Some Things Are Just Wrong.
Some Things Are Just Wrong.
It should be illegal to be a seamstress. Like, if you just want to sew as a hobby, that's fine, but look at children who are forced to work in sweatshops all day. You know no one would be in that industry if they had any other choice. It's really a public safety issue when you think about it, because all those people in a room with all those blades and needles - that's bloodborne illness waiting to be spread. Not to mention it's just another example of demeaning and exploiting women, because it's almost always women. The people we really need to go after, though, are their employers. I don't know what's worse, that they pay the seamstresses for the "labor" they provide, or that the employer forces the seamstress to cede a portion of her payment in return for facilitating her "work." I can't believe some people seriously call it "work," like it's legitimate. Just because you provide a service and get paid for it doesn't make it work, and we all know it. -Some of the inanity that sex workers have to deal with constantly.
More Posts from Some-rando-blog1 and Others
If you ignore your child's mental illness, you have zero right to complain about how they act.
"Rich people aren't privileged! People make assumptions about me all the time because I'm rich. My friend even got mugged because they looked rich." This is what you sound like when you say that you don't have white privilege because your life isn't perfect.
My parents did that with me, and I turned out fi- oh. Oh yeah.
What Am I Overlooking?
Overlooked reasons for going to hell: Carrying on a conversation with someone after they have said goodbye (or other widely accepted sign-off term), as if you didn't hear them when you did. "Fixing" things about a person's appearance (bra strap, hair, etc) without asking. Answering the cellphone you didn't bother silencing in a library. Constantly putting other people's cups in the sink when they're not done using them.
One of the really shitty things about being a minority in the U.S. is that, even though you know it’s wrong to play the Oppression Olympics, you sometimes lose the capacity to want the lack of oppression, and instead look at other oppressed communities and think “I wish we could trade our forms of oppression for a day.”
*Looks at my own butt in new jeans* "I would hit that."
It's Not Just You, Supporting Your Suicidal Loved Ones. They're Supporting You Too.
I'm going to toot my own horn here, indirectly remind others with depression how great their work is, and directly tell those who are not suicidal to appreciate the work we do. Conversations about the relationships between suicidal and non-suicidal people are almost always framed as what *you* are doing to support *us.* That's an important topic, but talking about it to the exclusion of what *we* do for *you* is detrimental. There's an important element that suicidal people are constantly attacked for non-adherence, but when we *do* adhere to this unofficial "rule," we don't get recognition, much less respect and appreciation for it. We work our asses off to keep the struggle going FOR YOU. We don't want the people we care about to be sad. So we continue to live a life that is bad enough to prefer death (or, for many, not prefer death per se, so much as we want something to end, and death is or seems like the only way to achieve ending it). We could be doing this for a single day or several years, and everywhere in between. It's exhausting, mentally and physically. I have never had a job that was as hard as staying alive when I have an illness that literally makes me want to die. It's WORK. I don't have to put that work in. None of us do. If you have an at-risk loved one still hanging on, odds are it's because of the intensely difficult labor they put in to make sure you don't have to deal with loss just yet. Treat them like who and what they are. Treat them like someone who is immensely considerate of you, who routinely sacrifices what they want for you. Treat them like someone who has a hard job with long hours. Treat them like someone who has a chronic illness that is more manageable at some times than others.
Love is knowing your person would snort coke off your boobs if they did coke.
