From Aaron Jackson, of Planting Peace and the Equality House:
“Before painting the Equality House, Davis and I thought it would only be three weeks before the house was burnt down.
We even set forth escape plans. But something beautiful happened over the course of the last three years…. Nothing.
With roughly 150 visitors a day, the Equality House had never been attacked.
Then, in late 2016:
- Our Little Free Library was covered in feces.
- The KKK knocked on our door and told Davis and me that we would be killed if Trump were elected.
- Then, a few weeks ago, I was awakened by the sounds of 5 white guys spray painting "fuk fags” along the exterior of my house. They also left 7 bullet holes in my window.
I spoke with the Southern Poverty Law Center after the Equality House was shot, and they confirmed hate crimes are on the rise.
I’ve seen more swastikas in the last couple of days than I have seen in my lifetime outside of historical references.
But what scares me more than the bullets nailing my window and swastikas popping up on street corners around America is the absolute silence from far to many. This is no time to be complacent my friends. We must act.
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” ”
This exchange just goes to show that no matter how well worded and polite I am, disability activism (even just progressive conversation) is taken as an enormous threat by abled people - this one in particular. The commenter does not deserve to have her name blurred, she chose to spew these hateful things on the public internet and I will not let it slip under the rug.
There are SO many different types of ableist thought she is displaying, so I won’t go in depth. But in summary, Hannah fits in insults, speaking over disabled voices harmfully, fake activism (”we’re all the same!”), minimizing oppressed experiences , infantilization, abled superiority, identity and ability erasure, gaslighting and abuse all into two comments! Wow! That might be a record.
Overall, I think this experience reminds us that people with disabilities are not even recognized as in need of help or allyship. That’s how damn negatively we are viewed. Either disgusting, dramatic, “inspirational,” or invisible. The awareness about struggle of disabled people is extremely low on all planes (economic, social, accessibility, representation, political, opportunity, and more) EVEN THOUGH we make up the largest marginalized group. We make up 15% of all humans. One Billion people. STOP LEAVING DISABILITY OUT OF YOUR ACTIVISM.
Neo-Nazis, anti-Semites and white nationalists have begun using three sets of parentheses encasing a Jewish surname — for instance, (((Fleishman))) — to identify and target Jews for harassment on blogs and major social media sites like Twitter.
The origins of the symbol ((())) can be traced to a hardcore, right-wing podcast called The Daily Shoah in 2014. It’s known as an “echo” in the anti-Semitic corners of the alt-right. Some use the symbol to mock Jews; others seek to expose supposed Jewish collusion in controlling media or politics. All use it to put a target on their heads.
Cade and Micah stood side by side, watching the race. Cadence’s expression was one of pure energy over the commotion, the noise, and the danger around them. When the race was finished, they had pulled Micah with them to where Sterling was. The three of them stood talking, congratulating Sterling on his victory. Of course, there were people around them that were furious. The three of them ignored all of those people until one person in particular kept going.
“Fucking trannie princess shouldn’t even be allowed to race. It’s not even a real man.”
That was enough to set Cadence off. Like a flick of a switch, their entire posture changed. No longer were they excited and full of joy. They turned, facing the stranger, their jaw clenching. “What did you just say?” They questioned as they got into his face, his fist clenched by his side.
“Get out of my way you fa-”
Before the man could finish his sentence, Caden had struck him across the jaw, shaking their hand. After that, it was a feud between the two. Eventually they had pinned the other down, blood running down their face as they hit him continuously before grabbing his had and slamming it into the ground. The only thing that stopped them from continuing was the sudden force of two people pulling them back. They tried to fight them off, managing to hit the man several more times before they were completely pulled away. “Get off of me!” They said as they pulled out of their grips, turning to realize it was Micah and Sterling they were now fighting against. Their arms dropped as they looked at them, blood dripping from their nose and where their lip was now cut. Their face and knuckles black and blue. They shoved their hands into their pockets, hair falling over their face as they avoided looking at the two. “Sorry about that.”
So, I sort of came out to my parents. It did not go well.
In the past I’ve discussed my bisexuality with my dad. He’s always been a little more tolerant than my mom. (I’m actually pansexual, but even I know better than to try telling either of my parents that I’m capable of finding people of any biological gender, gender identity, androgynous or intersex, sexually attractive. They would have me committed.) The point is, my dad made it seem like he was reluctantly okay with it. He was hoping it was a phase I’d grow out of, but he still loved me.
Last Friday evening, I went on a date with a lady. We had drinks, pizza, and dessert at an Italian restaurant, then went to the pub next door for more drinks and dancing. To make a very long story short, my dad came looking for me, and I was honest with him about the fact that I was on a date with a woman. He left without a fuss. My date went wonderfully, she dropped me off at home and kissed me, and I walked in the door with a wide grin and a happy blush. That was when it all went to hell.
My dad had told mom about my date. He outed me to her without my knowledge or permission. They proceeded to give me a lecture in Homophobia 101. It was pure poison.
Dad: Why are you doing this to me?
Me: I’m not doing this to anyone. It has nothing to do with you.
Dad: I don’t care if gay marriage is legal now, you can’t tell me that it’s natural. It doesn’t take a genius to know that two pegs don’t go together, and two holes don’t go together.
Me: We’re not puzzle pieces, we’re people!
Dad: Exactly, you should know better! We raised you to know better! God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!
(At this point hysteria was kicking in. In the back of my mind I tried to remember one of the awesome comebacks I’ve seen on this site over the years, but my mind was coming up blank. I was in too much shock to think clearly.)
Mom: It’s a matter of intelligence. You know, years ago they said that this sort of brainwashing was going to happen, making people think that this sort of thing was acceptable when it isn’t.
Me: I’m not brainwashed, and intelligence has nothing to do with it.
Mom: Of course it does!
(It was only much later that I thought of Alan Turing.)
Me: There’s nothing wrong with gayness, it’s not hurting anyone.
Dad: It’s hurting me!
Me: How can it be hurting you?
Dad: It’s selfish, that’s what it is. You’re so ungrateful. After everything we’ve done for you, given you. Your laptop, smartphone, university. I feel like taking all of those things away from you, locking you in your empty room, and just passing your medication through the door every day. You don’t do anything to help your mother, you just lay in bed all day in your pajamas doing nothing!
(I have depression and general anxiety. They know this. Just because I’m medicated now doesn’t mean I’m no longer capable of having episodes. They don’t believe in mental health problems. They believe that all neurological evidence of these disorders was made up by scientists so they could sell more pharmaceuticals. They regularly encourage my bipolar sister to stop taking her medication.)
Dad: And you want me to take you to Singapore, so you can embarrass me?
Me: I’m not going to embarrass you.
Dad: You will if you go on dates with women.
Me: Fine, I won’t then if it’s such a problem for you.
(I hated myself for saying that, later.)
Mom: It’s a problem for everyone!
I just… I felt betrayed. I was in shock. I’d been ambushed, and I was outnumbered. I was on the brink of having a panic attack, or bursting into tears, but I was just a little too shock-numb to quite do either. I sat there, stroking the dog on my lap more to comfort myself than to comfort her. I had to focus on my breathing, focus on keeping it deep and slow. My breaths were as shaky as my hands.
I stopped answering back, and just waited for it to be over so I could escape to my room. After a few minutes of lull, mom started telling me about the TV show they’d been watching, as though nothing had happened. Something about British nannies. As if I wasn’t pale and hunched into myself, trembling and avoiding eye contact. I mumbled something non-committal and fled.
I lay awake all night, numbly trying to process what I’d just been through. Their poison sat like a thick, putrid sludge on my brain, refusing to go away. I was confused. Cold. Ashamed. So angry. So sad. Indignant. Physically sick to my stomach. I felt unclean, and hated them for making me feel that way about myself. Eventually I gave up and browsed tumblr for a while. It was 2am, so I couldn’t call a friend or anything, and nothing else calms me down when I’m that upset like tumblr does.
I still couldn’t shake the sludge though. I wanted to fucking claw at it. Normally I would write it all down straight away, that has always helped to wash away the filth. But this time, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to spread their poison, to inflict it on anybody else. Instead I let it cling to me, festering. I just couldn’t do that to myself anymore. I couldn’t give their poison that kind of power over me.
Kate Jenner, previously Bruce Jenner, was in a magazine I was reading recently. I tried to discuss her with mom. She called Kate “it”, instead of using actual pronouns. When I called her out on it, she thought it was funny. She thought that her dehumanizing language, that an extreme form of psychological abuse, was funny. When I told her that people like her were the reason gay people committed suicide, she said “Good, they should all just die.”
My parents are bigots. They talk the same way the Nazis used to. They carry the same hatred and disgust that the congregation of the Westboro Baptist Church have. I’m ashamed of them. They disgust me. I want to rage at them, to find every counter-argument the vast might of tumblr has to offer, print them out, and stick them everywhere inside the house. But I know that nothing I could say or do would ever change their minds, or remove the sickness from their hearts.
They still love me, as long as I pretend to be straight. I will always love them, because they’re my parents. I wouldn’t know how to truly hate them. But they are lost to me now, forever. I can’t change who or what I am. I wouldn’t even if I could. I love who I am. I can’t stay, and subject myself to their poison. It would kill me. I’ve signed up with a website where I can earn a salary teaching English. As soon as I’ve saved up enough money, I’m moving to another country. I’m going to cut off all ties with them.
I have a girlfriend. We’ve been best friends for years, I’ve known her since high school. Right now we’re in an open relationship, but someday I want to marry her, and I think she might just let me. God knows I love her, like I’ve never loved anybody else. She’s a part of who I am. She’s my safe harbor in every storm. She’s my cherished spun-glass angel, to be protected at any cost. I can’t imagine growing old without her by my side. I wouldn’t want to even try.
I’ve never pictured getting married without my parents there. I’m grieving for them, and they’re not even dead, but I’ve still lost them. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come to terms with that. They’re not even old yet, they’re not even retired, or grandparents. I was supposed to have so much more time with them. I’m not ready to be parent-less, not even close. I feel so lost. I still haven’t been able to really cry yet. It hasn’t sunk in yet. It doesn’t feel like reality. When the tears do come, I hope to God I’m not alone for it.
They say that me being not-straight hurts them, but it can’t possibly hurt them as much as their bigotry has hurt me.
He’s a pedophaphile defending facishit loving bigot who the alt-right only uses as there one and only go to “gay friend” to defend thier own homophobia and bigotry. He poluts this world with hate spech and the fact that his fans continue to defend him even after he defended pedophilia really goes to show you the true nature of the alt right
Swastikas. Pepe memes. The repeated phrase “Lock her up.” “Fuck Hillary.” “Hitlery Cunton Satan.” “Leash that bitch.” “Gas the kikes.” “Fuck Mexico.” “PRES TRUMP 2016." That’s what you’ll find on the livestreams of the third presidential debate on YouTube. And it’s all coming from one place.