We don't have it all figured out.

Tale as old as time,

Especially for the high-functioning individuals like us. (One could argue that high-functioning doesn't exist and is merely hyper-performative behaviour disguised as High-functioning. But I digress. )

That sweet spot between the desire to handle everything by ourselves because we don't want to burden others with our issues and troubles, AND the desire to openly talk about our pain and show our wounds to our loved ones, is a nightmare.

Because we want and need help, but we can't bring ourselves to ask for it because we don't want to hurt others. We don't want to burden them with our anxiety or our depression or whatever mental ailment we're carrying. We don't want them to worry about us, because we know what they're going through, and we think that adding to the pile of concerns would hurt them more.

So we keep to ourselves.

We soldier on.

We pretend and we go on autopilot.

We learn and read and try to understand what's plaguing us, and sometimes we become too well-versed in psychology, things become so clear in our minds that we believe we've mastered it. We understand, so of course, we can fix it. But it's false. We don't understand shit. We don't control shit. What it does, however, is hinder our ability to receive help and, even more so, to ask for it.

I researched, read, did a lot of work on myself, and thought I had it figured out. I mean, I understood my suicidal tendencies, right? I understood my anxiety and depression, and that diagnosis still dangling on top of my head, but never truly confirmed because I don't follow their textbook. I thought I had it under control, and I even managed to fool my therapist and myself for a while, thinking I had everything under control.

But I didn't. I was masking.

I tried to harm myself, almost mind-absently. I was caught off guard. I realized that I had relapsed into my old habits. I compartmentalized and ignored the pain and the stress I was feeling, and one single snap was enough to undo a lot of progress. One single snap was enough to almost get me.

My partner was here, and I am grateful it happened when he was there. He found the right words, the right key to the door I put between my deepest feelings and myself.

I needed help.

I didn't have it all figured out.

No one ever does, and no one ever should.

It humbled me. I went to talk to my therapist about it, and finally, we started to explore those emotions I kept bottled up inside me. Finally, I was made comfortable enough to share my burden, to ask for help, and to be willing to receive it.

This sentence, written in the picture I posted, is advice I should have applied to myself. It is one, I still try to keep in mind when dealing with others. It is also one I hope others would also follow for themselves.

Don't assume that because you feel like you have it all figured out, you don't need help. That you can't ask for it or that you can't receive it.

There is no shame in needing help.

No shame in asking for it.

No shame in receiving it.

After all, that's also what makes us human.

Random thoughts: I used to be naive.

Ah, I don't know if it's because people feel emboldened to be assholes or if they simply stopped caring about others. I don't know what it is that makes people so nasty to others. 

I used to believe that as time moved forward, so would people. I believed that we would all be smart, empathetic, kind, and caring towards others. I believed that all the petty differences between us would be overlooked in favor of the content of our hearts. After all, we're humans. We roughly want the same thing: to be happy, to be healthy, to have a job, to be able to care for those we love...we want to feel safe and we want to be loved.  I really used to believe that once this was known by everyone, then there would be no need for war, for violence, and for hatred. 

That was super naive. Mankind is not like this. 

I realized now, that we really do live in eternal cycles. For every progress, there is a setback whether major or minor.  That we repeat the same mistakes and we can't escape our violent nature. That's what mankind is. A complex being with complex emotions that can't be controlled no matter how hard some would try. Humans make choices, every day. To be the better version of themselves, to be good, or to be a cunt just because they can.  After all, it's easier to go this way rather than try and better oneself.  

I know it, I've had a moment in my life where I was going through the slippery slope of fear and anger and I had to remind myself that the many are not responsible for the violence/ errors/ whatever you call it of the few. I had to work hard for me to stop seeing everyone as a potential aggressor because they weren't responsible for those who assaulted me. It took its time, but I was stronger for it.  I chose love. I chose compassion. I chose to care. But I am also aware that many won't choose it. 

Many would be assholes. 

Many would hurt others. 

And these days, it just feels as if there are too many of them. 

not enough kind souls. But then, I remember that the weakest are the loudest, especially when they are mean. They can try to stir the pot, they won't make the world like them. 

On Tenet and Chris Nolan.

 (not trying to start a debate here.  If you didn't enjoy the movie, more power to you.) 

One thing I appreciate with Nolan's work is that it keeps you on your toes. It is a bit like a multilayered cake with different flavors and the more you dive into, the more surprised you are. Nolan has several recurring themes in his movies such as Time (by his own admission), but also his love for cinema, his dedication to his work, his fear of losing those he loves (to the art), the fear of becoming obsolete (or stuck in his art).  and the beauty of his movies is that you can always find something new. 

Tenet is a movie that seems very minimalist at first and when you watch it without thinking about it too much, it does seem like an original action movie with a very simple plot "a protag has to save the world from bad guys." But as soon as you know Nolan and his pet themes, you can start to see what it wants to convey. While discussing the movie a couple nights ago, it dawned to me that the movie could be understood through Nolan's lenses.

1) Nolan expresses his fear of being stuck (artistically speaking) and being unable to move forward and explore his art.  (the people from the future want to destroy the past. They don't want to move forward, by destroying the past, they suppress the future. it doesn't exist, progress isn't made. new ideas don't exist)

2) It is also a concern about the industry. We have been in a decade full of remakes, sequels, prequels and even soft retcons. Fortunately, we do have new and original projects that fare well in theaters and on streaming platforms but the tendency of nostalgia-baiting, franchise-milking that we see. (I won't deep-dive in it, but the whole 'people from the future walk backwards' is a hint)

3) He broke his usual way of telling stories  and while pushing the "concept" style of storytelling (I mean, the main character is called the protagonist), he went out of his comfort zone, which could be his way of saying he's reading to move forward in his art. He's ready to push the envelope (and we saw it in Oppenheimer! first a biopic and then he really filmed scenes he generally never does)

4) Nolan has always been afraid of losing his wife. They really love each other and she really is his everything (his words, not mine). He is always wary that his obsession for cinema (and his dedication to his craft) drives her away or that anything happens to her. Still, in his movies (the prestige, inception, heck even Batman, Tenet..) the wife is always one way or another hurt by her husband's work.  In Tenet, it's the refusal to move forward and explore, and the obsession with the past (past successes, fear of losing creativity, fear of losing mementum) that drove her apart from her husband.

5) Nolan fights himself in that movie. His desire to move forward in his craft is crippled by the fear of failure. The fear of losing inspiration. The fear of not finding his audience who will always remind him of his past triumphs and not follow him in his exploration.  but at the end of the movie, he fully embraces the unknown. He is ready to move forward. to explore. to let go of his fears. 

TLDR: yes, I'm that girl who is doing her best literature teacher impression.  Sorry, not really sorry. :p 

Copg: Life of Elpis: Existence

 // Because it's been a while. 

xxx

"I want more than just a mere revenge on my pantheon, Superbia."Those words had never left the pink-haired goddess. It was the first time she acknowledged her desire for more than just punishing those who had betrayed her. Elpis realized she could be more than just a sidekick to the Sin. The first weeks of her recovery established her playful nature. She realized in Vancouver, that she expected more to her life than simply existing. She enjoyed her little stint with the Sumerian pantheon and how powerful she felt when she decimated it. She wanted to experience more thrills, test her limits, conquer lands, realms, planets, and the fucking universe. She discovered Greed that had been hidden for a long while, washed out and ignored by the careful and meticulous plan of her family.  She wanted more from her life and she didn't want to be held back by anything or anyone. She had tasted freedom and she didn't want to go back to who she used to be. 

Elpis realized that her whole life had been a lie. Her siblings played along with their parents to keep her contained. They lied and manipulated her into being submissive, meek, kind, and small. She had a power that could both influence mortals and humans alike. She was a force to reckon with, a force so strong that they couldn't quite defeat her, no matter how hard they tried. She was "Balance", true balance, as the child of Khaos the god of destruction, and Gaea, the goddess of creation. She was Hope and light, two elements that were needed for words to exist and persevere. it was hope that motivated living beings. It was Hope that decided the world's fate. It was Hope that controlled everything, life included for it could toy with it, turn it into something greater. It was Her. 

Superbia heard her well when she requested more. He enjoyed seeing her like that. like what? free! She was free and that was enough for the Sin. She knew how to balance him. She always knew what to say to push him into doing something and she knew how to stop him from making a mistake. He didn't consume himself as fast as he used to, he didn't take the risk to be unmade because she tempered him when he went too far away. She tempered him when he wanted to squash all of existence without proper preparation or proper strength. She also fueled his desires, his ambition, and the feeling that he could achieve anything he put his mind to. he could, but this time, not just because he believed in himself. He could because she believed in him. 

He would give her everything, the Earth, the galaxy, and even the fucking universe if she wanted it. He would make sure his queen had anything she needed and anything she didn't know she needed. He wanted to see the smile of his Light. He wanted to be lavished with her attention. He wanted to ay his existence at her feet for he worshipped her. She made him a better Sin, unknowingly, meeting her kickstarted everything. It forced his father to unmake and remake him better, stronger, and more determined. Meeting her again, with his new form transformed Pride and made him into the creature he was today. Her existence was a gift very few could understand, but he did. He did! 

-TBC-

Got (modern): She was still living

// I am writing this while listening to  Amazing by Aerosmith.

xxxxxx

Dance was an escape. 

Her body was her paint brush and the stage was her canvas. She needed to express her emotions in the best way possible and dancing allowed her to do so. Bäahal was known for being expressive during her performances. Once she stepped into a stage, all eyes were on her and for a brief moment, there only was the music and the young woman. For a brief moment she remembered her childhood, the happy memories with her mother, the visits of her father. She remembered her friends at pre-school, the birthday parties she attended, the smiles she had on her face. She remembered her mother's smile, the warmth that came from the woman whenever she smiled at her daughter or whenever she hugged her. She remembered the good times and that fueled her dancing, brought smiles to the faces of those who watched her perform. 

Dance was an escape. 

It allowed for the young heiress to speak with her body words she couldn't say. She was thrusted into her memories and would, for a moment or two, remember her mother. She missed her. She missed her loving presence, her clever pieces of advice, her kindness. She missed her mother and in a way, Dancing connected their souls together. In a way, dancing soothed her heart. For so long she had not been able to express her pain because nobody would listen to her. She came to her father's family and this decision wreaked havoc in the family. She was abused in a way a child shouldn't be. Her siblings wanted nothing to do with her and when the older brother finally came around, he died. Her step-mother used to beat her, verbally abuse her and remind her that she was the reason the family was destroyed.

Dance was her escape.

Aerys II didn't have any choice but to build her a gym inside their family estate. She had to have her special place, a sanctuary of some sort where she could let go of her real emotions. She had screamed in there and danced frenetically. She had cried in there, and danced accordingly. her body dancing slowly, spinning around while she pleaded and banged onto the floor.  She had danced her grief away, when her dad died and she truly felt alone in the whole world. She had no friends, her family hated her and many treated her like a stranger at the very best and a nuisance at the very worst. Dancing was the only way she could breathe. Dancing was everything for the silver head and while she found some satisfaction with the underground dance battles, she wanted nothing more but to dance in public, dance anywhere she could, and show her passion with no restraints.  She wished she could take Jaime or Kyra to one of her shows. 

Dance was her escape. 

She wished a lot of things, but they weren't possible. It wasn't safe.She wanted to show the people she loved how much they meant to her. She wanted to express her affection, claim her love for Jaime through dance. She wished she could perform in public, with him in attendance watching her dance. She wished she could lift the cup of her dance battles and make a speech about the people who believed in her and embraced her dreams. She wished she could, but the reality of things made it impossible as of now. So she danced in the safety of her Gym. She danced Her frustrations away. She danced her solitude away and it felt good. Her muscles were sore. her throat dry and her skin soaked with sweat but she kept dancing. She kept moving. 

She kept living. 

-TBC-

A Vintage's touch: The Nightingale and the Young Wolf -

"Do you know that you have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen?" 

Michael remembered the coy smile she gave him after he told her that he loved her smile. She had that special way to blush and shake her head while her lips would curl into a lovely half-smile. Years later, Michael still didn't forget her. He wrote letters to Mary in a bid to hear from her. For a couple months, he hoped she would write back. He hoped she would at least be friendly to him but he understood why she wouldn't. After all, Tommy Shelby didn't like him. Tommy and his toxic charisma convinced everyone that Michael had to leave The UK to hide in America. Tommy didn't trust him, and even worse, started to treat him as if he was a stranger, which didn't sit well with Michael. He was as much as a Peaky Blinders as Tommy was but for some reason, he was denied to be taken seriously. Michael was obsessed with Mary, something he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't /Love/ -That died really fast and he fell in love with Gina-, no, she embodied all the things Tommy had and shouldn't have. She embodied his cousin's influence and power, a destructive force that could hurt those around him. Mary could have been his wife, back when he was still in love with her. She was too infatuated with Tommy to acknowledge him. She was blindly following that man who had brainwashed her, to realize what she could have had. An honest man, a man who spoke his emotions, a man who could have made her happy. 

"Michael Gray, you are a man full of ambition." -She told him once, and Michael could see the warm smile she had on her lips-

Even now, as he was talking to his friend about Tommy's gin distillery, Michael couldn't help but be plagued with memories of Mary. He wanted to go back to Birmingham, so he could face his cousin, suggest a new direction for the family to take, and also see Mary again. He remembered the way his heart pounded against his ribcage when the woman first sang at the Garrison Pub. His skin was covered in goosebumps. His face was red from a slight blush on his cheeks. She was beautiful, even in her everyday outfit. She was gorgeous, even with her waitress apron on. She was beautiful given the passion she had when she was singing that love song. Michael had never seen a woman like her, an angel according to him. She was someone who shouldn't be involved in "sports". She shouldn't take part in the criminal activities of the Peaky Blinders, he wanted her to remain oblivious of what they were doing, for her own protection and disagreed with his cousins about it. 

Archer listened carefully to Michael's explanations. Ultimately, he didn't want to start a beef with the Peaky Blinders. It would quickly become a problem for his business and he didn't want to have them as enemies. However, he also knew that things were rather calm for everyone in the United Kingdom, communists were the biggest fear the country had to deal with so far, business was booming again and with the American Prohibition era, it was even sweeter to smuggle alcohol to the country. Thomas Shelby's Gin was known to be a good one, not too sweet and not too expensive so women could drink it all day long without making a mess of themselves. It was a good business and something Archer was interested in taking. Of course, he couldn't confirm that Tommy wanted to sell it, but he would try and make a first good impression so that when Tommy would sell his business, he would remember him. 

What he didn't know, however, was what followed. After debating with himself, Michael couldn't help but mention Mary. He needed to know what she knew. He needed to have a connection, to learn if Mary was really under the influence of Tommy or if she made her own decisions for herself. Perhaps, he wanted to know if she was married, perhaps was he trying to rekindle their friendship...or more. He was confused and despite his best attempt, he couldn't help himself but tell Archer about her. He wanted to reach out to her, perhaps.... perhaps what Michael? take her away from Tommy in whatever way you could find? Make sure she only saw you? What about Gina? Archer noticed his friend's reticence in showing him a picture of Mary, but after a while, he convinced the young man to show him who this woman was. It didn't disappoint, upon seeing the photograph, Archer's gaze grew intense as he was interested. She was indeed a rather beautiful woman, one he was eager to meet. He couldn't really perceive Michael's intentions about her, maybe some concern, maybe some "friendly" feelings he felt for her because they've been in each other lives for years. 

Perhaps he was worried. Either way, he requested his friend to meet with Mary and have a conversation with her on his behalf. That was the only thing he wanted, but Michael soon realized given the gaze his friend gave him, that there might be a genuine interest in the woman.  He bit his inner cheek, cursing himself for suggesting this idea and potentially losing Mary to someone like Archibald.  There was a chance he succeeded in courting the woman. Archibald was a handsome man, tall with broad shoulders and black hair. He had deep blue eyes, and little sideburns, and wore suits really well. He was a rich man, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the UK and he was rich. Mary might not care about money as long as she had a roof above her head and something to eat every day, but Michael knew that women liked to be comfortable and a rich husband might actually feel tempting. Michael cleared his throat and nodded at Archibald.

"So... What do you say about my project? Would you go to Birmingham and meet with my cousin?"

"I think I will. I am interested in all the quality products I could find. If what you say is true and your cousin's gin is actually the best in the market right now, I am interested in buying it." -Michael sighed in relief and smiled at the idea that his plan was moving forward. - "I agree on your terms. I would buy it, you would be the owner, but I would be the one to distribute it. 50/50"

"No. That's not what we agreed to. It's a 70-30 or you drop it." -Archibald lifted a brow, and contemplated his friend's refusal to give him half his share- 

"MMhhh... Michael, you are my friend. I can agree to this 70-30 thing you want, but if I do agree, I will take the girl. I don't really believe that you are just a friend of hers. I believe, however, that you want her for some reasons I don't have. I agree to 70-30 but I will take this Mary Colson for me. She is sweet, isn't she? She is beautiful, isn't she? Well... I buy this Gin Distillery, you get the most of it, and I get to become richer and with a beautiful girl in my bed." -He outstretched his hand towards Michael who swallowed a lump. Why did he care anyway? He was married to Gina and what he wanted was to take things off of Tommy's hands. So what if she fell for  Archibald? Why should he care? - "Deal?"

"Deal!" -he shook Archibald's hand but he wasn't sure about his decision to involve a friend in his business. Perhaps this was a mistake, and perhaps it wasn't. All he hoped for was for Tommy to not make the connection between Archibald and him. Yet.-

-TBC-

MOET : BURN OUT

He watched as she came home exhausted, holding back tears and fingers curled into fists.

He watched as she relaxed her body and peeled off the layers of exhaustion and pain.

She wouldn't say a word for they lied; she wouldn't cry a tear cause they dried.

But she knew he knew and he knew she was at the end of the rope, every single night.

For months he'd watched her light dull out. He watched her lose her colors due to stress

he knew how focused and invested she was, but he also saw how it backfired at her too.

For months he helped her through his, with love and care and affection. He really did.

So he knew, yes, he knew.

His heart was aching to see her this tired, yet amazed by her resilience.

He watched as she pushed herself further, harder and tried his best to help her not burn.

There were days he wasn't sure about it, he didn't know if he was helping her for real

he didn't know if it was enough, and doubt crept on his mind. He didn't know, but it was.

She knew that once she would be home, she would also be safe, she would always « be »

she knew that work wouldn't find her there, she wouldn't let her mind play silly games

She wouldn't let her failures define her nor would she forget how to breathe again.

He would remind her to exist, he would remind her to « be », and she loved him for this.

He knew loving her was a piece of work, it was never going to be easy yet he kept going.

He always told her that it wasn't asking too much from him to just be there for her

He always told her that he wanted to love her wholeheartedly and nothing could ruin it.

Not even her own head, not even her own doubts, not even her own fears.

She was a burning flame but he would make sure not to let her burn herself out.

His touch

They had already seen each other before, even spent a few hours in each other's company previously to this day. It wasn't as if they'd never met or never touched but something did change from the moment they first met to the moment they met again. Two years went by, where he saw her hanging out with friends of his and watched as she slowly but surely entered his world. He didn't pick up at first, didn't think a lot of it because she simply made it easy. Her presence was easy to accept and understand. Her presence was normal, needed even. She had to be there so they all knew the day went well. She had to say something, to write to them, to be vocal and passionate about a fight for them to know it's okay, she was okay and their day would be okay too. He had noticed that.

They had already seen each other before, even spent a few hours in each other's company previously to this day. They talked about it, about meeting each other and having coffee. They talked about making it seem like it was easy and not a big deal at all. It wasn't a big deal, at least not officially but truth to be told, it actually was a pretty big step for both of them. Circumstances had changed. Interests were picked. The attraction was real between the two of them and she couldn't deny it. How could she when it was so obvious, As soon as he entered the coffee shop, her heart skipped several beats. She couldn't tear her gaze off of him and found herself studying his face as if she was trying to memorize every inch of his body. 

Their gaze met several times as he couldn't help but stare at her and every single time, she felt it. The shivers went down her spine, goosebumps covered her skin and she noticed a little detail here and there about him that she ended up liking. A crease in his forehead? that was cute. The way he smiled at her? that was very cute and she wanted more. She could spend hours just to listen to him talk about his passion and explain to her how important it was to him, she listened as he explained what was bothering him in his life and how deeply it affected him. Friends joined later, making it impossible for her to get closer to him for they weren't aware of what was going on. They sat next to each other as he included the others in the conversation and she remained silent, almost wishing she was invisible so others wouldn't see her, but they did.

Her eyes stared at him throughout the whole night, at his behavior, at his facial expression and it became crystal clear that she was feeling something for him. She wanted to tell him how she felt, that it became certain in her mind that she wanted to be with him but never had the opportunity to have a serious conversation. She craved for his touch, for the feel of his skin against hers. She stared at his knee, as it was the only thing she knew she could touch in public without getting too much attention. She looked at his face, she desperately wanted to grab and caress. She looked at his hair she wanted to feel on her fingers. She wanted to feel his arms around her body for a hug he would pull her into. She needed to feel him and that night felt like agony because she couldn't touch him.Well, she could.

She managed after a long while to finally put her hand on him. It didn't shock anyone for they knew how she behaved and how close she could get with people. Touching was not an issue for her but touching him, for the five minutes it lasted, felt like she got struck by lightning. It was obvious, it felt like she was right where she belonged to. Her hand on his knee, a reassuring touch to help soothe him. A reassuring touch for her to feel close to him. It was a simple touch and yet it was enough for her to just "know". She regretted when she couldn't touch him again and had to remove that hand in order to avoid suspicion.  She regretted that it couldn't be more casual and that the situation wasn't easier for both of them.

For a brief moment, it felt as if the world had stopped moving and it both helped her feel fulfilled and it broke her heart at the same time. It broke her heart because she knew it couldn't work. There was no way on Earth that these two could be together but for a brief moment that night, she felt as if they could. That night remained engraved in her mind, despite them not being able to take further. She still remembered how she felt when she looked at him, how it felt when he wrapped his arms around her frame, and how it felt when he talked to her. He didn't know what he gave her that night, but she found herself again and a new strength  And it might hurt, but she was grateful.

real love

Real love feels like a sucker punch. You never really recover from it and it stays with you forever. And then you grow smarter as you get older and you try to keep your feelings to yourself to avoid being knocked out once again by Love. Ah, you try and try and try as hard as you can to remain in control.
Unfortunately, Love is sneaky, Love is stronger than you can ever be. Even when you are on your best day, Love is smarter and stronger than you. It finds ways in the cracks ...of your heart and pulls you with it to unknown places.

Sure, we learn with time that painful love stories were worth living and you learn from them and you can't predict when something would turn sour and bad. Maybe that's true. We also do learn that not everyone is the same and you might have been with abusive assholes before, you might meet someone who treats you right and loves you right and you should let go. Maybe so.
But when you are walking in some people shoes, the scary and the hardcore part of love isn't what they are the most afraid of. No. They know the darkness for they've experienced it. They can endure pain and move on because they've known it. What truly scares them is the good. The good people who care about them. The real love that is given to them. The attention and affection and those perfect blissful moments are dreaded because they might go.
And what is worse than being given a taste of Paradise and have it denied to you straight after?
So what do you do to avoid being broken furthermore? you hide, you keep your heart to yourself and you deny any feeling that you might feel in fear of losing it.
Being happy is what scares you because you never knew how to handle it or to accept it.
But...despite all of that, give it a try. Walk slowly the walk. Allow yourself that taste of happiness because you so deserve to be loved. you deserve to be listened to, acknowledged and taken care of. You deserve to see yourself through the eyes of those who love you. You deserve to experience it, even if there is a risk you would lose everything.

I'm running out of patience (part 2)

It's a short little trail of thoughts (someone called it an essay <3 thank you) about anger and gender.

I suggest you read the first part!

It's already complicated to be a woman (transgender and gender fluids inclusive, it goes without saying. I don't know enough about nonbinary to add them to the mix because I do not know if, like the previous ones, have integrated the social norms regarding anger and gender)

It's even harder to be a woman of color because that anger is denied even more, even from Non-POC women. Different dynamics are at play here. One could argue that sexism doesn't see color but it does. It does so extremely well. If it didn't, do you think we would have had the "Angry Black Woman" trope? Black and Brown bodies (read non-black POCS) suffer from an even harsher form of sexism. They do not even have the luxury to be listened to or have their arguments valid because as soon as they open their mouths, they fall into that trope. If you think it's hard enough when the male benefactors of the patriarchal system use this trope to dismiss and ignore POC women's plights and demands. It's even harder and viler when female benefactors of the patriarchal system (you'd have to lace that one with white supremacy which is predominant in western societies and the pursuit of whiteness in non-westernized countries such as India or China or even some African countries who practice colorism.) These women, when opposed to exasperated black and Brown females -curiously those who request intersectionality or basic respect you know?- always fall back to the pits and folds of the comfortable trope created by white supremacy: the Angry black female.

This is another topic (when tackling feminism and the lack of intersectionality in many major white feminists movements) for another trail of thoughts, but I was using it to illustrate my previous point. To keep going, however, I'd continue with the trope and some of the conséquences easily observable if you pay attention. Some I have witnessed or experienced myself. See, there is a term that was coined to talk about the sexism towards black women: Misogynoir, which clearly underlines the violence that black women do experience both because of their gender and because of the color of the skin. Many authors and more eloquent people have tackled the issue, I suggest you do your researches. However, it has been noted, observed and experienced that the anger of women have even less sympathy when it comes from a woman of color. If it's already overlooked on their Non-POCs counterparts or disqualified as non-heroic, hysterical, unhinged then with Black and Brown women it's even worse. It's either weaponized against them " Ah, if you were hit/beaten up/ killed for speaking up it's because you are an angry black woman." or the infamous stereotypes those Hotep love to use when describing us "I don't want a black girl because she's not submissive or is out of control" (read, she has an opinion and doesn't take my bullshit). When they are not weaponized, then they are dismissed, ridiculed and swept Under the rug. " there are far more important issues than your petty ghetto argument" or "well they fight for everything and Nothing so why should we listen to them?"

You have to put things into perspective here. The problem with racism, slavery, and colonization is that it left a very huge print into people DNA. their thoughts, their behavior are direct results of these centuries of oppression. I'm not even touching the disturbing fantasy some descendant of oppressors still entertain (they would do to us what we did to them aka, murder, slavery, genocide, rape and any type of violence without retribution like we see today). I'm talking about self-hate, colorism, coons as some would call it. I'm talking about the fight to approach whiteness and be protected Under the umbrella of white privileged or just be seen as a human being with the right to look, sound, live differently. I'm talking about the criminalization of Black and Brown bodies and the justification of their murder and any types of violence. I'm talking about the systemic attempt at condemning them and tarnish their memory/reputation vs the pristine, saint, innocent Non-POC perpetrator (alleged or not). I'm talking about victim-blaming them, sexualizing their bodies, ensuring their oppression with a judicial/police partnership designed to keep them in a negative loop, the spread of stereotypes and such. When it comes down to women being angry, there is this extra discrimination and straight up hate for women of color being angry.

The sickening impact of it is that not only does their anger justify the violence they experience "she was a black bitch and she riled me up. she deserved it." and "if only she had done this/said that instead of doing this/say that, she wouldn't have been in this situation". There is an indifference surrounding their expression. they are urged to act like Mammy in Gone with the Wind and demonstrate A LOT MORE PATIENCE than it's required for Non-POC women. And this is only to be heard. (to have their demands met and fulfilled is yet another story I won't cover here)

I am sick of it. I am running out of patience and to hell with sexism and racism. To hell with that trend. I would NEVER shut up, let alone comply and submit and if that makes me an Angry black woman, then I'll own that bitch and run in these shoes! 

of why I love Wolverine

I connect with Wolverine in ways I can't always explain. He is my favorite character EVER along with Storm! He taught me a lot when I was growing up and while I feel sad that today people only keep the lonesome angry animal, I can't stress it out enough. He's more than just an angry animal. (when well written)

Sure, he's a huge walking metaphor. We have a man who at some point in his already complicated (shitty) life, was experimented on, dehumanized and basically forced to return to some animalistic behavior. He ran with the wolves, hunted, lost himself. He was broken! Although he healed, there is still this part of him (the anger of having been reduced to a beast, the fact he lived for so long like this and kept some habits, his past traumas as well and the powerlessness he might have felt every single time he went to war. He did them all after all. We also have a man who makes mistakes or tries to fix other people mistakes too. 

But he's a wise man too. He traveled the world, opened up to other cultures, connected with so many people and constantly shares his knowledge with others. I remember when he comforted Storm after she "killed" Marrow. His words echoed within me even today and it's one of my favorite panels with these two. He's loyal, he's fierce and he is a great mentor. He's a man who despite the darkness and ugliness of the world he lived in and experienced..... he's a man who still fights the good fight.

He could have turned bitter (and had), could have given up (and had for a short while), could have kept his anger in the world and distress (but he didn't). He could have remained a loner (but found a family), even gave his heart several times (Mariko, Jean, Storm..) and found a way to still do good while all he has are lethal claws and indestructible skeleton. He was a broken man who built himself back up and turned everything ugly that happened to him into something beautiful.

Yes, he's gruff and had rough edges, but he also has a loving heart. A kind, compassionate and wise heart. I wish we could see more of this side of him. Of him comforting and teaching both Kitty and Jubilee, of him being in Storm's life, supporting her, helping her, comforting her when she needs it. I could have more to say about him, but I gave you a glimpse :)

we got this! be good to one another!

This is going to be my last post-US election post.

(credit to the artist, if anyone knows who he is, let me know)

I have to remind you that I'm not really into politics even though I do know how they work since I studied them. I'm for the greater good. I stand for decency and love. I stand for people regardless of where they come from to have the right to breathe and exist and for EVIL people (you know, murderers, rapists, people who doxx others, domestic abusers, pedos, those who hurt animals etc...) to be PUNISHED.

But I do have my limits. I sadly had to depart with many people I thought were good people (French people especially), who were violent and wished death/ rape threats upon ethnicities, women (and men) and other religious groups. (including my own, Catholicism). I can't remain friends with people like that, people who are dead serious about that or take it lightly (rape isn't a joke). Man, I studied war crimes, genocides, old and new. I SAW where hatred can lead to. I come from a country which used to be a colony until 1960 and in some ways still is today. I experienced and witnessed despicable acts of racism on a daily basis when I lived there, perpetrated sometimes by beloved teachers we accidentally met at the grocery store. No.More of that shit!

After the shock and the worries [because unfortunately, it has impacted greatly in my country and nervosity is palatable even more now. I recall 2002 and 2012. Let's make sure we don't have it in 2017], I had the time to digest and think.

The first option was the easiest one, fall into despair. Hey, I'm suffering from mental illness, so trust me it was even more tempting to do. It beat me all Tuesday and Wednesday but I stopped right there, thanks to amazing people who gave me hope back and walked me through it in this time of need.

The second option is what I decided to go by. I finally slept through it and thought to myself what was the best thing to do. What I stood for and what I truly wanted. I always say and will always believe that we all think we're better than the rest of the world or people we know. We believe we're so righteous and so strong and we can't-do no wrong. But we can. We're weak like that. We're human like that. We are not perfect and can easily (oh so easily) fall into the pits of rage and hatred. I don't condone violence. it's not going to help. Yes, you're frustrated with the results. I am more concerned and worried about the zealots who could try to force their narrow-minded views on others. Not saying everyone is a zealot (of course not, come on!!!!!) but some are. But violence isn't going to help. It's only going to fuel violence and hatred and do more damage than good.

So what is left to do then?

I will continue as I always have before. I will still post silly memes, pictures, my sketches, more about my book! I will keep making art! Art saved my life literally and still does every freaking day. and I had a project I shared with you and it's still going on! I don't give up on this one.

I don't give up on pointing out what's wrong. Animal cruelty? Rapists, who walk away because "prison would be too hard on them"? Victim-blaming? (cause I have been. I surely should have just died when my ex-strangled me that very morning)? anti-pro-choice? anti-poverty/classist rhetoric? Xenophobia and racism? always against it! sexism? Ableism? anti-LGBTQ+? Injustice in general! I might simply post a status from time to time that tackles these topics or shares an article about a very terrible event (like NoDAPL going on) but in real life, be sure that I'm advocating for every one of these and debate and argue and call out when I see it happen. I will sit next to a woman who's been harassed by a shady guy to give her support. I would sit by a transgender kid who's being picked on by other kids on the subway. I'd always help a pregnant woman who fell on the pavement or an old person on the bus. I'd help as much as I can those around me who are not like me or who are like me.

But I will always keep sending love and positive vibes around. Because that's who I am, that's what I did before and that's what I'll still do. Every minute of me feeling good in a life where my mental illness drags me to the bottom of the pit every second, feeling good is a joy I want to share around. Feeling good is a victory and making sure I'm here for my friends when I can be there is also a priority.

I'm not giving up on this, so please don't give up on this as well.
Don't be an empty promise, keep fighting the good fight and ensure that everyone can exist and feel safe in this time and era. Make sure you don't turn a blind eye when someone is assaulted in front of you. make sure you spread love as well and you call out injustice when you see it. Compassion and empathy aren't dead, unlike what I thought a while ago. you can be beacons of Hope, so please be it.

we got this!

random thoughts 2

((just a random vomit of words, you can skip this one though)

Here I am,
as naked as I could ever be.
What do you see when you look at me?...
Is it beautiful? Is it strength?
Name it, name it, I will become it.
Fooling the eye and soothing your soul
You do not need to know. You do not need to know
I could become anything to help you heal, to help you breathe
There is no easier task than making you happy
What do you see when you look at me?
The silent tears? the silent screams?
You can't hear them, I don't want you to anyway
I don't want to be what you can't even see
Tell me, love, tell me again
What do you see? look again!
isn't it love? isn't it dedication? Isn't it comfort or absolution?
What? what? Don't make me think. Don't ask me questions.
For there's nothing to be said...nothing can explain
It's just me who's there, there for you, there for us
A blank face, an empty space yet so full of love
A friendly face, a loving embrace, here I am, here I am!
Ah....
yes ~

xxxx

He spent centuries trying to tame the beast inside of him for he was ashamed of it. He spent centuries ignoring who he really was and living a false life. Chained up to an idea he couldn't reach, he wasn't able t...o fully be himself. He wasn't able to live his life to the fullest. What was he, but a watcher of his own life, a puppet without a real purpose? He spent centuries trying to conceal the violence inside of him and behave as they wanted him to. He grew into someone who was frustrated with his life, who felt he couldn't be free or himself.

In the end, there was too much pent-up violence inside of him.
It turned him into a mindless beast. He gave into his basic instincts, into his craving for blood. He had to release the darkness inside so he did. His fists broke bones so many times that he lost the count. His hands ripped flesh and hearts, tore apart the skin, eviscerated his victims, all the while without feeling a thing. It was just an urge, something that devoured him from deep within like a monster. It was necessary to keep him sane. Violence, Blood, Death! oh... Nobody could save him. He couldn't even stop it.

Or so he thought.
At some point in his life, he met her.
She wasn't a saint, but she definitely was less of a sinner
And her light, her comforting light gave him hope.

She appeared out of nowhere in his life, and stayed there in his life, slowly eating her way out into his heart.He let her in, he craved for her. She was beautiful and gentle, she was fierce and sensual, she was understanding and caring. He realized that he needed her, more than she would ever know. Indeed, the more he was with her, the less he had nightmares, the less he felt those dark urges. She appeased his soul and helped him feel different. What was that? He didn't know. He couldn't know. All that was certain, was that he could not imagine his life without her in it. He was a man by her sides. Not the most honest, not the most romantic, not the kindest of them all but he was a man and not a beast. She eased his nightmares and she embraced his darkness. She was perfect to him but she didn't know it yet.

What was that?
Was it love?
He couldn't tell...Or so he thought

xxx

She took a time to stop and think,
Stop and stare, stop and blink!
So many things happened and yet she couldn't stop....
She could try but it would not feel right
She could try but she would feel the urge to do it again.

Do what?

Live.

She took the time to stop and think
She took the time to stop and live
Enough of being scared!
Enough of just waiting there.

Why? Why would she do that?

She wanted to live!
She wanted to be her own person.
She wanted to own her life and force her luck instead of waiting for it to never happen

how scary!
How thrilling!
It's your moment! so please TAKE IT