#but politics are so complicated

[jynxeddraca]

The worst part about this election cycle is that no matter who you vote for, you're just voting for damage control at this point. Elections have always been about picking the candidate that will get you a step closer to what you want to see in the world, but this year it's especially bad.

The big two candidates boil down to choosing between a raging chemical fire and a large dumpster fire, and without ranked voting, 3rd party candidates basically don't stand a chance no matter how much better they are. Supreme Court seats are going to become available within this term and that fucking terrifies me considering they just said sitting presidents have total immunity.

And to the younger people watching and feeling hopeless and possibly deciding if they even want to bother to vote - still go out and vote. Not because someone worthy of being a leader will get it, but to minimize damage where it can be. And it sucks.

Republicans spent decades pushing their party to the right and telling everyone to meet them in the middle, which they did, and it will take time to push things to a true middle again. I'm not going to use this post to tell you who to vote for, you can do research and pick who you want, just you should get out and vote. Especially in your local elections.

For the love of all that is good, vote for your local elections if you vote for nothing else. Because the people currently making the rules are relying on a voting base that shows up every election big or small and local elections can be won with literally a single vote. And when things get bad in the federal sphere, your state politicians may be the only things that can effectively push back. Same thing with state vs local, sometimes it's your city officials that are the ones pushing back on state laws.

[lady-raziel]

because there is nothing to lose the people saying biden should resign now so kamala can still be the first female president are absolutely right but why stop there? inauguration day is 70 days away let's make "president for a day" a real thing. say "fuck it we ARE going to do the arbitrary quota DEI bullshit you accuse us of" and speedrun first [category] presidents. revolving door type thing.

first female president. first openly gay president. first transgender president. first president who has been to space. first president gamer president. first mime president. just play president bingo and hit as many categories as possible while we still can. make all of trump's #47 merch unusable by forcing him to be the 115th president instead. who cares anymore let's peacefully transition power but do it in the most chaotic hot-potato way possible

[dailymanners]

If you give someone a ride home, or walk someone home, don't leave or drive away until you see them get inside and close the door behind them. Make sure you see to it that they get fully get inside safely before you leave.

This also applies to temporary residences, such as a hotel, airbnb, dormitories, ect.

Seeing to it that they fully make it inside safely isn't just about fear of something as drastic as an assault or a mugging. It would also be awfully annoying and stressful for them if they lost their key, and before realizing they're locked out their ride or walking companion has already sped off, so now they're stuck outside alone with nowhere else to go, and possibly a dead phone (when it rains it pours). Or maybe there's dangerous fauna in the area. Or maybe the neighbor's poorly trained dog with aggression issues is loose. Or maybe they slip and hurt themselves while walking to the door.

Even if you're absolutely positive they'll make it to the door safely, it's still a kind and thoughtful gesture to let them know that you care enough about their safety to see to it that they make it inside safely.

[obibail]

"Still not helpful."

[serpentface]

Faiza performing the Kagnoma Odo (pretty literally 'lion dance'), a weapons dance and one of the more important ritual duties of Odonii priestesses. A relatively new addition to this traditional dance involves the musket as the primary weapon, which is fired mid-twirl into the ground at the climax of the dance. Faiza is experiencing an 'oh fuck' moment because her shot is more than ideally diagonal, but she’s being so cool with it.

This is a wholly ceremonial performance at the onset of the pilgrimage, performed in full regalia and lion skin (of the small, semi-domesticated strain) but no armor. It’s also distinctly a display of political allegiance between the powerful and beloved Odonii priesthood (and its loyal military) with the increasingly reviled and destabilized imperial family, with Faiza prominently wearing a bracelet of the royal serpent, which was gifted (along with the musket) by the usoma Stavis Amanti himself (Usoma is the Wardi word for king, which has been retained in the context of emperors).

The Kagnoma Odo is the ultimate demonstration of the Odonii as an embodiment of the Lion Face of God and living vessel of military might and sovereignty, demonstrating her fitness and proficiency with weapons and as a spiritual unifier for soldiers. It is accompanied by drumming and occurs in stages, running through the three keymost weapons used in war- the spear, the sword, and the musket. The musket is of the most significance, given the weapon has developed a particular esteem as the ultimate embodiment of might and superiority. Assistants (almost always other priestesses, occasionally high ranking soldiers) load and prime the musket to be fired at the climax of the dance, where it is shot into the ground as the priestess leaps out of range of the shot. The firing signals the end of the dance and the rite itself.

While not the utmost exemplar of trigger discipline, only fully inducted and senior (and therefore very thoroughly trained) Odonii are permitted to perform the dance, and injuries during actual performances are quite rare (though are known to occur during training, more than a few Odonii have burns and wounds on their feet).

The most important renditions of this dance are performed upon declarations of war and before battles (in this case, generally done in full armor along with the lion pelt). It is also done during some trainings (while a dance, it is carefully choreographed to include naturalistic maneuvers of the weapons involved and helps soldiers limber up and learn to move their weapons). It is regarded as an impressive and motivating sight and a morale booster, and, seen at a distance, potentially intimidating to enemies.

A special variant of this dance is performed as means of fully incarnating the Odomache, which is done in full nudity with the body covered in the blood of the freshly sacrificed lion and cloaked in its raw pelt (the lion has become the corpse of Odomache in the moment of death, as part of its recreation of God's sacrifice). Her public, full nude appearance once (and only once) in this act is what allows the Lion Face of God to incarnate within her. Those in attendance see the spiritually vulnerable, naked human body obscured with the sanctified and deified blood and cloaked in the sanctified and deified skin. It is a merger of the contradictions of mortality and divinity, the boundaries between the two indistinct in flickering firelight and the flash of musketfire. She is witnessed by her people, dangling in between humanity and divinity and leading them in dance, and and is thus transformed.

[ochiody]

polites death scene animatic except i gave up

[lovesickeros]

popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.

specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.

which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.

and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.

basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.

g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind

just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.

[zarnzarn]

Part four (+FOUR ASKS FUCK YEAH) of the reverse odyssey au! all tagged on the blog.

1/2/3/4

||

Penelope takes a shaky breath and waves off the maid trying to light one of the lamps. The maid bows nervously and leaves the room, bumping into the fake door with a squeak before running off.

Must be new. Who's hiring them, though?

A rustling noise next to her pulls her attention away and she turns to watch Polites nod gravely to her and then sink down at her feet, petting Argos. If she'd had energy, she'd raise an eyebrow, but all she can think of is how Odysseus would have teasingly asked her why she wasn't chiding Polites for looking so unkempt and miserable with his wooden leg unpolished and crutches uncared for, in his roundabout, carefree way of being worried. Already Eurylochus had run himself into the ground and taken so ill he could barely speak. She'd have to keep a careful eye on them both.

In her most secret, private moments, Penelope remembers Anticlea's muttered words about Athena teaching Odysseus her emotional repression along with the battle strategies, and has to tamp down on a smile desperately in case an owl is nearby.

Although, on the topic of Athena.

Penelope looks out at the sea, grimacing at the green algae now covering the waters. It was poisoning the fish, that much was for sure, making them float to the surface in droves of corpses, a clear insult to the water god- and only Athena with her cunning would be able to cause such widespread damage.

On one hand, it was glorious to see how much the goddess loved her husband, no matter if her infamous pride was probably the larger reason why she had poisoned the oceans so. It was still in part for Odysseus' curse that the waters now found themselves under a brutal, uncaring attack, becoming more filthy by the day, and something in Penelope's chest that was still a nymph despite all her effort to rid herself of it purred in satisfaction.

On the other hand. How long till they ran out of fish?

Queen Anticlea, bless Hestia, was the descendant of a farmer, and had spent much of her time as queen overseeing the grain of their kingdom and bullying them all into establishing good agriculture- but the rains had been bleak and old Leartes had not remembered to barter for a freshwater supply this year, so they ran the chance of running slim, especially with six hundred men now returned.

The heavy doors creak open and Penelope comes back to herself. A problem for later.

"Good evening, everyone!" A voice calls from beyond, nasal and cheerful, and they all rise.

Ctimene is a tall woman, thin and sleek, with a chiton bare of patterns but made of the finest cloth. What comes to mind since the day Penelope first laid eyes on her is sharp, from her hairstyle to her amber eyes, someone who wears a smile as warm as her brother's but doesn't expect you to believe in it like he does- doesn't need you to, because she's going to get her way regardless.

She'd left Ithaka a few months after Penelope arrived, coming home sporadically from where Penelope assumes she's been happily terrorizing Same, but she remembers how her husband's sister is.

That she and Odysseus did not kill each other in the womb itself is something of a minor miracle, is the general consensus amongst everyone.

"Princess Ctimene," Penelope says, bowing.

"Queen is what your missive said," She replies before Penelope can speak further. Her eyes narrow and Penelope carefully shows no sign of her impending headache- Hermes' eyes are not to be looked upon, and his children share his preference- and holds the gaze calmly. Ctimene throws her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head. "So, did my idiot brother finally run out of luck?"

Penelope blinks and- actually looks. Ctimene is a stone tower, but Penelope can suddenly see the cracks- a trembling lip, the flash of agonized grief in her eyes, fingernails clenched into her own palm.

"No!" She blurts out, stumbling down the stairs to take her hand. "No, he's not- he is not lost to us, sister, I should have written that before."

"What does that mean?" Ctimene's eyes narrow, as she pulls herself up, emotion hidden once again. "Speak plainly, Pen."

Pen hits her straight in the chest, stealing her breath from her for a moment. It has been so long since her Helen and Clymenestra and Iphitimene have called her that, and for Ctimene to do so so easily, even though they barely know each other-

She takes in a shaky breath and holds herself back high. "Poseidon has- cursed Odysseus, for blinding his son instead of killing him. His men were allowed to return in exchange, but he swims the seas as a strange creature now, with the tail of a fish, unable to speak to us; we spent the last year on the seas, looking for him, but were taken away by bad luck and bad timing just as we reached him and-"

"What are you talking about?" Ctimene interrupts incredulous, unfolding her arms to finally let her body language show. "What? Poseidon? How in Gaia's name did that fool- I thought he was being held hostage by Troy or something! Cursed?"

Penelope tries not to let her resolve waver. Ten years of only letters and missives have taken their toll, as much as she was spitefully determined to not let them; to have to deal with the injustice now that the war was not yet over for her, that there was still a fight left before she had her husband in her arms again, her darling, trickster husband who she spent every morning missing, every moment she was alone aching for-

Her husband, who had been at her fingertips, who had looked at her for that one brief moment with recognition and joy so bright and loving and a smile so wide at her presence that her final image of him now was blurred because of her tears-

Her husband, who had been swept away. Whom she had failed.

"Yes," She replies. "But during our search- we were blessed... by the presence of Lady Athena herself."

"Let me guess," Ctimene interrupts, lips quirking in amusement. The men around her frown and look at each other with disbelief as she has no reaction to the news, as if gods appeared to mortals as often as the goats bleated. "She lectured you all for running off without a plan and dragged you back like disobedient children."

Penelope's mouth opens and closes, with no idea what to say. She feels her aunt's paranoia about the wrath of the gods grip her and she has to actively fight the urge to shake this woman and tell her to keep her mouth shut, but- was that not... technically what had happened?

"I would not put it that way," She manages, hoping that no one is around to hear. "Athena's counsel is unparalleled-"

"Do not bother," Athena says next to her, and several people shout and fall to the floor, trembling. Penelope herself feels her heart drop to the ground in fear. "You might convince a mountain to move aside, before you get this insolent woman to show some respect to me. Hello, Ctimene."

"Hi, Athena," Ctimene straightens up, hands behind her back as she grins, suddenly looking much more younger and childish. "Where have you been? You haven't come to meet me in ages!"

"On the battlefields of Troy," Athena says dryly. By someone's grace, she is not yet angry; although from the pieces Penelope is putting together, her husband's mentorship seems to be much less hands-off than she'd assumed it was; and she can describe Odysseus as many things but significantly not someone you can spend a lot of time with without having a high tolerance to annoyance.

That would give Ctimene some leeway with her casualness, but she really needed to stop talking before Athena grew cross with them as well-

Ctimene pouts, moving closer. "That's no excuse," She insists, giving half the people in the room so much stress that Penelope thinks they'll keel over in a faint, and the other half some new resignation to dying violently. "I want your wisdom too!"

Athena- laughs?

"When will you ever change, weasel?" She says, lips twisted in amusement.

"Never," Ctimene says, warmer than Penelope's ever heard her, before straightening up and tilting her chin up. "So. You want me to take the throne."

"Yes." Penelope steps in, heart pounding nervously. Talking in front of Athena with a clear mind was wracking, but Ctimene's familiarity gives her confidence enough to step in. She knows politics. She had ruled Ithaka for ten years. She is a princess of Sparta and the best statesperson of her lands, and she must believe in herself for others to believe in her. "I have written up a contract-"

"None is needed," Ctimene interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. Penelope is stunned silent for a moment, letting the other woman turn away to comment on the worn curtains- then her blood boils. This- This absolute-

It takes every inch of her will to calm herself down and not show any sign of her anger in front of all the people looking on. It is a skill honed well from arguing her father and uncle in court, but in front of Athena it feels scorchingly worse, unbelievable mortification.

"May I ask why?" Penelope says, voice cold.

Ctimene turns in surprise, eyes flicking to the side and back. "I do not contract with family," She says, voice slightly smaller, and all the anger goes rushing back out of Penelope, leaving both embarassment and relief in its wake. "I have no designs to the throne of Ithaka, after all. But if you want, I could."

"Please," Penelope inclines her head, walking forward to place the scroll in her hand. "And in the future, do remember that while dealing with any of the Spartan family, at least, there is no love lost between blood. Contracts are needed in every aspect of politics."

Ctimene nods, and Penelope turns away to bow in front of Athena while her courage lasts. "Goddess of Wisdom, patron of Ithaka," She pitches her voice respectably. "May I inquire about a matter, if I might recieve your blessings to do so?"

"Granted."

"Our people rely on fish," She says simply. Does not look up to see if Athena is angry, about to fly into a rage and curse her for her insolence. "I would greatly be thankful if you would let me know if we require to trade for supplies from the mainland this year."

Athena is silent for a long moment. Penelope's heart pounds. Then- "It will last a month more. Do not eat seafood till then."

Her breath escapes her. "Thank you, Pallas Athena."

She turns back to the men, lifting her chin. "We will stay in for the rains and resume our search next summer, giving Odysseus time to return to the sea. When we sail, Ctimene will be crowned queen, and rule with her husband until we return. But the men who had come with us the first time will be all replaced by a new cohort."

She silences their loud protests with a raised hand, trying not to waver in the face of their betrayed looks and devastation. "No," She says firmly. "Odysseus sacrificed himself for all of you to return home, to make new lives safe and happy; not spend time chasing him down on the high seas endlessly. Honor his choice. We will have rotations every season, barring the storms. Choose amongst the remaining men who will be coming by next harvest."

Polites looks at her as the men are dismissed, filing out of the main hall muttering desolately. "I will not be leaving, Penelope."

Her lips quirk. It might be the first time he's called her by name. "Wouldn't expect any different." She's incredibly aware that this is uncharted territory, her first actual order as Queen of Ithaka. Ten years she had learnt the politics, but it had been under Anticlea and Laertes, with an end date she could look forward to. Now she is no longer a replacement sovereign, no longer has a husband sailing back to lighten her load.

Queen of Ithaka. How ironic, that of the three jewels, of all her sisters, she was the only one to achieve their dream of being able to rule alone and visible- yet it meant was that she would never be happy.

She turns back to Ctimene and Athena, who are both staring at her with the same unreadable expression.

Discomfort rushes through her- had she said the wrong thing somewhere?- but she pushes it aside to bow again. "How is Eurylochus?"

Ctimene smiles, and something genuine breaks through. "Better. Did you know he was not eating, though?"

Penelope starts at the sudden accusation, shocked. Feels anger rise at Eurylochus' idiocy, putting her at odds with her sister-in-law because of his own stupidity. "No, I did not," She said evenly. "Rations were distributed equally."

"But you must have known!" Ctimene snaps. "How-"

Athena places a hand on her shoulder. "Screaming helps no one."

Ctimene jerks her head to the side, cheeks burning. Penelope opens her mouth to say something, but the other suddenly rushes past, skirts billowing. "I have to go. Let us meet in the evening, Penelope."

"Alright," Penelope says, and when she turns back Athena has disappeared as well.

She takes a long breath, shoulders slumping as the doors bang closed. Then looks beside her and squints. "You better be eating. I don't want to hear nonsense about fainting and wasting away from you, understand?"

Polites snorts and gets to his feet. "Yes, your grace."

She groans, putting her head in her hands, exhausted. "Why did he have to not eat? Now Ctimene blames me and will fight me on everything as recompense. How was I supposed to even know!"

Polites sighs, and she remembers with a start that he is Eurylochus' best friend as well. "You must understand, Penelope." He says quietly, with all the sorrow that she knew he'd been pushing aside for a brave face with the men, their unending optimism made person. Some days, even she couldn't tell whether he was acting or not. "That the reason we got into this mess at all was because of the two of us."

Penelope frowns. "I'm sure that's not-"

"It was on Eurylochus' behest that we stopped for food. It was on my insistence that we trusted the Lotus people. Odysseus would still be here if it wasn't for the two of us, pushing him to make decisions on behalf of all of us, then standing back while he took all the punishment for it."

"That is what ruling is-!" Penelope exclaims, but is cut off again.

"It was still our fault!" He bursts out, voice cracking. "Do you know, not one second-in-command survived the Trojan war? That the war only stretched as long as it did because Odysseus was the only strategist determined to not let even one of his men be a casualty? I myself saw three soldiers throw themselves in front of fatal blows for Patroclus, I saw Diomedes' general get shot down after he forced his king to stay back while they inspected a rumor about a crack in the wall- man after man died for their rulers, and us? All six hundred, whole and hearty, returned miraculously to our families, our home; while our brother and friend-" His face twists up. "-our ruler who made it possible is lost to us. Ten years of his love and care and jokes made us lose sight of the fact that he was still our King, not just our captain. We should have been the ones to go, Penelope. Even if every man, every soldier had been Poseidon's cost- we knew the risks. We knew when we sailed that not all would return. If no one else, me and Eurylochus should have had the damn courage-"

He breaks into sobs and Penelope drops all sense of propriety to pull him into a hug, mouth downturned as she silently cries as well, shoulders jerking.

"I miss him," He sobs. "My best friend. Why did the gods have to take him? Why must the Fates be so cruel?"

Penelope's eyes mist over, as she turns to stare out the window, out at the poisoned ocean, her husband swimming somewhere under its waters.

Come back, she begs. Oh, Odysseus, everyone loves and misses you so. Come back soon.

[uncanny-tranny]

This is purely speculation on my end, but I've noticed that it seems like people (specifically younger queer people, partially under forty) are so used to queerphobes indignantly saying, "you have the right to marry, what more can you want?! Why do you shove it down our throats?!" that they internalize the idea that gay marriage and other rights were only fought for for queer assimilation.

The push for things like gay marriage wasn't just "to assimilate," and especially after the AIDs crisis, you very well could watch your lover or friend or mentor die in front of you and have no recourse. No protections. No guarantee that you could even say goodbye. Learning that - as a young queer myself - hammered home how important these things can be. To get where we are now didn't happen because of the magical benevolence of the cishets. We fought for that shit. We died for that shit.

Again, this is speculation, but I don't think young queers (even me) will truly understand the scope of queer history. It takes effort to learn about this, but it is an effort worth pursuing every single time. At the least, we owe it to honour the people who came before us who have sacrificed so much. We owe our communities that much, at least.

[joeku-xiv]

thinking a lot about jean in so many ways, he’s sooo endearing and everytime i like him more and more

and i can’t not think about ships too, and it’s. difficult.

i love jeanharry too much, two co-dependant depressed assholes that yes, have a few wonderful moments together, but can’t stop making each other worse? woo boy i crave for it. thinking about their past together makes me always emotional, it’s so. really.

but in the present/future? i can’t see harry without kim, there’s too much between them and i can’t look away, and i also really love them. i think that jean and harry would drive them insane again, their baggage is too heavy, and i can’t see a way for them to really work for once. the love? is totally here, it’ll always be, but alone? they can’t work, they’ll be the death of them

jeankimharry? it works, i like it, i think that kim can make them work and finally resolve some of their problems, and them with kim too. will they all heal? of course not, there’ll always be problems (and thanks fuck, i don’t want to woobify no one please i love them all as problematic as they are because there isn’t a good man in disco elysium) but all together they can work. but it’s really easy for people to put jean in the background and no. big nope. i fucking hate it, if they’re a throuple there shouldn’t be someone who’s in the center, they’re all equal. sooo uhm, i like it, but it’s really difficult too

everything i’ve seen about jeantrant is really good, i like it, they’re cute, but my problem is that we (me? could be my problem, it’s still been not a lot of time since i’ve finished de) know too little about trant, and we don’t really see his personality, his problems, everything. to me he seems too good and sane, and i think that also jean craves in some way someone fucked up as him. it doesn’t feel that satisfying for me too, not like this. wish to know more about him, the game has leave some good doubts to me about trant

with judy there could be really good ideas but i’m too afraid of the misogyny around her and nope. i’ve already seen to many shit takes about jean, if i have to deal with misogyny too i’ll go insane

[aq2003]

if anyone is a fan of dt's voice work/audio dramas like i am and wants to listen to something random they've likely never heard before (or if you're coming down from the tony-baddingham-rivals high and want to see (hear) him play an entirely different yet equally complicated guy) i recommend murder in samarkand! it's quite good :)

cw: explicit mentions of SA/police brutality, islamophobia, and suicidal ideation

(youtube link)

(official site: mp3 download/soundcloud link)

[anghraine]

Just thinking about how, when my favorite show—Showtime's The Borgias—aired in 2011, it was 519 years after the RL version of the events in the first episodes (i.e. since 1492). To compare, the accession of the Holy Roman Emperor Otto II (husband of the Byzantine princess Theophanu), and likely the birth of Murasaki Shikibu (author of The Tale of Genji) were as far removed from the real Borgias' lives in 1492 as The Borgias is from the historical events inspiring its premiere.

[lady-raziel]

hilarious that with each new day that passes a new bit of dirt from JD Vance's past gets discovered and plastered over the internet...it's almost as if this is why presidential campaigns have always announced their running mates well before the convention...so that if glaring issues with a candidate came to light quickly there would be time to replace them on the ticket before they were officially locked in...it's almost as if certain things in political campaigns were done for a reason, donald...because the very same critical failures had happened before...but no i'm sure you and your guys attempt to recreate a fantasy version of history while ignoring all the reasons that history was a disaster will work this time...because you are built different and the 10000th time trying fascism will work like a charm...

[nothorses]

I saw your tags on the post about trick or treaters not speaking and I am v interested in hearing more of your thoughts on the concept of “developmental delays”! I‘ve seen the idea that disability is a construct, but I’m not as familiar with the idea that development is also a construct. You have really great takes as an educator and someone who like, actually GETS how kids work, so I am interested in your thoughts!

I also know that posting on this subject might be poking the bear, so it is 1000% cool if you would rather not comment 💜 Tysm!

Oh I'm happy to talk about it! I love talking about this stuff, thank you for asking me to 💙

This isn't exactly new ground; there's been plenty of research into and writing on the subject, and deconstructing "development" as a static concept was, ironically, a huge part of my most recent development class.

The idea is that our understanding of "benchmarks" of development, which informs the larger concept of development as a whole, is heavily rooted in the assumption that Western culture is The Standard. We prioritize walking, talking, reading, and writing, which means we cultivate these skills in our children from a young age, which means they develop those skills more quickly than they do others.

To use one of my favorite examples from Rogoff, 2003, Orienting Concepts and Ways of Understanding the Cultural Nature of Human Development:

Although U.S. middle-class adults often do not trust children below about age 5 with knives, among the Efe of the Democratic Republic of Congo, infants routinely use machetes safely (Wilkie, personal communication, 1989). Likewise, Fore (New Guinea) infants handle knives and fire safely by the time they are able to walk (Sorenson, 1979). Aka parents of Central Africa teach 8- to 10-month-old infants how to throw small spears and use small pointed digging sticks and miniature axes with sharp metal blades: "Training for autonomy begins in infancy. Infants are allowed to crawl or walk to whatever they want in camp and allowed to use knives, machetes, digging sticks, and clay pots around camp. Only if an infant begins to crawl into a fire or hits another child do parents or others interfere with the infant’s activity. It was not unusual, for instance, to see an eight month old with a six-inch knife chopping the branch frame of its family’s house. By three or four years of age children can cook themselves a meal on the fire, and by ten years of age Aka children know enough subsistence skills to live in the forest alone if need be. (Hewlett, 1991, p. 34)" (pg. 5)

In the US we would view "letting an 8-month-old handle a knife" as a sign of severe neglect, but the emphasis here is placed on the fact that these children are taught to do these things safely. They don't learn out of necessity, or stumble into knives when nobody is watching; they learn with care, support, and safety in mind, just like children here learn. It makes me wonder if Aka parents would view our children's lack of basic survival skills with the same concern and disdain as USAmerican parents would view their children's inability to read.

Do we disallow our children from handling knives because it is objectively, fundamentally unsafe for a child of that age to do so- because even teaching them is developmentally impossible- or is that just a cultural assumption?

What other cultural assumptions do we have about child development?

Which ties in neatly with various social-based models of disability, particularly learning and, of course, developmental disabilities. If your culture doesn't value the things you are good at, and you happen to struggle with the things it does value, what kinds of assumptions is it likely to make about you? How will it pathologize you? What happens to that culture if it understands those values to be arbitrary, in order to accommodate your unique existence?

[elvenmoans]

you have no idea how excited I got when he casually dropped that his family told him if he wanted to be a man he had to go into the military like a man. Like BROO he is now my Mercar's best friend

[milfbrainrot]

thank you loris for serving ur entire purpose of having vi briefly hallucinate vander in ur place