one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.
in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.
disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.
desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.
in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?
we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.
except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?
and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.
to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."
this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.
in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.
the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.
and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.
some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.
the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.
we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?
"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.
there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.
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Something that I've used to judge my health, in more ways than one, is what I call the need-to-pee test.
When I'm sitting, wasting time, and I need to pee, healthy me will just get up and go to the bathroom. That's normal behavior.
Sometimes, however, elements of my health will make that very basic task difficult. When you recognize that you need to pee, but you have to have an internal conversation with The Vampire of Despair about if you needing to pee is a failure and a judgement on your worth as a human being, you need to reach out to someone about your mental health. Being too depressed to get up and go pee is a sign that something in your mental health is very wrong. It's a sign that it's "bad enough" to really need some help.
When you recognize that you need to pee, but you don't want to get up because your body will be in pain, that's a sign that your pain is "bad enough" where you should do something about it. If you've been sitting around your house telling yourself that shit's fine, but you also procrastinate on the basic duty of going to take a pee because doing that simple task is going to cause you so much pain that it's not worth the comfort you get from not needing to pee, your body is fucked, and shit's not fine.
Getting up and going to pee is a thing that should not take effort or be unpleasant. Having difficult getting up and going to the bathroom often means that your problem is actually pretty bad. If you've been ignoring the problem, it's a very good sign that you should stop ignoring the problem.
Needing to pee but not being able to get up and go pee because the cat is sitting on you, however, is normal operating procedure. How dare you move the cat for something as selfish as your basic bodily functions. You metabolized and you didn't even get permission? The cat does not approve.
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I wanna keep talking about Kiki Layne's Met Gala look & *why* it's so brilliant....
*sigh*
This silhouette is not only a bunch of checkmarks for all the gilded age girl fashion staples: the color pink, the corset buttons, the opera gloves, the close to the neck -necklace, the heavy halo of hair framing her face...
But what it subverts given Kiki's immaculate face card (honestly the best face there, argue with your momma) and her being emphatically black, not just by being a black woman, by how she is styled especially the fro!!!...
See, there was this "feminine ideal" in the gilded age called The Gibson Girl:
As drawn by Charles Gibson in the 1890's which lasted up until WWI, this was the feminine ideal of the era... Pure, beautiful, etheral, the right class, perfect.
...and WHITE.
One big signature is the huge pile of hair that formed a heavy halo on the head.
Anne, in the 1985 Anne of Green Gables, reached for this look in the concert scene here (note the pink sash, flower in her big red hair, neck hugging pearls, frilly detailing empasizing the clavicle and shoulders, and opera gloves):
and other "Gibson" girls taking the hair to pretty big halos:
even the middle-class Booker T. black women of the era adhered to this:
I mentioned the fros were *also* of the era... the exoticifed ideal of the Circassian woman:
These women were exhibited in traveling shows and given exotified backstories of having been kidnapped and sold into white slavery... from the Caucasus Mountians region, in the country of Georgia and regions south of Russia in Europe.
They were exotified as "perfection" in beauty and known for their afro-textured hair.... but again WHITE.
Now, the stylist for Miss Layne said she specifically chose the Afro as a purposeful nod to blackness within the opulence of the gilded styling... but KNOWING ALL OF THE ABOVE, her look goes well beyond just that into the startlingly subversive.
Again... Kiki is soft, she's princess pretty, she's pure, ethereal, she's feminine, delicate, all of those things usually ascribed to whiteness.... while checking off the gilded style reference points AND being a black woman.
And as we know, when it comes to the rareity of black women being seen as soft...
*every.*
* thing.* from the delicate way she is holding herself in this style, -she's wearing it, it's *not* wearing her (posture immaculate, hands delicately crossed) to again... Just her BEAUTY and her BLACK beauty in that Halo of Afro hair...
She just stomped all over that Gibson aesthetic and proved she can best that ideal with emphatic blackness....soft fro, perfect face card, and all... all while hitting the assignment pitch perfect.
And that, my friends, is why I LOVE THIS LOOK.
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Reader is also very interested when Aemond works out at home but for very different reasons 👀
Omg of course!!! are you kidding...
cw: reader lusting over Aemond working out, PIV sex (but just the beginning of it because this is just a drabble)
It's raining outside and yet the spot beside you on the bed is empty, so that can only mean one thing: Aemond is already up and working out. You just hope he hasn't gone out for his morning run with this weather. So you go through your own morning routine, washing your face and teeth, brushing your hair and grabbing a robe before going to the kitchen to prepare some coffee.
And then you're struck first thing in the morning, with Aemond all settled in the living room working out. You lurk ever so silently to watch him, all mesmerized and freaking drooling over the sight.
His Adidas sweatpants are sticking to his lean legs, all sweaty as he he's doing push ups on the floor; he's got a tank top that shows off the way his shoulders and biceps bulge as he lifts himself up and down, over and over as if it's the easiest thing in the world and he weighs nothing.
He's doing some kind of cycle set because suddenly he's on his back, doing quick bicycle crunches that leave nothing to the imagination every time he extends-bends his legs, then switching quickly to bridge pose and repeating those same leg extensions as he's got his lower back lifted from the ground.
His silver blonde hair is dripping with sweat, he's grunting and huffing every time he does a rep, brows furrowed and nose all scrunched up in endurance. Instantly, you imagine those same sounds in a totally different setting, imagine yourself on the ground beneath him just as he turns over into a plank position to do mountain climbers.
Imagine that same gorgeous body, dripping with sweat, but naked on top of you.
Dear lords, you don't know if the room temperature is going up because of all the heat that Aemond is building up or if it's just you getting all flustered just watching him. Now that he's doing those god damn mountain climbers you have the perfect view of his ass, and an even better one of his bulge hanging there enticingly underneath his sweatpants.
You'd feel bad for gawking at him this way if this was any other person. But it's Aemond; whom you've been in a committed relationship wth for years now, with whom you share an apartment and have two doggies with. One of whom - Patch, your one-eyed pup - is beside his dad, hilariously imitating what Aemond is doing, and totally unaware of you lusting over him in one corner.
You watch him as he finishes his set, standing up and stretching his limbs, taking off his shirt to cool down before gulping down from his water bottle. The way his neck leans back to drink, exposing his jutting Adam's apple as he drinks, is what finally makes a quiet moan leave your throat.
Aemond follows the sound and blushes bright crimson when he sees you.
Before an evil smirk curves up his lips, and he turns to fully face you.
"What are you doing there, love? were you watching me this entire time?"
You can't even bring yourself to reply, feeling your throat all dry at the sight of his sculpted torso, his sharp hipbones and milky white skin all blotchy and glistening. Your eyes travel from his pectorals and the sweaty chest hair that covers them, down to all the moles scattered all over his stomach.
"Can you blame me?" You utter as you take a brave step forward while undoing the sash of your robe and discarding it on the floor.
Thankfully Patch gets too distracted with your robe, biting it and running off to his little nest by the kitchen to either play or go back to sleep.
Because you're on Aemond in a flash, pushing back down onto the couch, climbing on top of him and taking off your sleep t-shirt. "How about some cardio to finish off your workout?" you grin as your hands fly to the waistband of his sweatpants to pull them down, finding Aemond already rock-hard and leaking.
And he's chuckling to himself - all dimpled cheeks and gleaming eyes as he grabs a handful of your ass and helps you sink down onto him. "I'm so lucky to have a partner who cares about my fitness."
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