whicheveroneisthecoolest1

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

I was chatting with a friend about Star Wars, and…

People who are LGBTQ+ / Queer talk about the first time they watched a movie and crushed super hard on one of the leads who was the same sex and like…

Y’all…

I watched Return of the Jedi on repeat as a kid. I was so sapphic for Carrie Fisher. Way before I knew I liked girls and I was so confused as to why I felt the same things for girls as I did for boys when I was going through puberty in military school and teen me did not understand why the girl I crushed on all through high school looked like Princess Leia.

I can’t help but think Carrie Fisher would be so proud to know that as a baby bi she was my first girl crush also that Return of the Jedi opened the doors to non-heteronormativity and it is my solemn duty to remind Star Wars dude bros of this fact.

Also Carrie Fisher could cook me like spaghetti noodles

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

I’m gonna add my two cents to this:

You can be ‘wrong’ without being ‘bad’.

If you learned wrong, and centered wrongness in your understanding of the world, it will hurt to shift it once you learn ‘right’. There’s so much about you that hinges on your understanding of the world around you that when you realize some of it was ‘wrong’, the adjustment will hurt a lot. Even just emotionally, realizing you were wrong hurts sometimes. And understanding yourself once you realize some essential truth can also reveal some really dark and ugly truths about yourself.

It’s when you respond to your emotions and double down on the ‘wrong’ to prevent your sense of self from shifting that it becomes ‘bad’.

You can be wrong, but if you are not willing to see the wrong and fix it and instead you centralize your sense of self so thoroughly that you cannot be wrong, so everything else must be challenged? That’s when the wrong becomes bad.

I am being so serious when I say that when you are first confronted with deradicalization and any huge challenge to the incorrect world view you've inadvertently made a huge part of your personality it will feel like the world is ending.

Our brains do not like this one bit.

Your kneejerk reaction will be to bury whatever you just saw, read, listened to (whatever) that made you Question because of how deeply, unsettlingly uncomfortable it makes you.

You have to have the strength to instead take a step back and find your rational side again and push through.

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

oh! I have to tell you guys a great story one of my professors told me. So he has a friend who is involved in these Shakespeare outreach programs where they try to bring Shakespeare and live theatre to poor and underprivileged groups and teach them about English literature and performing arts and such. On one of their tours they stopped at a young offenders institute for women and they put on a performance of Romeo and Juliet for a group of 16-17 year old girls. It was all going really well and the girls were enjoying and laughing through the first half - because really, the first half is pretty much a comedy - but as the play went on, things started to get quiet. Real quiet. Then it got up to the suicide scene and mutterings broke out and all the girls were nudging each other and looking distressed, and as this teacher observed them, he realised - they didn’t know how the play ended. These girls had never been exposed to the story of Romeo and Juliet before, something which he thought was impossible given how ubiquitous it is in our culture. I mean, the prologue even gives the ending away, but of course it doesn’t specify exactly how the whole “take their life” thing goes down, so these poor girls had no idea what to expect and were sitting there clinging to hope that Romeo would maybe sit down for a damn minute instead of murdering Paris and chugging poison - but BAM he died and they all cried out - and then Juliet WOKE UP and they SCREAMED and by the end of the play they were so upset that a brawl nearly broke out, and that’s the story of how Shakespeare nearly started a riot at a juvenile detention centre

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

I have this talk sometimes about Anti-Racism.

You cannot just hate or insult people and expect them to then go on after your sick burn and tear down systems of oppression that impact marginalized communities.

One of the reasons why allies have to be willing to have hard conversations about anti-racism with ignorant people is because if you insult them, they will just fold themselves back into “safe spaces to be racist” and engage in hateful behaviors, literally doubling down and bending themselves back into the fold of extremist rhetoric.

It is so, so hard to have those conversations, without anger, and they simply must be had. That’s why I believe the responsibility of an ally is to have those conversations with people outside of marginalized communities.

No person experiencing oppression will have an objective, un-emotional response or view of the mechanism. And with the whole, “Whoever gets the most emotional is wrong,” part of the western panopticon, the people who are struggling the most should not be solely responsible for deconstructing systems of oppression within communities that support or enable that very nexus of power.

As a white woman (very queer, not English, and not even local to my community, but here nonetheless), I think performative allies like to tell marginalized communities that the ally should be trusted, that they have unlearned prejudice and discrimination and so therefore, marginalized communities should let them into their safe spaces, that marginalized people should change their behavior to be more open to the changed mind of the ally.

But the real responsibility of allies is to disseminate the information and the truth of the realities of those communities outside those spaces, and to flavor the communities that are ignorant of this very same essential truths in solidarity. Once ignorance is replaced with understanding, people who just never had the opportunity to learn can become the strongest allies. It is not POC’s job to educate your community, it’s yours.

So yeah, allies should be responsible for education. If allies are enjoying the process of punching ignorant people, punishing the willfully incompetent or unlearned, and hunting extremists for sport, they just decided to take their same power, the same punishment, the same high horse heavy hand, and use it on the oppressors rather than marginalized people, and didn’t unlearn anything. They just transferred the object of prejudice because they’re enjoying the power that comes from a moral high ground.

I can’t say don’t punch a Nazi, because if you meet a Nazi, chances are they are way way down the rabbit hole, and you may never be able to change their mind. But an ignorant, stupid person who isn’t already bought into it who is digging their way into circles of rhetoric can still change (I know because I spent most of my life ignorant, and some good kids and some great teachers eventually taught me better). That Nazi may be on their way to change it for the worse, because they want to be reinforced in their views, so they do so with the angry ignorant, putting words in their mouth so they have something to blame, something other than the real nexus of power because they don’t want more power for others, they want to preserve their own. And an ally with intent to educate can change the mind of the fool, but not the Nazi.

Just be that cool person who holds open the door for ignorant people to become allies. And when it’s your turn to choose to dismantle something within your reach that contributes to systemic oppression, you will know it, and you’ll do the right thing.

People who have experienced prejudice can totally unleash a barrage of insults against someone who hurts them (can’t say I wouldn’t, I tell off people on occasion for being rude to my deaf/hoh sis and hubby), but if you’re an ally, and you like to hurt the fools of the world on behalf of the marginalized for your own gratification, then you’re still in the power nexus, and you didn’t change anything. You may have even caused more damage, especially when the person goes on to take purposeful action that hurts people who are more vulnerable to systemic violence than you.

Be intolerant of intolerance by killing it at its root, salting the soil in which it grows. Demystify anti-racism until their eyes are open. Allies must hold open the door for the ignorant to become more allies. I challenge you to see how someone’s mind can be changed.

"But calling rightwingers weird inbred small dick manchildren allows me to shame them within their system of values"

That's the problem, and you don't see it.

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

Emergency services type jobs are different from this.

In toxic work environments, it’s called “The Emergency Culture.” It’s when management of a company use crises to make people act. It’s waiting to act until something is very badly broken, to then provide maintenance.

The issue there is that if everything is an emergency, nothing is. Manifesting drama to manufacture increased productivity causes stress and fracturing over time and it exhausts employees. It makes people sloppy, slow to react to real emergencies and reduces the ability of staff to recognize real high risk situations.

When you work in emergency services, chances are you’re trained to evaluate cases by risk, so you know what is life or death and what’s not, so not everything is the worst kind of emergency.

But an office where emergencies are manufactured to motivate, yeah here’s the 🚩

unpopular opinion but being able to perform well under pressure should not be a required skill for the majority of job applications if not all. why are we normalizing putting stress and anxiety on people who try to make a living and making them think having to work under pressure is something that is "challenging and good" (hence it takes skills to be able to do so) instead of something that the companies should fix?

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

Just saw a LinkedIn post that went something like this:

Candidate was rejected after multiple interviews because she didn’t seem enthusiastic or interested enough about the role…

(Seriously, what were all those interviews for?)

Made me think of this line we have all heard before.

The emotional labor of pretending you’re having the time of your life at an interview…🤝…strangers thinking you’re obligated to smile at them so they can get off on your appearance.

Mega boomer sh** and workforce power plays.

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

What did you learn in therapy?

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

Me, in the corner, holding a tray full of tarts: 😶

the queen's news

The news spread like fire across the castle.

The maids shared the information in wistful, relieved whispers. The Royal Guard dispersed it as a precaution, knowing heightened security would be needed once their adversaries became privy to the knowledge. The King’s advisors drink full glasses of wine and ale to combat it, knowing they would now not be able to make a widow out of the King for the fourth time when the public became aware that Queen Estelle had sired an heir for her husband. 

A feat the previous three had not managed before their heads landed themselves on a spike. 

King Valentin marinated in the information of the supposed fruitfulness of their labors as he was dressed. He disregarded the felicitations from his steward and the gracious smiles of the maidservants as he traversed the grand corridors toward the formal dining room. She was already there when he arrived, disdainfully dismissing the anxious attentions of her ladies-in-waiting with a flick of her hand.

“I assure you I can sit on my own.” She sighed, then eyed him skeptically as he sat to dine. “Good morning, Your Grace.” 

His crown sat heavy on his head, but his posture never relented. Food appeared in front of him, yet he ignored it in favor of returning a dubious stare of his own. 

“My Queen,” The King acknowledged, jutting out his chin. “I understand congratulations are in order.” 

She cocked her head to the side, raising a quizzical brow. 

“Aye, Your Grace. With the arrival of Spring, we shall welcome a babe of our own.” 

The King leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, watching her. The Queen did not squirm under his unrelenting stare. In anything, his eyes only appeared to give her confidence. 

“At long last, an heir to the Crown. It is such a miraculous blessing that I so scarcely believe it.”

She smiled mirthlessly, understanding his words. Her eyes slipped away from his to survey the room. The nameless faces of their servants dutifully averted her gaze, yet he sensed their watchful eyes on their every move, their ears attuned to pick up on every breath they took. They were not alone, and each word they spoke would be broadcasted across the castle in whispered gossip before their meal was completed. The Queen sensed this, surely, as a moment later she spoke:

“Leave us. I should like a private moment with the King to celebrate our most fortunate news.” 

The room cleared in an instant, leaving them alone. Silence sat between them as they watched one another, waiting for one to say something. Finally, breaking their competition, he spoke.

“When our marriage was arranged, we talked of the importance of siring an heir to the throne.” King Valentin explained. “Maybe I unjustly assumed the heir would be mine.”

The Queen had the audacity to appear affronted, her eyes widening and a flush of indignation rising to her cheeks. Her lips parted slightly as if she were on the verge of an undignified retort, yet she maintained an air of regal composure as she thought, her posture unwavering despite the palpable tension in the room.

“That is a treasonous accusation you place upon me, Your Grace.” Queen Estelle scolded. “Surely you have proof of my infidelity, then? Because I am sure the maids who change our linens would attest to your enthusiasm in sharing my bed these past months.”

The King twisted his features, his barely-concealed anger at the verge of breaking the surface. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles turning white as he fought to maintain his composure. Valentin's eyes blazed with a cold, calculating intensity as he stared at his wife. The glint in her eye was all-knowing, and he sighed in contempt.

“Have you always known?” He whispered venomously. 

“Have I always known what, husband?” Queen Estelle retorted coyly, stretching out forward. Her elbows sat on the table, her chin pressed into her hands. 

“Do not toy with me.” 

The Queen sighed, removing her chin from her hands. She smirked as she stood from her chair. Slowly, patiently, she walked along the table until she stood beside his seated figure. Forced to look up at her, his glare intensified. 

“There were others before me. Not one, not two, but three wives that did not bear you children. Not even a whisper of the loss of Royal fruit or a stillborn babe. And your whores? How many of them have been sent away to avoid a discovered bastard? None.” Queen Estelle revealed, clicking her tongue. “You have proven your proficiency at performing the marital act so we know the problem does not lie there– No, Your Grace, the women have never been the problem.” 

“Estelle–” The King began, but she cut him off.

“Your seed is barren, not their wombs.” 

A tense silence followed, heavy and suffocating. The King's face reddened with a mix of shame and fury. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips. Estelle continued, her voice now laced with a cold determination. 

“It is a tragedy that they died for your misfortune, but I refuse to share their fate.” She said, shaking her head. “I have done what I must to ensure my safety.” 

“I can just as easily reveal your ruse. Your head could be on the end of a spike by the end of this very day if I desired it.” He retorted.

The Queen laughed, infuriating him. 

“You shan’t do that though, hmm? Because you hear the whispers, too. You feel the tension brewing. You are the only living member of your house left. Your subjects are wary of the absence of an heir, but your enemies rejoice in the knowledge. You are weak without this child– The whole kingdom is. It is only a matter of time before someone makes an attempt on your life to get that crown on your head.”

The legs of the chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood to his full height, towering over her. She had gone too far–

The Queen held her hands out in a placating manner. 

"I do not attempt to threaten you,” she replied calmly. "I only speak the truth. Our legacy depends on this ruse. Our people must believe in the legitimacy of this heir, and that can only happen if you accept this child as your own flesh and blood. I took care in finding someone of your likeness to ensure the babe would hold a resemblance. You must play your part lest you risk losing everything you have fought so hard to protect." 

The King’s hands trembled with the force of his suppressed rage, but already it dimmed in the reality that she was correct. Executing her while the public believed she with his child would only further strain the rumors. If he was to secure himself against his precarious position, he had little choice but to concede. His eyes met hers, a reluctant acknowledgment of her victory.

"Very well," he said through gritted teeth. "But do not think this will be forgotten, Estelle. One day, you will answer for this deceit."

The Queen smiled, a cold, triumphant smile. "Until that day comes, Your Grace, we shall both play our parts to perfection."

She turned to leave, but he caught her forearm. 

“What of the child’s real father?” He asked quietly. “Will he be a problem?”

“Trust that the man shall be, and remain, a non-issue in our future.” She said simply. “I made sure of it.”

Queen Estelle pulled her arm from his grasp, reaching forward to take his chin in her fingers. She leaned forward, kissing the corner of his lips. 

“Finish your breakfast, Your Grace.” She said, pulling back. “The whole Kingdom may well know of our child by the time you are done.” 

With that, turned and gracefully left the room, leaving King Valentin to seethe in her victory. 

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

Yes

impostor syndrome: Oh no what if they can all tell that I'm an idiot who's not even supposed to be here, this is terrible. goblin mode: I am the idiot that they use to test whether something's idiot-proof, and boy is this place not up to code.

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

What I was taught growing up: Wild edible plants and animals were just so naturally abundant that the indigenous people of my area, namely western Washington state, didn't have to develop agriculture and could just easily forage/hunt for all their needs.

The first pebble in what would become a landslide: Native peoples practiced intentional fire, which kept the trees from growing over the camas praire.

The next: PNW native peoples intentionally planted and cultivated forest gardens, and we can still see the increase in biodiversity where these gardens were today.

The next: We have an oak prairie savanna ecosystem that was intentionally maintained via intentional fire (which they were banned from doing for like, 100 years and we're just now starting to do again), and this ecosystem is disappearing as Douglas firs spread, invasive species take over, and land is turned into European-style agricultural systems.

The Land Slide: Actually, the native peoples had a complex agricultural and food processing system that allowed them to meet all their needs throughout the year, including storing food for the long, wet, dark winter. They collected a wide variety of plant foods (along with the salmon, deer, and other animals they hunted), from seaweeds to roots to berries, and they also managed these food systems via not only burning, but pruning, weeding, planting, digging/tilling, selectively harvesting root crops so that smaller ones were left behind to grow and the biggest were left to reseed, and careful harvesting at particular times for each species that both ensured their perennial (!) crops would continue thriving and that harvest occurred at the best time for the best quality food. American settlers were willfully ignorant of the complex agricultural system, because being thus allowed them to claim the land wasn't being used. Native peoples were actively managing the ecosystem to produce their food, in a sustainable manner that increased biodiversity, thus benefiting not only themselves but other species as well.

So that's cool. If you want to read more, I suggest "Ancient Pathways, Ancestral Knowledge: Ethnobotany and Ecological Wisdom of Indigenous Peoples of Northwestern North America" by Nancy J. Turner

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

i say "godspeed, soldier" way too much for someone who puts their faith in neither god nor the military

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

“And they were roommates.”

Spring at the Seaside by Benes Knupfer (Czechoslovakian painter, 1848-1910)

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

I make a face.

I cross my eyes.

I stick out my tongue.

Who is this stranger?

The me that’s me feels so much pain.

Where is it when I look at you?

The marks of life, the scars, the wrinkles, the freckles.

I see you, beautiful girl.

The awkward tan from the kiss of the sun.

The water from the dishes on my shirt.

I blow her a kiss.

She winks.

I breathe a sigh and her breath fogs the mirror.

I cannot fight your battles, I cannot stand the weight of your burdens.

She screams and pulls her hair.

How could I ever be you?

I see my mothers face, my sister’s, my grandmother’s grandmother in her winsome smile.

Who is this stranger?

I cannot fight becoming you.

I cannot pretend hard enough to be you.

I am you.

She smiles. I turn away.

I’ve had enough of the mirror today.

I’ve grown into the face of a stranger

I see her, fleeting, in the mirror. For a moment, for a second, I do not recognize the woman staring back at me. My nose isn’t my own, nor my eyes nor chin.

I carry her smile, heavy and wide. She pulls at the tips of my lips and it burns to fight it.

I cannot fight any of this.

The dice have been thrown, the cards dealt.

I must live forever in this unfamiliarity, stuck with the face of a stranger.

I hear of her, the woman whose life I mimic. It’s unknowning, I don’t mean to be her. How can I intend to be someone I never knew?

Maybe I know her, through fractions and features.

My mother is long gone. Lost forever, always beyond my grasp.

But I see her, for a second, staring back at me in the mirror. Fleeting but alive.

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

I feel like wanting things has been important to being happier for me

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

My monkey brain, swishing around a chunk of forbidden museum candy: *drooling* Mmmmmm Rokths

Watermelon tourmaline is forbidden jolly rancher 😔

[whicheveroneisthecoolest1]

Me, made of salt and iron and old bones: Am I a devil’s trap?