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[tovaper]

Your friend is problematic

TW: rape, false accusation of rape

My choice for this article originally was to explain about how I do not want a cis body and after I thought about it and several attempts of trying to write about it I realized that I don't actually wanted to write about it. At least not for now. I don't want a cis body, which to me is self-evident since I never led a normative life. That's about it. So I deleted what I wrote, because I didn't think it was worthy of the space this article should hold and so I'm writing from scratch on the evening of the day this article was due. I think it's apparent that I'm not a friend of deadlines.

As I was laying in bed yesterday before sleep, I was thinking about a story I heard exactly two weeks ago. A group of friends went on a drink after work to socialize and have fun. One of them got pretty drunk and went home with someone they met there. Another one posted a story on instagram 'missing: rapist -insert name-' after the person who went was not available via phone for a long time. The person who posted this is known for and also brags about the fact that they really likes problematic stuff. Thankfully the story was not up for long, as people wrote to the person who uploaded it and calling them in and out, so they eventually deleted it.

So this story is relevant to me on several levels.

I was raped. I do not tolerate that anyone is making fun out of rape. Not only because I've been through it, but because of all of us who have been through it. The amount of trauma and CPTSD this can trigger in people is no joke. The fact that we relive this in our minds and even get reminded how rape still is a joke to some. Let me tell you, we've been there, we're heard people not believing us and making fun of the fact we were raped. I just really hope this particular story was not seen from any rape survivors other than me.

The person who was accused is a person who is very dear to me and I also know them well enough that I know they would never do anything like this. We have similar political beliefs and similar moral values. (Since this is translated from Slovenian to English the following sentence is going to be a direct translation to English, because I don't feel comfortable with any other Enlish idiom). I would put my hand in fire for them. And that is why this story angered me and still does to no end. How can a 'friend' do that to their friend? This is a very serious accusation that could cost the accused one their career as well as do damage to their personal life.

This did happen outside working hours, however the next day all of whom went out worked together in a space, which is known for being inclusive and safe, especially for marginalized groups. Which are the groups that do experience the most violence. I didn't hear anything about that this was addressed at work.

As much as I wish that the person who did the accusations whould be sent on a far away island, this sadly isn't an option. Also to ban them from certain places would not be beneficial in the long run anyway. I think it is the most important when things like these happen that we all address them. Even if it's uncomfortable. Which doesn't mean that just anyone should be addressing anything, of course not. But people who are capable of addressing things in a way that is beneficial for everyone – that I encourage. Even if it means you'll lose one or more friends by doing so. This story has not let me rest since the day I heard about it and I have talked about it, discussed it upside down and inside out. And I think I need to address it. Not just for myself, not just for the person who was wrongly accused, but for the reason that the person who put the accusations out hears what they have done and that it does not happen again and that their friends also know that with stuff like this there needs to be a line that cannot be crossed anymore. That us, rape survivors, will be reminded of what happened to us, one time less.

[tovaper]

Pride and me

Pride is political. Pride is a protest. The only reason we have Pride is because of black trans women, self-identified drag queens, gay liberators and trans activists. Is it our duty to remember them and especially as the majority of us who are white to acknowledge our privilege.

When I came into the community, I was immediately welcomed with open arms. Which gave me the opportunity to evolve myself and to become as empowered as I am today. Because I know how valuable this is, I want to give back to the community to the extent that I can.

That is why my presence at Pride is so important to me. As someone living with chronic pain and chronic fatigue and other marginalized identities that eat away on the little energy I have every day to start with, this is no easy task for me.

On the day of Pride I was pretty tired after working on my poster for one hour. When I managed to make half of it I of course ran out of material. I am wearing clothes I have been wearing for the last three days, two of which were spent in bed because of the fatigue and pain. I did not have the energy to change, since I knew this would only eat away the rest of the little energy I had left for the day. That's why I just grabbed my car keys, drove to the nearest stationery store - let me include here a little extra that I left out in the Slovene version, since it wasn't about that. I was wearing hot pants (some I know consider the size of them of normal underwear) and a plaid button down, which I only had tied in front quickly and loosly. So yes, one was able to see my fat, protruding, with stretch marks beautified belly and my cleavage was on show. I was just leaving the stationery store, minding my own business, when a woman behind me let out a shocked 'Look at that woman...' and I was gone. Usually I go to these kinds of people and tell them they should just shut it, but I had no energy, I was hot (take that both ways if you will) and running late. I'm always wondering how truly awful lives these people have. - and on the way back I went to pick up some plastic flowers. I like to go all out. Usually, a ride and going to stores powers me out for a good two days if not more. I came home, completely ran out of energy. I drink water and continue, I know I can't eat, cause that would make my stomach upset and then I'd really have to stay home. I finish my poster, hop under the shower, put my clothes on, tuck the flowers in my socks and quickly do my makeup. I grab my stuff and drag myself to my car. There was no energy left for the day. And for the next few days.

In front of Metelkova I get to see my good friends, the cops (sarcasm!), which even made way for me. And then at Metelkova my poster and I flung ourselves under the first shade. When I'm this exhausted before event, I'm only fueled by stubbornness and the feeling of duty. I was quite glad that my poster and at some instances me as well were photographed and recorded even before the march started. I hope the pictures of the poster were clear to see.

I ran into two acquaintances and more or less all I could do was nod and give short answers. If you're reading this then be assured I was not being desinterested in you, it is just that as someone with basically non-existing energy and also as someone with sensory issues I was doing my best. It also didn't help to see someone I am considering breathtakingly beautiful to help me focus on being fully invested in the conversation. But that's a topic for another article.

Same as last year, I also wanted to go topless this year. As a middle finger to society, which reads me as a woman, which I am not, as a middle finger to societal belief that bare breasts on a body of a person who was assigned female at birth are sexualized, as a middle finger to society who hates fat people and as a visual media which is there to empower people from the community that doubt in their bodies.

When the march was over my body hated me and all of my senses worked on autopilot. This was too much for me and for my autism. It was sensory overload, if not sensory hell at moments.

It was such a great pleasure that afterwards people wanted to take pictures of my poster. And it was even a greater pleasure that I had the great pleasure to experience the reactions of certain induviduals, who got something back from my being so out there.

I was able to give something back to the community and this was all I cared to do on this day. I hope to continue to give back in the future as well.

This year's theme was intersectionality. I am a person on the crossroad of many marginalized identities. I am fat, autistic, nonbinary, queer edge, disabled, vegan and a which.

And your feminism is bullshit if it is not against: RACISM SPECIESISM FASCISM TRANSPHOBIA HOMOPHOBIA INTERSEX PHOBIA BIPHOBIA PANPHOBIA ISLAMOPHOBIA XENOPHOBIA ABLEISM FATPHOBIA ARO EXCLUSION ACE EXLUSION TRANSMISOGYNY / MISOGYNY CISSEXISM / SEXISM AGEISM HATE SPEECH DISCRIMINATION VIOLENCE OF ANY SORT

Ps. I wrote fascism wrong on the poster and even though I checked so many times, I only now noticed it.

[tovaper]

Today was Pride. I knew I had to put my pain and discomfort aside and do what needed to be done and go.

Pride is political. Pride is a protest. With Pride we remember Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, black transwomen and self-identified drag queens, gay liberation and transgender activists. We owe everything to them.

And by no means am I telling anyone that they should go despite their abilities or their lack off if they don’t feel like it.

It’s just, for me it’s a must. To remind people that we are here and we won’t go anywhere. We are proud of who we are.

I am also putting myself out there a bit more than others, because I want to give the community back what I was given by my ex when I came into the community. Today I succeded.

[tovaper]

Samefooding - ha, finally came across the word. I’m doing this for my whole life. I knew as long I know I’m autistic that eating like that is an autistic trait. It’s nice to have a word for it.

[tovaper]

Since it’s Pride week, I have managed to go to couple events. One of which was a pannel and there was a person with a disability (that’s what they want to be called as, because they use person first language). But their argument was different from what I heard so far about it. They wouldn’t want to have an able body, they wouldn’t trade their experiences, their life, their struggles. Which is something that I also stand behind strongly when it comes to myself. They then said that they didn’t like to use disabled person, as they are not their disability. They are so much more.

And I’ve been thinking about it. I use disabled person for myself, cause let’s face it, my disability is me, but of course it isn’t all of me. It’s just such a huge part of my life, since it’s present 24/7 for years now. The only thing I don’t like is how other people tend to say that I am a disabled person. The intonation in their voices.

Like someone said the other say that I am special. I’ve heard their tone. They’ll probably defend themselves to the grave that they didn’t mean it in a bad way. But I’ve heard what I’ve heard and I’ve felt what I’ve felt. My gut feeling is always right when it comes to people.

[tovaper]

I’m not really a social person. I don’t care for parties, events, gatherings and whatnot. But I do like company very much.

For what my life has been, I was always the strong one. I cared for others when my body desperately needed rest, I renovated flats for others when I had no spoons, when I was exhausted beyond myself, when I would have needed support. How many times have a cried and when someone would approach me, I’d wipe away my tears and smiled at them and build them up. I always only had me in my life. Even though so many said they cared, I’ve seen none of it in the past months.

And I’m always asking myself if they don’t care, if they think I have this magical support system, if I am so very strong and always to manage everything on my own. Is it cause I’m autistic and I’m a more demanding person? Is it cause of my chronic pain? What is it? I’d really like to know.

Cause yes, at the end of the day I need to pick my own ass up.

When I met that someone, I also met all their friends. And they always said those aren’t just their friends, they are mine too. I cried to those friends over them. They knew how much I was hurting. And when they fucked up majorly...no one asked me how I was. No one.

It’s nothing new for me to get disappointed by people.

And I also know I’ll never get an answer.

[tovaper]

That internalized ableism, where you push yourself beyond your limits and your pain becomes unbearable, so you can spend a week in bed.

I do that all the time. Partly because I want to do some things so badly, partly because when I promise something that does not only include me and one other person, I feel like I need to perform no matter what.

That takes a huge toll on me. I know my body perfectly, but sadly, I don’t really listen to it when I would need to.

[tovaper]

A brief introduction

My grandfather and I used to watch German (subbed) cartoons. They were the reason I have the backbone, the ethics and the will I have today. He was also the only one who actually invested in me as a person and cared for me most.

My mother and father were people who should have never been allowed to have kids.

I was assigned female at birth. At age 5 I was second guessing that, only knowing of the binary genders, I found it an ok idea I was a boy, but felt good as I looked, minus my face.

Two weeks before elementary school, my grandfather passed away after a long battle with lung cancer whilst asleep and whilst I was holding his hand.

Mother had gotten me a precious dog, who I named Timmy shortly after that and he was the only reason I survived the next decade.

I was bullied in elementary school from the first to the last hour of it. At first psychologically, in later years I was kicked, trown knives at, thrown lit lighters at me, was having my expensive skater shoes and clothing destroyed on the regular.

After a few years I considered and attempted a few suicide attempts. Wrote a last will letter, burned it after a while.

From around the middle of elementary school I knew that the school system wasn’t for me as it wasn’t learning but forcefully testing how well we can remember things and also I didn’t have any interest in any classes, but languages - minus mother tounge.

At age 9 I came home from school, making a stop in my father’s then rented factory (plywood bedding) and went to the toilet where two dead sheep hanged on the walls. I became vegetarian.

Parents forced me to continue school, so I went to a gymnasium. Was bullied there from day one and after two years I’ve had it. I’ve failed the class, as I knew that was my only way out. And let me tell you, it was hard to fail - the teacher almost didn’t let me. The class I then came into was awesome. Everyone was super sweet and even though not everyone liked the other, we always stuck together.

So fast forward two years, at the age of 19, I got myself a boyfriend. Asshole raped me.

Not long after that Timmy got diagnosed with terminal cancer, so I dropped out and took care of him for 3 years and 4 months 24/7 until he passed away.

I then went to night school and tried finishing my gymnasium, but I was fed up with it at the finals and I never went to pick up the results.

At the age of 21 I recieved a spam email from Peta and became vegan.

Not long after, I started working in the family company, which wasn’t the production factory anymore, but a supplier company.

A few years forward my mother got diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. They told her she had 3 months, max. I dropped everything and took care of her 24/7 for a whole year until she passed away in agony suffocating, screaming and drooling in my arms on a summer morning at 7, when everyone just ran away as far as they could.

A year after that I met someone. They treated me poorly and I’ve done everything I humanly could for them. They’ve then lied to me, disappointed me and I am still to this day supporting them cause I know they have no one who would do that and I know how important support is when you have no one.

I may have forgotten the one or other traumatic event, but then again, I can’t keep track of them anymore.

I am autistic.

I am nonbinary.

I live with cronic pain (24/7 - most probably fibro, still trying to get a diagnosis).

I have chronic fatigue.

I have ptsd.

I am fat.

I have depression and anxiety.

I am queer.

I am vegan.