October 11 Is National Coming Out Day! Happy Day To All Those In Or Out Of The Closet - You Are Valid

Here’s the thing fam-

You have to decide if you want to be one of the best, or the best. 

The fact is, there’s gonna be a lot of people in you’re life who will get the same grades and credit and praise and points, but who aren’t the best people. They can be rude, vapid, inconsiderate, myopic, or just not very nice; plenty of people like that will get the credit you deserve. But they’re not the best - you are. You are a person with a big, beautiful heart. You’re hardworking, talented, conscientious, and kind; it’s people like you who should get the best in life. But you’re the only one who can make that happen. You, for the sake of everyone, need to commit to being one tough cookie: don’t let them get the best of you, get the best of yourself. Be the best version of yourself that you can be. Make sure that you get everything other people get, that you do everything other people do, and more. Don’t cheat yourself.  

And the people I mentioned above? The one’s who don’t hold a candle to you? The goal isn’t to stop them; it’s to not let them stop you.

Happy Monday - I hope you’re enjoying your day off. This weekend, I was with my mom and brother up in Wells, Vermont, staying in our modest family cabin for a few nights. On Saturday night, the nearby Larson Farm hosted their annual Columbus Day weekend party, with friends and townspeople coming in for a potluck, dance, and auction. My family and I have been going up for years. 

After everyone had grabbed some dinner and apple pie, the patriarch of the farm, Rich Larson, stood up on a wagon and explained to us the premises of the auction. He’s told the same story every year as long as I can remember: Over a decade ago, a young man from Uganda had come to live with him and his family. One night at dinner, Rich was asking him about his home, and the Ugandan education system came up.Their guest explained that school in Uganda is free - however, a family would need to purchase a school uniform and basic supplies to actually be able to enroll their child. For primary school students to get the necessary goods, that’s 35 US dollars; for a secondary school student, that’s around $60; for university, it’s $100. With those steep expenses, most families were unable to send their child to school. (Those prices have gone up in the past decade. These are relevant to the story, though with my addled memory I might be getting them wrong too. Go do some additional research if you’re interested.) 

  Rich and his family wanted to do something about that. So they joined the Uganda School Project, and every year since they’ve had an auction to send the money to families and students in Uganda. Paintings, farm antiques, plants, hats - it’s all on the table, and Rich’s son does that entertaining auctioneer voice. I stood with my mom in the crowd, still not allowed to bid, but watching with excitement.  At one point, Rich’s daughter and someone else got into a bidding war over two floral watercolors - the price went up to $250 dollars before the friend at the back of the crowd won. That night, over $3,000 were raised - all to go directly to the fund. 

  Rich told us in the barn that “The way we’re going to reach world peace is if everyone in the community is self-reliant and self-sustainable, and the best way to get to that point is to provide everyone with a good education.” Everyone cheered, and that was definitely a source of motivation that evening. Even better, one of the items actioned off was actually made by a university student from Uganda - after graduating, the young man had started his own business weaving prayer rugs, and making sandals out of old tires. The best part? His $100 tuition was payed by the money raised at the auction a few years back. Rich climbed up on the wagon next to his son to tell us that we were responsible for that young man’s success. 

  When people near and far get together to help others and better their communities, what is achieved benefits everyone. Rich Larson was absolutely correct in his message about world peace - education is the single most powerful weapon that can be used to better the world. And for those of us already blessed with that tool, it’s our job to give that same gift to others - just what the Larsons and their guests have been doing for over a decade. If a single farm in a tiny Vermont town can put dozens of kids in school each year, what impact can this blog have? Or you, for that matter?

Small Steps: Household Chores Edition

to produce less trash, don’t use dryer sheets (they don’t really do anything anyway)

scrape plates rather than rinsing them before you put them in the dishwasher - they’re gonna get wet anyway

sweep first, then vacuum what you couldn’t get - it saves electricity

Hey, it’s the little things - home cleaning doesn't have to be as wasteful as it could be. We sometimes think that our tiny daily habits don’t have an effect on anything else, but added up, it’s resulted in where we are today. The things you were taught in kindergarten, about littering and recycling - they wanted you to know that stuff for a reason. Preserving our planet is more important than ever, wether you care about keeping trash out of the oceans or the effects of deforestation.   

It isn’t all money and politics, though the actions of global leaders can do a lot of good - or bad. This is our world, our future, and we have a responsibility to make it a good one. Start small, and work your way up from there. Changing our habits seems daunting, but just keeping these little alternatives in mind will help you remember next time. And for a good cause, why not?

Okay non-European tumblr, I’m gonna explain to you why ‘white’ isn’t as simple here as it is in the rest of the world

- Shades of white in Europe range from ‘freshly fallen snow’ to ‘I am frequently mistaken as being from the Middle East’

- White European is a thing. When you fill out a form, under ethnicity, there are several options for white; white British, white European, white other. Because people make that distinction

- There are Europeans who don’t class their ethnicity as their skin colour, but as their nationality. I have family who don’t think of themselves as white, they just think of themselves as Italian and don’t really give much thought to their skin colour

- People here in Britain always question if darker skinned white Europeans are ‘actually white’. I get it a lot myself. My response is always ‘well I’m not anything else, so obviously I must be’

- Despite being white, a lot of Europeans from Italy, Greece, Spain etc, don’t feel white in the traditional sense. We’re not white like white British people. We’re not white like white Americans. We’re our own white. White British is one thing. White Italian is another thing. White Greek is another, etc

- Which is why we have this notion here in Europe of ‘nationality over race’. Being white isn’t as important as where you’re from

- So this really only becomes an issue if you’re an immigrant

- So being white in Europe doesn’t save you from racial discrimination, because sure, you’re technically white, but you’re not white white. Not the right white

- Here in England, Europeans with really blatantly foreign names, such as myself, find it more difficult to get job interviews, because they take one look at our name and don’t bother reading the rest of the CV. A guy I know was actually told by his boss to reduce the pile of CVs he had by ‘chucking away any with a name you can’t fucking pronounce’

- And then even when you do get an interview, half the time you walk into the joint several shades darker than everyone else and feel like you’ve walked into the ‘Swedish supermodel’ clubhouse and you just know you’re not getting hired

This is all basic stuff and it’s very much taken for granted here. Race and ethnicity are not as clear cut, so it can be very confusing for non-Europeans to wrap their heads around. Which is fine. But I implore you to stay in your lane, because when you say things like ‘no white person anywhere in the world ever knows what it’s like to face racial discrimination’, it’s really fucking offensive to all of the European immigrants who are denied jobs, harassed by the police and beaten by racists, because foreign is foreign to these people, and they don’t give a shit if you’re technically white. So when you mean white American, say white American. 

Lioness: a poem

A lioness is cool, watchful for her cubs. She is responsible, open; she cares for the orphans and works with the others. She is a fighter for the ties that bind her pack together,  the ties that keep them safe.

She holds the savannah in her clean paws - or, at least, paws that are clean only when she steps in a puddle. Smart, collected; she knows her high-up place as one who belongs. She belongs because her job is to control her own fate. She does it well.

The lioness is part of the power, demos, and one of the people, kratos.  The lioness is fair, free, and roars as she pleases, because all are protected, all are loved, in her savannah home.

Or at least, that's what she strives for. 

lgbt terms listed by date of first use in writing

according to merriam-webster:

-lesbian - 1732

-bisexual - 1793

-nonbinary - 1863

-homosexual - 1891

-intersex - 1908

-hypersexual - 1915 (not inherently lgbt ofc)

-pansexual - 1926

-hormone replacement therapy (HRT) - 1945

-gay - 1953

-transsexual - 1957

-omnisexual - 1960

-gender dysphoria - 1973

-transgender - 1974

-asexual - 1975

-gender identity disorder - 1978

-queer theory - 1988

-top surgery - 1992

-polyamory - 1992

-gender confirmation surgery - 1993

-trans man - 1996

-trans woman - 1996

-aromantic - 2004

-agender - 2006

there are probably more, but i couldn’t find them!

Snake: a poem

A snake is coiled, lying in wait.  He is buying his time with the coins he stole from dead men's pockets. A snake is vicious, his little fangs biting off what he can chew only with a spoonful of shamelessness.  He has learned to be soft and secret until the time is ripe to speak his bloated mind.

A snake has thick skin - until someone flips him belly up, and he wails like a child, and sends out his fangs like a thing gone wild.

Pablo Neruda said, "Hatred grows scale on scale..." And the snake has scales as sharp as slate. He rattles his tail, but by then it's too late.

Madness rules, and the snake is free. 

In the darkened corner of a spicy club, two people. Green skirts and navy tees. He ought to be focusing on his band members, the drums and claves and maracas and musicians with the music in their soul, pumping out a rhythm that sparks those high-up lights meant for Navidad. The noise will wake the neighbors’ kids, whose mother works long hours in a bustling sweatshop, the noise and voices holding no joy like the sunshine of the meringue band. She works hard for the children she has raised, and to keep them away from the fascination of her home in La Vibora.

The lights are bright and warm: not blinding, calm like a happy day. He can just avoid the spotlights shining on him and his friends, who practice long and play longer, drink and have fun and remember what their mothers taught them. The women on the block, the one’s too young to be raising a child or a husband, scoff and assume they will flirt. Uncertainty.

It is loud and hot and sexy, but no one feels threatened. It’s just fun, and those who know each other know. Xenophobia, like in the rest of the neighborhood, where all are foreigners in La Ciudad de Nueva York.

In the darkened corner of a spicy club, two people. He leans in, singing along to her. His cowbell sharp and sassy like the slips and flicks of her fingertips. She pays him no mind, her curls and lips and hips smiling for no one but herself. Dark chocolate shards and caramel brooks. Bubbly and laughing, taunting him. Caution, but intelligent humor.

Quick feet, flashing eyes. Wink, smirk, arched brow, blissful eyelids.

She is dancing fast beside him, her movements all her own. He will not contain her, and she will not indulge. The hard-working Mexican, her eyes bright as the muddy mangoes her father brings home to her, telling her the stories and memories of his childhood with the family’s orchards, lush before fire took them, and his family starting new and happy until fire took her, and left him with a daughter who is slipping away to a better future, that girl who is slender in a green dress, her long curls churning, her feet outpacing his self-esteem. Friendly, platonically, and he doesn’t take the blow.

Her voice clear, singing along to the rhythms, she won’t give him any satisfaction of hearing her voice compliment his cultures’ words, the sunshine of a music that others mistake for merengue, when Puerto Ricans have a culture all their own, and stereotypes are easy, especially for a young man who wanted more as a descendant of slavery, who felt trapped in a place like that, whose differences keep her wondering. Wondering like the histories of his skin that differs from the music that is like sunshine. Subtle in the darkened corner of a spicy club.

Sleeveless green like los flores, navy tee shining behind eyes like estrellas. Loving wisdom hidden by twinkling humor, shining down on simple happiness.

Xenophobia, racism, hostility, friendzone? Feminism, she dances.

I hope this makes you feel better.

It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t in the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing the wrong clothes in front of the wrong people, living the wrong person in the wrong life.

It wasn’t because you were born to suffer through that, or because something about you seems to say they have a right, because they don’t.

You have the right to your body, your mind, your lips, your breasts, the space between your hips. You have the right to the word no, to your defensive fists, to your shoving hands, to your screams and sobs for help. You have the right to let those tears fall, to let yourself mourn  for something that is not normal, nor justified, nor appropriate, nor kind, nor acceptable, nor right. You are your own person, and I wish you all the happiness, acceptance, and peace you are infinitely deserving of.

You are not wrong. They are wrong, as are those who taught them such behavior. They are wrong in their actions, and you have the right to call them out on it. You have the right to speak about it, to not feel ashamed or at fault. You have the right to find people who will listen to you, respect you for your pains, and love you in the way that makes you comfortable.

It is not normal. It is not okay. It is not because of you or your gender or the situation. It is them, and they are wrong, and always do what makes you comfortable and happy in the future.

Seek help. Seek support. Seek love. Seek confidence and comfort, in all aspects of yourself and your life. You deserve it, and you’ll find people who care. Someone loves you.

You will persevere. You will wake up one morning and realize that you can go on. You will count your blessings in the morning, list your aspirations at noon, and remember your virtues at night. You have something for all three. Read. Breathe. Sleep. Clear your mind of negativity. Smile. You have so much to live for, and we’ll be rooting for you.

Look at your reflection. Put your hands on your hips. Say to yourself, in whatever language or wording or way, “There is something glorious on the other side of the storm.”

Stay strong, my beautiful friend. You are deserving of so much more than they ever showed you. Don’t forget your strengths and talents in the time you’ll need them most.

Have a good day. I admire your ability to rise above the stormclouds.

Happy International Women’s Day! Every March 8, the world celebrates the social, economic, and political achievements of women everywhere. For centuries, women around the world have become heroines of all shapes and sizes, reshaping their communities and achieving their goals. For over a hundred years, international communities have recognized this day as a time to honor their accomplishments and fight for gender equality. Today is the day to fight for women’s rights, to global equity, education, and dignity. So what history will you make, on March 8, 2018?