Antonio beats me at Mario Kart and he’s only three, this is depressing
I don’t trust in the better nature of people: I don’t have that luxury. My father abandoned my mother and I, just as the father of my child did when he left me for some white Tennessee cheerleader with a big rack. My grandfather was carted into this country and forced into labor, where he died before he could even be granted citizenship or meet his grandchildren. My grandmother was a Malaysian political refugee who spent a good deal of her first year in America interred at Angel Island and spent much of her youth far more oppressed than she ever was in Asia. My mother raised three girls without a man in her life, and she did so with the aid of a loving mother, a job she worked hard for and a college education that she earned. Now, I am attempting to do the same. I am twenty-one and raising this child - I’m living clean, I’ve stopped partying, and I’m working hard for that nursing degree, and all I can see are the judgmental faces on the street, their steely gazes directed onward to the little Puerto Rican girl with the single mom-complex. When you top that off and decide to tell me that I’m just ‘in a phase’ about my sexual preference, this is when the levee breaks. I was sexually abused - extensively, I might add - as a little girl by a close family friend. I got married fresh out of high school and made the mistake of confusing love with pain and fear. For years, I struggled with having my own sexual identity: I knew my sexual attractions, and I knew that while they did show aesthetic preferences, they did not fit along the structure of normalized gender binaries. And for years, I felt like a freak for it: the straight girls thought I was a slut and the lesbians thought I was a phony. When I wanted to talk about it with a guy, I was ‘obviously’ doing it for attention.
My life is simple now: I work, I go to school, I play with my boy and I take care of my family, the way they take care of me. I was blessed enough to be the baby with two beautiful sisters who would want nothing but the best for me in life and turn out to be the best friends I could ever ask for in the whole wide world. I had the romance, and now I just want the quiet. But when you tell me that who I am isn’t an issue to the world anymore, all that noise comes rushing right back. Who I am should not be an issue, but it is - and I know it.
Talk to me. If you have a problem, or if you don’t - mistrust for the human condition aside, I love people. I also loves flowers and nature and pretty shit - but don’t act like those feelgood vibes are all it’s going to take to change the way the world views somebody like me. Telling people to feel good and just forget about it promotes a state of denial. And if you want to be problematic, fine: but don’t fucking deny it. Don’t trivialize it. My grandfather worked for sixty years and died without a penny to his name. My mother got by by passing for a white woman for thirty years.
Also, fun fact: being nice to someone you hate does NOT make you two faced
it makes you a mature adult who knows when to pick their battles and when to just let it go and tolerate someone for their shitty personality.
if you think otherwise grow up
SO MANY PEOPLE TO SHOW THIS TO IT ACTUALLY HURTS ME
>teenage actress’s private nudes get leaked
>teenage actress is reviled as a slut and a whore and a bad role model
>james franco asks a seventeen-year-old girl if he can meet her in a private hotel room
>james franco gets to go on saturday night live and joke about what a silly doofus he is for soliciting sex from a girl literally half his age
DO NOT DARE OVERLOOK THIS POST