exercises along with the music, etc. Why am I not opening myself up to possibilities of “practice” such as these? Maybe I should write a list of “possible ways to practice,” “productive options,” or something, and if I hit a wall I could just look at the list and pick one. 

Okay, this was a major procrastination thing, but I also think it was needed. It feels really good to get all this out and really think about this. I’m gonna... go... try... to work... now... Wish me luck.

EDIT:

GOD this is like PULLING TEETH

Every tiny little step of the way, I become paralyzed with anxiety. It’s nauseating. I’m literally dissociating every chance my brain gets. My eyes keep going out of focus. I keep getting dizzy, light-headed. Waves of nausea. Periods where I’m shaking. All I’m trying to do right now is to get organized. But I’m terrified. I’m just terrified. I don’t know why.

EDIT2:

It’s the next day now and I literally feel sick to my stomach and start shaking whenever I think about singing. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Like, can’t breathe, vision goes dark, I get dizzy, I shake, I feel like I’m going to vomit. 

[beardyallen]

Day 3 - An extensive recap

First, I want to extend my apologies to those who have been patiently awaiting this post. I had every intention of writing this yesterday, which got away from me (as you’ll see if you keep reading), and then I had every intention of writing this in the morning, which disappeared (again, as you’ll see if you keep reading). It’s now 5:38pm on Wednesday, February 20th as I’m typing this sentence, and I’m once again exhausted from a long day.

[Edit 2: TL;DR for the following TL;DR -- A bunch of cool stuff happened, including books, dragons, lions, motorcycles, KFC, banks, SIM cards, a Starbucks, public transit, and traveling to two opposite ends of Beijing in a single day. Also my trip went from horribly lonely and daunting to pretty freaking cool and slightly less daunting in less than 24 hours. Done typing this at 8:55pm]

Edit: It’s legit 8:37pm when I’m making this edit, only a bit after posting the original. I wanted to add a tl;dr for those not interesting in reading all of this shit. Basically, I made 4 friends in Beijing, none of them from the same country, only one of them is white, only one is male, and only one is from the US. All three of these descriptions describe CB, my supervisor. His wife, RB, is Indian and works with children orphaned due to birth defects. There’s ML, a half-Brazilian, half-Japanese Communications instructor at ICB, and her friend R, who is herself a former Chinese physician turned public health professional/liaison/something-or-other that seems far more impressive and is exactly what she wants to be. All of them are really cool, interesting people that I’m very glad I had the opportunity to meet. In no particular order, I went to several bookstores, a Starbucks, a KFC early in the morning, the supermarket (twice) and got beer (both times) for ridiculously low prices, experienced the Lantern Festival (still not entirely sure what this is, but there were dragons and lions and motorcycles doing crazy synchronized stunts in a metal globe) at an amusement park, rode 5-6 different subway trains and a city bus, ate 10+ new foods, bought a book (because of course I did) which has both the original English and the translate Chinese characters on each page, tried to open a bank account, then got a SIM card, then actually opened a bank account, finally unpacked my luggage, and spent 3 hours typing this blog post. Also the long flight and trip from the airport to my new apartment were mostly uneventful. See? Even this was super long!]

The last you all heard from me here was as I was sitting in a bar in the Vancouver Airport, Sunday morning. Which was sort of 2 days ago, but sort of 3. Time zones are funky, especially when you cross the International Date Line. *shrug*

After I finished writing that post, I lumbered over to my gate and waited to board with the other couple hundred passengers. At one point, I noticed an older woman (probably in her 60′s or 70′s?) trucking along on one of those things that I can only manage to call a human-conveyor-belt that you see in airports. I mention this as she, had she been on carpeted flooring, she would have been making good time; as it so happens, she was on the conveyor belt that was going opposite of her destination. She was still making progress, but every so slowly, and seemed maddeningly oblivious to the fact that the floor was fighting her at every step. Fortunately, she made it to the other end without incident, although the same cannot be said for when she attempted to enter the next belt; a concerned employee using that particular belt in the intended fashion beckoned that she stop and try the other. So she stopped walking. And didn’t do anything, even when her feet made it back to where she had started. Naturally, she took a pretty solid tumble, lessened only by the shocked, and rightfully flustered, employee, who managed to help her to her feet as half of the onlookers gawked.

The actual flight, all 9 hours of it, went off rather uneventfully. Especially compared to the above story. It was nice having the longer flight second, as completing the first gave me an unearned sense of accomplishment; I’m nervous for my return as I’ll have actually achieved something when I get back to Vancouver, only to have to sit back down for three more hours. Seems less enticing, especially as I won’t be going back to an apartment that I’m renting. Oh well: that’s a problem for Future-Me, as are most things. I will say that the food on the flight was quite satisfying, and the complementary wine was much tastier than expected! And I managed to read a good chunk of Dan Brown’s Origin.

After landing in the Beijing airport, I managed to get through customs without too much trouble and had my first several experiences of what I’ll just refer to here as stranger-staring. #sarcasticwoo

I was met near baggage claim by an undergraduate at the University who chose to call himself Paul. I would later find out that, although it is common practice for Chinese residents to give themselves “American” or “Western” names, they don’t seem to share those names with their fellow residents.

Needless to say, I was exhausted and just wanted to eat something and lie down without dealing with anymore people. To his credit, Paul was an excellent host, his English was quite good, and he helped me to my apartment without incident. I think he was expecting to escort me to dinner at one of the nearby dining halls on campus (Princess Building), but I (hopefully graciously) conveyed that I would really rather just go to bed. After he left, I took a stroll on campus to the Princess Building to check it out for myself, and then stopped at a nearby convenience store to grab some snacks. GUYS! THEY HAVE CUCUMBER-FLAVORED LAYS POTATO CHIPS!!! And so many other flavors that are mind-boggling, and somehow simultaneously vague and specific.

Once I was back in my apartment, I chowed down on some fruit bread, drank some water, had a moment of near paralyzing fear/anxiety/regret/shame/etc., scolded myself for being (I think understandably) pathetic, and then went to sleep. By that point, I had been up for nearly 23 hours, and it was somehow already 7pm on Monday, Feb. 18. I slept until 6am the next morning.

That morning, I got in touch with CB, my supervisor, who was more than happy to meet with me around 11am. So I spent the morning figuring out how to be an adult person in Beijing. Several standard things took place that were daunting only because I’m in Beijing: showering, brushing my teeth, grabbing some toilet paper to carry with me, deciding how much cash to keep in my wallet, etc. I also came to the disturbing realization that there are precisely three outlets, each with one port. One of them was occupied by the television, one by the mini-fridge, and one was free to charge my tablet; it was then that I decided to try to go shopping and track down a power strip.

Day 2: Merry Mart

First, I want to say one quick thing: the exchange rate from RMB (also called yuan) to USD is approximately 0.15:1. So, as an example, I spotted a can of beer for 5.90 yuan, or roughly $0.90. For those of you who know me, you may understand why this was my first example.

Now, the supermarket that I was heading towards is located on the other side of the north gate of the CAU (China Agricultural University, which houses ICB, or the International College of Beijing, where I’m living and instructing), and my apartment is in the very southeast corner of campus, about a 10 minute walk away. And it’s not even 8am yet. I mention this as, when I approached the supermarket, or rather the building housing the supermarket and a dozen or so other shops, I noticed a KFC right next door. Now, I shouldn’t have been shocked to see the advertisements were for food that you would never find at a KFC in the States, but I was. What I feel completely justified in being shocked at was that the KFC was already quite busy. Naturally, I stepped inside and saw that a “Chicken Burger” with a glass of milk (and maybe a side?) was going for 12 yuan, or $1.80. So cheap!!

I stepped out without buying anything and continued into the supermarket. Oh, the wonders I beheld. I’ll try to keep it short, but I’ll point out that I’ve never paid so much attention in the produce and meat sections of a supermarket as I did yesterday. Once I made it past these sections, I experienced an onslaught of packing that looked both familiar and foreign (yes, I realized how stupid that sounds as I typed it). As I was on a bit of a mission (for hand soap and a couple power strips), I contained my curiosity as best I could. But I did take a peak at all of the flavors of Lays Chips in the snack section...

Fortunately, I managed to find a power strip! They had Philips power strips going for 70 yuan (~$10.50) and some from a company I’ve never heard of for 30/40 yuan. Naturally, I grabbed on of the cheaper variety. It seems I didn’t bring enough cash the first time. I moved on, failing to find anything that I could guarantee was hand soap, but let me tell you: after being around people who I could not understand, guessing at products based on the images along, and recognizing that I’m waaaaay in over my head, I have never been so happy to see a can of Budweiser in my life!

Now, I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure a 3-pack 16-oz or 500 mL or whatever-their-volume cans came out to 9 yuan, or $1.35. What a deal! (Fast forward to this morning, and I stumbled an even better find: 500 mL cans of Guiness with nitrous rockets for 15 yuan ($2.25) a pop! In the States, those usually run $16 for four!)

After spotting way more milk (a recent trend, apparently) than I’ve ever seen, ultra-pasteurized so it can sit on an uncooled shelf for months at a time, heaps and heaps of “sanitary tissue” and slew of snacks that boggled my poor, unworldly mind, I made my way to the checkout. Fortunately, I stick out so damn much that people just expect that I don’t speak Chinese; the look of mild irritation isn’t grating at all, it just lets me know that I’m not the only one who feels moderately uncomfortable at my residing in Beijing for these next 4 months. The interaction at the stand was pleasant enough, and we mimed our way through the bits that weren’t communicable. Then I headed back home to meet with CB.

Day 2: The Book

So, I’m already feeling wildly unprepared to teaching a senior-level mathematics course, but one of the few things that was keeping me grounded was that the book was to be selected by administrators at ICB/CAU, so that would save me having to make most of the decisions regarding content for my Probability class. Moreover, the university would provide the textbooks to the students. Little did I know, and little did CB know, and little did the person supposedly in charge of retrieving said textbooks from the library, no textbook was on file for this class. #sarcasticwoo

FORTUNATELY (can’t believe how many lucky breaks I’m catching!), there happened to be a textbook titled Probability and Statistics for Engineers and something-or-other. To be honest, my eyes glazed over at “Engineers,” not because they are lesser scientists, because they are most assuredly not, but because they just don’t appreciate the fine nuances of theoretical mathematics. That is to say, they’re lesser scientists. ;) #allinjest #imsuretheyvegotsickerburnsforme So, I guess I’m teaching from an Engineering textbook.

During this brief window of time with CB, I learned how various countries measure the breathability of the air, acquired a facemask, and snagged an air purifier. Things necessary to life in Beijing! I was then invited out to lunch with CB and his wife RB; I was unaware that their would be fourth, ML. Having never met RB, and being unaware that ML existed, I waited for the 20 minutes that CB needed to get a couple things ready before lunch in my room, then headed down to the entrance of the Guest House (where my apartment and office are located, in case I haven’t mentioned it by name yet). Waiting there was a 30-something Asian-descent woman who somehow didn’t look like she was a native Chinese resident. Best guess: RB. She smiles at me and asks if I’m here to have lunch with R, to which I say confirm and ask if that’s her. Turns out it’s ML, and a reference to a particular Disney movie popped into my head. (I bet you’re not thinking of the same one I was, though!) Anyway, it’s 12:30pm at that point, and I wouldn’t spend the next 11 hours with ML, a Communications instructor for ICB who has only been in Beijing since September, barely speaks any Chinese and gets by reading it as she knows Japanese. Turns out she was born in Brazil, though! That certainly explained why her features were not quite Chinese.

CB and RB showed up a few awkward, mostly silent, minutes later as, not anticipating a fourth left me just socially awkward enough to just keep my mouth shut and let my mind wander. RB led the way to a Chinese restaurant around the corner, and we had a ridiculously cheap meal. Everything was delicious, even the rice noodles and cabbage dish! CB asked how open I was to trying things I’ve never had before, and I responded that I’m hear to make the make the most of this opportunity. He followed up with, “So, you’ll try chicken feet?” I’ve never so quickly doubted my convictions before! Fortunately, the food we order was basic enough fare for a Chinese restaurant, so I didn’t have to prove my grit just yet.

Day 2: The Big Adventure

During the meal, ML mentioned that the “lantern festival” was that night, and that she’d be joining a friend of her’s somewhere in Beijing, TBD. CB mentioned off-handedly that there was a 4-story bookstore several kilometers away. My interest was piqued, but having no means of transportation, I kept my mouth shut. ML did not. She expressed serious interest in venturing out to the store, and I asked if it would be in imposition if I joined. After lunch, CB and RB gave us a rough pin location for the building, walked us over to a bus stop, explained to me how to use my transit card (Thanks, CG!!!), and saw us off on our adventure. At this point, it seems relevant to mention that, although I have two cell phones (my usual American one, and a Chinese phone bought secondhand from ES) (THANKS ES!!!), I don’t have internet access or any real means to contact CB or RB. I also don’t access to a map app (see: I don’t have internet access). As it turns out, ML’s access is hindered by the fact that her iPhone is apparently dated enough to not operate at full capacity with a Chinese SIM card. So she has spotty internet. SPOILERS: Her cell phone would die later that evening. #dundundun

The bus ride was uneventful, and we got off where we thought was should. Without the name of the bookstore or any solid evidence to suggest precisely where the bookstore was, ML then confides in me that she has frequently found herself incapable of finding her destination, wandered around for several hours, then given up and went home. My confidence was soaring. But, as they say, “When in Beijing...”

After finding a map of the surrounding area and comparing it to a screenshot of the rough-pin-location of the bookstore in question, I managed to match shapes cut out by walkways and roads and spot where we should be heading. The pin led us to a bookstore. But this bookstore had only one floor, although the building housing it had 20 floors and an elevator that looked out over the surrounding area. Needless to say, we rode the elevator for a moment before deciding to continue exploring. Stepping outside, we tried to reach CB...and we did! He gave us a more accurate pin and the name of the bookstore. Only one of those two things wound up being helpful.

On our way over to the new location (2 more blocks West), we stumbled on a developed “alley” that housed a wide plethora of shops, including....A BOOKSTORE!!! Dudes and Dudettes: let me tell you, this bookstore was amazing!! Check out the pictures below:

So cool! But this wasn’t where the pin was located, only had two floors, and when we scaled the spiral staircase, some 20-something employees started walking towards us and speaking in Mandarin. ML goes, “I’m sorry, we don’t speak any Mandarin, but we think we know what you’re trying to say. Have a nice day!” And we walked out of the store with our tails tucked loosely between our legs.

I was I could accurately convey all of the things I saw that struck me as fascinating while we explored this area of Beijing, but honestly there was just too much, and I can’t imagine you all are still reading this carefully, given that I’m not exactly giving the “Reader’s Digest” version of events. Or so you may think. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m doing my best to keep this short while still conveying how crazy this day was. And we’re only a couple hours into my afternoon/evening with ML. I applaud any and all who keep reading attentively. I’ll try to make it entertaining.

I will say that in this alley, I got stared down by a police officer. Mildly intimidating and recalled to mind the other intimidating visual to grace me. Just after checking out at the supermarket that morning, while I was packing the couple of items I had purchased into my backpack, I looked up and saw, for the first time in my life, 4 full sets of riot gear. Helmet, vest, nightstick (or whatever it’s called), and some sort of gun in a padded case. Sure, I know that I’ve been around those things before in my life, but never were they in plain view, seemingly on display.

After a few more minutes, a few more crossed streets, and pulling ML out of the way of a car that didn’t seem to care that she was there, we made our way to the pin’s location. And none of the stores around us bore the name of the 4-story bookstore. But we did find another bookstore.........and it turned out to be the right one! Crazy!! Of course, this was after trying out what we guessed was a calligraphy shop that seemed to primarily sell books? The words on the door were somewhat misleading. Anyway, let me tell you: in spite of being in a bookstore filled with words that I can’t understand, I still felt so calm and secure being surrounded by all of those books!

At this point, ML and I seemed to have figured out each other’s senses of humor and made frequent jokes and shared stores as we roamed the shelves, looking desperately for books written in English. After searching all four floors, some twice, we find a section with no markings nearby that happened to have some books in English. After looking over all of the classics (pretty much all they had), discussing the ones we’ve read, conversing about those we haven’t, we each picked one out to buy. I’ve seen Aldous Huxley’s A Brave New World referenced too many times in crossword puzzles and trivia questions to not have developed an absurd curiousity for this book I’ve never read. So naturally I bought it. It seems like a rather nice-looking copy, no artwork to speak of, but elegant in a somewhat formal-Chinese kind of way. It came to 26 yuan, or about $3.90. HOW AM I BUYING A BOOK FOR THAT CHEAP?! WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING WITH MY LIFE?! *sigh* Well, I seem to be getting by without my Kindle fine enough for now...(THANKS AGAIN RS FOR SHIPPING IT TO ME!!! I’ll let you know as soon as it arrives!)

Day 2: The Lantern Festival

At this point, ML had heard from her friend who I will just call R (have yet to become privy to her family name), and we were given the name of the place we were headed towards: Happy Park. By now, it was around 4:15pm, and we needed to somehow figure out where Happy Park was, how to get there, and manage to not get lost in the process by 6:30pm. So we went for tea. The place we stopped in was what seemed to be a solid attempt at a German tea/coffee shop-slash-bakery. And I got a cup of English Breakfast Tea for 22 yuan ($3.30). Not the best deal, but I learned an invaluable lesson: just take a picture of what you want to order! So simple, so elegant, so effective!!! I was also by this time learning that most people make purchases using the main “social media” app, WeChat. In fact, many shops and restaurants don’t carry any cash as WeChat is just a more effective means of payment. You can link a debit card to your account and you’re good to go! (More on this in Day 3).

<I’ve been writing for almost 2 hours! Yikes!!!> <I wonder if I can get a book deal out of this...>

Without really knowing where to find a subway station, ML and I headed back to where the bus dropped us off, thinking at the very least we could head back to campus and the subway station there. (Also, for those of you who don’t know: I’ve never ridden a subway. Sure, I use RTD rails almost daily in Denver, but somehow this just seemed different. Especially given how many lines there are and that we didn’t actually know where we were going...) We found a bus heading back towards campus, hopped on, and almost immediately spotted a subway station. The bus didn’t drop us off for 2-3 more blocks...

After meandering back to the subway station, we found a map and lo-and-behold there was a stop dedicated to whatever Happy Park is. And it’s on the complete opposite side of town. #unethusedyay #adventuretime We plotted our course and hopped on the train without incident if you don’t count the pile of vomit that I would almost certainly have stepped in had ML not avoided it just before me! *phew* The subway itself was on par, if not nicer, than the trains in Denver, if only a bit louder. Confined spaces and all that. By the time we made our three transfers and got to the other side of Beijing, the sun had set, it was 6:20pm, and we had made it just in time! R met us at the station minutes after.

When we turned to see where we were headed, I was floored. Right in front of us with giant glowing words spelling out (in two languages) “Happy Park” was an amusement park that rivals some Disney parks in it’s show-y-ness. As it was dark, I can’t say precisely how big it was, but I was impressed. Tickets for entry were 145 yuan (roughly $20), which I fortunately had brought along that morning, not realizing precisely how crazy the day would get.

Once inside, R informed us that there’d be a show starting in a few minutes. We tried to find a spot, but the girls had trouble seeing over the heads of the people ahead of us. In fact, I had to stand on my tiptoes as most of the people in front of me were holding up their children, phones, and self-sticks. There was a small mound that almost certainly was not intended for foot-traffic, but nonetheless had a solid 75 people standing on 6-foot-tall trees. When we joined the crowd up there, hoping for a better vantage point, we were disappoint. That is, until ML decided to climb a tree. And I joined her. Naturally. I don’t have pictures of the entire show, sadly. I was too busy being floored and hoping that my one leg that was supporting my weight would hold up! I’m also not including them here as I have to format the videos. But stay tuned in the near future for videos!!

After the show, we wandered around the park for several more hours. I was quite impressed. And the food we got was quite delicious!! Small, fried potatos balls, and donut-hole sized balls loosely-based on a Japanese dish that I couldn’t possibly spell correctly, topped with dried fish. YUM! Check out the pictures of some of the attractions we saw:

This was the interior of an Aquariam-themed section of the park. It was a welcome respite near the end of the night, given that it felt like it was nearing 10F outside.

A Mayan temple, with a restaurant inside and, probably, a water-slide ride built into it? Hard to say. If only our phones hadn’t died and we weren’t so cold by the time we made it to the Athenian/Spartan-inspired section of the park! So many cool statues and buildings!

A still shot as 5 motorcyclists entered the arena after some drum-dancers! Stay tuned for videos of them riding inside the wire ball on the right! [Edit 3: the videos will likely get posted as gifs. Quality will probs be not great. One of them will involve the motorcyclists doing loop-stunts, and the other will involve a dragon-dance with dope fireworks. I didn’t get any video of the lion-dancers from earlier in the show, but take my word for it: it was dope as fuck. So much so that I don’t feel bad about dropping an f-bomb in this edit. I can’t possibly find the words after 3.5 hours of writing to convey just how cool this show was!]

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what this is, but it looked cool!

This was a small bridge, reminiscent of the bridges in Europe where people write their initials on padlocks and toss the keys into the river below. From what we could tell (thanks to R’s understanding of her native tongue), the pieces all talk about the love between family, friends or significant others.

After the Aquarium-themed building got us toasty warm, and it was ticking closer and closer to 10pm, we bee-lined it out of the park and back to to the subway station. Another three transfers, some more conversation, and we were back on campus. While on the trains, either to or from Happy Park, I don’t remember which, ML commented on how quiet I had been earlier that day while waiting for CB and RB before lunch. Given how quiet I was at lunch, she was understandably worried that the pattern would continue. If you know me, you know it just takes a bit for me to get comfortable and figure out how to talk to you. Needless to say, I told too many stories with a surplus of details in each of the bookstores, on each of the trains, and all of the time in between. I’m thinking ML is going to be a pretty solid friend these next couple of months, if I she doesn’t get sick of my stories first!

As I alluded to above, it was around 11pm before we were back in the Guest House. I was ridiculously pooped but not entirely unimpressed at how not-jet-lagged I was! I passed out soon thereafter and woke up for the third and final time around 7am.

Day 3: Merry Mart II, the Second Part

Alas, morning came; and with it came a surplus of energy to spent getting my life together in Beijing. I still hadn’t unpacked my luggage, there were too many things my apartment was still missing, and I didn’t have a reliable means of feeding myself as I had been warned (and witnessed) that many places just simply don’t carry cash. And naturally don’t accept American credit cards.

So I packed a small bag and headed out again. I stopped by Starbucks, attempted to order a Black Tea Latte from the girl who said “Morning” to me, and made the false assumption that this particular colloquialism implied English-fluency. I wound up with a regular Latte. Still good, though! After that, I made my way to the KFC near the Merry Mart only to find that this establishment is one described above. My cash wouldn’t do me much good there. *shrug*

In the Merry Mart, I grabbed several more bread-based food items, a microwavable meal in a bowl, another power strip, some gum, and more chips. Pringles. American flavors. Two cans of Guiness, and two bottles of hand soap. This time, I kept track of the price of each individual item so I knew how much cash to have ready at the register. This time went far more smoothly, and I filled my entire backpack with items that ran up to 134 yuan (~$20). HOW?! HOW AM I GETTING SO MUCH FOR SO LITTLE I LOVE THIS!!!

Day 3: Getting my shit together

After that, my mind was set on opening a bank account to connect to my WeChat account. I reached out to CB, who graciously offered his assistance for a small amount of time. Ideally, this wouldn’t take too long. After all, he has plenty of work to be getting on with!

Well, the first bank we tried didn’t work because I’m not staying in town for more than 2 years. The second bank was more accepting. He translated exceptionally while I filled out documents written completely in Chinese. I was having an internal panic attack as I did something that felt incredibly wrong or anything. No, not at all. It’s totally okay to sign your name on documents that you can’t read. Yup, totally okay...

As it turns out, the bank would need to send me verification texts, so I gave them my phone number. But my American phone number wouldn’t work for them (they didn’t even try!), so after 30 minutes of waiting and 10 minutes of paperwork, CB and I headed down the street to get a SIM card and a cellular plan. Oh boy. All told, I think I waited for another hour there while CB got some work done; the paperwork and discussions took another 20-30 minutes. Once I had my phone situated, CB assured me that I could handle the rest of the bank stuff on my own as the staff would certainly recognize me and remember what I wanted. Plus, most of the paperwork was already filled out, right? Right? *sigh

The staff at the bank were less than enthused to find that CB hadn’t joined me. This was gonna be a blast, let me tell ya...

All told, I filled out twice as much paperwork as the staff scrambled to find a way to communicate with the moronic American who didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on around him. Of course, filling out this paperwork and determining exactly what they wanted and whether or not I wrote down the right things (i.e. understood exactly what information they were after) included 5-8 different sessions with several different employees, each with somewhere between 10-70 min wait-times. On the plus side, I’m almost done with Dan Brown’s Origin. Not his best work, but certainly entertaining enough to pass the time in a bank surrounded by people who probably would rather I not exist. To be clear, I don’t begrudge them at all; their service was impeccable, and their patience was never-ending, and the entire thing was significantly less annoying than it had any right to be, given the language barrier.

I left their establishment many hours later with a debit card, Chinese bank account, and the means to buy stuff wherever I wanted to go. And a significant amount of confidence that I can get through the next four months quite contentedly. Granted, I didn’t do nearly as much to earn this confidence as the staff at my new bank did!

After the fiasco at the bank, I went back to the Guest House, unpacked my suitcases, and laid down in bed to type this novella. That was several hours ago.

Convinced that I’ve had a crazy few days?

A coworker from Denver asked me how China has been so far, and I told him that it “[w]ent from shit to fantastic so damn fast.” Hopefully my long, rambling story has here has justified that claim for those of you reading this.

There was only one other day in my life that I can recall feeling as justifiably petrified as I did Monday night. I described the feeling as trying to wake up from a dream only to find that you’re wide awake. I was encouraged earlier today to remember that I don’t have to get through all 4 months of this experience at once; I just need to take it one day at a time. I usually don’t find these adages and idioms to be particularly helpful, but this one seems to be true.

In the future, blog posts probably won’t be nearly as long. Thanks for reading!

Now to finish this beer and book!

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

[beatrice-otter]

Thoughts on racism, sexism, and fandom: How to Suck Less

I've been in fandom for almost twenty years, and here are some things that are true of pretty much every fandom I've seen: There is a lot more sexism, racism, homophobia, ableism, anti-semitism, etc., in fandom than most of us would like to admit, and the vast majority of it is unconscious. People (mostly white, etc.) THINK they're being perfectly unbiased and fair, and they really, really aren't. Their unconscious prejudices are shining through. And it sucks. We, collectively, suck. But here's something I think most people miss: when we talk about this stuff, the point is not to make people feel bad. It's not about who's a "good," non-racist person, and who is a "bad" racist. It's not about proving who's "pure" and who's not. (Or at least, if that's why you're doing it, you're a really screwed-up self-righteous asshole.) IT'S ABOUT CHANGE. Because the thing is, we are all swimming in a sea of racist, sexist, queerphobic crap all the time. We can't change the larger culture (at least not by ourselves), but we CAN change fandom. I know, because fandom has gotten better about this stuff over the last twenty years. There is still a LOT of room for improvement, but it's better than it was. And it can get better than it is. But not if we ignore the problem or sweep it under the rug or get defensive. The first step in sucking less is to realize that you suck in the first place. The second step is figuring out how to suck less. This post is about that second step. This post is about how to take the knowledge that, yes, we have some problems, and work to make those problems smaller. This post is about how to work through that, grow as a person, learn to suck less, and still have fun in fandom while you're doing it.

There are a lot of posts out there about how to be a good ally. There are also lots of posts out there about avoiding racist/sexist/ableist/whateverist tropes in fic. And there are a lot of good posts out there pointing out that fandom gets WAAAAAY more interested in able-bodied neurotypical cisgender white men than about any other character. We all know what the problems are, or at least, we should. But I think there's a need for "okay, I want to be more inclusive/suck less, how do I do it" on a broad level before we get to the nitty-gritty of "these are tropes I should avoid or be careful about." Namely, how does one get oneself to be fannish about characters that all one's cultural conditioning is screaming at you to ignore? First, some basic principles. 1) This is fandom. It is supposed to be fun. This should not be like that terrible assignment from your least favorite teacher in school, fandom should be fun. 2) We've all been marinating in a stew of racism/homophobia/sexism/ableism/antisemitism/islamophobia all our lives. Even if, on a conscious level, you disagree with any given ism, your gut has been conditioned to prioritize white able-bodied cissexual neurotypical men over everything else. 3) Racism and sexism suck, and sucking is bad, and it makes fandom NOT fun for those on the receiving end of it. We should all be trying to suck less, both as a goal in its own right and because we want fandom to be fun for EVERYONE. 4) It is possible to work at sucking less while still enjoying fandom. 5) The higher we are in the kyriarchy, the more damage your sucking causes, and the more we are protected from that damage. So, like, a white person is part of the power structure that causes and benefits from racism; we're less likely to see it, more likely to cause damage to others because of it. BUT we also have a lot more power to change things for the better. It's not up to black people or Latin@s or Asians or Roma or LGBTQ people or people with disabilities or Jews or any other oppressed group to fix things--they're not the problem. The ultimate responsibility is up to Whites to suck less. (This doesn't mean that, say, a Black person can't suck--just that they are WAY less likely to damage others through their suckitude.) So the question is, how do we as White people have fun in fandom while sucking less? Fear not! It's actually pretty simple, you just have to make that a consistent priority. Let's define Principle 1. How is fandom fun? Well, for me, fandom is fun because there are shows and movies and books that I love, and I love reading and writing fanfic and meta about them, and squeeing about them with my friends. I find all of those activities fun. I hope you all do, too. I want you to keep on finding those things fun. BUT there is a problem. We are conditioned by our society to value men more than women, Whites more than any other race, able-bodied neurotypical people more than disabled and/or neurodiverse people, etc., etc., you can all fill in the hierarchies that our society has tried to instill in us (and has probably succeeded in instilling more than you realize). The preference for white men in fandom isn't any worse than in other places in our society. It's true, and I think it's important to remember. The problem comes in when we leave it at that. "Well, it's not my fault, and anyway even if I AM conditioned to pay more attention to white men more than anything else, this is fandom so I should be able to just ignore that and go on like always." Aaaaand then you continue to have fun, but you keep sucking, and hurting people in the process. We have all been conditioned to favor whitedude above everything else. By which I mean, our society privileges stories about able-bodied neurotypical white men above stories about other people. A white man who has super incredible abilities and can do all the things is Batman, a white woman with all the same qualities is a Mary Sue, and is usually depowered to make room for the male hero, to boot. And characters of different ethnicities, or religions, or with disabilities, don't even have it that good. We think stories about white men are interesting because ... those are the stories we've read, watched, listened to the most. We're used to them. We've been taught all our lives that these are the good stories, the stories that matter. And so most of us have learned to prioritize those stories on an unconscious level. And we show that in our choices, which shows we watch, which actors/actresses we think are hot, which characters we write about. The good news is, that's conditioning. It's not some inborn genetic thing, it's how we've been trained. And we can train ourselves differently! It starts by being mindful. What we consume shapes us, right? So keep that in mind when you choose what you consume, what movies, what books, what TV shows, what fanfic. I'm not saying "don't watch your favorite show if it's got too many white men." But let's be real: some TV we watch/read because OMG ITS TEH BEST EVAR!!1! and some we watch/read because it's fun and some we watch/read because our friends are and some we watch/read because it's better than other things we could be doing. When you're making a choice between two shows/movies/books that will probably be about the same level of entertaining, go for the one that's less ALL WHITE MALE. This is the age of the internet, where our choices are much greater than they've ever been before. When you're browsing Netflix on a Tuesday night looking for a fun movie to watch, give higher preference to diverse shows. Not in an "OMG, I can't ever watch anything with white men again, no matter how awesome it is!" way, but rather in a "I've seen so many movies about White Men(tm) in my life--is this one going to just be more of the same? Are there other options I might enjoy?" way. When you've got a variety of options and they would all be enjoyable, go for the ones least likely to reinforce the WHITE STRAIGHT ABLEBODIED NEUROTYPICAL CIS MALE IS THE DEFAULT AND BEST inside your head. What this can look like in practice: I like Marvel, but I am not a big enough fan to watch all of their shows. I pick and choose and leave myself time for other shows as well. On Netflix there are two Marvel shows I could be watching that are roughly comparable: Daredevil and Luke Cage. Both are about urban superheroes, but Daredevil is white and Luke Cage is black. (Also, Daredevil has some really terrible Yellow Peril stuff.) So I watch Luke Cage. I enjoy it. I'd probably enjoy Daredevil, too, but I don't have time for everything, and so I prioritize. And I don't treat it like I'm taking my medicine and forcing myself to watch something because it's more socially just and not because I like it. I go in expecting to have fun. And you know what? Usually I do. Another example: back in 2011, I needed something new to be fannish about. I had enough time to be fannish about one television show in addition to the stuff I was already fannish about. There were two shows premiering that fall that looked interesting to me, both rather similar: Grimm, and Once Upon A Time. Both were urban fantasy. One starred a white man, one starred a white woman. I chose the one starring the woman and went in to it prepared to love the show. Not grudgingly, but "ooh, this could be fun." And I loved it. If I hadn't, I would have stopped watching it after a couple of episodes and switched to Grimm. That was always an option; I wasn't watching OUaT to be masochistic about "doing the right thing." I was choosing which of two interesting options to give brain and heart space to, and I was going in to it with a brain and heart open to being pleased. If, despite that, it didn't please me? I'd move on to the next thing. Plenty of other fish in the sea. But I started with the less-whitedude option. What this does is it gives brainspace to new possibilities. It erodes the assumption your hindbrain makes that white men matter more than other people do. It erodes the assumption your hindbrain makes that white men are more interesting. The more attention you pay to people outside the cultural norm, the more interesting you find their stories. When you do this, you are actively re-training your cultural conditioning about who matters and who is interesting. And you are having fun while you are doing it. This has two ways that it will erode your suckage in fandom-related ways. First, it increases the number of people likely to be in non-whitedude fandoms, which is a slight counterweight to the overwhelming whitedude nature of fandom in general. One more person reading the fic and (hopefully) commenting. One more person posting about it, whether you do meta/art/fic/gifs/fanmixes/videos/whatever. Second, if you do this consistently over a long period of time, you will find that your instinct to always focus on white male characters will erode. Your background assumption of who is interesting and who isn't will start to shift. Do this with the fannish content you produce, as well. You have a tumblr? Give preference to reblogging women and people of color. If you see something about white guys that is AWESOME AND SQUEEWORTHY, go ahead and reblog it and enjoy it while you do. But, you know, a lot of times we reblog stuff that's interesting but not full-on capslock squee, right? Stuff where it takes a second to decide if you should reblog or not. Where you could go either way. And in those cases, make a conscious decision in favor of diversity. Stuff about white men? If it's in that "should I reblog this?" category, don't reblog it. Stuff about anyone else? Do reblog it. When figuring out new content to post, do the same thing. AWESOME SQUEEFUL STUFF? Post away! Interesting but not incredible? Give more weight to stuff about women and people of color and queer people and disabled people and neurodiverse people and Jews and Muslims and all the rest. It's not about harshing the squee, or putting your fannish tastes through some kind of quota system. It's about balance. Trust me. The world and fandom both have PLENTY of whitedude stuff, they'll get along just fine without more. But there's a shortage of everything else, so that's where the focus should be. And you can do the same with fanfic! Again, I'm not saying "never read your favorites!" I'm saying, be mindful. Are you a big Captain America fan? Check out the Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanov and Maria Hill fic in that fandom, and keep your eye out for more. When you do so, consider filtering out Steve/Bucky stuff occasionally. (http://ift.tt/2oUmoPT) After all, presumably you already read a lot of S/B. Your goal isn't to find fics where Sam is in two scenes to get the Whitedude together or help them work out their shit, but fics where Sam gets to really shine. As himself, not just the sidekick to the whitebro. And don't do it grudgingly; do it with open heart and mind, ready to embrace Sam in his awesomeness. This isn't to say you should never read whitebro fic, if that's your thing, but rather that there should be a health(ier) balance. This isn't about forcing you to choke down your bitter fannish medicine; it's about expanding the things you love. It's about creating more opportunities for joy and squee. And when you read those fics, comment on them! Spread the love! Authors who write about women or people of color tend to get fewer comments on those fics than on stories focused about white male characters, which is discouraging. Share the love; kudos and comment. A comment saying "Good fic" is great, it doesn't have to be long and involved. This holds true for all your fic, by the way, not just the fic where you're consciously diversifying your reading habits. Reading a Steve/Bucky fic and the author wrote Sam well, or Natasha, or Maria, or Rhodey, or Dr. Cho? Tell the author! Point that out specifically. Doesn't have to be elaborate; "I liked Sam" is fine. The point is to reward people for being more inclusive. When you find a particularly good fic based on a certain woman or character of color, check out the author's page. Chances are, they've got more like it. If they do, and you like their work? Subscribe to them so when they write something, you see it. Again, the goal is to still have fun with awesome fic, but shifting what you consume to be more diverse. Because that will shift your internal default away from the Straight White Neurotypical Ablebodied Man that our society tries to push as the default. And that will affect how you see the world both in fandom and out of it. Part of the fun of fandom, for many of us, isn't just about consuming content, it's also about creating it. I love writing fanfic. And here's where a lot of peoples' asses start to show, and where they start whining about how they just write what they write and they only get plotbunnies for whitebro. And that may be true, but again, this is something you can actually change. If your brain doesn't come up with plotbunnies for characters of color, or for women, or for lesbians, or for a mixed-race canon couple, or for disabled or neurodivergent people? You can work on coming up with plotbunnies on your own and train your brain in the process! For example! Say you are a fan of The Flash. For every episode you watch, come up with one plot bunny for a non-white male character. You don't have to write it; that's another step down the road. It doesn't have to be something huge. The first step is getting your brain used to generating plot bunnies for characters you normally wouldn't. If Iris had a big part in that episode, think up a story idea for her. What was she doing while Barry was fighting the villain of the week? How's things going at work for her? If Joe had a big part, think up an idea for him. If there was an Iris/Barry moment, think up a story idea for that pairing. Wally, Cisco, Caitlynn, Lisa Snart, you get the idea. If you're a Supergirl fan, come up with a story idea for Hank or James or Renee Montoya or M'Gann each episode. You don't have to write it, the goal for this part is to get you used to thinking of these characters as people with stories. People you are interested in. I mean, if you get a great idea and want to write it, awesome, but step one is to get your gut and your hindbrain primed to think about these people and care about their stories. You've already been primed to care about and think about white male characters by everything you've seen and read and heard since you were a baby, but there's been precious little priming you for everybody else, so a little extra effort is probably going to be needed. The next step is similar to the choosing-fandoms step, only for choosing plotbunnies. You will probably have some ideas that just yank you over and demand to be written, so write them. But if you are anything like me, there are also times that you want to write and have a lot of different ideas you could write, you just have to decide which. And in that case, you can probably guess by now, give more weight to the non-whitebro options. If you have four plot bunnies you could write, and two of them are about white male characters and one of them is about a white woman and one is about a character of color? Give more weight to the woman and (especially) the character of color. I'm not saying "you can never write white men again!" I'm saying that in your decision-making process, recognize that the rest of the world is weighted WAY THE FUCK IN FAVOR OF WHITE ABLE-BODIED NEUROTYPICAL CIS MEN, so to provide balance, we should be weighting in favor of everyone else, and giving the most weight to the people that society gives the least weight to. The things I've outlined in this post don't magically get rid of all that social conditioning overnight, and they don't magically fix everything. What they do is they give you a place to start, and aim you in a direction so that, if you work on it over time, you will suck less while still having fun in fandom and making it more inclusive. And the more people who do stuff like this, the less fandom will suck over time.

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