Fat Girl, Writing
Rachel Held Evans changed the world. She challenged me on how to hold accountable people I looked up to when they made decisions I thought were wrong. And she did make my world a better educated, more compassionate, more loving place.
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And I see symbolism blazing
in the wreckaged, ruined frame
as onlookers are weeping,
knowing nothing may remain.
I have so much help at my fingertips, and I still risk poverty. For all my privilege, I’m still in this mess. And so many people are in the same boat.
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I’ve long defended evangelicals and fundamentalists alike, insisting that if they could only understand the harm they’re perpetuating, they would change.
But I can’t continue, in good conscience, telling my non-Christian, queer, non-white, disabled, and trans friends to give evangelicals in their lives another chance.
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Content note: rape
St. Patrick’s Day will never be the same for me. This whole week has been nothing but hellish memory almost every waking moment. I’m so grateful for the friends and family who have spent time with me to make sure I’m not alone and that I’m safe.
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Brought to you by intense introspection during a season of traumatic anniversaries. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to describe my mental health struggles, and I think I touched on a couple of things pretty well here.
–
i do not mean to
overwhelm you. i simply
overwhelm myself.
It’s been a full year since I broke up with my spouse. A very hard year, if you recall. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to process things as best as I can, and that often looks like distilling emotions into haikus. Something about the structure and limitation seems to lend itself well to expressing myself in succinct and powerful ways (much like how Twitter’s character limit can help focus one’s thoughts).
I don’t really want to offer commentary on this. There is so much I am still processing. But it feels important to share it, and to share it now. And one of my goals is to listen to my intuition far more than I’ve been able to in the past.
One thing I will say is this: it’s a terrifying time in our country right now. To be a woman, not white, not straight, not healthy in body and mind. Most of my friend group — myself included — are fighting the creeping despair as we watch this new administration work so hard to make our lives at best uncomfortable and at worst nonexistent. It’s easy to not take care of yourself in an effort to remain informed, to know what fresh hell awaits every morning.
But the little things matter. Little things like remembering to eat. Checking in with friends. Asking people to check in on you. Kissing your loved ones. Snuggling your pets. Or even daring to simply take up space.
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I don’t deserve cookies or kudos for how I’ve handled interest in this design, for being primarily concerned with Flavia’s ownership of her words and desiring that she receive compensation for her work rather than me. This is bare minimum decent human behavior.
Especially for feminists who claim to be intersectional when their actions prove, when it comes to intersectionality, their feminism is indeed bullshit.
Read MoreThere’s a lot going on in my life. I’ve deactivated my Twitter for a little bit. Vulnerability is terrifying, but it’s easier to be vulnerable to an amorphous mass of people than talk to anyone in particular about what’s been happening, even the things that are only happening inside my own head. Therefore, you’re getting more of my depressing fragments of dialogue, this time brought to you by my very own JerkBrain.
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