(Warning: Mention of child abuse, physical abuse)
“Happiness is a choice!”
“Quit being so negative!”
“Good vibes only!”
I’ve always wondered — why do self-professed “happy,” “positive,” and “joyous” people seem to be so judgmental of others?
I call such people “happy warriors,” and they’re everywhere.
I’ve had the above lines used against me nearly all my life. I’ve always been looked at as “negative” and “unhappy” for one reason or another. …
I used to hate salt and vinegar chips.
Their strong smell made my eyes water. Their sour taste made me shudder. Their saltiness made me cough.
They remind me of myself.
I’ve been taught I’m unpleasant, sour, aggressive, and undesirable. I was taught that so that I would silently accept abuse and dehumanization , believing I deserved it.
If I ever protested the treatment I went through, I was pretty much told to “stay salty.”
One time, when I was at the grocery store, I noticed bags of salt and vinegar chips sitting on a shelf in the chip isle. About all the other bags of chips were almost sold out, but the supply of salt and vinegar chips seemed completely full. …
“I could never imagine fellow Americans attacking our country!”
“This is not us! This is not America!”
“This is unbelievable! No one could have predicted this!”
Many White people exclaimed similar sentiments when Donald Trump won the 2016 presidential election.
I cynically chuckled then, too.
This isn’t to say I wasn’t shocked by Donald Trump winning. I was also shocked watching the attempted coup unfolding on January 6th, 2021. I was shocked seeing it happen, but I wasn’t surprised.
It was comparable to watching a horror movie and seeing a killer stalking behind a clueless victim. …
Haha! I have not achieved that goal, but I will.
It has been particularly difficult for me to do anything productive during the past week. It’s been a week. For everybody. Of course, I’m going to write something about it.
I just wanted to drop a line and tell all of you I’m still alive. I’m just doing a poor job creating a routine. I appreciate your patience with me. Thank you for the follows, comments, and input!
A couple of months ago, I made the mistake of getting involved in a Facebook argument. I rarely get involved in Facebook arguments because maintaining my mental health is important to me.
I saw this White man arguing against the idea that law enforcement murdering unarmed Black men is unjustified and racist. He used this popular argument based on the just-world fallacy: If a person isn’t breaking the law, then the police won’t do anything to them. If the police did brutalize or kill someone, then that person must have been breaking the law.
Judging by how flippantly this guy was dismissing first-hand experiences, articles and statistics, I knew not to waste much mental or emotional energy in convincing him that we don’t live in a just world; we live in a world that, sadly, White supremacy spoiled. …
My father was born in Louisville, KY in 1951. He was a little Black boy born in a Southern, segregated city.
He’s not my great-grandfather. He’s not my grandfather. He’s my 69-year-old, alive-and-still-kicking father.
As much as I’ve learned about systemic racism and White supremacy through the first-hand experience and through studying it, the fact that my father remembers segregation even shocks me at times.
Segregation is often thought of as an ominous time in U.S. history that happened so long ago, it’s barely worth mentioning. My father, aunts, and surviving family members are proof the past is not so distant. In fact, the past is still the present. According to a 2015 report by 24/7 Wall St., …
It finally happened.
I received my first piece of feedback from an overly-defensive White person on Medium. I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I first made this account months ago.
I don’t want to call out the person directly; this isn’t meant to be a call-out post. But it was the classic, “Not all White people! Stop generalizing!” argument. I’ve heard it before, and I’m sure many Medium writers who discuss racism and White supremacy have heard it thousands of times as well.
I just want to reassure all White people who are reading this post that I am absolutely talking about you. …
Hi everyone! I just wanted to write a quick note to my followers and readers on here.
I know I publish posts very sporadically, even though my bio wasn’t a lie — I do have a lot to say.
I honestly didn’t expect to have any followers or readers when I started this blog a few months ago. I missed writing and having something to do, so one of my friends on Twitter suggested I try creating a blog on Medium. And, here I am.
I know I’m not famous by any means, nor am I aiming to be. However, getting claps and comments and writing for wonderful publications like An Injustice! …
(Content Warning: Mentions of suicidal thoughts and attempts)
Although the stigma is fading, in the U.S., living with your parents past the age of 28 is considered embarrassing and humiliating.
I see memes and jokes about it everywhere. “Oh, you still live with your parents? Yeah, I bet your life is so hard lol!”
I even see people who should know better — advocates for income equality, advocates for people with disabilities, and advocates for domestic violence victims, trading jokes about some loser still living with their mama.
They don’t stop and think the people they claim they support might be living with their parents because they fell into poverty, have a disability, and/or they’ve escaped an abusive situation. They don’t seem to consider the same people they claim they support are reading what they’re writing. …
Almost every time I talk to my father, he stresses the importance of the words I use and how much power words have.
He sometimes seems overly-fussy about my vocabulary, even though I studied journalism in college. However, there was one instance where he did humble me. My dad doesn’t think I ever listen to him, but I do. Most of the time.
Hey, I never listened to him at all when I was younger. Our relationship has improved.
I recall a conversation my dad and I had when I was talking about how powerless I felt. It was during a particularly low point in my life, when my mental health was taking a nosedive. …