Y'ALL

Sep 30

[video]

i form attachment to mobility devices really quickly. when i first got my cane, even on days when i felt like i wouldn’t need it, i would use it anyways because it comforted me in believing that i could have more mobility freedom than when i didn’t - and for the most part, that was true for every day that i used it. 

i just got a bike like 2 seconds ago but i am already feeling attached to it and really happy i did this for myself. i am thinking about the freedom that comes with believing that i can do whatever i want, get to whereever i need to get even if sometimes i can’t. being able to bike across campus or even just down the street is much less intimidating than walking there. i am grateful for all of the things my body is and is not capable of doing. 

i want all of us to have the kind of mobility freedom that we seek. i want all of us to be able to feel like superheroes with our canes and wheelchairs and walkers and bikes and cars. i want us to be able to get where we need to get even if we couldn’t get inside (for now). i want the things that help our body move be as legitimate as our body, be considered as a part of our body, be as valued as a part of our bodies. 

i want it all

Sep 29

cunthulhu:

tranqualizer:

i finally have a bike! just have to get new inner tube and a chain and it’ll be good to go. i’ll be able to do it tomorrow :) 

i cannot WAIT to go on cute bike rides together with youuuu ^___^

it’s going to be soooo cuteeeeeeee

i just want to make the observation that white masculine lesbians use the military as a way to feel even more grounded in their shitty, egotistical masculinity

Sep 28

[video]

i finally have a bike! just have to get new inner tube and a chain and it’ll be good to go. i’ll be able to do it tomorrow :) 

tranqualizer:

i have lots of compassion for people of color who come from really white communities and didn’t come up with lots of people of color. 

i have lots of compassion when they say sympathizing shit about white people’s racist, tokenizing, minimizing, etc behavior. 

because most of the time, yeah, if you’re the only person of color in your white neighborhood you aren’t threatening to white people and they have no reason to act aggressively towards you 

taking the compassion to support the transition of people of color who have their hearts broken when they start to realize they are actually a part of a threat to whiteness; that they have been groomed by white supremacy to make communities of color seem like the “bad guys”

it was thirst at first sight

(Source: cumleak, via cunthulhu)

and people on tinder are like no hookups!!!! which is fine but can i get at least one person who’s like oh you and your boo are cute let’s make out

hellhoneypumpkindoom replied to your post: people on tinder really fucking love d…

Don’t they tho???

it’s a little scary, honestly

"if you don’t fucking like dogs, get the fuck out" … uh is it that serious???

people on tinder really fucking love dogs

Sep 27

agarrragar:

"you eat this shit?" & the science of stomaching racism
middle school came and we were making ice cream in class, shaking sandwich bags full of salt and crushed ice. each period passed with another group of bright eyed 12 year olds scooping out cold, pasty white stuff on their finger tips, bragging about eating ice cream in class until there was nothing left to brag about and no one to brag to. 
i liked the shaking more than i like the science. my biology class made it routine to want to eat the things we made, excavated and picked at from shoestring thin teacher budget ingredients. pop rocks and soda, cookies and chocolate chips. 
one year we made agar plates for studying bacteria. and that year i was alone about wanting to eat the things we made. 
i grew up with agar agar powder being a household, staple item. 49 cents a packet from the local super market and my mom could make 2 big phở-sized bowls of rau câu which was really just sweetened clear jello. sometimes she would brew a big batch of cà phê sữa đá and make a layered jello of coffee and coconut milk. a genius, my mom. 
when rau câu settles and cools, the top layer is always a little tougher, it was smooth to the touch and was fun to save for last. 
so when we made agar plates that one year and i said, “this is actually really delicious,” they asked me, “you eat this shit?” and this fun science experience turned into silence; the pouring of hot water, the mixing of powder turned into still, hidden hands as if they could see all of the times i’ve peeked over kitchen counters with my tiny, greedy, chubby fingertips waiting to hold jello in my hands; what was commonplace in my fridge, at parties and after school for snacking became petri dishes only fit for bacteria and mold, distant and microscopic.
they won’t tell you science is racist but they will ask, “you eat this shit?” and make your body and your mother and your people feel primitive, fitting enough to be distant and microscopic; exotic, foreign, alien enough to be poured and mixed, probed and left alone to harbor and harbor nastiness. 
science will make you shrink and i trust no one who’s never been delegitimized by it. 
"you eat this shit?" so i swallow my tongue and say, "maybe i’m mistaking it for something else." and they all laugh that laugh that they do - when it’s not really funny but a little more discomforting, awkward, questionable. i smile along, move my eyes away from the plate, dust powder off my hands: removing evidence that i knew agar agar to be anything but the filling for petri dishes ready to hold bacteria for science. 
i wonder had it been different if i chose a different word. if i had said, “my mom makes this jello” instead of “my mom makes this agar.” i wonder if that would’ve made them trust me over science, believe me over directions. even now, today, searching for photos of rau câu i tried to find more appetizing ones. 
of all of the ways i have been taught in my science classes to think about my body, my gender, my sex, my race, my heritage: this memory of being silenced by science, being pushed aside for the validity of some discipline dominated by white bodies for the purpose of white bodies sticks with me the strongest - not because of the question those kids ask but because of the disgust and discomfort on their faces that follow my gut everywhere, fighting still to make itself more room than the delight and joy that rau câu and agar agar brings to it. 
science does not sit well in my stomach yet it follows me everywhere. and i have cooled and settled too, my surface a little tougher and i save it for last to be broken.

agarrragar:

"you eat this shit?" & the science of stomaching racism

middle school came and we were making ice cream in class, shaking sandwich bags full of salt and crushed ice. each period passed with another group of bright eyed 12 year olds scooping out cold, pasty white stuff on their finger tips, bragging about eating ice cream in class until there was nothing left to brag about and no one to brag to. 

i liked the shaking more than i like the science. my biology class made it routine to want to eat the things we made, excavated and picked at from shoestring thin teacher budget ingredients. pop rocks and soda, cookies and chocolate chips. 

one year we made agar plates for studying bacteria. and that year i was alone about wanting to eat the things we made. 

i grew up with agar agar powder being a household, staple item. 49 cents a packet from the local super market and my mom could make 2 big phở-sized bowls of rau câu which was really just sweetened clear jello. sometimes she would brew a big batch of cà phê sữa đá and make a layered jello of coffee and coconut milk. a genius, my mom. 

when rau câu settles and cools, the top layer is always a little tougher, it was smooth to the touch and was fun to save for last. 

so when we made agar plates that one year and i said, “this is actually really delicious,” they asked me, “you eat this shit?” and this fun science experience turned into silence; the pouring of hot water, the mixing of powder turned into still, hidden hands as if they could see all of the times i’ve peeked over kitchen counters with my tiny, greedy, chubby fingertips waiting to hold jello in my hands; what was commonplace in my fridge, at parties and after school for snacking became petri dishes only fit for bacteria and mold, distant and microscopic.

they won’t tell you science is racist but they will ask, “you eat this shit?” and make your body and your mother and your people feel primitive, fitting enough to be distant and microscopic; exotic, foreign, alien enough to be poured and mixed, probed and left alone to harbor and harbor nastiness. 

science will make you shrink and i trust no one who’s never been delegitimized by it. 

"you eat this shit?" so i swallow my tongue and say, "maybe i’m mistaking it for something else." and they all laugh that laugh that they do - when it’s not really funny but a little more discomforting, awkward, questionable. i smile along, move my eyes away from the plate, dust powder off my hands: removing evidence that i knew agar agar to be anything but the filling for petri dishes ready to hold bacteria for science. 

i wonder had it been different if i chose a different word. if i had said, “my mom makes this jello” instead of “my mom makes this agar.” i wonder if that would’ve made them trust me over science, believe me over directions. even now, today, searching for photos of rau câu i tried to find more appetizing ones. 

of all of the ways i have been taught in my science classes to think about my body, my gender, my sex, my race, my heritage: this memory of being silenced by science, being pushed aside for the validity of some discipline dominated by white bodies for the purpose of white bodies sticks with me the strongest - not because of the question those kids ask but because of the disgust and discomfort on their faces that follow my gut everywhere, fighting still to make itself more room than the delight and joy that rau câu and agar agar brings to it. 

science does not sit well in my stomach yet it follows me everywhere. and i have cooled and settled too, my surface a little tougher and i save it for last to be broken.

when i’m driving or am walking around or doing something that doesn’t really require me to focus on multiple things at once, i’ll write one liners and poems in my head and i wish they’d automatically transfer onto paper or something because i can never remember that shit

“Annie (a pseudonym) is a Chinese-American, straight, female university professor. While she was in graduate school, she found it difficult to receive medical treatment due to the perceived psychiatric condition of simply being Asian and female: “I went to a doctor at the university because I had recurring abdominal pain. The doctor listened to my description, but rather than doing a physical exam, he explained to me that it was normal for Asian women to be anxious and stressed out, and anxiety was probably causing my abdominal pain.” But surprisingly, the doctor didn’t treat the anxiety either. He just said there was nothing he could do.” — Shattering the Madness Monolith: On the Intersections of Race, Gender, and Psychiatric Disability (via andromedalogic)

(Source: longmoreinstituteondisability, via dronemasters)