Oh what fun it is to walk down the street and be threatened with rape.
A couple nights ago, while walking two long city blocks to my car after dark on a fairly well-traveled but still less savory street, some shenanigans happened.
I was initially walking behind two men who stood shoulder to shoulder. They were walking slow and I had no room to pass them, so I walked slowly behind them. The two men stopped, and stood on either side of the sidewalk, and looked at me. “You go on ahead, sweetheart. We won’t rape you.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, and passed between them.
I got a couple feet in front of them and then heard, “Not that we don’t want to.” My blood simultaneously froze in fear and boiled in rage. The two men then proceeded to talk about how girls like me make them want to do things. Some pretty awful things. They were speaking very loudly, meaning for me to hear it.
I wanted to turn around and tell them what fuckasses they were being. But more than that, I didn’t want to let them know I was afraid, that they had gotten to me. I didn’t want to provoke them from thoughts to actions. Which just made me more angry. By the time I got to my car, I was too angry to be scared, which I was thankful for. I’d rather be angry.
But now I’m back to having that fear. I have to make the same walk again tonight, and it’s enough to make me dread going to my nightly activity. And then I get angry again, that these fuckasses and their threats make me think of canceling my plans for the sake of personal safety. Today I wore my shitty brown shoes. I hate these shoes. But my other shoes weren’t good for running or kicking or jumping if it came to that.
I don’t deal with this every day, thankfully. There are people out there with much thicker skins than me, who have built up mental callouses from repeated events like this and worse. There are women who will see this as a cakewalk compared to what they go through. And that makes me angry. That we have to balance being afraid for our own personal safety with getting shit done that we need to do. That we’re made to get used to this awful stuff because it could be worse.
This paranoia is a result from being in a culture that says it’s my responsibility to avoid getting raped. The fear that if I get attacked and show up at the police station in heels and cute clothes and tell them where I was walking after dark, that I’ll be written off. That if I do certain things, or don’t do certain things, it’ll be a stroke against my case. The fear that confronting these fuckasses will be seen as asking for it if something happens to me, that not confronting them will be seen as allowing them to do what they want.
This is spinning in my mind, driving me nuts.
You want to know what terrorism is, it isn’t just bombs and guns. It’s this everyday little stuff. These constant little reminders of the million ways I’m powerless against certain scenarios. They way it worms into your psyche, pings your imagination in all the worst ways.
Geez, I didn’t mean to write so much, but it’s bothering me a lot. >:(
Story on racism
My sophomore year of high school i switched schools mid year, i began attending a school with only about 100 kids (it was a magnet school with no freshman class) my first week of school no one spoke to me because of the color of my skin. How do i know this? Because i asked. They all said the same thing “”you’re white.” I finally explained that I’m middle eastern. My mother’s side is Lebanese and Lebanese people are pale from the area we came from.
They began speaking to me freely after that. Next because they didnt bother to learn my name they called me on a daily basis “lil white girl.” Now had i turned around to any of them and said “hey lil black girl” or “hey lil latina girl” i would have been racist. But because i was one of 5 white students attending this school it was more than okay to call me out on my skin color at anytime.
One day my junior year i sat in health class and my friend was quoting south park, you know the michael jackson episode?, and my response was one of his lines “thats ignorant” a girl from the back of the room springs up and tells everyone in the class as well as the teacher I’ve just called her a nigger. Now that word isnt something I’ll use in general. I’ve been called a sand-nigger for being middle eastern and i personally find it disgusting. This girl told the entire school i had called her a nigger when i repeated myself saying ignorant. She proceeded to say she didnt know what that word meant but she knew it meant nigger.
People quickly forgot the incident because I had made friends with many of the students and they happened to be black and hispanic. Proving her theory that i was racist wrong. Over the next year i had the race card thrown in my face over and over again. “You dont like me cause I’m black!” “You got a problem whitey?” Etc. But the last straw was in my health class once more.
On 9/11 2008 we were watching the footage of the twin tower’s falling and the news coverage that followed when a girl sitting across the room speaks up. “Ypu see this right here! This is why i wont even get in a cab with these people. Their all fucking terrorists!” I politely raised my hand and said “actually I’m middle eastern and I’m not a terrorist.” The look on hat girls face said it all and then her mouth did. “See, them fuckers be hidding. Thats why us niggas cant be trustin white people they helping terrorists.”
So next time someone tells me that black people or any other race group besides white cant be racists i will laugh and remember that ignorance is alive and well
Where do I even begin? Often times, I tag my reblogs saying I don’t have words. And I find myself at this very same position right now. How do I begin talking about a man who is perfect in my eyes? How do I describe someone who constantly continues to amaze me? How do I articulate someone who I love beyond words? I can’t even pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with him.
But I clearly remember the day I laid my eyes on that gorgeous face with the bluest orbs I have ever seen. 9pm on a thursday, some 9 years ago, I sat cross legged with a plate of food resting in between legs in front of my television. Lost was premiering and my dad had been raving about it the whole week. In between the chaos of the plane crash one young boy was running frantically up and down the island searching for a pen to resuscitate a dying passenger. Even after a plane crash and a slight bruise on his face, he was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. And that was the first time I felt something for Ian Somerhalder.
It has been such a beautiful journey watching Ian play Boone and then Damon Salvatore.It’s been so beautiful watching how much he has grown as an actor. But what is the most beautiful thing is how that young boy grew up to be a man with the purest heart. A man who is constantly striving for change, for the betterment of society, fighting tooth and nail, doing everything he can. A man who is perfect in every sense. From the way he treats his fans to his totally down-to earth attitude, Ian Somerhalder is the most perfect man to me.
I know love is a word that is constantly thrown around. We often don’t understand the depths of it. But when I say I love Ian Somerhalder, it couldn’t be more true. Sometimes I feel like love is too pale of a word and it seems completely bizarre to love a man you have never even met but I love him from the pits of my heart.
So, to the most beautiful man on the inside and outside HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you can bring about the change you work for, I hope you get all the recognition for the work you do as an actor and I hope you get all the happiness and love:)
Let me run you through a day in the life of my personal brand of schizophrenia
What is like to have schizophrenia? Reddit’s lit-lover provides her personal experience:
Let me run you through a day in the life of my personal brand of schizophrenia:
7:00 am: Wake up and lay in bed for awhile. Although I live alone, I hear footsteps throughout my apartment. I start wondering whether someone broke in during the night, so I get up to check the lock. Not only is the dead bolt still latched, but the chain is also still in tact; however, the footsteps are still in the kitchen, and I have to check the door and whole apartment at least three more times be sure I’m alone.
7:30 am: I’m taking a nice hot bath, but, as the water is running, I hear a conversation happening just outside the door. I know no one is there because I’ve checked the door, but I can’t help but hear a few people debating about the use of leather vs. cloth seats in cars. I dip my head under the water and try to ignore what’s not there.
today i went to taco bell to get me some 89cent double decker tacos (deals). as i was walkin into the store, a black kid about my age was walking in too. he looked like a thug, baggy levis, tied up dreads, fitted cap, xxxxxl shirt, the works. i held the door open for him. i was kinda rattled, i dunno why.. but i was also tryna be courteous (in the back of my head i was like ‘dont cause no trouble’).
racist me huh?
anyways, the kid got to the front of the line and i was right behind him. then to my surprise, the kid turned to me and asked, “whats that one called?” pointing at a crunchy burrito. i was startled. he was so soft spoken. i looked at him with a puzzled look, then told him what it was. he squinted back at the board and scanned around and asked me the same question, except pointing at a taco this time. i answered again. he then turned to the cashier and ordered one small burrito. just one. then proceeded to pay with a food stamp.
i was startled. ignorant me thought that food stamps did not exist anymore.
in a soft voice the kid turned to me and said “thanks for helpin me out.” thats when it hit me. this kid had it rough. he obviously had no money and could not read.
sometimes i feel like im an unlucky member of society. my family struggles economically, which is why my family downgrades and moves so much. but after today, this occurrence reassures my feelings about being thankful for what i have today. there are so many people who still have it way worse. im blessed with what i have, even if its not a lot when compared to others.
this turned out to be longer than expected………
So a little while ago when a new Doctor Who episode was about to come on a thunderstorm hit and the power went out momentarily. I grabbed an industrial sized flashlight and yelled “SO HELP ME GOD, THOR, IF YOU DON’T STOP IT I WILL HIT YOU WITH THIS AND IT WILL HURT YOU GREATLY.” The power came back on so I said “Thank you” and put the flashlight away. The power didn’t go back out again.