The irony is, I barely even consider myself French. I've lived in France much less than I have in any other country where I've resided. I don't particularly like the French language. I don't feel a big connection to French history or French identity or anything of the sort.
But somehow on the internet, something that I would ignore normally is forced into being my identity. I'm made to being a token French person and being a foreigner again and I just want to scream "IT'S NOT MY HOME" but I'm still labeled as if it was. And that hurts.
If I don't connect with other French people on here, then I'm denying a part of my identity, however small it is. But at the same time, I'm more English than I am French! English is my first language! I live and love my life in English! But of course that's only considered as the biggest part of me when it's convenient for other people. It doesn't actually matter what I define myself as, as long as someone on the internet can take the fact and twist it.
Yes France maybe isn't the best country, and I don't feel a big connection to it nor a need to defend it. Yes, historically it has done some shitty stuff. But it still fucking hurts when I see someone reply on a post "france?? the joke country?". When I see "no one wants to learn French because the people are so unpleasant anyway". When I see "yeah but why would you be french though". When I see hate on my mother's language, my mother's country.
Why is it that all the derogatory posts about the English language are treated as jokes and reminders of how unique it is while those about French are used as an excuse to dunk on it for whatever reason?
I'm not proud of being French normally, but when I see it being attacked regularly, it's fucking tiring to pretend it doesn't hurt.
Thank you, random stranger, for insulting the language in which my mother sang me lullabies, for ripping apart the country that gave me my ancestors, for attacking the city of my birth. Thanks for making me feel worthless thanks to your comment. It was so necessary of you.
There is a Myth that says we were born with eight limbs and two faces; split in two to search for our other half to be whole again.
I think I do not need you to be whole; I do not think you are half of me.
I think I have spent my life tearing myself into little pieces and giving them to people I love and getting torn pieces back, passed from hand to hand like swapping bread for cheese, paper for ink, love for love.
I think I have a hundred faces.
I think there are parts of me to you and you to me.
just had one of those whiplash memories of an episode of bones (a show i watched for the secondary couple and Autism until a part of the secondary couple turned out to be islamophobic, at which point i just jumped ship lol) where they meet a non-binary scientist and they spend half the episode obsessively and intrusively trying to discern the NBS's primary/secondary sex characteristics so they can decide what NBS ACTUALLY is and i am incredibly uncomfortable again. that was a wild show huh
I just received this gift on my Throne Wishlist!! 😭
Thank you so much for your generosity. I am so grateful and thankful for your heartfelt message. Hope the universe doubles it and sends it back your way somehow. Thank you so much!! 🥹🙏💖
"i hate microlabels" yeah i also kind of dislike the idea of putting ourselves and our identities into very specific boxes, i think it can be really isolating- ohh wait you mean you think they're invalid. ohh no that's not the way to look at it. killing you
the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
Dick is probably the nicest civilian ever when he’s in Bludhaven and all the little old ladies who bring him baked goods and his coworkers at the station have no idea he spends the night beating criminals half to death with his escrima sticks, has the kind of insane family & family loyalty you can’t buy, and would have the entire Justice League at his side with just one phone call.
"i've just been working on a... celebrity impression. it's for a sting operation of sorts i've been putting together. yes as a matter of fact it WILL keep me busy tonight—"