What nobody expects to happen, probably not even the writers of this book.
TL;DR at bottom, bolded, like usual when I can manage such summaries.
[Image shows a cognitively & developmentally disabled person, who has not always fulfilled Peter Singer’s criteria for personhood in a human being and still doesn’t consistently fulfill them (and even when they do fulfill them, others doubt it half the time), poring through a copy of Cognitive Disability and its Challenges to Moral Philosophy, edited by Eva Feder Kittay and Licia Carlson.]
Contributors to this book include:
Jeffrey P. Brosco
James C. Harris
Cynthia A. Stark
Sophia Isako Wong
James Lindemann Nelson
Leslie P. Francis
Peter Singer (2)
Eva Feder Kittay
All contributors are academics in fields related to philosophy, law, or ethics. Some of them have additional connections to this topic that make it more personal for them, sometimes profoundly so:
Eva Feder Kittay has a daughter with intellectual disabilities.
Michael Bérubé has a son with Down syndrome.
Anna Stubblefield fell in love with a man with severe cerebral palsy. She believed the relationship to be mutual and the sex they had was consensual. The courts disagreed and sentenced her to prison time for felony sexual assault. The controversy had to do with whether the man’s facilitated communication was valid or inadvertently being cued by his facilitators. Whatever the truth was, the situation was heart-rending for every single person involved.
Anita Silvers has a severe physical disability.
Licia Carlson may have a connection to disabled people, but explicitly prefers not to disclose it either way because she finds the implications of such questions disturbing.
That’s just what I know and could find out quickly through their bios or through previous knowledge of their work. I find it disturbing that no people with cognitive disability were represented in this book, at least not in a way you can find out quickly through the bios and the like. And I only found one person where it was obvious they had any disability at all, and that was polio, not a cognitive disability.
While I’m not one of those people who thinks that the only possible proper discussions of a certain set of people involve only those sorts of people talking about themselves? I do get concerned when I see a group of people discussed and nobody from that group is present for the discussion. (Except, apparently, as photographs on the cover.) Especially when the discussion sometimes includes such topics as whether such people should be considered to have legal personhood or whether some humans should be accorded less personhood than some animals, entirely on the basis of cognitive disability, and similarly alarming topics.
Lest anyone suggest that there simply are no cognitively disabled people qualified to have such a discussion (and someone always does suggest this), totally untrue. I know people with multiple university degrees and cognitive disabilities. I know people with multiple university degrees and intellectual disabilities. Some of them even have degrees in fields relevant to this discussion, such as philosophy, bioethics, ethics, and disability studies. I know, and know of, people who have written entire books on similar topics, who have cognitive, developmental, or intellectual disabilities. And all of these groups of people I’m talking about, include both people who continue to test as having low IQ scores and every other trait currently used to mark out people with intellectual disabilities, as well as people who were given extremely low IQ scores until they found an alternate means of communication (and no, not all of them use any form of assisted typing, controversial or not). So none of that would be any reason to leave the people with the most to gain and lose from the conclusions people come up with, out of these discussions.
Besides that, even if university degrees and all that crap were normally considered necessary to take part in such conversations? If the very qualities that make you the sort of person under discussion in these conversations, simultaneously make it harder for such people to fulfill the standard requirements for participation in discussions like this? (And it does. It is much harder for most people with cognitive disabilities to succeed in academia for reasons that range from cognitive inaccessibility to obvious bigotry to the level of abstraction required to take part in ordinary academic discussions. Although there are some cognitive disabilities that for some people, make it easier, and that’s less often talked about.)
Then find some other way to get our voices heard. Because our voices are vital to these discussions. Everyone who either has a cognitive, developmental, or intellectual disability (three separate but somewhat overlapping categories covered by this book), or who can be readily mistaken for someone with any of these disability types, or who once had one of these disability types and now does not anymore (happens more often than you’d imagine – for instance I have spent larger chunks of my life than anyone around me knew, outside of some definitions of personhood put forth by one of the authors in this volume) deserves the right to take a central role in discussions about our personhood and the ethical, legal, and social fallout of the decisions being made in these discussions. And if it’s hard for us to understand, make it easier for us to understand. You can’t fully make something like this cognitively accessible to every possible cognitively disabled person, but some of us can understand some of these things some of the time, and that’s enough to ensure that some of us can participate.
I hope that my reading uncovers the fact that I’m wrong. I hope that I find someone in this volume who has a cognitive disability, a developmental disability with cognitive components, an intellectual disability, or a disability that causes them to be easily mistaken for any of these categories at crucial points in their lives. But from what i’ve read so far, I think there’s barely any direct disability representation here and that’s all physically disabled people. Person. Because actually I’ve only tracked down one so far.
I’ve been labeled with more than one developmental disability throughout my lifetime, and retain an autism label. I have cognitive disabilities both related and unrelated to developmental disabilities. I’ve been mistaken, in medical settings with potentially life and death consequences, for having ”the cognitive functioning of an infant” – this sort of thing is an ongoing issue for me. These decisions affect my life directly. Nobody expects a person who at some points in their life – and not just in infancy or other times before memory exists for most people – has met several of the criteria Peter Singer uses to distinguish persons from nonpersons, to at any other time be able to pick up this book and read it. But the truth is there are many, many people – way more than you’d ever imagine – capable of doing just that.
I don’t deny that it’s a struggle. As a depressingly stereotypical (3) hyperlexic, my reading comprehension still isn’t the greatest at the best of times. It takes me a long time to absorb the written word, and even more so when it’s complex, abstract, academic-ese. Doesn’t mean I can’t do it – sometimes I can’t. But when I can, it takes me longer and it’s harder. So I save it for situations as important as reading books that will be used to teach medical ethicists what might be right and wrong moral behavior with regards to people like me, people I just happen to strongly superficially look like, and people who just happen to strongly superficially look like me. Books we’re not supposed to be reading. I feel a little weird, like I’m some kind of secret agent or something, even opening a book like this, knowing that while my next trip to the hospital could be affected by what people have read in this book, nobody (at least, nobody likely to make such decisions regarding me) will expect me to have been able to read it. Even a little of it. i’m reminded of Astra Milberg’s “Letter to a Baby Who was Thrown from a Bridge” (context: Milberg has Down syndrome, so did the baby she’s writing the letter to):
I read in the paper (that part still surprises people)…
Yeah. That part still surprises people.
Harrumph. The following is what I think of that:
[Image description: A very grumpy-looking stick, with moss and lots of mud and water.]
[Image Context: The original grumpy stick poem, a goofy poem I wrote about being grumpy. @katisconfused provided the wonderful illustration (without even being requested!), which i can now tack onto any post when I would otherwise just say “I am the grumpy stick right now!!!” The poem may be goofy but today, upon writing “That part still surprises people,” the grump is quite real.]
My doctor, when he is a bit of a grumpy stick and wants to be slightly snarky with anyone he’s training to take care of me who seems to doubt my capacity to comprehend things, tends to ask residents questions like, “When was the last time you co-wrote a paper published in the Journal of General Internal Medicine?” (For me, 2013. For a lot of them, never.) But that sort of thing shouldn’t be necessary. It’s just the sort of thing you end up saying when fed up with a certain level of condescension – and when the opportunity exists, of course.
TL;DR: People don’t expect people who go well into “I can remember this” age outside Peter Singer’s definition of personhood, to ever gain enough awareness of ourselves or the world to think about Peter Singer’s definition of personhood, much less apply it to ourselves and care about the outcome. People don’t expect people who have become Peter Singer’s idea of a person, to routinely slide into his definition of a nonperson again – and then back out of it into personhood again – routinely and regularly. People don’t differentiate between cognitive, intellectual, or developmental disabilities. Even people who do differentiate, rarely expect any of us in any one or more of those categories (except, maybe, people with non-cognitive developmental disabilities) to make it into college, grad school, or academia, or to be able to comprehend the kind of writing that comes out of such environments. So we rarely end up writing in books like this one. And nobody expects us to read them. So I’m kinda thumbing my nose at all that by trying to read this, despite admittedly finding it very difficult (not all people with cognitive, intellectual, or developmental disabilities will – but a lot of us will). While also kind of deadly serious because holy fuck some of the things people think are legitimate debate topics… wow.
Containing potentially long, but important, extra information.
(1) Cal Montgomery, a disability rights activist with developmental cognitive impairments, and a former grad student in philosophy, has written a very important critique of the shortcomings of some of Martha Nussbaum’s other work, in the Ragged Edge disability rights magazine. That article can be found here: Critic of the Dawn. It is well worth reading whether or not you have any connection to Martha Nussbaum’s work at all. But if you do happen to read Martha Nussbaum’s work, or the work of other feminists who write about disability from a very particular feminist perspective that doesn’t take the viewpoints and knowledge of disabled people into account, then absolutely read this article. When Cal Montgomery wishes, towards the end of the article:
Nussbaum’s view of disability is truncated by her unwillingness to consider the ways in which the physical and social environments limit our ability to develop human powers and to enjoy liberty and independence, the ways in which human dependence is highlighted or downplayed in a variety of ways. Her view is no more the view of disability than is one that says, “We may not move like you, but we think like you, and that’s what’s really important.”
Her reliance on these three stories, on three books which explore – in various ways – the lives and loves and labors of family and paid caretakers, means that her view of disability, as expressed in these pages, is incomplete. She draws on an old and familiar series of clichés: disability as dependence, disability as innate limitation, disability as political voicelessness. She comes at disability through feminism and commits the traditional feminist errors about disability, rather than reaching for the vitality that a fully realized interaction between feminists and those concerned with disability can offer.
I believe that such vitality can be found in the work of authors like Jenny Morris, whose book Pride Against Prejudice is a classic in British feminist disability rights literature – but very readable for laypeople as well. I have not yet read Nussbaum’s chapter in this book, and I hope she has seen and truly taken to heart Montgomery’s critique, and come up with something worthy of the name of feminist disability academic literature. But from past experience in similar situations, i’m not holding my breath. Montgomery goes on:
“Parents are the real experts,” went the old parent-advocate slogan, challenging professional power over disabled lives. They demanded that their children be sheltered, nurtured, loved in the way that the best parents love their children. That was a wonderful advance: celebrate it. But more and more disabled people are now challenging parental power and the image of disabled people as children; and Nussbaum’s article, which ignores those critiques, is much less than it could have been.
Nor does she accurately assess the present situation as compared to the past. She suggests that in previous generations, children like Jamie and Arthur, like the child Sesha was, would have died or been institutionalized. If she is thinking of reasonably well-off and recent Western families, she may be right. But there have been other families, other communities, in recent generations and earlier, that would have made a place for the Jamies and Arthurs and Seshas of the world.
Nussbaum’s approach to “fair treatment” of disabled people draws on the popular images that give rise to Bruce, on the importance of all people “hav[ing] the chance to develop the full range of their human powers, at whatever level their condition allows, and to enjoy the liberty and independence their condition allows,” on the supportive role that nondisabled people play. She assumes our limits are innate, our society benevolent. Those are not safe assumptions.
In discussing equality, she argues that many traits, like race and sex, should not play a role in determining social advantage. “[S]o, too, one would have thought, the facts that one person’s body is more dependent than another’s, or that one has a dependent aged parent, should not be sources of pervasive social disadvantage.” But she seems oblivious to the extensive work that has been done on how – not whether, how – what we call impairment has been used to “justify” significant social disadvantage. The important critiques that have arisen from the paradigm that gives me Mary are ignored.
Following this well-trod path, Nussbaum urges that we learn to value those who cannot make the expected contributions to the larger community; she does not consider how the larger community limits who may contribute. She urges that we provide better support to those who are dependent, but she does not question how we decide who is dependent and who is not.
Again, Jenny Morris is a wonderful place to start if you’re looking for that “vitality that a fully realized interaction between feminists and those concerned with disability can offer.” And I do hope that, in the meantime, Nussbaum has read Montgomery’s critiques of her writing and tried her best to understand them, take them to heart, and improve her ideas as a consequence.
(I’m actually on her chapter right now, but it’s proving very difficult to read (see (3)) from a purely vocabulary-based standpoint alone. Words are abstract, difficult, and often rare or used in rare combinations. That’s pretty standard throughout this book, but each author does it differently, and some are harder than others to read. Nussbaum is pretty frigging hard for me, for whatever reason – in my mind the words feel like slippery fishes that I can’t get a grasp on, or unpredictable empty spaces where I expect to find dirt and rock and wood and other things of substance.)
(2) Harriet McBryde Johnson has written an excellent response to Peter Singer’s viewpoint on disability (infamous in the disability rights world, whether it gets interpreted accurately or not – both happen for a variety of reasons, but regardless, his notoriety for dehumanizing disabled people in the service of animal rights is well-earned) in her New York Times article, Unspeakable Conversations. She’s one of the few purely physically disabled disability rights activists I’ve read, who gets his ideas pretty accurate. Probably because she’s a lawyer by training. Anyway, her book Too Late To Die Young goes into even more depth on the subject, and is available both in ebook and physical book formats.
(3) Hyperlexia is a little-known learning disability that frequently goes along with autism. It combines advanced skills in some areas of reading with skills lagging behind in other areas of reading. It often goes along with other language-related disabilities, whether the person is also autistic or not.
A common description of hyperlexia – sorry for being all medicalistic here, but I simply don’t have the cognitive energy to do otherwise – is one like the following, which used to be the only recognized version of hyperlexia (emphasis my own where it’s bolded):
Hyperlexia is a syndrome characterized by a child’s precocious ability to read, combined with difficulty in understanding and using verbal language, and problems with social interactions. It was initially identified by Norman E. Silberberg and Margaret C. Silberberg (1967), who defined it as the precocious ability to read words without prior training in learning to read typically before the age of 5. They indicated that children with hyperlexia have a significantly higher word-decoding ability than their reading comprehension levels.
(That’s from Wikipedia’s hyperlexia page.)
It’s that last bit, the higher word-decoding ability than reading comprehension levels, that I was referring to when I said I was depressingly stereotypical. I say that because I know many hyperlexic people who were wrongly assumed to not understand a word they read, because of things like not using standard intonation patterns when reading, or not being able to answer language-based questions about what they had read, all of which rely on far more skills than just reading or language comprehension to pull off. But I actually fit the stereotype – precocious decoding skills, with comprehension lagging so far behind it would be unbelievable to some of the people who carried out the testing that showed the comprehension lagging so far behind either decoding or expression. (Comprehension lagging behind expression is a common trait in autistic people whose ‘expressive language’ is largely rote-learned echolalia without much conscious meaning attached. Which is exactly the kind of language learning most common in hyperlexic kids.) I’d love to be able to say “Nope, I really understood way more of those words than they thought I did, it was just my monotonous delivery throwing them off,” but I can’t.
The answer the author, Darold Treffert (a big name authority in the way savant skills are getting defined these days), gives can be summarized as “Sometimes one, sometimes both, sometimes not quite either.” By his definition, I have Hyperlexia Type II. I have deep concerns about Type III, in which he lists off a number of characteristics that hyperlexic children share with autistic children:
These children also read early, often show striking memorization abilities, and sometimes have precocious abilities in other areas as well. They may have “autistic-like” behaviors, but, in my experience, they do not have Autistic Disorder. For example, they may show unusual sensory sensitivity (to sounds or touch or taste). Unlike children with Autistic Disorder, they are often very outgoing and affectionate with family, but reserved and distant with peers and would be playmates. They do tend to make eye contact and can be very interactive with persons close to them. There may be fascination with, or intense insistence on, routine and resistance to change. These children seem quite bright, inquisitive and precocious in some areas overall. Interest in, and mastery of, reading coupled with memory powers memorization is conspicuous and often quite amazing. There may other “autistic-like” symptoms or behaviors as well. But these symptoms and behaviors, prognosis ultimately shows, are indeed “autistic-like” and are not Autistic Disorder as such. Over time the autistic behaviors and symptoms fade and, as it turns out, these children then are quite normal (neurotypical) for their age. These are children who “outgrow” their autism, or, more accurately in my view, did not have Autistic Disorder or any of its variants to begin with. The prognosis for these children excellent and I have followed now a number of such cases via correspondence where the outcome has been just that—excellent.
The reason that I have severe reservations about this, is not that I think people don’t exist in the fuzzy borderlands between that which is considered ‘autism’ and that which is not. (Hell, I have my doubts about the usefulness of autism as a category at times at all, but not for the usual reasons most people have doubts about it, if they’re going to have doubts.) And it’s not that I don’t think people in those borderlands can move in or out of official definitions of autism within their lifetime.
My concern is that, like most definitions of autism, whether a person continues to be considered autistic depends on the outside observations of people, using definitions that deal with the outer appearances of autism and not the inner realities creating those outer appearances. I have known way too many people who grow up wondering why they are so different, wondering why they struggle to do things that everyone else can do effortlessly, and in extreme cases, may even develop more difficulties doing things as they hit their teens or young adulthood. Such people may never have been told they are autistic, so they will look into other things. Sometimes they discover autism, and to their shock, they find out that they had been diagnosed as young children and never told. Why? Because their parents thought they’d outgrown autism and that the struggles would no longer apply to them so long as nobody talked about the matter or set them up to fail by treating them as incompetent. Instead, many were set up to fail by depriving them of the tools that can come along with the best uses of categories like autism (to enhance self-awareness, promote growth and learning in their areas of strength, to meet other people like ourselves, to gain access to services and supports that require an autism label as part of the gatekeeping process). Often, far from doing well in adulthood, such people have no tools, and no help, and crash and burn horribly. The lucky ones don’t die of starvation on the streets unemployed. And then there’s the unlucky ones.
As someone who’s managed a mailing list for adult autistic people dealing with daily living skills problems (those are the skills that allow us to do things like cook, eat, dress ourselves, go grocery shopping, hold jobs, keep our homes at least minimally sanitary, have at least basic personal hygiene, etc.) I heard stories like this so often that I greatly distrust widespread stories of autistic kids who “outgrow” their autism and live happily ever after. And I haven’t even gotten into what this does to people’s sense of identity and self-worth. Quite often all those improvements were superficial and come crashing down in pieces when faking normality becomes impossible – which can be as young as 12 and as old as 60.
I once even knew a woman who had taken on the task of ‘pretending to be normal’ so heavily that she had no room for making decisions of her own or understanding much of what was going on around her. Eventually her comprehension caught up with her. She was in her fifties or sixties. Married to a man who suddenly seemed like a complete stranger, and she couldn’t remember having decided to marry him. Luckily, he was very supportive, loved her very much, and helped her through the process of getting to know him and getting to know herself again, for as long as it took. Not everyone in circumstances like hers is so lucky.
And even though she got about the best-case scenario you can get in a situation like that, it was utterly horrifying and stressful for her in a way you can’t imagine if you haven’t spent a huge chunk of your life on autopilot just trying to guess to what ‘the rules’ are with no room for your own thoughts, feelings, or personal rules about what you want or like or decide to do, even about little things. It’s horrible. Just trust me. It’s horrible. And way too many people I know with stories like hers, were actually labeled with autism as children (or should/would have been had they seen a knowledgeable doctor, and the further you go back in time the fewer those are) and never told because their parents thought, why burden them with the knowledge of this secret when it’ll never affect them later in life anyway? …wrong. So I don’t trust things like this as widespread blanket statements, because I’ve seen it from the other side too often and the other side can be a complete horror show.
sexuality, twitter, babygate, management, and louis: a messy rant
Okay. This is just a rant that nobody would probably even read but I’ll give it a shot because I believe there’s no other larries to be found within 50 meter radius of this shithole I’m in and I. Just. Need. To. Say. This. Or else I’ll get even more crazy than I already am.
I have made very little and a tad bit lazy research about the things I’m going to talk about, so my opinions are no way the most credible one out there. I’m just going to voice out what I have known and read from the fandom from the moment I have engaged in this roller coaster that is larry stylinson. I started 2012, if that matters.
I’ll also probably get hated for this but here goes.
From what I have read and from what I have chosen to believe from the things I’ve read, both of them are bisexual. However, Harry seems to be embracing his sexuality more daringly and freely than Louis. No way to confirm this, I know. But.
Harry never seems to like being correlated with girls in interviews. For example, when OT4 played Never Have I Ever with Ellen, she blatantly threw questions to Harry about Taylor Swift and his history with older women. Harry seemed dismissive and even slightly annoyed (in Harry’s way) by those questions, as he always seem to be whenever his womanizer image is being brought up. I have watched other interviews to support this claim, but I can’t remember exactly where. I myself believe that sexuality cannot be judged simply because of certain stigmatized behaviors. However, I have seen videos and gifs with Harry not “acting” very masculine especially in concerts. I mean, if I’m close-minded and thankfully I’m not, I’d call Harry gay simply because of his behaviors. Moreover, Harry’s the one who seem to be the most supportive of Rainbow Direction, the one running around with rainbow flags, the one carrying a rainbow mug in Drag Me Down music video. In conclusion, I’d say that Harry is definitely sexually fluid and definitely not straight. Plus, I’ve seen Harry’s pictures with his first girlfriend Felicity Skinner, and they looked genuinely happy together.
Louis, on the other hand, seem to know how to play the sexuality games really well. He seem to be more willing to have beards and be a dad. He’s also, unfortunately, to the public eye, slightly homophobic. He’s definitely not as supportive as Harry about Rainbow Direction. For one, I think it’s because Louis is older so he knows how things work in the industry. I’m not saying Harry doesn’t, but Louis’ a couple more years of existence have probably made him aware of how venomous society is when it comes to sexuality. It probably have made him bitter and scared (search: internalized homophobia). In addition, he’s the one who’s been in a long-term relationship with a beard and the one who’s been publicized to be a father soon. I’ve also seen his pictures with his first serious girlfriend, Hannah Walker, and well, it seemed legit. In conclusion, he’s also bisexual.
LARRY WHEN ASKED ABOUT LARRY Back in the fetus days and when larry stylinson is still allowed to be asked in interviews (I’m not saying it’s not, but I’m throwing a few cents here), Louis seemed to be the more confident one in responding to the question about the fan’s “genuine” belief of their romance. Harry’s body language is very closed during these moments, but Louis handled the situation a lot better, almost with practice.
Another thing, and this thing I do hate, is Louis’ twitter vomits. I have been discouraged and hurt many times by the things he tweeted concerning larry and the LGBT, but whenever I remember that Louis has a sharp tongue - a tongue that he himself have sharpened because he needed it to defend himself, I forgive him. You know what tweets I’m talking about. Especially the one when he went all gaga when we were so proud of him for wearing a shirt with a rainbow apple. Okay that still hurts. Skip.
There was a time when, whenever I run out of reasons to believe that Larry is real, I remind my self that Louis and Harry have never denied it. But then, after going over Louis’ tweets concerning Larry, that argument felt weak. Because despite not actually mentioning the words confirming that he’s not in a relationship with Harry, the implications of his words/tweets are not far from that. I know management can control their twitter account, but I’ve been following Louis long enough to discern which tweets are his and which ones are for promos. The only consolation is that he haven’t denied it in front of a camera for the world to see. I guess that would be too real, for him, and for us. When it comes to Larry Stylinson or sexuality, Louis, on one hand, can put on a very convincing mask and make it look like it’s his true self. He can speak lies and make it sound like truths. It’s not meant to hurt anyone, it’s just his way of dealing with the difficulty of his situation. On the other hand, Harry is more reserved. He can’t speak of the truth, but he’s trying and is not afraid to show it. Louis is strong but Harry is brave.
BABYGATE AND CONSEQUENCES Babygate is, probably the most tragic and insane stunt that the management have pulled. Zayn leaving have pulled rags under our feet, but we’ve always known the boys can’t be together always. The whole thing is still shady af, but we’ve managed to come to terms with it.
Louis’ having a baby, however, is just a disaster. There’s just so many reason that this is wrong, but what concerns me the most is how this is hurting Louis’ image. His name have graced the headlines a lot of times in a span of a few months. Which is the goal, I think, because they needed something to distract the fans from Zayn leaving and Louis is probably going to be an X-factor judge during the hiatus. He broke up with his long-time girlfriend only to be seen kissing a girl in a pool the next day. He shades NaughtyPig and Zayn over twitter. And the worst of all, he impregnates Briana Jungwhatever.
There is no way, no way in hell to know if he’s really the father or if the baby is even real. Larry shippers, natural detectives as we are, have found holes in the whole story. We’ve also heard how “buzzin’” Louis is about it. We’ve learn about how much time he’s going to spend with the baby during the break (oops we didn’t). We have that, we have theories, we have facts, we have observations, but we don’t really have the truth. A few months from now a certain “truth” will come out of the headlines (The Sun, I’ll bet), but even then we’ll never know if it really is the truth. So as much as I want to believe that the baby isn’t real, I can’t. I’m not saying it’s real, either. But the fact that we are able to chuck out the possibility of a baby, an actual human being, in the category of publicity stunts, is too much for me. Even if it isn’t real or Louis isn’t the father, the outcomes will still be devastating because it’s a BABY.
And that, the fact that Louis acknowledge (grudgingly and with apathy, I know) that he is having a baby soon, is the biggest blow in my faith in larry. Because just how much Louis Tomlinson is willing to pay to hide that he is in a relationship with Larry? What is he willing to do? I can deal with rumors, shady tweets, or beards. Just, just not a baby. That’s too much.
NOW, MANAGEMENT (This is the part where I might get hate) What bothers me the most is the fact that Louis agreed with all of this. I know, management. But I refuse to believe that they have zero control over the things that the management put them through. They have contract, I know, and none of us have any idea what kind of contract they have signed, but I am confident that they are still allowed to decide. I can blame management for the absence of larry interactions for the past years (even though I don’t), but Louis being rumored having a baby? I can’t blame that to them. That’s Louis. He may have not liked the idea, but he’s still participating. I refuse to believe that he doesn’t have any call to that, that’s absurd. I want to stop blaming the management for all the shit that’s happening. It’s true, they are perpetuators, they have control, but I believe the boys still has autonomy. They wouldn’t sign a contract stating that they should follow orders blindly. Okay, maybe Louis didn’t have a choice about Eleanor, maybe it’s in his contract to have a beard, maybe. But agreeing to be a father to a baby? With a girl he met and apparently shagged from a club? I don’t think he should have agreed with that. I’m questioning the morality of it.
And if Larry is really real, just imagine what kind of catastrophe awaits them when they come out. The more publicities like this, more girlfriends, and more denials that they do, the more difficult it will be for them to come out someday. All those things will be held against them. At least I think so. Because, for the most part, they have lied to the public. To the fans. I’m not saying that they owe us the truth, but I like to think that to some extent, they do.
But if they do come out, I’ll rejoice. That’s all I’ll be doing. Probably for a month. I’ll think of these consequences again, but I’ll be happy for them first. I also think that, if they do go through hell with the media or the fans or the world after coming out, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be the most wonderful thing because they’re finally free. And they’ll have us.
(I’m a hardcore Louis girl, by the way. He keeps hurting me, I know. But it’s always the bad boys, isn’t it?)