“More like crapitalism”
Becoming Vulnerable 30 Day Challenge - Day 12  I HAD BEEN TOLD ALL MY LIFE THAT…hmmmmmmm that i need to put others before myself and that i need to make money, not only that that this needs to be one of my main concerns and sign of success that i’ve made it. but these things have not always been said to me in words, but instead shown to me in the way that others have reacted to me, interacted with me, and what they have expected from me, how much i’m supposed to sacrifice to have “made it”. how the american dream wasn’t only transmitted to me by my parents talking about doing whatever it would take to give us a good education, but seeing what it meant to be surrounded by rich ass white kids almost my entire formal educational experience and looking back noticing that even then i still found the immigrants to confide in and be friends with. SHE LOOKED BACK… at me as i described you once more, this time in more detail, the situation making more sense and told me straight out what i’d been to scared to admit all this time. you are a fucking narcissist and it’s not necessarily going to change. for you to do react how to you did, for you to so blatantly choose to not care for me and help me during a time of crisis exemplifies what is actually important for you in our relationship. what you seen in me is still so surface, even if you tell yourself that blah blah you learn so much from me, that i’m this or that and how much it adds to your life. those things only matter when it’s for your benefit. your resourcefulness is only for you. and yes, it’s true that this is not coming out of a vacuum and that your home life trying to make it as a queer man of color in a system constantly attacking you, criminalizing you isn’t easy, but even then you saw me as a way out, as a rock as you say. something to hide behind and pour yourself into, but i wasn’t a full person. idk why it’s taken so long to not feel guilty for feeling betrayed. to really believe that what happened really isn’t that surprising and that i had plenty of warning signs along the way. the way that you looked at me always made me feel like something was up, like something was about to go wrong and i need to brace myself for it, so that i could swoop in to pick up the pieces again. why is it that i so easily embraced that you and you and you and that were and are my responsibility. who taught me that i’m in charge, except not really. that i’m capable but not deserving. that i can handle anything but never receive and enjoy the benefits of my labor. that i’m supposed to put in my all until i’m left alone trying to gasp for air, literally, and then be satisfied with only scraps. i think that you helped to engrain this deep deep in my head. that you piggybacked off the of the boys that told me i was ugly and laughed at my unibrow and hairy legs, that told me i could never be an artist, that i had nothing to offer, and made me feel just special enough to still be submissive while feeling like i was being powerful. the compliments masked the truth and then out of nowhere you would try to reshape me into the image of some other girl that i will never become. how long did it take you to realize that that wasn’t me and for you to give up on taking care of me beyond just buying things and leaving them as my doorstep thinking that your work was done?? i don’t really understand and i don’t know if i will ever understand. just because you’ve known me for so long you are convinced that you’ve learned everything that there is to learn about me and that i’m so predictable, but i can see the shock in your face as i refuse to take your bullshit anymore. and while you may think you know what really gets me, i always knew that i have been a crucial support and that taking myself out of your life, not just for me, but in a kind of cruelty was a real punishment. that you would have to face the shit you’d been running from for so long when i didn’t ask you to explain. i hoped that you would be forced to form an intimate connection with someone else that would teach you how being vulnerable but not only on your terms could look. but i’m still waiting and my patience is running out.     (Source: aliciaanabelsantos.wordpress.com)

Becoming Vulnerable 30 Day Challenge - Day 12 

I HAD BEEN TOLD ALL MY LIFE THAT…hmmmmmmm that i need to put others before myself and that i need to make money, not only that that this needs to be one of my main concerns and sign of success that i’ve made it. but these things have not always been said to me in words, but instead shown to me in the way that others have reacted to me, interacted with me, and what they have expected from me, how much i’m supposed to sacrifice to have “made it”. how the american dream wasn’t only transmitted to me by my parents talking about doing whatever it would take to give us a good education, but seeing what it meant to be surrounded by rich ass white kids almost my entire formal educational experience and looking back noticing that even then i still found the immigrants to confide in and be friends with.

SHE LOOKED BACK… at me as i described you once more, this time in more detail, the situation making more sense and told me straight out what i’d been to scared to admit all this time. you are a fucking narcissist and it’s not necessarily going to change. for you to do react how to you did, for you to so blatantly choose to not care for me and help me during a time of crisis exemplifies what is actually important for you in our relationship. what you seen in me is still so surface, even if you tell yourself that blah blah you learn so much from me, that i’m this or that and how much it adds to your life. those things only matter when it’s for your benefit. your resourcefulness is only for you. and yes, it’s true that this is not coming out of a vacuum and that your home life trying to make it as a queer man of color in a system constantly attacking you, criminalizing you isn’t easy, but even then you saw me as a way out, as a rock as you say. something to hide behind and pour yourself into, but i wasn’t a full person. idk why it’s taken so long to not feel guilty for feeling betrayed. to really believe that what happened really isn’t that surprising and that i had plenty of warning signs along the way. the way that you looked at me always made me feel like something was up, like something was about to go wrong and i need to brace myself for it, so that i could swoop in to pick up the pieces again. why is it that i so easily embraced that you and you and you and that were and are my responsibility. who taught me that i’m in charge, except not really. that i’m capable but not deserving. that i can handle anything but never receive and enjoy the benefits of my labor. that i’m supposed to put in my all until i’m left alone trying to gasp for air, literally, and then be satisfied with only scraps. i think that you helped to engrain this deep deep in my head. that you piggybacked off the of the boys that told me i was ugly and laughed at my unibrow and hairy legs, that told me i could never be an artist, that i had nothing to offer, and made me feel just special enough to still be submissive while feeling like i was being powerful. the compliments masked the truth and then out of nowhere you would try to reshape me into the image of some other girl that i will never become. how long did it take you to realize that that wasn’t me and for you to give up on taking care of me beyond just buying things and leaving them as my doorstep thinking that your work was done?? i don’t really understand and i don’t know if i will ever understand. just because you’ve known me for so long you are convinced that you’ve learned everything that there is to learn about me and that i’m so predictable, but i can see the shock in your face as i refuse to take your bullshit anymore. and while you may think you know what really gets me, i always knew that i have been a crucial support and that taking myself out of your life, not just for me, but in a kind of cruelty was a real punishment. that you would have to face the shit you’d been running from for so long when i didn’t ask you to explain. i hoped that you would be forced to form an intimate connection with someone else that would teach you how being vulnerable but not only on your terms could look. but i’m still waiting and my patience is running out.  

 

(Source: aliciaanabelsantos.wordpress.com)

Shout out to all the POC who are relearning all the useful, natural, and economical cultural skills that were taught to us by our families but forgotten and abandoned when we were growing up so we could assimilate into a white supremacist society for our own survival mamashug: Now ~conscious and eco-friendly~ white hipsters are jumping on board and pretending like these skills are their own new invention while scolding us for not following suit, ignoring the fact that they were the very ones that shamed us into forgetting this knowledge in the first place.  (via 1oneuno)

Shout out to all the POC who are relearning all the useful, natural, and economical cultural skills that were taught to us by our families but forgotten and abandoned when we were growing up so we could assimilate into a white supremacist society for our own survival

mamashug:

Now ~conscious and eco-friendly~ white hipsters are jumping on board and pretending like these skills are their own new invention while scolding us for not following suit, ignoring the fact that they were the very ones that shamed us into forgetting this knowledge in the first place. 

(via 1oneuno)

zazzle-poetry:

get card here
“The way we are taught our history is an endless repetition of the perpetrator’s story, in which crusaders are the shining knights, not massacring mercenaries, wars are glorious, conquerors noble and as far back as we can see, the past unrolls in an infinite time line of thrones treaties and battles, and the acquisition of exciting new markets and territories. For the subjugated and colonized, the presentation of such a story as one of admirable accomplishments is an added injury. … [T]he victims of collective abuse need ways to reconstruct history in a way that restores a sense of our inherent value as human beings, not simply in our usefulness to the goals of the elites. When individuals take on such projects of recovery we often find it far more challenging than we have expected. Herman writes, ‘Denial makes them feel crazy, but facing the full reality seems beyond what any human can bear.” The heart of the challenge is to assimilate the terrible, the unbearable, transforming it into something that can be integrated; something that can nourish us and leave us with a vision of the world, of ourselves, of humanity, that is bigger than the horror. What is so dreadful is that to transform the traumatic we just re-enter it fully, and allow the full weight of grief to pass through our hearts. It is not possible to digest atrocity without tasting it first, without assessing on our tongues the full bitterness of it. Ours is a society that does not do grief well or easily, and what is required to face trauma is the ability to mourn, fully and deeply, all that has been taken from us. But mourning is painful and we resist giving way to it, distract ourselves with put-on toughness out of pride. […] But only through mourning everything we have lost can we discover that we have in fact survived; that our spirits are indestructible. Only through mourning can we reach a place of clean anger in which we stand with all the abused and hold the abuser accountable. Only through mourning can we reconnect to the love in our lives and lose our fascination with the ones who harmed us. And only if we fully acknowledge and grieve the hurts can we possibly find genuine compassion for the perpetrators. Mourning is the only way to honor what was lost, and only by renouncing all hope of restitution are we free to grieve.”