Rainbow vomit, queerbaiting and the heterosexual agenda

FRIENDS!!! Rainbow month is ending! Being cis-het shall be the norm again! No more corporate virtue signalling! And pride isn’t required for marketing anymore! Exciting?? Do you guys know what this means?

No more rainbow vomit, mes amis. Yes, rainbow vomit. Like my unicorn friend, Lord Ketchup just threw up. (Lord Ketchup is non-binary by the way. Their pronouns are they/them. Just letting you know). You know what the lack of rainbow vomit means? It means corporations don’t have to pretend anymore that they care. LGBT+ folk now must go back to existing in the real world where they are illegal in multiple countries and a lot of people are trying to erase their existence. We shall paint the world black and white and gray again instead of in vibgyor. Sounds lovely.

I’m quitting with the pretend bright and sunny tone now because pride month is important and July is such a party pooper. Queer identities and achievements and voices deserve to be celebrated all year. But the community gets one month and even that is too much for cis-het conservatives and their sense of entitlement to deal with. “Where’s my straight pride?” Well you can’t have one, sorry. PRIDE is more than just a celebration. It’s an acknowledgement of a huge landmark in the history of lgbtq+ liberation.

Here’s a tiny snippet of history. A bar in New York City called the Stonewall Inn, one that was a haven for the community, was raided by cops in June 1969, resulting in an uprising. These police raids were common. Being gay was illegal at the time. Cross dressing was illegal. And these raids always ended in violence and arrests. But this time the community fought back and they fought back hard. The first anniversary of the Stonewall Riots was the beginning of pride. The riots were the predecessor to multiple lgbt+ liberation movements since.

So I figure maybe straight people can have straight pride when they have to start an uprising to fight for their right to exist.

Now this one month of pride is when everyone else is trying to capitalize on the rainbow. It’s the new cool thing on the money making front to be an ally. It’s appealing to the market. One portion of the market at least. The biggest concern for corporations and content creators and a lot of other people is trying to cater to the needs of their homophobic consumers as well as their gay consumers without drastically offending anyone. Tough job.

Come June and all big companies love the queer community. The rest of the year is for everyone else. They’re so obvious about it, it’s cringeworthy. But June’s not necessarily the only time of year to make money off of the queer community. I’m currently mad about television and film capitalizing on queer identities all the time. Shoddy representation is a huge problem, my friends. But it’s often very subtle and most of us just settle for the bare minimum. And the entertainment industry knows that. They know how starved people are for representation. They know what we want. They lure us in with promises and don’t follow through, but they manage to keep both us and their conservative audiences. It’s very intelligent really.

*possible mini spoilers ahead* I recently watched Falcon and the Winter Soldier and was significantly irked by the hinted queerness of Bucky and Sam because I was sure they wouldn’t follow through on anything. MCU’s had a couple breakthroughs in terms of representation, and they did announce that Loki’s bisexual so they may yet redeem themselves. But as far as Bucky and Sam are concerned, I am mad.

Couples therapy you guys! And all that staring!! Please. This is not my imagination.

Supernatural queerbaited with Dean and Castiel for so long and then it just succumbed to the burial of the gays. Sherlock and John from the BBC show ARE A ROMANTIC COUPLE. You cannot convince me otherwise. But it’s all just hinted queerness. Nothing real.

It occurred to me that maybe I’m reading too much into the queerness. Maybe they’re all just cis-het people who are very close buddies. But like I said, these show creators know what the fans are talking about. They know what characters are popular, how they’re perceived and who’s being shipped with whom. They give you seemingly queer moments because they want you to read too much into the supposed queerness. They want you to see queer subtext. That way they can keep you invested without scaring off conservatives. It’s barely anything to appease those of us starved for queer representation, but we’ll settle. This is exactly what queer baiting is. I’m not imagining it. They’re doing it on purpose.

And then it concerned me that I had the thought at all that maybe they’re all straight and I’m reading too much into things. Because why do we have this concept of everyone being straight until proven gay? What if these characters are gay as hell and people are reading too much into some imagined straightness? But straight is seen as the default. And here my friends, I give you the heterosexual agenda.

You know the gay agenda, yeah? Religious, conservative, homophobic people losing it over “They’re trying to turn our kids gay!! They’re trying to spread their evil ideas and make us sin and go to hell with them!” The gay agenda. Interesting stuff, but it’s not real.

So while on the one side we have rainbow vomit and people capitalizing on queerness, on the other we have conservatives asking for straight pride and crying about the homosexual agenda. But there is no homosexual agenda. Nobody’s turning anyone gay. And queer people just exist. But the way I see it, there most definitely is a heterosexual agenda. These attempts to see cis-het as the default. To force straightness on people. From the more horrifying methods like conversion therapy to the quieter shoving of straightness in everyone’s faces through media and everything. All because these people can’t stomach the idea of anyone being different from them. If the final revelation of my rant on queer baiting tells you anything, it’s that I think it’s ridiculous to assume straight is the default. But we’re being conditioned into that.

The lgbt+ community is pretty much being attacked from both sides, by people trying to erase them and people trying to make money off of them. Wait, it’s more like they’re stuck in the middle of 2 factions fighting over them. Rainbow vomit vs the heterosexual agenda. Who’s going to win?? And pride month is over, but this doesn’t stop.

Do I have a proper conclusion to any of this? I don’t know. But I do have questions. Is there any winning for queer people? Also when does that happen? I hope it’s soon. This is too sad right now.

Here’s a playlist for you while we all think about it 🙂 Sorry if you don’t use spotify

Life’s conflicts, Diane Nguyen and good damage.

I binged the entirety of BoJack Horseman a couple months ago. And it was brilliant. Also too real. I’m still reeling from the aftermath of that show. I watched a couple episodes yesterday and it still hits in so many places. I never thought an animated show with anthropomorphic animals, focused on the struggles of a washed-up celebrity horse-human would have me in tears. But it happened anyway. Hurrah for BoJack Horseman.

The entire time I was watching, there was a voice in my head going, “Hey, Maya, isn’t it weird that you relate this much to the struggles of characters in celebrity land having a mid-life crisis when you are basically half their age, don’t fit their lifestyle and haven’t even lived yet?” Valid point….? But hey, it’s stupid to listen to a tiny British voice in my head(why on earth is it British??) dismiss my feelings. Also, yeah, I’m only 2 decades old, but I feel like I’ve lived centuries and I’m tired. I relate to these characters and they make me feel less alone.

I drew this Bojack by the way.

Let me just veer off track for a second. And do a little info-dump so I seem intelligent. Bear with me. This dude named Erik Erikson(his name cracks me up) came up with a theory of personality development, presently known as ‘Erikson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development’.

It basically describes 8 different stages of an individual’s life, with specific mention of a conflict or crisis that occurs in every stage. If you resolve that conflict, 10 points for personal growth! If you don’t, fresh insecurities then.

The stage that occurs in your 40s is called ‘Generativity vs Stagnation’. You’re making a lot of money? Family life’s going great? That’s generativity. And well, you guessed it, stagnation is the period of the mid-life crisis. When you’re questioning your entire life and its purpose because things are not going great at the moment.

I am at the precipice of a stage called ‘Identity vs Role Confusion’. The period where one explores independence and attempts to establish a sense of identity. With the right encouragement and support, you’re supposed to end up confident and in control and independent. And I’m the literal opposite of all that. I’m clueless and confused and very insecure. I suppose I’ve already failed this stage. But, dear friend, self diagnosis is a bad idea. If you do it, don’t take it seriously.

Coming back to BoJack Horseman, maybe I relate to those characters because they’re also at a place in their lives where they’re questioning the meaning of everything and of life itself. I’m doing it because I’m afraid of ending up where they are. They’re already there and it sucks. I see both the stages I mentioned having pretty similar conflicts. All things considered, life is not fun and some of us seem to be failing at it.

Now there’s a reason I brought up BoJack Horseman. I apologize for all the sidetracking I’ve done. I’ll get to that reason in a second, wait.

If it isn’t clear enough already, this show has a lot of struggling, damaged characters. Aside from the titular BoJack Horseman himself, my absolute favourite character is BoJack’s cynical, depressed ghostwriter, Diane Nguyen. I’m going to say as little as possible about her story so as not to spoil anything.

But I will say that it all works out for her. And that makes me hopeful because I relate too much to Diane Nguyen. It would suck if her life didn’t turn out okay. So yay for the writers who helped her out. Thank heavens for whoever wrote her in the first place though.

Diane has an unwavering moral compass and is the most human character on the show. Not just because she’s literally one of the few ‘human’ characters next to a whole lot of anthropomorphized animals. Her story arc reaches a point where she is spiralling during her failed attempt to write a memoir while on anti-depressents.

She goes through so much over the period of the show, but also has emotional scars from her childhood. This memoir of hers is supposed to be a way to turn all that trauma, all the hardship she went through, into something substantial that can help someone who’s going through something similar.

The fact that she’s unable to write the memoir doesn’t sit well with her. It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to want your trauma to mean something. For it to amount to something. Because how is one supposed to accept that you had to go through all that simply because life sucks. Diane being unable to write her memoir means that all her damage is not ‘good damage’. It isn’t interesting or useful to anyone. She can’t seem to make art out of it. Which would mean all her years of being miserable meant nothing.

The idea that artists must suffer in order to create art and the hope that all her suffering was for a reason are crushed by her inability to write the memoir. I wanted to hold Diane’s hand and tell her that I get it. I’m just a kid, but I get it. And the fact that it does turn out okay for her makes me hopeful. Even if she is just a fictional character.

But while we’re talking about the horrible experiences and the trauma we go through in our lives, what are they for really? Diane brings up the Japanese art of Kintsugi. Where they mend broken pottery by filling the cracks with laquer and powdered gold. It’s a metaphor for embracing imperfections, or in this case, embracing the trauma and all the scars because they made you who you are.

I don’t know what it says about me that Diane’s pain resonated with me. Or the fact that I gaslit myself into believing the same things she did. That my damage is useless. Or even that I have no right to be damaged when my life is seemingly perfect. Or that I’m just 20 years old, I’m too inexperienced to even understand what damage is.

If I turned this into a love letter for a fictional icon called Diane Nguyen, it’s because I watched this brilliant show and it gave me things to think about, and Diane Nguyen makes me think maybe we’re all broken pottery, even if we pretend we’re not broken. And there’s no point ignoring what you’ve been through when it did significantly contribute to making you who you are.

All things considered, being broken is not the end of the world. Being clueless is okay too. I guess it’s more fun living with the hope that you’ll make it and it’ll work out in the end if you do your best. Embrace your flaws and find the powdered gold that’ll fix you or something. Kintsugi is the way to go. Too wise sounding for ya? It does make sense though.

I haven’t the slightest idea if any of that made sense to you. But considering how these are the musings of someone who never knows what she’s talking about, yet manages to make some sense most of the time, it’s alright I guess. Do forgive me for the length of this post. Sometimes my thoughts don’t like to end.

Here’s the song for this time. It’s my comfort song. That’s Okay- D.O Also if you didn’t get the point of this post, it’s a tv show recommendation. Watch BoJack Horseman!!!

Escapism and existential crises.

Heya. Long time eh? Not like I haven’t had things to talk about lately. But I’ve been busy. And the thoughts have been too chaotic to make sense of, let alone turn into a blog post. Little update on my life by the way, I’ve actually followed through on some of my self-care list. I’m so proud of myself. Please be proud of me.

I’ve started reading again!! After a long hiatus. That’s what I’m most excited about. Books can’t hold my attention anymore like they used to, but I’ve had progress and that’s good. I finally got around to reading ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’. Last month. And it was great. I was mad at some things in it, but overall it was a good read. I could finally check that off my reading list. Neil Gaiman’s ‘American Gods’ has my focus at the moment and it’s not bad.

For someone who’s had barely any motivation to do anything in months, it’s been refreshing to want to do things again. It’s still a lot of escapism, but it feels great. And with the exam nightmare I just had because of my college’s insensitivity and my inability to cope with an online semester, reading has been comforting.

Speaking of escapism, you know how Spotify did a 2020 wrapped thing recently?

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Weezer was my top artist!!!! Not like that’s surprising. But Weezer is good for escapism. So is watching hours of Hasan Piker roasting the hell out of conservatives which is my latest passtime. If you don’t know who he is, he’s a political commentator who streams on twitch, but is also on every other social media platform. I watch him on youtube and I have been addicted. He is woke and funny and makes so much sense, I love it. I thrive on political discourse these days and this man’s content is perfect.

The mention of political discourse reminds me, I’ve been rethinking some major life decisions lately. Decisions related to what I’m studying and what I plan to do after that. I keep thinking maybe political science should’ve been my major. Instead of Psychology. It’s been stressing me out. I find that I enjoy politics more than I do what I study in class. And I’ve been mad at the education system for forcing me to choose so early.

We’re treated like children for the most part of our teen years and then suddenly expected to choose career paths because we’re “almost adults now”. Who told you I’m capable of making this decision? I’m clueless and scared and actually still a child and you make it sound like the wrong choice = death or just sad life. Which it maybe does.

Capitalist society requires that you be productive in order to have even the most basic necessities. Even minimum wage doesn’t give you much, but you have to find a way to make at least that. You hardly have the option of taking time to figure things out or follow your passion. You have to choose early and get a job as soon as possible or you will die or be miserable. So you go for safe options, that will guarantee you some sort of living. Even if you absolutely hate it, you have to do it. Unless you have rich parents and something to fall back on.

There’s no cushion that’ll protect you for when you want to find what you’re truly good at and do that as a job. Making money is way more important than being able to follow your passion. You see all these motivational quotes about following your heart and making your dreams come true and whatnot, but how many people actually manage to do that? Some people just have it better. They find their way and achieve their dreams. But the rest of us struggle to make it through every day because we’re all sacrificing something. It’s either making money or following your passion. Not everyone can do both. The opportunities aren’t that many. And how many out of 7.5 billion people actually have access to those opportunities, let alone seeing it and grabbing it? I honestly think your starting point matters a great deal in being successful. It’s not everything, but it does matter.

I’ll admit I see everything through a rather pessimistic lens, but I can’t help it when reality seems too far away from what I think of as ideal. These are probably too heavy thoughts to be having. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing and I’m worrying about it because in another year or so I have to decide what the next step in my life is. And I am scared. Existential crisis 101. And sure, maybe it’s easy to blame the system. But who else am I to blame? The system is so profit obsessed and explolitative that you cannot live a peaceful existence in it without bowing down to its unfair rules. Unless you operate with profit and money in mind, you cannot survive.

Making art for the sake of art sounds great, but there’s a reason there is so little art that simply exists. Everything that is created cannot simply exist. It must also make money. And those of us who are writers and poets and artists either give in to the system and manage to make it, or succumb to the pressure of having to keep a stable income in order to live a most basic existence, because our art cannot make it. It’s such an impossible situation and I have no one to blame, but capitalism. I sure as hell am not going to take the blame for not knowing what to do with my life. What if some of us find our purposes later on? Maybe there is no such thing as a defined purpose for each of us. But I can never know.

Escapism is the short term solution to existential crises, I’ve learned. I am going to read more and listen to more music until I’m forced to figure things out last minute. Wish me luck!

Here’s an entire Spotify playlist for y’all this time. My K-rock playlist It’s some relatively underrated Korean music. If whoever reads this goes, “Ew kpop,” A) It’s not kpop, and B)Keep your sad opinions to yourself, this is good music. You’re welcome.

Nostalgia had me digging up a poem I wrote when the pandemic began. Thought it fit the mood since I miss Jaipur. Here it is.

Ere I saw this paradise, little did I think
That an exquisite city meant walls of pink
Palaces that whispered stories of things
Tales from history, of war and of kings

Where archaic met novel, in a brilliant blend
And the sight of beauty never seemed to end
Rich in antiquity, in culture, in food
Mouth watering dishes that make you feel good

Heaven underneath the sweltering heat
A sun to which I admit defeat
But while the world seems dark and cold
I find comfort and warmth in this place I behold

Hence I declare this city that welcomed me with love
A gem underneath the starts above.
I inhale Jaipur like it’s a breath of fresh air
Hoping nothing will end my love affair.

Representation Of Women In Entertainment

Female representation in fiction for the longest time was nothing more than a few stock characters; namely our damsels in distress and our femme fatales. Odd mother or neighbour lady or other characters with little to no significance, were present just to add a little variety.

The damsels in distress were everything expected of women. They were beautiful, delicate, submissive and were to be protected by the male characters at all cost. They existed solely as love interests and objects to further the plot or the growth of the protagonist.

Our femme fatales, au contraire, rejected traditional norms expected of them. They were seductive, promiscuous, beautiful, and used their sexuality to their advantage, often duping men and beating them at their own game. Femme fatales were almost feminist in a certain light, but ultimately fell pray to the patriarchy or were punished for their rejection of society.

We asked for better representation. We demanded strong female characters. And we were then given 2 major tropes. First, the strong woman trope. The butched up, stoic, ass-kicking women we began to look up to. They had an existence mutually exclusive from that of men. They strayed far from conventional femininity. They were workaholics, emotionally distant, laconic, knew how to fight and we said, hell yeah! Strong female characters!

When we said strong female characters, but we didn’t mean make them embody all conventionally masculine traits, because strength is inherently masculine. But apparently that’s what the world thought we wanted. Put them in another box. Butch their personalities up a little. And voila!

And we were all so starved for representation that we took it. Our “strong female characters” were for once, at the center of things. They had some agency. They weren’t damsels in distress. They weren’t sex objects anymore. Or were they? Suspiciously, all of the above tropes required the women to be stunning, dressed to please the male gaze regardless of their purpose in the story. Including our new “strong women.” Sense the pattern here?

Remember Trinity from The Matrix?

And Mikasa Ackerman from Attack On Titan.

Tauriel, who was added to the Hobbit movies specifically because they wanted the presence of a female character in Tolkien’s Middle Earth.

I’m a sucker for these characters. But they have the potential to be so much better than they are. We weren’t given these characters because we deserve good representation. They gave us these characters to fill a quota. Maybe pass the very narrow criteria of the Bechdel test so they can say they represented women.

Another trope that has been prevalent is the ‘Not like other girls” trope. Where our women reject all feminine or “girly” things and revel in the idea that they are “not like other girls”. Don’t wear dresses, hate make-up and shopping, supposedly “cool” girls who are present everywhere in young adult fiction. 

Ginny Weasley is a little too perfect and hates Fleur for no reason other than the fact that she’s girly.

Also Spencer from Pretty Little Liars felt like she’d fit.

Now, don’t get me wrong, our fictional “strong women’ and “cool girl” protagonists aren’t all bad. They are capable of being fully rounded characters. If portrayed well, they are significant in our struggle for representation. But they are often, flawless, two dimensional, trying too hard to be masculine and boring.

 The question is, are women required to have masculine traits to be considered strong characters? That is one form of strength, yes. But something ages of male focused works of fiction has done is entirely dismiss the strength in femininity. The sheer strength it takes to be a mother, to bear an entire household on your shoulder. To be passionate and vulnerable and express your emotions.

When we asked for strong women, we meant show us realistic women. Give us flawed, vulnerable, three dimensional, interesting women. Badass fighters with more than just conventional masculine traits.  Damsels in distress with moments of strength. Mary Sues who aren’t as perfect as they seem. Believable women. Women we can relate to. 

Women breaking these stereotypes, wanting to step out of conventional, underdeveloped roles isn’t just about proving a point. Those who break stereotypes do it to make change for themselves and for the people who look up to them.  And wanting better representation isn’t about trying to get more attention. It’s about seeing people like ourselves in these works and believing that we can be and do anything. It gives us hope. 

I’m no poet
My words don’t come in verse
But when I fall in love
With the the rain
The oceans, the mountains, the stars
When I fall in love
With the little things
The quiet words of comfort from a stranger
The loud, ridiculous laughter shared with friends
The innocence of a child
The soft caresses of a loved one
When I fall in love
With languages, with art, with relationships
Then I bleed words
For what else is a hopeless romantic to do than to write poetry
While she falls in love with the little things
To save herself from the heartbreak
of watching people destroy the world?

Intrusive thoughts, self care and whatnot.

If the world ended, right now, right this moment, I’d willingly go with it. I see what people have done to it, what they’re doing everyday and I’m exhausted. Most days it doesn’t feel like there’s much to look forward to. The pandemic brought everything to a standstill. Or so I thought. But all the horrors of the world are still at work. They’re the busiest they’ve ever been. And none of this sparks positivity.

I’ve given up on the productivity contest. Although it isn’t an imaginary thing anymore now that there’s classes. But my mental state tanked a while ago and I haven’t done much to help myself. So while my worst insecurities and the abundance of negativity I have stored away come up to the surface, bye bye productivity. I’m trying. Sometimes it works. Most of the time, nope.

I don’t know if I meant for my blog to be as deeply personal as it is, but while I’m at it, I might as well go through with this. Thanks for the attention, person who’s reading this. So while I’m here divulging my secrets a little at a time, here’s one.

I low-key want to die. If that isn’t evident from my first line about wanting the end of the world to take me. I asked someone about passive suicidal ideation today. And conclusion, therapy’s always good. Whether it’s serious or not. I don’t know how to tell whether it’s serious with me though. Because it is, but it’s also not.

Sorry to bring up something dark again. I’m starting to make a habit of it. Honestly though, when you think about it, the entire internet generation speaks like, “Oh my god kill me already,” when having a bad day. How serious is everyone?

When I say low-key, I really mean low-key. It’s like having a normal day and then having to deal with a particularly difficult task and all of a sudden there’s intrusive thoughts. They’re casual thoughts that come up when I have an existential crisis like, “You wouldn’t have to worry this much about the future and your purpose and the meaning of life if you just, you know……”

I don’t actively think about them. And things feel off for a bit, but then they’re gone and it’s the usual thing again.

But something I’ve realized is that the pandemic has created amazing conditions for suicidal ideation to thrive. I don’t know if I thought these thoughts pre-Covid, but they’ve intensified if I did. The uncertainty of everything, the drastic changes in the world as we knew it, the impact these things have had is huge.

So ignoring my casual thoughts about death doesn’t seem like a good idea. And since I happen to be writing this on what is World Mental Health Day, I’m making myself a to-do list so I don’t take any of this for granted. If you’re reading this and relate in the slightest or just happen to have bad days when things seem bleak, don’t take it for granted.

This is my list. Of things I know I should do, but just won’t. Now that I’m writing them down, it’s incentive. So take it if it works for you. Or make your own list.

1. Take a break from social media often. I was successful once. It felt great. But I’m addicted again now and it doesn’t do me any good.

2. Fix my sleep schedule. It is really very erratic. I never seem to think of sleep as something important. But it is.

3. Read. Seriously. Something I loved doing, but don’t do much anymore. And my reading list at this point is a million pages long.

4. Also write. I haven’t written a story in ages. And I want to keep doing this. Inflicting my opinions on you whether you want them or not. Because it makes me happy.

5. Get out of the house maybe. Take a walk if possible. Exercise. Basically stop sitting in the same place all day.

I’m going to follow through on this. Try my best. It’s basic self care and it’s a step I very much need to take. I just figured it was about time I started giving a damn about myself. Applies to you too. I wouldn’t write this if I didn’t have an opinion to inflict or advice to give so this is it. Go do something good for yourself and your mental health, that’s all. Talk to someone, take care of yourself, do whatever works for you.

Okay, so I’m also going to make a habit of putting songs in my posts. Even if a song is maximum 6 minutes of an escape, music makes me feel really good. I guess I’m just trying to give you a little bit of that too.

So here you go. Trains by Porcupine Tree. This one was recommended to me by a friend of mine with impeccable taste in music. It makes me nostalgic about things I can’t quite explain. I feel like it’s something I’d love to listen to on a solo road-trip. Whether or not it evokes the same feelings in you, it is beautiful. So you’re welcome.

2am thoughts.

There’s something rather bittersweet about being up at 2am, alone with just music and your thoughts. The blanket of quiet when you pause your music; the darkness is bliss. The loneliness, not so much. Not to mention the insomnia that has me up at ungodly hours in the first place. That’s not fun.

Middle of the night thoughts are priceless though. I’d say the occasional existential crisis is tolerable when it alternates with profound nonsense I’d never think about otherwise. Like sometimes I wonder if our dreams possibly contain the answers to life, the universe and everything, but we’re just not able to remember them or interpret them to ever know. Although the answer may just be 42, in which case Douglas Adams was right and I must hunt for the question. Forgive me if you don’t get that reference. It just means the answer is not in my dreams and y’all should read ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy’ in order to get the reference.

I’ve established that middle of the night thoughts are wacko. Therefore middle of the night rambling shall be as well. I’m pretty sure I had a point to this one so bear with me while I attempt to recall it. So I was talking about 2am loneliness. While I enjoy certain aspects of spending time with myself, my thoughts aren’t always fun. And 2am loneliness leaves me with “Why am I?”. Not a fun question. Existential crisis 101.

Oh but I remember my point now. So when I thought about writing this, 2am loneliness had me thinking, am I required to sacrifice my peace of mind(something you get out of a certain level of privilege, that allows you to ignore the news for a bit) in order to stay true to my principles and help the causes I care about?

To elaborate, the world’s messed up. There’s too many things to care about. And at a point it starts draining you. It takes a toll on your mental health to have to be constantly aware and discussing what’s happening. So am I allowed to use my privilege and drop everything for a bit so I can recharge? Up for discussion, seriously. Because I don’t know. I feel guilty about wanting to up and leave for a bit. Even though it’s so I can breathe.

And there’s another question in my head. But this one’s more for myself than for anyone who’ll potentially read this. Is my personal social justice train trying to get to a better world or is its destination just the moral high-ground? It’s not like I don’t know what my motivation is. I just have myself questioning it sometimes.

Micro-aggressions, casual sexism, feeling like I wasn’t good enough for the world because of being a woman. These things got me on the feminist train. But there was a time when I was ignorant, but almost, almost carefree in some ways and when things get hard I want to go back to that time. Ignorance was bliss, honestly. But that realization makes me question why I’m on the feminist train. I’m never getting off of it. I just want to know where I’m headed. I don’t like the ambiguity of my motives.

All things considered, I swear I’m not getting off the feminist train. I’m also not going to stop thinking about these things because what else am I going to do at 2am?

Unrelated, but also kind of related to this rambling, music is love and this is what I was listening to, if anyone cares. Fun song for ya.

As a distraction to the heaviness of my previous posts, here’s a little story thingamabobber I wrote a while ago.

Her bloodshot eyes seemed to penetrate the thickness of Ethan’s black trench coat, see straight through his clothes, into his soul. Eyes hooded with black circles from multiple sleepless nights, heavy and red from the fountains of tears they had shed.
Her graying hair shifted in the slight breeze. The weather echoed the morbid mood with its whistling wind and dull skies. Dark clouds collected to form an angry black mass, threatening to pour its contents onto the little gathering on the hill.

The somber men and women in black clothes stood in silence, mourning the death of a loved one. Her wan face turned to the casket where her son was buried.
Ethan wanted to look into her eyes, hold her hand and tell her, “He’s still alive in our hearts.” But all he did was look at her, his lips pursed.

As the black wooden coffin was steadily lowered into the dirt, a pair of dull gray eyes came to life inside it. They widened and darted around while nails scratched at the inner lid of the box. What would have been ear-numbing screams were muffled. Buried by the dirt and the wood. The screams were buried alive.

Oops! I realize this is kind of dark too. Oh well.

Thought dump on India and rape 2.0

Hello. So follow-up rant. The Hathras gang rape case, I mentioned it, but I didn’t go into it. And there was one thing I didn’t talk about. The victim was a 19 year-old Dalit girl. And she was raped by people from an upper caste.

There’s been a whole lot of questioning why that’s relevant. Why does the caste matter? I won’t lie, I wondered too. But that’s me from my position of privilege. People aren’t homogenous. Their identities aren’t. And there are power imbalances in every category of an individual’s identity.

Rape isn’t a sexually motivated crime. If people got that into their heads, maybe we’d have an easier time talking about it. Rape is motivated by a need for power. More like a need to exercise or prove power. Rape is someone trying to say, “I can do anything to you because I’m superior. I’m more powerful. And I’m going to show you.” Rape has been used as a weapon against enemies for ages. You’re at war with another community? Rape their women and you have the upper hand.

There are power imbalances everywhere. And India’s caste system hasn’t gone anywhere. The caste here, in this case, is relevant. Because there was an evident power imbalance, not just in terms of gender, but also caste. Violence against Dalit women has been fairly common to prove the superiority of the upper castes. It wasn’t just sexual violence. It was caste-based.

I had a discussion with a friend about why all of us women can’t just stand together instead of bringing caste or class or anything else into the picture. We could just talk about this as a standard case of rape. But if we do that, we’re ignoring an important aspect of her identity that was a factor in this case. That’s us ignoring the intersectionality of things and dismissing the existence of another oppressive system that should’ve left our country a long time ago. We have common experiences, us women. But there are facets of each of our identities that cause us to have different experiences too. And we can’t overlook that.

There’s no feminism if it’s not intersectional. And one person’s experiences can’t speak for everyone. This was just me acknowledging the privilege I have and trying to bring up someone else’s experiences. It’s a huge task to navigate these topics carefully so everyone’s heard and included, but I think we can still manage to do that, yeah?