http://modusdopens.wordpress.com/2010/01/29/de-centering-non-disability/
Could this be any more perfect? I don’t think so. Unless possibly it was required reading for anyone in charge or involved or tangentially related to disability access.
“Sufficient” is a word for which I didn’t even know I was searching.
I had a conversation today with my sister. She told me of a recent welfare story in some newspaper, and it’s important to know that I have not seen this article, and that she was not reading it to me. She was telling me what she had taken away from this article.
The welfare system in question is specifically for child care, giving people with daycare licenses so much money to help with operation per child. The system had been abused by a few named persons, two of which my sister could recall some specifics about. One woman had scammed perhaps a million dollars, enough to buy a house and then pay whatever the state had sued her for after finding out about her scam. Another couple of woman took care of each other’s children and scammed maybe 500K. And then the article had a chart, showing that 72% of recipients of this kind of welfare were scamming the system. She told me it was in billions of dollars. This is what she remembers.
Irresponsible.
Let’s say 10 people were named in the article. Let’s say they had each scammed between 500K and a million dollars. Let’s say.
How long did they have to scam that money? Well, it must have been several years, considering the system couldn’t afford to give 10 people 500K at once, and then continue to support the other 72% of scammers, and the 28% non-scammers. So already we have a huge amount of money with no idea of how much time it took to get to that amount.
And then let’s ask what percent those 10 people are, of all the people on this system.
Because the way it’s presented, you see those 10 people as representative of the 72%. You’re not seeing that a few people did something truly awful; you’re seeing that 72% OF all RECIPIENTS OF this kind of WELFARE HAVE SCAMMED some MONEY FROM THE SYSTEM. Because maybe one person scammed once, or twice, to the tune of $500 to $2000 over a year or more. That doesn’t sound as interesting, as awful, as BUY MY NEWSPAPER LISTEN TO MY RADIO SHOW WATCH MY NEWS SHOW as
WELFARE RECIPIENTS GET BILLIONS OF DOLLARS FROM YOUR TAXES; ONE WOMAN BUILDS NEW HOUSE!!!!!
So, yes. The system sucks, some people are greedy, and things need to change. But your headline buys into that still-very-alive anti-welfare anti-tax bullshit that demonizes the poor, demonizes anyone who needs help, and tells us outright it’s better to leave people to starve because they’re greedy lazy assholes who are scamming us, scamming us, scamming us good upright taxpayers!
who are not above taking some paper from work or a pen or two or maybe letting that absent-minded cashier give us a dollar extra but that’s not stealing, you know?
Irresponsible. 10 people do something awful, ten thousand more do something bad, but we end up tarring everyone who receives any kind of assistance (because now it’s not just about the child care system, it’s about ALL welfare, because it ALWAYS come down to greedy lazy people scamming the good taxpayers) with the same brush. I get welfare; I might as well have stolen 500K from the state. I get welfare; I’m probably one of those lazy greedy assholes who doesn’t really need it and just wants money. I get welfare; I am worthless.
Fuck that noise.
That’s your takeaway.
Fuck that noise.
Stop being so fucking irresponsible in your journalism.
Stop relying on sensationalism.
Stop being so fucking irresponsible.
http://theonepercentclub.blogspot.com/2009/09/ideal-asexuals.html
Ha HA! Only 4 months late to the party!
…
Nah, seriously. I am a great big loner who avoids the party until it’s over, and then jumps in and shouts, “Who wants to watch Hot Fuzz?” And then I watch it by myself. Because I like to watch movies by myself. And now, away from the, uh, metaphor? I am asexual. And I want to play with this “ideal asexual” list. BY MYSELF. Because I am a loner and I DON’T NEED YOU.
(So why do I have this blog? And why do I rarely, rarely, rarely, but sometimes comment on other’s blogs? Because it’s important for people to know that great big loner asexual sometime-vegan politically-atheist angry women exist. Every once in a while, anyway. When someone else is saying, “your experience is invalid because NO ONE has that experience.” Because I needed to know 1. that someone else had had that experience and 2. it didn’t fucking matter if NO ONE had had that experience, I had had or was having or am having or will have that experience, so fuck you! And I personally couldn’t reach 2 without finding 1, so in case there is anyone out there like me, well, there ya go.
ANYWAY.)
” Ideal asexuals:
Do not have any kind of disability or mental illness
Are physically attractive and have good social skills
Have dramatic stories to tell regarding their asexuality
Are not genderqueer or transgender
Are old enough to not be late bloomers
Are part of a racially diverse group
Are happy and “well-adjusted” (whatever that means this week), fitting seamlessly into mainstream society
Tried sexual activity in order to decide they didn’t like it
Have an interest in dating or romantic relationships
Would not want to magically become sexual if given the chance
Have never experienced sexual feelings of any kind
Are not in any state of confusion about their asexuality
Are out to the people in their lives
Have not been abused, sexually or otherwise
Welcome non-sexual intimacy
Do not have anything negative to say about sex”
QUICK, to the VALIDATION-MOBILE!
I fit roughly half of these; I don’t fit the other half. The really awful part is I fit many of the parts of this list that are biased against many folks, and I don’t fit most of the parts that are specifically biased to asexuals. How do I mean?
Well, being genderqueer is going to be a hard sell for a sexual person, and I am not genderqueer. However, welcoming non-sexual intimacy is something you really wouldn’t think about if you weren’t asexual, and I can comfortably hug all of two adult people in my life, and I can only manage to comfortably hug children half the time. Have never experienced sexual feelings of any kind? Not something a sexual person would ever have to think about, but if you’re asexual and you have experienced sexual feelings, wow, are you sure you’re asexual? Yes, yes I am, thanks.
Moving on to a problematic part of this list: “Tried sexual activity in order to decide they didn’t like it.” Woo. Did that. Did that KNOWING I didn’t want to; I wouldn’t like it; it wasn’t right for me and therefore could not be right for my partner, who asked for and received my consent and never thought to ask if I was ace, and I never said so, because…
Because no one believed me that I was ace, since I’d never tried having sex. And because no one believed me, I doubted myself. Damn you, validation-mobile! I drove you right to a sexual encounter I never wanted to have!
This is not something that’s restricted to asexual experience, of course. Lots of people have sex because they think they’re supposed to. But I am talking about my experience with an extremely tricky part of an extremely tricky list. I have spent months gearing up to unpack my feelings about my checkmark on this list, and now I’m going to it.
I didn’t want to have sex. I consented to it, was as active a participant as I could be (being completely inexperienced and divorced from arousal), and refuse even now to think about what would happen should I tell my partner that I am ace. I wanted the experience. I wanted to be able to say, “Tried it. Not for me.” Because that’s what some very important people to me wanted to hear.
“I’m glad you tried it.” And now you know I wasn’t just, what, lying?
Okay, maybe I’m not ready to unpack those feelings. I get angry and sad and hurt and bitter. I regret. Oooh, and it pisses me off to say it. I regret it. Fuck. I am angry as hell to say it.
Now. The reason for saying this in a public space.
Dear imaginary validation-mobile owning reader, don’t you fucking go and have sex just because someone told you it’s the only way to know for sure that you don’t like it. I don’t know that you’ll regret it, but that’s a possible outcome, and it fucking sucks.
Affectionate smiles and awkward jokes to take the place of hugs,
Your friend,
L.
I found myself watching “Monsters, Inc.” and thinking about why there weren’t any women monsters on the scare floor.
I watched “Megas XLR” or whatever it’s called; I can’t remember anymore. I enjoyed that the heroes of the show were slobs, slackers, one way skinny and one way fat. Except that the only woman has to be extremely fit, extremely competent, and extremely attractive. She doesn’t get to be a slob, or a slacker, or way skinny or way fat.
I asked my cousin to show me where, on his father’s bookshelf, there were any books written by or about women. He found one, one book in one huge bookshelf, written by a woman about a bunch of men.
I want better than this.
Everyone I know who says anything against universal health care HAS health insurance, usually through their job.
Huh.
I don’t have any kind of health insurance. But I know that doesn’t matter to them, those people I know. Because neither did my little sister, when she was hospitalized multiple times for a genetic condition. Because she’s declaring bankruptcy after years of bill-collecting harassment despite her well-intentioned though obviously doomed attempts to begin paying back $90K worth of medical bills.
$90K.
When she’s still being hospitalized at times.
For a genetic condition.
We don’t need a government plan to cover people who can’t pay. Obviously. We should just let people declare bankruptcy. Because we don’t want to have to pay for other people. Even though, with those other people going bankrupt, we’re already paying.
From the always incredible Angry Black Woman.
Maybe it would be fun, instead, to save up during the year and donate a little to the Native American Rights Fund.
I’d edit, but I decided I wanted this separate, in a more prominent post. So there!
I really, really, really enjoy exploring my Japanese heritage. My grandma spent most of her life refusing to talk about Japan, because it hurt to think about her past. I’m not getting into that, because that’s her pain, not mine. But.
She tells me stories about when she was a child, now. Especially school stories, since I taught English while in Japan. She sometimes speaks Japanese with me (I’m really very poor at speaking, sadly). And we bond over food and pronunciation difficulties, ha.
I am so very lucky that I got to go to Japan and live there, and experience a similar experience to my grandmother’s: in a new culture, suddenly, with a bit of the language to help. I, of course, was much luckier than her in that I 1. had a job, 2. had to face considerably less harsh discrimination, 3. knew I could go back to my family, 4 5 6 7 8… I can’t name all of the privileges I had compared to my grandma’s few. Again, a lot of that is not talking her pain. But.
Some day I will be writing a post about Native Speaker of English Privilege. It’s not today.
I just want to say that I appreciate my heritage as given to me by my grandmother very, very much. And I try to make sure she knows it.
Today is the International Transgender Day of Remembrance.
Yeah. That last post? No one ever beat me up for my identity. No one ever yelled at me. No one blinks.
But somehow, somehow, some assholes think they’ve got a right to tell trans men and women how to identify, how to live, how to be.
Fuck that noise.
A person’s identity is that person’s own. You don’t get to tell someone who she is; she gets to tell you. If you’re lucky. If you’re a decent person in impression that she deigns to talk to you. Otherwise, jackhole? Back the fuck off. You don’t get to tell him that he can’t play with dolls, either. ’cause, guess what? He gets to choose. It’s his life. Fuck you.
Argh.
If I’m not describing you, by the way, you aren’t the “you” in the above paragraph. If you aren’t someone who tries to tell people who they are, who they get to be, and how they get to express that, then I’m not angry with you. Why should I be?
But if you are the sort of human scum that would in any way try to control a human being, to the point of controlling how that human being expresses identity and self, then fuck off, ’cause I’m done wasting words on you.
I always fill out those voluntary identification sections of tests or surveys: sex, age, race.
I hit female, between 25-35 (it’s always something around there, anyway), white.
So how to explain?
My grandmother is Japanese, born in Japan, raised in Japan, moved to the US as a war bride aroundabouts 1960. Had some kids with a white (German-American) man. Lived in an area with few to no other Asian people, much less Japanese. Spent her life trying to raise her kids American, in order to give them the best chance.
Times change.
My father is Japanese-American, Asian-American to all who know of him, because there still aren’t enough Asian people in his city for anyone to care past “Asian.” Half Japanese. He doesn’t speak/understand Japanese, doesn’t write it; wasn’t raised to be Japanese.
Except that, of course he was.
His mother was his primary (at some points, only) caretaker. Her culture and her values are very much Japanese, even now, after more than half her life lived in the US. He didn’t pick up the language, no; but he picked up so many cultural attitudes and ingrained behaviors that it’s ridiculous how he doesn’t realize it.
Of course, I didn’t realize it either, until I went to university and began studying Japanese.
I studied the language and culture for two years, and then lived in Japan for several years. Me. White me. White, USAmerican me. Except…
My dad wasn’t my primary caretaker. My mother was. But my father was a huge part of my life, and so was my grandmother. And of my father’s children, of my grandmother’s grandchildren, I was the most Japanese–in appearance and in behavior.
So imagine my surprise years later when I went to Japan, and began to see little things, little habits of action and of thought, little things that made me a bit quirky in the US, finally in the context in which they had been born.
I always identified as white because, well, that’s how people see me. And that’s important. Race and racial privilege (and discrimination) begin with how other people see you. But they don’t end there.
Because I am, in some small ways, culturally Japanese. Not hugely. Not so much as to say to anyone, “Hey, I’m Japanese-American!” Only in little ways. And those little things I was taught can both help and hurt me.
So, yeah. My experience as a whiteish daughter of an Asian-American son of a Japanese woman who moved to the US is different from that of a person fully of white, European descent. And it’s okay for me to realize that. It’s okay for me to know it, and to own it.
I am a half-assed vegan. I don’t eat meat, and I mostly avoid dairy and eggs. Sadly, sadly, I don’t have a problem with eating honey or wearing wool. Also, I could care less about what you eat or wear only if I were dead.
So what’s this about meat without animals?
Cloning animal tissue without growing a whole animal equals meat without guilt! Am I right? What’s wrong with eating meat that was never living in the first place?
Except that it was alive. It was never part of an animal, no. But it was alive.
But so are plants! And vegans eat plants.
We’ll get back to that later.
Cloned meat can be created without slaughter, neatly solving all problems, like creating an animal that wants to die (hello, Hitchhiker’s Guide!). Except, of course, that you can then clone human meat for consumption.
Don’t worry; I’ll abstain from the Soylent Green jokes.
It never takes us long to get back to that ultimate taboo: eating other people. This is bad. This is very bad. Even people who would enslave or try to kill off entire races find cannibalism appalling. In fact, cannibalism was sometimes used as an excuse for why those other races weren’t quite human enough not to be enslaved or killed.
Because humans who eat humans are predators of humans, and therefore inhuman. But humans who enslave and kill, well, they’re pretty much upstanding citizens.
What am I getting at? Kill Whitey? But don’t eat him?
I guess there’s a difference between eating and killing, or eating and enslaving. I don’t know. All of these acts devalue human life.
Right here, I want to note that killing in self-defense is, in fact, an expression of highest regard for human life. We’re never going to be instinctually self-sacrificing, as we are highly individual beings. So killing another human being to save your life, or the lives of other human beings, in a responsible choice (when there is no time for another option, or when other options have been tried and/or prove futile), is not a devaluation of human life. Wahey.
Getting back to meat: living tissue grown in a lab for the express purpose of being eaten by living organisms. Living beings. Human beings, and maybe their pets. Hey, pets!
There’s a reason we don’t like to eat animals we think of as pets, and that’s because pets become part of our human identity. That’s what I think, anyway. The more an animal can reflect something in us, something we see as being of value (as being human), the less we want to eat it.
Because I’ll devalue you as a human being, but I won’t devalue myself by eating you.
Oooooh. Maybe we have something there. This thinking stuff: it is hard.
Before we get any farther: no, eating beef is not like slavery. No, it is not. Shut up, PETA. Animal lives have worth, yes, but as a human being, the life that has the most worth in my world is a human life. And I will save any human being from a fire before saving a cat. Human beings have a far greater worth than animals. But that doesn’t mean that animals don’t have worth. It just means that human worth is beyond comprehension.
I don’t eat meat anymore. I don’t think I’ll eat it again, and I don’t think I’ll eat meat that comes out of a lab. (We’re avoiding dehumanizing situations such as starvation in this conjecture, and yes, I think a starving person has been dehumanized, and I think that dehumanization is a fucking crime, therefore allowing people to starve is a crime against humanity, but that’s a whole ‘nother post, I guess.)
I don’t eat meat because, as a human being living in a city in an extremely developed country, I exist almost entirely outside of the food chain. We get pumped full of chemicals now, guys, when we die, or we get burned to ash, or we donate ourselves to science, I don’t know. We don’t give much back, is what I’m saying. We don’t feed any worms. We don’t even put nutrients back in the ground much with our shit, because we flush that and let it get treated. Usually.
I don’t eat meat because, to me, the act devalues living things. Plants, for the most part, are lives beyond what you’re eating. Fruit and vegetables are the part the plant intends you to eat. Sure, you’re not spreading seeds like the plant intended, but you spread that seed in different ways and allow other plants to grow and live. But meat is animals ripped up, chopped up, and dead. Dead dead dead. Born to be eaten. Born with a devalued destiny.
How depressing.
Anyway. What am I saying?
I am not religious. But religion is good, here. Religion gives good markers for where meat ends and worthy living creature begins. But in the absence of religion, I have to make a logical decision. So my decision is: no meat. All worthy, living creature.
Check out how much more closely to myself my line has to be drawn than your average meat-eater. She can draw that line a mile down in the sand! Mine has to be so close. I guess that means I’m much more of a danger than she is.
Maybe I’m living on the slippery-slope when so many of you are living easily on flat, safe, hand-railed steps.
So.
So, please. Eat your burger. Enjoy your sushi. Yay, veal! You know where you draw that line. You have made that decision. You know where meat ends. And maybe you’re the market for meat-grown-in-the-lab. I have taken this entry to think it through, and I know, I’m totally cool with it. Aren’t you pleased that I’m okay with it?
Just as long as we all know.
Human being =/= meat. In any context. Ever.
