#she rolls her eyes at a black woman upset about racism. at a black woman she happily fucked over for money. birdie jay is a bad person

[laniidae-passerine]

Amazed with how many people say they like Birdie or they find her, not Kate Hudson but her, genuinely attractive. Did you completely miss the point? As an attractive white woman, Birdie Jay can get away with saying “Jewy” as an insult, can get away with comparing herself to Harriet Tubman and implicitly can get away with doing blackface. People forgave her, because she’s just a little stupid, she didn’t mean it, it wasn’t her fault! All she needs to do, as Peg outright states, is give a half apology and lay low and then the world will get over it. But the things she did are still horrific. Her racism is still racism, regardless of whether it comes from hate or ignorance. Birdie Jay is not a good person and you’re not meant to think she is.

#glass onion #I’m not being like oh thinking Birdie is sexy is a crime you’re allowed to want her and find her attractive I guess #but as a person? in the movie dedicated to a black woman taking back control and getting revenge for her sister #you focused on the white racist lady who enslaved Bangladeshi children? that’s the one you want? #serious? #birdie jay #knives out glass onion #glass onion knives out #kate hudson #REAL LIFE PEOPLE ARE LIKE THIS. if he’s elon she’s your White™️ fav #the one who said a slur but never sorry. the one who didn’t change. the one who half asses every apology because she never ever meant it #Birdie isn’t sorry about her racism. she has the gall to get pissy with Helen over the Oprah incident as if it was an overreaction #she rolls her eyes at a black woman upset about racism. at a black woman she happily fucked over for money. birdie jay is a bad person #stop pretending she’s an innocent or even half innocent #she might not have known what she was doing but that was only because she didn’t bother to care #it’s not invincible ignorance. she could have changed. she couldn’t be bothered

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ditching a long-term friend?

I (35F) had a friend (S, 33F) for years. We bonded the first night we met. We had ups an downs, and went everywhere together. I helped her kick her bf out after he tried to hit her and helped her through two miscarriages. She helped me through a family member death and a career change. We would speak almost every day, for hours.

She was always slightly more conservative than me. When 2016 rolled around, she supported Trump. I didn't like that, but it wasn't my place to bitch about it to her, it was her decision.

By 2020, she'd changed. Idk how it happened but she went from slightly conservative Christian who loved school and being a nurse and had friends who were LGBT+ (myself included), to deadnaming trans patients, refusing to do a blood draw on a patient after she said it was a prerequisite for an abortion, forcing patients to pray with her, even when they and their families spoke out against it, and bugging her coworkers to pray with her. She got fired from the hospital and was completely unable to hold down a job after that, and went through about 6 jobs that year, getting fired from them all. She got with a guy (B, 32M) and he is a... Well, he is a damn nut. Flat earther, antivaxxer, anti- Department of Education, anti-cell phone, thought bluetooth was turning kids trans, and that covid is 100% a hoax. Absolutely bonkers. But she was smitten, so I supported her, barely.

It's important to note that I backed away from her a bit after she was fired from the hospital. We were only speaking once every few weeks at that point.

Shortly after she got with B, my nephew was born. My nephew is half Mexican, half white. She called him "cute for a half n*g" because she thought my SIL is black. This blew me away because she's half Mexican. I told her off and distanced myself even further.

In 2021, she was a huge supporter of Jan 6th. She LAUGHED when that one cop killed himself. I stopped talking to her completely after that. Deleted her contact info and forgot she existed for almost 2 years.

Cut to October of this year, and she calls me. I didn't recognize her #. She and B are getting married! And she wants me to be a bridesmaid!!! Yayy! (sarcasm). She told me a long-winded variation of "I know we haven't talked for a bit but I promise I'm not as bonkers as I was, I think I let Facebook suck me in, and I'm sorry."

So, I let her back in. Not emotionally, mind you. She's not the woman I once knew anymore. I don't tell her where our house is (my partner and I moved while S and I weren't speaking), and I didn't tell her what car I drove. I didn't tell her anything about our lives, and kept the conversation solely on her, to try and read her out a bit.

Sure enough, two conversations in she starts ranting about how black people are black because they received the mark of Cain (it's a Christian thing? I guess? Idk I'm not religious) and thus should be avoided because they are inherently "up to no good," and that systemic racism doesn't exist because the US has had a black president.

I roll my eyes, hang up the phone, block her number, and end it, permanently, right there. I received a few odd texts from a number I didn't recognize, probably B's phone, so I just blocked that number and deleted them without reading most of them.

Cue our mutual friends. 🙄

She misses you! People can have differing opinions and still be friends! Why are you being so closed minded? She told us you yelled at her! 😭😭😭

Lol. I didn't say a word, but whatever.

I'd rather adjust my life to her absence than adjust my morality to her ignorance.

My partner is on my side, they saw her change, too. But our mutual friends are still upset. I shared some the racist and sexist text convos between me and S, and it's like they hadn't even considered my side of the situation. One is on my side now, the other two are still questioning how I can throw away a 6 year friendship over "differing politics."

So, Tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #slur cw

[thanx-idonttry]

Bakugou x Black Model!Reader

TW: Bakugou being the Reader’s Superman at the end! Protective and Caring Bakugou.

@fanlovedlt because you’ve been my biggest supporter and all my love goes out to you. I love you and thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰

“I feel ridiculous.”

Those were the three words out your mouth once you saw yourself in a Mirror. They told you that you would’ve been modeling for an Urban Catalog, which made you curious enough to agree. But when you arrived and saw that the entire staff was snooty, rich, white people... You knew it was all downhill from there. All these 40-50 years old white women with cornrows using words like “Hip” and shit, you wanted to sigh so hard and slap your Forehead, hoping to knock you out. The Head designer that was running this whole thing, was the age of Dolly Parton, and you can bet all your money that this Bitch had a MAGA hat in her possession somewhere. (Bitch let the Hat go! He not even President anymore!)

“Ridiculous?! Darling you look fabulous! You’re catalog is going to end racism over night! I mean, all you guys are wearing clothes like this all the time! Once they see {Full Name or Stage Name}In my new “Urban isn’t Just Black” line.. It will HUGE!” You stared at this Bitch in BLACK DISBELIEF!!! Urban isn’t just Black?! REALLY?! BITCH ARE YOU DYING OF DEMENTIA?!?This Catalog would strip you of your dignity, get you jumped in the hood, ruin your profession as one of the Biggest Models in the industry. “You gotta joking. I can’t.” You said to her. She gave you a look with a raised eyebrow, she scoffed. “What do you mean you can’t? You will! Now go to the set, and I don’t want to hear otherwise.” The lady said, about to walk away, her walking away from you flipped that switch inside you.

“Well That’s Too Damn Bad! You can’t force me to this! Who do you think you are?!” You snapped at her, she turned and smirked at you. “The one in charge of your pay. Now you better do what I say or no money, got it?” You looked at her, She had some nerve! You have more pride and dignity than this, even though she’s right about the money, you’re better than this. You’re not gonna sell out like this. “I Quit.” You said, you didn’t sound confident, but you knew you were sure as hell, not doing this Shoot. “You what?” She asked with a very displeased face. “I Quit! Doing this shoot will only please you, not me. And I’m not sorry when I say I’m not a people pleaser.” You said walking off.

“Consider yourself Done in this industry! I’ll see to it that you will never get another opportunity! And get blacklisted, no one will ever see your face in magazines and billboards ever again!”

Your heart broke. Your whole career gone just like that. Refusing to let her see that she got to you, you had rolled your eyes and said that you didn’t care. But you did care, a whole bunch. You gathered your things, and left out that building as quickly as possible. That’s when the tears really fell, the warm wind from the city blew away your tears as you try not to panic about your career. Your mind started to spin, so you wasn’t watching where you going. You bumped into a strong chest, knocking you back a bit. You looked up with tears heavily in your eyes, you sniffed and apologized.

The strong chest you bumped into you was about to aggressively tell you to ‘Watch it!’ But then he saw the tears in your eyes, your face was stunning, even with the tears in your eyes. Bakugou softened, before you got far, he grabbed your arm. “Hey, are you okay?” You turned around to realize that the guy that you were about to punch for grabbing your arm was none other than, Katsuki Bakugou Hero Name Dynamite. You relaxed a bit, he was a hero, you were safe. “I asked are you alright?” He repeated. He don’t know what possessed him on his day off to becoming heroic for you. But something in your beautiful golden face, and your (e/c) eyes. You seemed to glow even when you’re looking like this.

You broke down, you don’t know why, but you let it all out to him. He cradled you in his arms, shocked and upset. “Hey, hey, calm down.... What’s your name?” He asked in his most gentle voice. You sniffed and looked up at him, “{Name.}” you answered. “You’re career is not over. Take me to the agency that did this to you.” He said, you were shocked. “W-What?” You said confused. “No one should suffer because they stood up for themselves. That line you described sounds awful, and they should be punished for threatening your career like that. You’re gonna be fine, I’ll make sure of it.” He looked down at you with a reassuring smile.

You looked at him with shocked at appreciation in your eyes. “You’ll do that for me? I mean, you don’t even know me.” You said, Bakugou stiffened, you were right, you didn’t know his and same vice versa. But something about you, your foreign features to him, amazed him. He could tell you were someone worth protecting, Plus, he had a little time to spare, might as well yell at some racist woman. “Let’s go.” Bakugou simply said. You smiled, grabbed his hand, and started leading him to the studio. When you entered, you had a confident walk, you were excited, it was time to settle this and save your career.

“Hey Bitch!” You called out to the lady, she turned away from her assistant and dropped her jaw, clipboard, and coffee. She was shocked to see Bakugou standing there, you smirked. “You think you can ruin my career?! Well We! Don’t think so! Dynamite, let her have it.” You said giving him his cue. Bakugou glared at the woman, he could tell that she was a rich, selfish, entitled, racist bitch. “Did you threaten her pay and career?” He asked in a seriously low voice. “Sir- Mr. Dynamite! Please understand that she was rude to me! All I did was ask her to wear our product for this shoot!” The lady tried to explain, Bakugou shook his head. “So when she said ‘No.’ You choose to ruin her career?!” Bakugou added with a lil more volume in his voice.

“She had no right! This is my shoot, and what I say goes! And why are you fighting for her?! Don’t you’re people Hate her kind?” The lady asked. Both you Bakugou went wide eyed and inhaled deeply. You were the first to snap, “Why you prejudice, wrinkly ass Rick Sanchez looking-” Bakugou stopped you by grabbing your hand, catching you off guard. Once he collected his words, he let go and started walking up towards the woman with a disgusted look on his face. “Lady, I’m going to need you to check your privilege, and your ignorance. To answer your question, I don’t hate her kind unlike someone I’m looking at right now. {Name}’s kind is fucking great! Everything from their Hair, to their skin, body type, and Creativity. And I know a lot of other Heroes that loves the same thing, and dating them.

To be honest, I hate your kind. Running around thinking you own the fucking world as you step on people’s dreams and freedom just to get on top. Well let me bring you back to reality. The moment I say something about this incident, it’s gonna spread fast. Not only will you go to court, you’ll lose your money, business, and all that Material shit you like. If anyone’s career is ruined, it’s going to be yours.” The lady was silent, completely stuck and realizing how fucked she was. “So, do you want this incident to get out? Or do you wanna forget this ever happened and you can keep all of your money, and Not mess with {Name}’s career. Dealers choice.

“Fine! Fine! I won’t ruin {Name}’s Career.” The lady said, “Now you’re gonna give {Name} the pay she was supposed to receive today, and Give her an apology as well. And it better be genuine.” Bakugou added. The woman was nervous when she started looking at you, you stood there with your arms folded. “{Name}... I shouldn’t have tried to ruin your just because you said no. I apologize for thinking I was above you.” The lady said. You smiled, “Thank you, now my check?” You asked with your hand sticking out like the Littlest Gross Sister off Proud Family. The Lady demanded her sister to fill out the check quickly. Once the check came into your hands, you felt so good and relieved. You turned to the hero.

“Thank you so much, I know you hear this a lot, but you’re my hero.” You smiled brightly, it was so beautiful to Bakugou, he saw the twinkle in your eyes, the glow you possessed because you’re skin was so skin was so radiant. You grabbed his hand again and you both walked out the studio. Once you two were outside, Bakugou stopped and stared at you. “You okay?” You asked, Bakugou smirked. “Yeah.” He simply responded. “I seriously can’t thank you enough for what you said and did for me.” “Hey, it’s what heroes do.” He said. “I guess this is where we part ways... I’m really glad I bumped into you.” You said as you tried to pull away, but Bakugou’s grip got tighter.

“It doesn’t have to be this way... We can, Go to a restaurant and arcade? If you like?” Bakugou offered. You were shocked by the date offer, you smiled because one of the Top Pro Heroes want to go out with you, who would turn down this opportunity?! You jumped with joy and skipped up to him, “Can we go somewhere with Laser Tag?” You asked him, He smiled “Hell yeah, I bet I can kick your ass!” He declared, that caused you to give a cocky smile as you stared at him, “Oh yeah? Then game on Mr. Dynamite.” Bakugou shook his head, “I’m off duty, please call me Bakugou” He said, you raised one eyebrow. “Is that a first or last name?” You asked. “Last.”

“Okay, before this night ends, I’ll know you by first name.”

#bnha #mha #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x black!reader #katsuki bakugou x black reader #katsuki bakugo x black!reader #katsuki bakugo x black reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x black!reader #katsuki x black reader #bnha x black!reader #mha x black!reader #bnha x black reader #mha x black reader #Bakugou katsuki x reader #Bakugou Katsuki x Black!reader #Bakugou Katsuki x Black reader

[whitetrashjj]

most people that don’t like kie don’t like her because she

1. gets mad at JJ when he calls her out for being rich

2. prioritizes john b constantly because whatever feelings she has towards him gave her tunnel vision

3. tried to guilt-trip pope into missing his scholarship interview despite the fact that, like he said, she wasn’t there for any of them when big john went missing

4. talks about the gold, pope’s scholarship, and things that happen to the boys because of them living in the cut as if it’s okay to just toss them aside when it’s only okay to do that for her- seeing as she doesn’t need the money, and she doesn’t need a scholarship. the only thing that makes her a pogue is that she decided to hang out with them, which is fine but she can’t act like she goes through what people on the cut do seeing as she doesn’t actually live there or go to their school. these things are only expendable for her.

5. she tried to fight pope on the boat because he rightfully called her out on her “moral high ground bullshit”

6. she gives off performative activist. she’ll talk about saving the turtles but when jj is clearly hysterical or something with his buying a hot tub using his share, she says he could have “literally given it to any charity” as if he isn’t quite literally the charity… even without seeing the bruises it’s clear that jj is in an unstable environment with someone who doesn’t care about him and can’t support him financially.

7.she doesn’t sympathize with jj until after the jj/pope/kie hot tub group hug when she sees his bruises. she just ignores whatever he says when he mentions her financial privilege and insults him in a non-friendly way. (he insults her too obviously, but since the show never goes in depth to discuss kie’s struggles as a biracial girl or pope’s struggles as a black boy, it’s not something that jj can randomly sympathize with, seeing as it’s never brought to light. if it was brought up and jj were to react like she’s being annoying for pointing it out or pointing it out to spite him, i would have major problems with jj because acknowledging whatever privilege you have is important, especially when you’re with people that don’t have that privilege/when you’re someone whose character is supposed to be the activist type. and i’m not equating racial privilege to financial privilege, i’m just mentioning it because classism is pretty much the basis of the entire show and its plot.)

anyway… this is the reason i’ve seen most jjpopes dislike kie. mentioning the “kiara sucks” anon as if that is a blanket statement of all jjpopes is strange. we aren’t some raging misogynists out to get her, but you saying that pope is a very flawed character with no examples to back it up but also getting irritated when someone says kiara sucks with no examples to back it up is ridiculous. these are examples. since this is in response to your response to that ask, i’ll also add that while your experiences as a queer person are valid, they aren’t universal (“Any queer person knows that you can’t be as forthcoming and open about our affections as straight people are.”)

i get where you’re coming from with saying a regular character might not be outward about his feelings, but jj is not a regular character. jj is a nothing-to-lose kind of character, so your reasoning for why those many displays of affection throughout the show weren’t intended to be romantic just doesn’t really add up? of course he values pope’s friendship and wouldn’t want to risk it, but it’s also evident that he’s a very good liar and could easily say he was joking or wasn’t trying to seem like any of his actions were romantic, something you can also probably understand/have experienced as a queer person. your very statement that jj is someone who flirts with anyone is counterproductive to the statement that that means he doesn’t have feelings for pope. he flirts with every girl, but he can only form a lasting bond while also doing things you’d normally do with a crush, with pope. a lot of jjpopes including myself think he’s gay, and comphet/trying to prove to yourself that you’re straight by engaging in meaningless hookups (like jj) is reason for that headcanon. i get what you’re saying for other characters, but there’s no indication of jj not having that same nothing-to-lose attitude when it comes to people he has romantic feelings for, so there would be no reason for the pull-back or hesitation that you mentioned. and since he knows pope and his connection (whether it be platonic or romantic to both of them) is so strong, he probably assumes nothing could break that bond/dynamic either way.

also no one called you anti-black or implied that you were for saying pope is a flawed character, but it would be surprising to see one that isn’t rooted in that because all of them in the past have been- this fandom is wildly colorist and homophobic (another reason representation like jjpope is so important) and it’s extremely hard to find someone that doesn’t like pope without an explanation for their dislike that isn’t rooted in racism. that’s just common sense, though.

You know, I've been looking at this ask for a long time just wondering if it's worth my time to address all of this - like I didn't realise one could send asks this big. But I'm bored and got a beer in me so fuck it let's go.

So first let's talk about the reasons you hate Kie. I'm gonna admit that I to think she is flawed, like every other obx character, she is also a victim to bad writing and under developed. But also I just do not understand how people can hate her or insists that she is a bad person, don't get me wrong sometimes you just don't vibe with a character and there is nothing wrong with that but hating them and tearing them down is a very different thing.

Now I've said this before but let me reiterate. Not liking a character or ship or preferring one over the other does not automatically make you racist, misogynistic or homophobic. But I do think it is important to take a step back and assess our motivation and perhaps internalised biases. Sometimes you will find that you reasoning is without much substance and realise that you have some things to work on, sometimes even though mentally you don't have the conscious block there is something internalised about that - I know I have been subject to that. This doesn't make you a bad person, and you don't have to force yourself to like it or anything, but just be aware and sometimes it's okay to just remove yourself for the conversation because the people who do like it aren't supporting something that is morally corrupt and it doesn't have to be the subject of discourse. People can like different stuff.

So:

1. Did you mean pulls faces when JJ calls her rich? Cause that's what she does, gets a little annoyed, pulls a face but doesn't say anything because she know he's got a point. I'm very confused about you definition of angry and perhaps be careful about perpetuating the 'angry black woman' stereotype.

Also, I think it's important to note that clearly the kooks vs pogues divide has pretty much abolished the middle class, and you are either lower class or 'rich'. The Carrera's very clearly still struggle with money and are not on the same level of kooks as the Cameron's. So yeah, I think she's justified to roll her eyes at JJ saying she's rich as fuck and doesn't need money.

2. Prioritizes John B because his dad's gone missing, he's been abandoned by his guardian, is being threatened with being taken away from his home and everything he knows and is in general spiralling? Yeah. What a fucking monster. Also, I find it hard to find a justification for Kie having canon romantic feelings from John B that isn't just born from heteronormativity - her caring about him and then getting kissed by him does not equal a love match.

3. It wasn't about missing the interview - which wasn't until the next fucking day - it was about not giving up looking for their friend who was in a really bad way. Like - you cannot say that getting a scholarship when you are 16 is more important that John B's actual life being at stake ?

The fact that she wasn't there when John B went missing wasn't relevant? Like I've talked about why I hate Pope in this scene. But like, Pope is saying 'um you can't call me out on being a bad friend now cause you were a bad friend then'. That's the point, Kie caring so much about John B is rooted in guilt cause she wasn't there, and now she's trying to be there and support him, to prove that she's a better friend now. That's she's different, because she is.

4. I would love some specific examples of her brushing this stuff off like it means nothing. Other than the boat scene which once again, justified. And once again, Kie isn't destitute at all and no she doesn't fully understand the struggles of the boys or the cut but her family is not rolling in it and spending weekends on Yachts. Like this point is such a bloody reach.

5. I don't love that she got physical with him either. But she didn't do that because she got called out. She got upset because Pope was the one person she confided in about that happened during her kook year, about how bad it was, about the fact that she was suicidal and Sarah saved her and that's why she was so drawn to that, not because she wanted to be a kook, and Pope just throws that back in her face because he's jealous that Kie cares more about John B's problems than his.

6. Well this is just a misrepresentation of what happened. She said give it to any charity because in that moment it seemed like without a reason JJ just blew that money on stupid shit. Pope thought the same thing that's why he yells at him for not using it for restitution. In that moment he just seems like he is being drunk and irresponsible, because they didn't think he would go back to Luke, Pope literally says that he wouldn't. And then note how when they see the bruises they know what happened and the tone instantly changes cause they realise what happened. And that he did try to do the right thing and got flogged because of it. And she is right in there to comfort him and reassure him. So like... yeah.

7. Please give me example for this. I don't see Kie insulting him that isn't a justified call out or playful banter that is returned and part of their push and shove dynamic. You know... just being friends.

The only times we see Kie react to JJ's home life she is concerned and sympathetic. She's the only one who's worried about JJ going home when he storms off and is instantly there to comfort him when she knows he's had interaction with Luke. I really don't know where you are getting this from.

I don't use it as a blanket statement, I know not to group shippers in as one, I know there are jiara shippers that I do not see eye to eye with for a second. The reason I bring up the 'kiara sucks' thing is because of the context it was used. We weren't talking about Kie, it wasn't relevant, it had no reason to be there or anything to back it up. It was random bitching and as you say fandom is a very racist place so yeah, it seemed like racism to me. Like you realise you are calling me ridiculous for being annoyed that someone just came to me and said Kie sucks without reason, and then this ask goes onto be annoyed that I have some issues with Pope and that more than likely racist for thinking it because you've elected to ignore my massive post outlining my stance on this.

My experiences as a queer person are not universal, no. But I do know they are very common. I'm so thankful that there are people out there who don't experience this and I hope that in the future it will be the norm. But realistically, with what we know about JJ, I think it is more than likely that would be his experience.

Look if you headcanon him as gay say the things with girls is comphet, then that's your view and I won't fight you on it. But remember that that is a headcanon. And what I have been talking about is were they intentionally setting up jjpope and are those actions indicative of romantic attraction, which if they we're they would have made a point to frame it as comp het, which they didn't, they might in the future but for now - they aren't. In terms of being a good liar, I just- like gay panic is a very strong thing. There young girls who tell everyone they don't like hugs because they actually really liked the hugs and feel like people will know that they are gay if they hug their friend, a hug. I can't see 'I'm a good liar' being enough to overcome those sorts of feelings.

The thing is while JJ has a nothing to lose attitude when it comes to his life and future the same doesn't apply to his relationships, because the Pogues are his thing to lose, his only family, the one good thing. I can't see him just saying fuck it I could risk losing Pope. So I can't agree with you there.

First of all, I was called anti-black for not liking Pope, despite the fact that I don't hate him, and just had valid reasons for thinking he is flawed, not the devil incarnate. Two, I am well aware that this fandom is racist, like all fucking fandoms, and have talked about it. And I think that fact that I don't hate Pope and laid out very clearly the reasons I don't think he's some perfect angel that does no wrong kinda shows that I'm not just random bitching because he's black. Also - I'm a fucking Kie stan. I have to deal with people hating on Kie for the same reasons they love Sarah - it's very obvious to see people motivations there.

And you are right. An interracial mlm ship would be great representation. So would an interracial ship between the hot guy that everyone loves with the black girl - because doesn't he always end up with the white self insert? But reminder that ships don't automatically have superiority because they have 'better' representation and certainly does not represent a shipper 'wokeness'. Personally I think a platonic relationship between two men that are as close and physically affectionate as JJ and Pope - especially when one is so traditionally masculine as JJ, especially if one or both of them could be queer - would be great representation for young boys struggling with toxic masculinity.

So yeah, I think your reasons for hating Kie don't have much basis in canon. I do not give if you like her or not but.. hating her and trying to prove that people shouldn't like her, that she's not good enough for JJ and coming into my ask and putting her down for no reason, still does not sit right with me.

#obx #obx bs #kiara carrera #JJ and pope #lara answers

[mythologyfolklore]

Panoply of the stars

(A/N: Uriel feels blue and Astaroth cheers them up a little, makes veiled jabs at capitalism and racism and causes a blackout in all of NYC, just so they can watch the stars. Meanwhile Asmodeus gets unusually sentimental and nostalgic and Raphael tries to do damage control.)

.

Uriel had never liked being among people.

No matter how hard they tried, they could never help but be frustrated at how slow the minds of humans were in comparison to their own.

The Archangel didn't mean to be condescending and definitely didn't want to come across as a know-it-all. They loved sharing their knowledge and giving humans a bright idea or a little nudge towards the truth here and there. But trying to get down to a human level was just so hard!

The bits of wisdom and knowledge Uriel could feed humans with were microscopical and carefully considered. It was frustrating. However, the human mind was so limited and fragile, that showing them too much would damage them beyond repair, if the Archangel wasn't extremely careful (and Uriel had been reprimanded several times for accidentally driving humans mad).

It was just so tiring to interact with people (not just humans, people in general), that the Archangel just wanted to be left alone most of the time. So Uriel buried themselves in their study in their own Heavenly quarters most of the time, with writing, literature and art.

Every time they came to Earth, they usually tried to get their job done as quickly as possible

The Archangel of Healing would spend 90% of his time here, running his several pharmacies and helping people in need. Raphael was just too sweet and tender for this world, though that was just Uriel's humble opinion.

Then again, Uriel was also the Angel of Judgement, notorious for being as merciless as any demon – and they were judgemental. They were also the most radical and temperamental Archangel (even Gabriel had more chill and he had incinerated Sodom and Gomorrah without batting an eye).

Uriel felt like they didn't fit in.

Not that anyone other than the Almighty would understand.

.

Right now, it was night time and Uriel was sitting on the edge of the roof of a sky scraper, dangling their legs and enjoying the feeling of the chilly wind in their snow white hair.

They had come to visit Raphael in his surgery in the US, but found themselves unable to.

So they just leaned back and hoped that, if they looked hard enough, they would be able to spy a star.

No such luck.

Stupid fucking light pollution.

It made Uriel upset; they had always loved the stars.

To cheer themselves up a little, they began to hum “Twinkle, twinkle, little star”.

But as they came to the third verse, a quiet noise (which was definitely not the wind or the traffic below) made them tense up. Their face darkened; this low, voiceless laugh they would recognise anywhere.

As they turned around to glare at the newcomer, they found a tall woman with tan skin and black hair, smiling and waving hello.

“Did you have to sneak up on me like that?!”, Uriel hissed.

The woman just kept smiling.

Uriel glared harder. “Don't play coy with me, demon! You wanted to startle me into falling off the roof, so that I would have to spread my wings right above the buzzing road, if I didn't want to discorporate!”

The other person smirked and signed: “Guilty as charged. But won't you say hello? Really, you need to learn some manners. I am a Prince and an Archduchess, after all.”

“Go back to Hell!”, Uriel spat.

But when the other just wagged their finger, they gave in and huffed: “Fine. Good evening, Astaroth. What do you want?”

Astaroth changed her shape and a second later stood before Uriel as the blue-haired, pale-faced menace they knew so well. She tucked away her wings (safe for the head pair) and sat beside them.

“I was merely enjoying my vacation”, she signed.

The Archangel held back a snort; of course she was on vacation. The demonic Archduchess was the kind of demon, who would put a decent amount of effort into her work, but also milk every minute of free time she could get.

“That doesn't answer my question, though”, Uriel pointed out. “Again, what do you want from me? Do you have nothing to do? Like tempting people to sloth, making them doubt themselves or giving your summoners all the knowledge they could ever dream of, while robbing them of their place in Heaven, like the manipulative, vile seductress you are? Like in the old days, when you deluded humans into worshipping you as Inanna¹?”

Astaroth smiled lopsidedly and signed: “You flatter me. But I'm not Asmodeus.”

“Definitely”, the Archangel muttered. “At least that arsehole has a work ethic!”

Asmodeus was quite industrious and invested in zir temptation work, which was one of the things that made zir so dangerous. With the Prince of Lust, you could never catch a break; ze was brilliant, subtle and resourceful, but also extremely infuriating. It had taken Uriel almost three thousand years to figure out, how Raphael could stand being around zir for longer than five minutes.

“That aside, Ashtoreth”, Uriel continued, “I'm really in no mood to play your twisted mind games, so fuck off and leave me alone! You being an Archduchess of Hell doesn't give you the right to interrupt my moment of peace and quiet!”

“Watch your language, Archangel”, Astaroth signed with a frown. “It's unbecoming of a heavenly being to be so stroppy and you know it.”

The hoary Archangel just grunted in response.

They knew, that the demoness had a point: they swore way too much. Michael scolded them for it all the time. But they refused to give Astaroth the satisfaction of admitting that she was right.

“You're also quite patronising”, she kept signing, “You ought to treat your elders with more respect.”

“… Seriously?! Are we going there again? You think you being older than me automatically entitles you to my respect? Oh no, that's not how it works! If you want my respect, you have to earn it!”

The blue-haired Archdemon arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”, she mouthed. “That sounds suspiciously like those capitalist corporates, who keep drilling it into people's heads, that if they can't contribute anything to society, they're worthless and undeserving of basic respect and dignity. Then again, they also do the same to non-white people, no matter how hard they work.”

Uriel stared at the demon in utter horror.

Did she really perceive it like that?! They hadn't meant to- they weren't like- they didn't mean or even want to come across like that!

“What, no! You know that's not what I'm trying to say!”, they cried frantically, “What I mean is-”

She put a finger on their mouth and shushed them. “I get what you mean”, she responded, this time telepathically. “You're forgetting, that I know you.”

Yes, know them she did indeed – and Uriel hated her for it.

“How many times have we had this conversation now?”, she inquired. “56 098 times?”

“56 099”, Uriel corrected tiredly. “This one included.”

Suddenly the Archangel felt so exhausted, they wanted to just curl up on that roof and take a nap right then and there. But they weren't stupid enough to do that with Astaroth next to them.

The demon clicked her tongue to get their attention again.

“That aside”, she signed, “I simply chose to join you, because I saw you sitting here on the edge of the roof of a skyscraper, like you wanted to jump and discorporate yourself. I wanted to see what the matter is.”

The Archangel glared at her. “I did not want to discorporate myself by jumping off the roof! Not that it would matter, because my wings would open up reflexively before I hit the ground anyway.”

She tilted her head. “Have you tried it before?”

“Wh- no! Why would I-?” But when they saw her sceptical expression, they gave up. “Alright, fine. Yes, I have tried to kill my previous meat suits before. The last one was male and … and …”

“You couldn't stand having a gross meat roll and balls dangling between your thighs?”, Astaroth guessed.

Uriel bit their lip, but nodded.

Astaroth signed: “Sucks to have to deal with a body you don't want. But back to the matter at hand: why won't you tell me what has you so down in the dumps?”

She put on a winsome smile and Uriel looked away. They would not talk about their problems with her of all people. It was none of her business.

Gently the Archdemon cupped their pallid cheeks, forcing them to face her again.

Her smile said: Come on. Unburden your heart to me.

“You're the enemy”, the Archangel muttered. “Why would I tell you my problems? I have friends and siblings to talk to.”

Her smile became a tad amused: But you don't talk to them.

“I hate you”, Uriel grumbled.

The twin-sister of Lucifer just shrugged, like the smug bitch she was.

With a wave of her hand she encouraged them to speak.

“You wouldn't understand”, the Archangel tried to excuse themselves.

“Try me”, the fallen Evening Star challenged.

“You do not care about your siblings like I care about mine.”

Her black eyes flashed and they could tell she knew it was about Raphael.

There was no point in denying it.

“I know what happened”, the Princess of Hell signed. “Asmodeus told me.”

“Did ze now”, Uriel mumbled.

“Yes. I must admit, I didn't think the little healer had it in him. Pretty ballsy, opposing the Angel of Death, knowing that she could destroy him with just a swing of her scythe.”

Which made the fact, that Raphael had opposed Azrael even more insane.

He was lucky that she was the benevolent and patient Angel she was. Still, Uriel had never seen her so emotional, let alone upset. Ever.

The Angel of Knowledge groaned in despair and grabbed their head with both hands.

“Dammit, Raphael … why did you have to go and screw over Azrael of all Angels?!”

Astaroth clicked her tongue, making Uriel look up and glare at her.

“Now, now”, she signed, “You're talking as if he was fallen or dead. But Raphael is fine, isn't he? He has just been banished to Earth for a while. He has not been stripped of his powers, his immortality or even the Grace of God. On top of that, he spends most of his time on Earth anyway, doesn't he? So what difference does it make?”

Uriel just sighed. To them it made a huge difference.

“Is that what you came here for?”, the Archduchess inquired. “To visit Raphael?”

The Archangel wasn't sure, if the answer was yes or no, but they replied anyways. “Actually, I came here to do my job. I just wanted to give inspiration and little ideas to burned out college and university students. And then I thought … while I'm here, why not visit Raphael? At this hour he's working in the night pharmacy he has here, as you probably know.”

The blue-haired Princess of Hell nodded affirmatively.

“But … when I came near his pharmacy …” They didn't want to finish that sentence.

But they didn't have to, because as soon as their pale red eyes met with the black ones of Astaroth, she understood.

She gave them a pitying look and patted their left hand (Uriel felt their skin crawl at the demon's touch). And then all of the sudden – a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“What are you plotting?”, they queried with narrowed eyes.

Ashtaroth only smiled serenely, which made Uriel even more suspicious.

Then she snapped her finger … and all the lights in the city went out at once.

The only light sources were now the moon, the heavenly gleam emitting from the Archangel and the eerie red glow coming from the Princess of Hell.

.

In another part of the city, Archangel Raphael was trying to calm down his freaked out customers.

“Everybody settle down!”, he cried out. “It's just a blackout. There is no reason to panic!”

“Hold on!”, a female voice piped up, “I think I got this – wait a second!”

And a lamp in the pharmacy went back on.

The frightened people relaxed a little and went on to get their prescribed medication from Raphael (they always got it for free, no matter how expensive it was. The people had no idea how he could afford that, but they loved him for it. Little did they know that he was an Archangel in disguise, using too many miracles to get his hands on expensive meds, keep pharmaceutical giants off his back and pay his bills).

Through the commotion, Raphael turned to the person next to him and whispered: “What the heck is going on?!”

“Must have been a demonic miracle”, the other whispered back. “Certainly wasn't me, though.”

Raphael frowned, but went back to handing out the exact medication each of his customers needed.

Meanwhile the person limped over to the window to see, if the blackout affected the neighbourhood as well.

“Damn! Seems like the whole city has been affected – OH WOW! EVERYBODY, LOOK AT THE NIGHT SKY!”

The delighted outcry caused everyone to run out and see it for themselves.

There were oohs and aahs, like they had never seen a really dark sky before – and considering this was New York, they probably hadn't.

A small child in a wheelchair asked her parents: “Mommy, daddy! What are those things! Are they UFOs?”

“Holy shit! They are!”, an adult man cried.

But then someone started to cackle and everybody turned to a tall blonde woman with a walking cane.

“Silly man!”, Asmodeus snickered. “Those aren't UFOs! Those are the stars! And that white structure running across the sky, that's our galaxy, the Milky Way! Have you never seen a starry sky before?”

“… Nah”, the man admitted sheepishly. A few others admitted that neither had they.

The girl in the wheelchair tugged at Asmodeus' coat. “Ma'am, are you sure they're not aliens?”

Asmodeus nodded. “Absolutely. Now, don't look so disappointed!”, ze laughed at the child's pout. “Look at the stars! Don't you think they're pretty?”

The kid's pout morphed into a huge smile and she nodded enthusiastically.

Meanwhile Raphael had joined the crowd outside.

When he looked up, he too couldn't help but be in awe. It had been ages, since he had seen such a dark sky and it was just so …

“Raphael.”

The Archangel of Healing turned to his nemesis. To his shock, zir eyes were misty (of course it was too dark for the humans to notice, but he saw it nonetheless) and ze was visibly struggling to keep zir emotions in check.

“Look at the stars!”, ze whispered. “Look at them! When was the last time we saw a sky like this, you and I? I can see all of the constellations, big and small! I can see my constellation! I … I can see my star!”

When one thought about it, it was actually irrational to get so excited, as the Polaris, the star in question, was the brightest star of the constellation it belonged to (Ursa Minor) and one of the brightest in the night sky. And it didn't even belong to Asmodeus' constellation (Ursa Major)².

But that was a human's point of view.

The Prince of Lust – as a demon, who taught zir summoners astronomy, among other things – was wired differently. And so was Archangel Raphael.

He smiled: “Yes. They're spectacular. Just like you.”

Ze whirled around and stared at him in surprise. Then zir expression softened.

“Silly, little Archangel”, ze muttered.

But Raphael didn't fail to notice the faint blush on the Archdemon's face even in the darkness.

And the Archangel couldn't help but grin just a little.

Only a handful of people could get Asmodeus – the notorious Prince of Lust, King of Demons, spouse of Lilith, etc. – flustered and blushing like a teenager.

.

“Did … did you just cause a motherfucking blackout in the entire city of New York?!”, Uriel asked incredulously.

But ere they could do something to fix the chaos, Astaroth snickered.

“Don't worry”, she signed. “I made it so that hospitals aren't afflicted. After all, I wouldn't want Raphael the Demon-Slayer on my back, would I? But fear not, no one is going to die tonight. Well, apart from the mandatory crime victims that happen almost each and every other night.”

Uriel opened their mouth to protest, but she just put a finger onto their mouth and then pointed heavenwards.

Their eyes followed her hand in confusion, only to widen in surprise.

The blackout had neutralised the light pollution.

And there were the stars, decorating the sky and shining down onto the world in all their splendour. There was the Milky Way and Uriel could see the constellations they were responsible for.

“You wanted to see this, didn't you?”, Astaroth asked telepathically. “I saw the longing in your eyes, as you looked at the sky earlier. And …” she grinned, “… you were humming 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star' of all songs.”

“Shush”, Uriel grumbled, but couldn't really find it in their heart to be angry.

And judging by the coy smile on Astaroth's face, she was quite aware of it.

“Just lean back, look up to the stars and relax”, she signed. “Who cares about the chaos and the mass panic of those silly humans? Raphael can fix that for you.”

For once the Angel of Knowledge followed that advice, knowing that they could indeed count on the Healing Angel to handle this.

.

The two lay like that on the roof for a few hours, just enjoying the extremely rare view of a really dark and starry night sky over New York.

Then the Archduchess whistled lowly to catch the Archangel's attention.

Uriel gave her a questioning glance.

But the look they received in return made them sigh: an encouraging smile. And Uriel knew exactly what Astaroth wanted to encourage them to do.

Although, now that their mind was more at ease, they thought they could do it.

The hoary Archangel rose and the Archdemon followed.

“Can you come with me?”, Uriel asked. A childish request really, but just to be sure they would actually do it.

In response she took one of their hands and teleported both of them a few yards away from the pharmacy, where Raphael seemed to be seeing off a few customers.

Having brought the Archangel of Knowledge where they wanted to be, Astaroth gave them a slight nudge into the other Archangel's direction, before waving goodbye and teleporting herself elsewhere.

Uriel took a deep breath, told themselves to stop being a wuss and went over to say hello.

To Uriel's agitation (though not to their surprise), that smug arsehole Asmodeus was there too.

And sure enough, ze noticed them first: “Oh, Raphael! Look who has come to visit you!”

Raphael whirled around and his face lit up brighter than the sun.

“Uriel!”

At once the hoary Archangel was tackled by the small bespectacled brunet that was Archangel Raphael and he was beaming up at them.

“What a pleasant surprise!”, he exclaimed happily. “I didn't know you were in New York!”

Asmodeus cleared zir throat, reminding them that ze was there.

“I'm leaving you two to it”, ze told them. “I don't really appreciate being the third wheel, so I'll be on my merry way.”

Then ze addressed Uriel. “By the way, you don't happen to know, who caused the blackout?”

Uriel sighed: “Astaroth. She wanted to watch the stars with me. She also took me here.”

Asmodeus pouted: “Aww! Really, she could at least have said hello! Oh well. I suppose I'll have to thank her later, for this beautiful night sky.”

With a wink ze added: “Thank you for this night, Raphael! It was delightful! See you soon, my beloved nemesis! And I suppose you too, Uriel. Bye!” Then ze was gone.

Uriel scowled at the spot from which the Prince of Lust just had vanished.

“Fucking arsehole!”, they grumbled.

“I know”, Raphael chuckled. “But let's not dwell on that! Oh, it's so good to see you! It's so sweet of you to visit! I miss you all so much, you have no idea! You have to tell me everything! How have you been? How are our siblings? And the other Angels, are they okay?”

Uriel smiled: “Don't worry, everyone is fine.”

“Come inside with me!”, the smaller Archangel bubbled excitedly. “I will fix us both some coffee. I have to go back to London in a few hours, but until then we will have a lot to talk about!”

Then he pulled them inside.

.

---

.

1) Inanna: Mesopotamian goddess of love, sex, beauty, fertility, war, the planet Venus, justice and political power. Also known as Ishtar and eventually as Astarte/Ashtoreth, from whom Astaroth is derived. 2) In the Testament of Solomon, Asmodeus mentions to Solomon, that zir star (i.e. constellation) is the Big Dipper, which belongs to the constellation Ursa Major. My headcanon (and it's really just that, I swear) is that Asmodeus was formerly the Angel of the Polaris, among other things. The Polaris (which is currently the north star), however, is part of another constellation, the Ursa Minor.

#christian lore #Archangel Uriel #astaroth #Archangel Raphael #asmodeus #astaroth used to be ishtar #tw: depression #tw: gender dysphoria #i think #i'm not sure what gender dysphoria exactly is #the stars are beautiful #stargazing #uriel and astaroth are frenemies

[initiumseries]

CAOS Part 3 - review

Uh, okay, so I think by now, we all know this show is terrible. Netflix gives showrunners a lot of creative freedom, and I think, for better writers, you could get some really interesting content, but they just seem to keep giving these assholes who wrote the travesty called Riverdale, so many opportunities to make more shitty television, and I feel like they really deserve to be limited in their ability to create/write if not stopped completely and thrown into a well with Julie Plec.  Anyway, I’ll try to break this down as best as I can into different piles of shit and this will contain spoilers:

Characters

Prudence and Ambrose

So, to be really honest, I watch this show exclusively for Prudence and Ambrose. Because, well, look at them: 

I wish they had more chemistry because they are super hot together, and I still ship it. A young Black couple? On TV? In this sea of shitty interracial relationships? I’ll take it. Anyway, of course, the progression of their relationship is ridiculous and frustrating. Ambrose decides at the last minute, not to kill Father Blackwood because he has a weird time egg thing that they don’t really understand, also he has the twins under some weird mind control for no clear reason, so they stay their hands. It doesn’t make sense, but it becomes clear, Father Blackwood has an insane amount of plot armour and ultimately would have to serve as a vessel for Satan. Father Blackwood uses the manipulated mind of the other weird sister to sic her on the coven, and she ends up killing Dorkus, whom Prudence finds. She then blames Ambrose for not allowing her to kill FB, and they break up. Now...this would kinda make sense, if not for the fact that they trapped one of the pagan witches and forced her to change everyone back, but no one bothered to do anything about the mentally ill witch who you all strapped up for a reason? Lol ok. Seems like an oversight on your part Prudence, but...okay. Clearly manufactured breakups are exhausting, especially since [young] Black couples with no serious relationship dysfunction are now an endangered species. It’s also frustrating because we barely got to see them....*be* together, especially after they returned home. 

Nick & Sabrina

So, I know from the beginning, we were supposed to believe that Nick and Sabrina had that kind of, Bad Guy, seduces the girl Good Girl, luring her into the dark side, hot, intense, passionate relationship. But their lack of chemistry and really shitty acting just made them really dry (which I get into here). I don’t believe them, and I definitely don’t believe that Sabrina would, once again, break a shit ton of rules to get Nick back. I just don’t buy that they had that kind of an intense, desperately in love, kind relationship, because they do not look all that comfortable around each other, much less in love. 

I personally find Sabrina utterly unlikeable as a main character, largely because who IS she? She has no personality, she just does whatever the plot needs her to do in the moment, and the actress makes Sabrina appear smug and unremorseful while she fucks up everyone’s lives. There is a lot of exposition of everyone telling us she’s this power hungry, manipulative character, but we never see that. She just does stuff and everyone is all “Sabrina how could you?!” and there are never, ever any consequences. I would have liked to see her push so hard to get Nick back and the struggle being, sure she wants him back, but mostly she’s doing it because she can. But that’s not what happens. 

So Nick ends up in this weird drug addiction, alcohol, sex demon spiral because he has parts of Satan still in him and it all just falls so flat and lame, because this show is SO bad at pacing, and these actors suck, so nothing is believable. The idea of him scrubbing his club foot, having nightmares, suffering PTSD, is fine, the execution was trash. Nick sees Caliban and Sabrina have one interaction and he’s like WELL, GUESS I GOTTA CHEAT. And just ends up in some S&M situation with sex demons and heavily self medicating, but none of this has any weight, and we don’t really see him...spiralling. He just immediately resorts to these things and it has no real impact on anyone or even him really, and that’s it. 

Harvey and Roz

Uh, they’re probably the most confusing match here, because there is no lead up to their relationship, there’s not suggestion, there’s no pacing. Just BOOM, we’re into each other now. BOOM, Roz is the only sexually active person in her friend group (lol of course the Black girl is sexually active. Gotta maintain white innocence at all costs), so she’s just ready to jump Harvey’s bones any second now. So of course, the show punishes her by having the pagans turn her to stone. And as if that’s not bad enough...

Which I talk about here and here, because honestly I’m just sick of this show’s antiblackness.  Theo & that other guy

So I was watching this unfold like, yeeaahh, they’re gonna make the trans guy get with the enemy aren’t they? And yes, they did. Cool, they didn’t kill him off, but I’m still perplexed at how Theo isn’t even a little upset that this guy was basically sent to infiltrate his friend group and sat by while his people harmed Theo’s friends, and also...used him? Like...we just...are gonna...gloss over that because he changed his mind? Lol ok. Sure.

Mambo Marie and suddenly Zelda?

I...I mean her name is Mambo Marie. I love the idea of Black witches finding Black spirituality and magicks through Vodun and a Hatian Priestess. But they quickly undo that, by ensuring that Mambo Marie only teaches Prudence in the presence of these white witches. And we see her...doing...an African drum circle (eye roll), only to be interrupted by the High Priestess of White Feminism, Zelda Spellman. It quickly devolves into thinly veiled racism where Zelda doesn’t trust Marie because she’s Catholic (says the woman who worships Satan, has an anti Pope and prays to Lilith with the same prayer for Mary mother of Jesus? LOL. Not even unpacking the fact that Vodun is an African spirituality having 0 roots in catholicism WHITE WRITERS). Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Marie and Zelda are a thing for no reason? After the way Zelda treated her? Why did Marie even stay? This isn’t her problem. This is a white witch problem. Okay. That’s too much to unpack. 

Plot

So, my biggest problem with almost all Netflix English programming is that they are so obsessed with aesthetics, and don’t pay enough attention to actual character chemistry, plot, story flow, details, pacing etc. Like...things that actually make stories interesting to watch. So they slap all these people together and throw them into aesthetically pleasing backgrounds, shake it up with so much exposition that nothing actually happens, and are like BEHOLD A STORY. And CAOS is *especially* guilty for this.

First of all those musical breaks were annoying as fuck. Musicals serve 2 story functions: advancing the plot or telling a story. These musical numbers did neither and were honestly ridiculously gratuitous, highly annoying and totally pointless.

What time of year is this? Why are we having pep rallies and how the fuck and when did Sabrina and Roz join the cheeleading squad, and why?

for the aesthetics and not for any real plot reason. It just seems stupid because now I don’t know how much time has passed between Nick going to hell and this, because you’re all handling it like it’s been a few weeks and is still relatively fresh, but suddenly, Theo, Harvey and Roz are in a garage band? You’re a cheerleader? For what? Since when? Why? These choices introduce more questions than they answer and serve no narrative purpose. So much wasted time on shit that doesn’t matter. 

Sabrina is supposed to be fighting Caliban (who is literally the only person she has chemistry with on this show and they killed him bc ofc they did), for her seat on the throne, and yet the trials only seem to come up when it’s convenient, and also seem to be directly related to her dealings with her coven, which is also convenient.  I’m so confused about Satan. His powers come from being a celestial being, and so, because his coven mistreats him he’s like...lol okay, well fuck you guys and goes through all these convoluted small motions to greatly inconvenience them and withdraws his powers? This is so petty and pathetic. Also, what’s the point? He could just wipe them out and start over, instead of skulking around inside FB then suddenly decides to track down Lilith. Again, convoluted. This plot is all over the place. Why does Satan need Sabrina to be Queen of Hell in the first place? He seems perfectly healthy. Why can’t he just rule it? Like...that makes no sense. What is he gonna do? Retire? WHAT is going ON?

How did Sabrina come back in time to herself stuck in stone? Is that trip to Pontius Pilate (lol) supposed to have created a loophole for her to save herself and everyone? This is giving me hardcore Twilight Breaking Dawn vibes, where, the show finally, FINALLY gets interesting, there’s real stakes, shit is actually happening instead of everyone talking about things happening (Hilda ending up killing her fiance was literally the only time I felt something watching this show because it was genuinely sad, and well acted, and Hilda coming through with that doll at the end was pretty disturbing, I’ll give them that), and ofc, Sabrina goes back in time and undoes it all. Lol. Okay. God forbid there be real consequences to anything on this show.

Final thoughts

Once again, the white feminism runs high on this show. They treat this Black Vodun Priestess Marie, like garbage, allude to her “foreign” magic, but Marie is sitting here like “we’re not men, we’re women, let’s work together.” This is why I hate white writers writing for Black characters. Black characters should have Black motivations, and a Black Vodun Priestess, should know that white women and Black women do not have aligned motivations just because they share a gender. Once they started with the bullshit right from her arrival, she should have handed Prudence her card and peaced tf out. Instead she tolerates the isolation, ostracization and thinly veiled racism...and decides to stay, and help. WHY? Marie has gained nothing by sticking around helping these ungrateful ass witches. I honestly would have preferred Prudence asking her to stay to learn more about Vodun, and them building a mentor/mentee type of relationship, especially since Prudence was the one who invited her and stepped to Zelda to defend her. I want(ed) to see that relationship go somewhere. The deliberate denial of healthy Black female friendships on tv is frustrating.

 These witches finally finding their power in their ancestors and I donno, some female creator or whatever, reminds me of white women “finding” wicca and praying to “Gaia”, (reminds me of BTVS s4 when Willow joins the wicca group) which is basically what happened but lol okay whatever. I guess they aren’t satanic witches anymore. Lol, I love how Harvey and Roz and Theo are teenagers, human teenagers, who have lead largely normal teenage lives up until this point, but see their loved ones tortured, deformed or murdered in hell, with basically no residual issues, and are all like, YES, let’s roll up on these adults with shotguns and swords and kill the FUCK outta these people!! That absolutely sounds normal! Like...what? Lol. God this is just so bad.

Also, I’m so confused by this aesthetic choice for Sabrina as Queen of Hell. Like what the fuck. Why is she dressed like a Victorian era queen, with shoulder and a broken rib bodice? What?!

This show is truly awful, this season made no more sense than the last two and now that Prudence and Ambrose aren’t together, I might be done watching. 

-20/10

#caos season 3 #caos part 3 #caos prudence #prudence x ambrose #prudence night #ambrose spellman #the chilling tales of sabrina #sabrina spellman #caos spoilers #long post #caos review #rosalind walker #mambo marie #zelda spellman #hilda spellman #harvey kinkle #theo putnam

[doomonfilm]

Predictions : The 93rd Academy Award Film Nominations (2021)

As much as I try to prepare for the Oscars every year, even I’m impressed with how thorough I was in checking out the 2020 nominees.  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that streaming dominated the year, which therefore changed the nature of access, but in my humble opinion, I found no dip in the quality of the films and shorts that I took in.  I saw some familiar faces, I learned about some new talent on the scene, and I found more than a few films that spoke deeply on the human condition.  There are a few categories where a winner seems clear cut, and even more where it will be a genuine surprise at the end of the night.

With my confidence running high, it’s time to do my annual prediction list of potential Academy Award winners... that way, I can gloat if I end up being mostly right, and I can have counterpoints ready for the films that I get wrong.  Feel free to play along at home, and we will reconvene on after the day after the awards air (Sunday, April 25th for those curious) to compare numbers.

Editor’s note : Due to a lack of access to AppleTV, the films Greyhound and Wolfwalkers were not taken into consideration.  Due to a similar lack of streaming and theatrical access at the time of this article, The Man Who Sold His Skin, Opera and White Eye were also left out of my research and consideration.

Best Picture The Father Judas and the Black Messiah Mank Minari Nomadland Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7

PREDICTION : Minari

Every film this year has something poignant to say about the human condition : The Father is a frank and unflinching look at the aging process and the impact of dementia, Judas and the Black Messiah puts the focus on systematic racism and the far-reaching lengths used to disenfranchise minorities, Mank talks about how personal and political stances can get you blacklisted, Nomadland shines a spotlight on societal ills surrounding class and financial struggles, Promising Young Woman opens up a path for difficult discussions on sexual assault, Sound of Metal is all about depression connected to having your passion ripped away from you, and The Trial of the Chicago 7 is a damning portrayal about how political unrest manages to stay the same despite changing times.  

Minari handles its subject matter (immigration and assimilation, respectively) with the same weight as the previously mentioned pictures, but there is an artistic integrity to the overall presentation of the story due to the immaculate performances and beautiful production design that elevates the Minari experience a step ahead of the rest of the pack.  I would not be surprised if Nomadland continues its epic run right up to the top, but if there were one film set to upset the Best Picture category, it’s Minari without a doubt.

Best Director Lee Isaac Chung, Minari Emerald Fennell, Promising Young Woman David Fincher, Mank Chloé Zhao, Nomadland Thomas Vinterberg, Another Round

PREDICTION : Chloé Zhao, Nomadland

While I consider Minari to be the Best Picture of the year, I believe that comes down to a combination of look and performance for me.  When it comes down to the film that seems the most interesting in terms of how it is put together and the general choices made for execution, however, I think I’d have to continue giving  Chloé Zhao her flowers while she can still smell them.

As mentioned previously, Minari is a standout film, and two other films did threaten to give Nomadland a run for its money in terms of direction : Mank looks, sounds and feels like old Hollywood, while Promising Young Woman feels so much like an exploitation film from the 1970s with an infusion of high-style art that it saddens me it hasn’t received more recognition in the form of awards.  Nomadland, however, feels as close to a documentary as it can get without being one, and as dramatic as a film with a heavy documentary film can get, and all the while, Zhao’s choices make the camera feel like an observer and a confidant, to great effect.

Best Actor Riz Ahmed, Sound of Metal Chadwick Boseman, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Anthony Hopkins, The Father Gary Oldman, Mank Steven Yeun, Minari

PREDICTION : Chadwick Boseman, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

From the second that the final credit rolled on Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, I had Chadwick Boseman picked as a lock for Best Actor in any award show worth its salt.  

Riz Ahmed makes us feel his pain in his characterization, as does Anthony Hopkins (though his delivery is connected to much more levity than Ahmed’s).  Gary Oldman embodies his chameleon-like abilities that we’ve come to expect and enjoy from his work, and Steven Yeun reaches depths I had no idea he was capable of achieving.  All that being said, however, Boseman left everything he had on the film reels, and even if not for his untimely death prior to the release of this film, I feel he would still be receiving universal praise for such an emotionally raw, daring and vulnerable performance.

Best Actress Viola Davis, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Andra Day, The United States vs. Billie Holiday Vanessa Kirby, Pieces of a Woman Frances McDormand, Nomadland Carey Mulligan, Promising Young Woman

PREDICTION : Viola Davis, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Of all the categories this year, Best Actress was far and away the toughest one to choose a prediction for.  I could give it to Andra Day based on the Golden Globes momentum she has coming into the Academy Awards and feel confident.  I would feel equal confidence in choosing Vanessa Kirby for the pain she captured in her frustration with her husband and her stillborn baby, Frances McDormand for her down to Earth nature and bold curiosity (not to mention her penchant for winning these things), or even Carey Mulligan for her brave and confident performance.

I am choosing Viola Davis, however, because while Chadwick Boseman could have easily made every other character’s performance irrelevant in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom with his sheer presence and execution, Davis simply refuses to be ignored as the titular character, and is the only one strong-willed enough to check Boseman’s character.  Her win would also be a historical moment for minorities and women when it comes to the Oscars, and I doubt that the Academy would miss an opportunity to make that statement, especially in today’s climate.

Best Supporting Actor Sacha Baron Cohen, The Trial of the Chicago 7 Daniel Kaluuya, Judas and the Black Messiah Leslie Odom Jr., One Night in Miami Paul Raci, Sound of Metal Lakeith Stanfield, Judas and the Black Messiah

PREDICTION : Lakeith Stanfield, Judas and the Black Messiah

This was another tough category to make a prediction in, mainly because of the conundrum that came with the choice.  On the one hand, choosing between the performances of Lakeith Stanfield and Daniel Kaluuya for Judas and the Black Messiah seems inherently wrong, not only because both were stellar, but because this nomination makes it seems like the film was absent of a leading male.  If Stanfield (who, in my opinion, would be the one considered lead in this film) were to be nominated in the Best Actor category, however, he would almost certainly be nullified by Boseman in that category.  No disrespect to the other nominees in this category, but Stanfield or Kaluuya feel like sure things for this category, and for my money’s worth, Stanfield left the stronger impression.

Best Supporting Actress Maria Bakalova, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm Glenn Close, Hillbilly Elegy Olivia Colman, The Father Amanda Seyfried, Mank Yuh-Jung Youn, Minari

PREDICTION : Yuh-Jung Youn, Minari

Initially, this was a tough category solely because of the films I’d seen from this category prior to this week.  Maria Bakalova was the front-runner by default for me, as it felt odd to consider Amanda Seyfried as the Best Supporting Actress of the year for such a marginal role, and Glenn Close felt odd because of Hillbilly Elegy and nothing else.  Up until this week, I’d yet to have seen Minari or The Father, and in my head, it felt like Olivia Colman would likely be my pick.

Then, I saw the movies.  Colman was great in her role, but with her acting chops so refined, and the story being one based so heavily in reality, the work she was doing seemed likely to be lost in translation for the average viewer.  Upon seeing Minari, however, my decision was immediately made for me, as  Yuh-Jung Youn easily displays the most range of anyone in the category, and does so while managing to be one of the funnier elements of the film, as well as the catalyst for the ultimate heartbreaking moment.  If  Yuh-Jung Youn doesn’t win, I will personally demand a recount.

Original Screenplay Judas and the Black Messiah Minari Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7

PREDICTION : Promising Young Woman

Sadly, I think Promising Young Woman will continue to be the bridesmaid and not the bride of this award season, but if there were a category that it seems like it could leave its mark in, it would be Best Original Screenplay.  While the other stories are certainly compelling (two of which give us deeper insight into recent race-related turmoil), Promising Young Woman is the kind of movie that can open up important conversations that many men and women are hesitant to have.  The film also cleverly sets itself up to be some sort of revenge fantasy piece, only to reveal how truly grounded and thought-provoking it is in a final act that will almost certainly take your breath away.

Adapted Screenplay Borat Subsequent Moviefilm The Father Nomadland One Night in Miami The White Tiger

PREDICTION : The Father

Of all the films nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay, The Father is the most compelling and well-put together screenplay, with its production execution feeling like it matches the high standards set by the narrative journey.  The White Tiger comes close in terms of the way it sets and subverts expectations, but it lacks the heartbreaking gut punches that The Father uses to fuel its melancholy, which in turn allows it to pierce the soul in a much more direct and easy to perceive manner.

Animated Feature Onward Over the Moon A Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon Soul Wolfwalkers

PREDICTION : Soul

Is there really any doubt that this is Soul’s category to lose?  I did the due diligence and watched all of the competition (minus Wolfwalkers), and while the rest of the field was entertaining, nothing in the pack can hold a candle to the technical prowess and appeal to humanity that Soul thrives in.

Production Design The Father Mank Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom News of the World Tenet

PREDICTION : News of the World

At first I wanted to give this award to Mank due to the way that the film feels authentically from the era it presents to us.  Not too long after that, I wanted to put my money behind Tenet, almost strictly as a way to offset the largely negative response to what feels like a strong piece of Christopher Nolan art.

Then I saw News of the World, and of the films nominated in this category, it is the only one where the world feels authentic and lived in (outside of The Father, which essentially takes place in a single flat).  From the levels of dirt on the clothes to the weathered nature of towns, News of the World feels like modern day cameras were transferred back to a simpler time, and in tandem with the acting prowess of Tom Hanks, it is certainly one of the slept-on gems of 2020.

Costume Design Emma Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Mank Mulan Pinocchio

PREDICTION : Emma

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my many years of film-watching, it’s that a British film always seems to have the edge when it comes to Best Costume Design.  While Mank and Mulan in particular should be given recognition for their costume designs, Emma makes the extremely lavish and extravagant gowns and outfits worn feel and look like a million bucks, both in their fit on the cast and in the way they work with and offset the surroundings.  

Cinematography Sean Bobbitt, Judas and the Black Messiah Erik Messerschmidt, Mank Dariusz Wolski, News of the World Joshua James Richards, Nomadland Phedon Papamichael, The Trial of the Chicago 7

PREDICTION : Erik Messerschmidt, Mank

While the Best Cinematography award is usually one given for breakthroughs and innovations with the camera, Mank feels like one of the first films that could win the category for its dead-on emulation of an era that we have since evolved from and not looked back to.  2020 wasn’t necessarily absent of crazy camerawork, but it appears that this year’s nominees are more about capturing the feel of a world, and none of the films nominated have a visual style that does it to the degree that Mank does. 

Editing The Father Nomadland Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7

PREDICTION : The Trial of the Chicago 7

This was another surprisingly tough category to pick a winner from.  The Father does some extremely clean and subtle work with editing to make us feel just as disjointed as Anthony Hopkins does during the course of the film.  Promising Young Woman brings in exploitation style and flare, but ultimately settles down into a much more serious and somber nature where the editing loses a bit of its steam.

What really works best for The Trial of the Chicago 7 in terms of its editing are two key factors : its ability to manage such a large collection of main characters with ease, and the integration of real footage from the Chicago Democratic National Convention, not to mention additional footage from the film Medium Cool, in a seamless fashion.  Aaron Sorkin films are generally known for their writing, but this film shines in how well it was put together, as Sorkin takes a step back and allows the event to be the star of the show.

Makeup and Hairstyling Emma Hillbilly Elegy Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Mank Pinocchio

PREDICTION : Pinocchio

It’s tough sometimes to separate your perception (and reception) of a film from its technical aspects, which is why it was ultimately hard to choose Pinocchio as my pick for Best Makeup and Hairstyling.  While I did not enjoy this film, I do have to give it respect for its lack of digital effects, with much of the creature creation and Pinocchio’s wooden look achieved solely through the use of makeup.  Emma seemed more about wardrobe, and Hillbilly Elegy felt a bit silly in terms of hair and makeup... I likely overlooked that aspect of Mank, and the acting held my attention in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, so maybe Pinocchio  is purely a sympathy vote for me.

Sound Greyhound Mank News of the World Soul Sound of Metal

PREDICTION : Sound of Metal

Sound of Metal is likely going to be the most overlooked film of 2020 in terms of awards recognition, but if there’s one category that feels like a can’t miss opportunity for the film, it’s Best Sound.  The narrative lives and dies off of our connection to the protagonist, especially when he starts experiencing his hearing loss, and if the production team wouldn’t have been able to capture that experience the film would’ve been a wash.  Luckily for everyone, they nailed this aspect of the film, and in turn, the world was gifted a modern day classic.

Visual Effects Love and Monsters The Midnight Sky Mulan The One and Only Ivan Tenet

PREDICTION : Love and Monsters

To my knowledge, subtlety doesn’t get you far in the Best Visual Effects category, which could likely be the reason that Love and Monsters was my pick to win this year, as the effects are anything but subtle for this film... the attention to detail in the oversized animals and bugs is as impressive as it is intimidating.  The only other film I considered is The One and Only Ivan for its work with the animals, specifically the way they were able to communicate with their eyes, but ultimately Love and Monsters feels like the bolder statement.

Score Da 5 Bloods Mank Minari News of the World Soul

PREDICTION : Mank

It feels like Soul is the favorite headed into the Oscars this year, which makes it all the more hilarious that the duo of Reznor and Ross will find the stiffest competition in the form of themselves.  I put my money behind Mank for the Golden Globes, and while I may have been wrong then, I refuse to believe that the Oscars would ignore the authentic-sounding era-specific music created by the duo.  A nod must also be given to the scores of Minari and News of the World, who if not for the Reznor/Ross tandem would likely be the ones fighting it out in this category.

Song Husavik (Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga) Fight for You (Judas and the Black Messiah) Lo Sì (Seen) (The Life Ahead) Speak Now (One Night in Miami) Hear My Voice (The Trial of the Chicago 7)

PREDICTION : Fight for You (Judas and the Black Messiah)

Lo Sì (Seen) may have stolen the Golden Globe, but I refuse to believe that any song on this list can beat Fight for You twice.  You never know, however, when it comes to the Oscars and music... just ask Three 6 Mafia. 

Documentary Feature Collective Crip Camp The Mole Agent My Octopus Teacher Time

PREDICTION : Collective

I am honestly and genuinely confused how any human with a working brain, heart and soul could watch a documentary like Collective and still choose My Octopus Teacher as the Best Documentary Feature.  No disrespect to My Octopus Teacher or any of the other nominees, but the light that Collective shines on the healthcare system is not only damning, but relatable to people all over the world (including America), and the story is told absent of narrators or interviews, which makes the presentation that much more piercing in its reality.

International Feature Another Round (Denmark) Better Days (Hong Kong) Collective (Romania) The Man Who Sold His Skin (Tunisia) Quo Vadis, Aida? (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

PREDICTION : Better Days (Hong Kong)

Trying to pick between Better Days and Quo Vadis, Aida? was like trying to pick between two exquisite meals... both had compelling trailers, both stories were well-told, timely and necessary, and both films stick with you after the point of resolution.  I think I have to go Better Days, however, simply because of the level of dramatic flare it brings to the table, not to mention its story being more relatable on a human level, rather than a political one.

Animated Short Burrow Genius Loci If Anything Happens I Love You Opera Yes-People

PREDICTION : Genius Loci

If any category were a personal sure thing for me, it’d be the Best Animated Short category, because Genius Loci spoke to me in a very real way.  I feel so strongly about this, as a matter of fact, that I’m going against what is likely the smart money pick, the moving and painfully relevant If Anything Happens I Love You, another hand-drawn affair (with Genius Loci also utilizing traditional animation) that frames itself around a school shooting.  Hopefully I will get to see Opera soon, as the small portions I was able to find looked impressive, but I have been sharing Genius Loci with anyone willing to listen. 

Documentary Short Colette A Concerto Is a Conversation Do Not Split Hunger Ward A Love Song for Latasha

PREDICTION : Do Not Split

The 2020 Academy Awards contains quite a number of nominees that focus on issues that are currently impacting our world, and the Best Documentary Short category is rich with content of this nature.  While Colette does find its center in the Holocaust, its main thread focuses on how people generations removed still refuse to face and accept it directly.  A Concerto Is a Conversation and  A Love Song for Latasha both speak on the modern day impact of racism from the past.  Hunger Ward is a gut-wrenching look at the struggles that war-torn Third World nations face.

The documentary short with the most impact and relevance of the bunch, however, is Do Not Split, a film that looks specifically at Hong Kong’s struggles against mainland China, and with a wider lens, the ever-evolving nature of protest in the information age.  The film walks right up to (and directly into the midst of) the COVID-19 pandemic, making it extremely timely, and it speaks a version of the struggle for identity that most anyone can relate to and feel on a personal level.  All of these nominees are worthy, but Do Not Split feels like the choice that would make the most impact if given a stage to raise its awareness.

Live-Action Short Feeling Through The Letter Room The Present Two Distant Strangers White Eye

PREDICTION : Two Distant Strangers

I’ve been trying to hold on for White Eye, because the word on the street is that it is a one-take affair, and with the competition in the Best Live-Action Short category all resonating on a feature-length level in terms of creativity and execution, it would take a magic trick like a one-take film to stand out from this crowd.

Out of the films I did get to see, however, the battle for my prediction spot came down to two films.  The landmark casting of a Blinddeaf actor in Feeling Through was not lost on me, and it’s always a pleasure to see Oscar Isaac do his thing (as he did in The Letter Room), but once I saw The Present, I felt it had all of the elements it took to win... a foreign setting with risk involved in the production, a father-daughter dynamic with an incredibly touching and inspiring arc, and some compelling things to say about prejudice, specifically in volatile conflict areas.

Then I saw Two Distant Strangers.  As touchy as the subject of fractured and damaged relationships between Black Americans and the Police is, this film not only found a way to address it directly, but also symbolically, and in ways that made you really and truly think about (and understand) how helpless the often tragic interactions can feel between the two camps.  On top of everything, who knew that Joey Bada$$ could act?

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMoNFILM #93rdAcademyAwards #Oscars

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E4; Chapter Four, Will the Wise - [Pt. 4 - FINAL PART]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An ailing Will opens up to Joyce --  with disturbing results. While Hopper digs for the truth, Eleven unearths a surprising discovery. A conflicted Y/n reconciles with Mike amidst the rising panic.

Warnings: Abusive behavior. Racism. Animal death

||3rd Person POV||

Will continued to draw, never faltering. And his movements never slowed.

Several sheets of paper, with similar purple and blue features.

The second he was done, he would swiftly swipe the drawing behind him and it would land on the floor like the others. Not unlike a printer would.

Joyce grabbed a handful and returned through to the living room, where Hop sat, looking at a handful of Will's drawings himself.

"This is more of the same," she said, joining him on the couch.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just scribbles."

The pages they held before them, as well as the ones still being made in Will's room usually featured a black page with some variant of purple-blue sections. Ranging from corner to corner, corner to side, bottom to side, top to corner and so forth. Some of them were just pure purple and blue.

"Wait," Joyce had caught sight of the drawing Hopper was currently looking at. "Wait."

"What? What?"

"Wait. These black lines, see?"

She held up one of the several drawings she possessed up to Hopper.

Hopper was still confused.

"What?"

The drawing she held matched perfectly with the one in his hands.

"They connect. They connect!"

×××

Hopper had now pushed aside all the furniture in the living room, opening up space for the drawings.

They grabbed more piles and scattered the drawing all over the floor, matching piece after piece.

Finally, the duo stood, marveling at the large intricate design the pictures had made. They were sprawled out all over the room, so much so in fact that they twisted and curled and began creeping up the walls.

"Does this mean anything to you?" Hopper asked.

Joyce scoffed, gesturing to the work before them. "No."

"I mean, is it some kind of maze or a road?" She wondered.

They began wandering around the room, careful as to not step on the drawings.

"I-I mean, it's sort of forking and branching like... like lightning." She gestured to the many twists and turns below her feet.

"You think it's that storm?" He asked, referring to the drawing.

"No, the storm he drew was completely different. He used red." She said, certain about her son's artistic patterns. "And this is all blue and it has some sort of weird dirt color. I mean, maybe it's roots."

"'Cause remember," she continued, lost in thought. "he was saying it was spreading and--"

"killing." He finished. "he said they were killing."

Hopper felt his chest sink at the words. Familiarity tugging at his mind. He hoped he was wrong. But he was almost certain he wasn't.

"Vines." Joyce looked to Hopper just as he retreated to the front door, gathering his things. "He's drawing vines."

×××

The bell rang harshly, signaling the end of the school day. Just as he had hoped, Lucas found Max at her locker.

"Hey, Max. Have you seen Dustin? We're supposed to meet after class."

Max slammed her locker door and stomped away.

Lucas frowned and called after her. He chased her trailed after her, and it wasn't until they reached the steps outside the school that she answered.

"Hey, Max! Hey, where are you going? Come on! We've gotta go look for Dart."

"Yeah, good luck with that." She spits, not looking back.

Max made it to the parking lot when Lucas finally caught back up to her.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" She scoffed. "What's wrong with you?"

She brushed a stray piece of hair from her eyes angrily as she walked.

"I don't understand!"

Max whirled around on her heels, looking at Lucas for the first time in the conversation.

"No! I don't understand!" She shouted, and Lucas jumped back slightly. "You guys act like you want me to be your friend but then you just treat me like garbage!"

"That's not true!" He said defensively.

She scoffed and nodded.

"Actually, you're right," she smiled, and Lucas briefly relaxed.

Her face quickly hardened once more.

"Y/n hasn't. She's the only one of you jerks that have actually been nice to me. The only one who's making an effort to get me in the party. But, ya know what? Tell her I said thanks but she doesn't have to try anymore. I don't want to be in your stupid party anyway."

Lucas tried to find words but Max stopped him before he cod say anything.

"All you guys do is lock yourselves in the AV room keeping secrets like we're in second grade or something. You know, I thought you actually wanted me in your party."

"I do. But it's..."

"But what?"

He sighed, at a loss for words.

"There... there are just things. Things we can't tell you, all right? For your own safety."

"My own safety?" She repeated, fuming.

"Yes!"

"Because I'm a girl?"

"What? No! Why would you think that? Y/n's in the party."

"Yeah, do you keep secrets from her too? Or El?" She asked, her voice lowered but was still hostile.

Lucas stiffened.

"How do you know about El?"

"Did you?" She pressed.

"That was different. Trust me. Okay? That was just... different."

"Okay. You know what? Forget it. Have a nice life."

Max spun around and stomped away, ignoring his cries if protest.

"You still stink by the way!"

Lucas's heart sank as he watched Max walk away. He frowned and hesitantly brought his sleeve to his nose.

He recoiled at the stench.

"Oh, shit!"

Max set down her skateboard and stepped on. Besides one little push, she let gravity do its work and she steadily rolled down across the parking lot towards her stepbrothers car.

Unbeknownst to her, he had watched the whole exchange.

When she approached the car she hopped off her skateboard and tucked it back under her arm. Billy pushed off from where he was leaning against the hood and he stormed around to the driver's side door.

"That kid you were talking to, who is he?"

"He's no one."

"No one?"

"This kid from class." She replied impatiently.

She got in the passenger side but Billy lingered, glaring at Lucas as he looked in their direction in curiosity.

Billy narrowed his eyes and got in the front seat, slamming the door behind him.

He placed a cigarette between his lips and he lit it. Staring ahead, he took a puff and held it out the window as he rested his arm.

"Why was he talking to you?" He asked lowly.

"It was just about a stupid class assignment." She muttered.

His jaw clenched and he fidgeted with the cigarette at the end of his fingertips.

"Then why are you so upset?"

"I'm not!"

"He causing you trouble?"

"Why do you care?" She snapped, looking at him.

"Because, Max, you're a piece of shit, but we're family now whether we like it or not meaning I'm stuck looking after you."

She rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in a shrug.

"What would I ever do without- Hey!"

Billy grabbed her wrist tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. She froze in fear and he leaned in, teeth gritted.

"This is serious shit, okay? I'm older than you. And something you learn, is that there are a certain type of people in this world that you stay away from, and that kid, Max..." he tightened his grip on her wrist and tugged on it. "That kid is one of them."

Max tried to pull her arm back but he gave it a shake, his eyes burning holes in hers.

"You stay away from him, you hear me?" He growled. "Stay. Away."

He roughly shoved her arm away and returned to his cigarette, and started the engine.

Max turned to the window in an attempt to hide her tears and quivering lip.

×××

The tires of the chief's car blew sent dirt and dust flying in his tracks. The car bounced as he crossed the end of the dirt road and onto the bumpy field on the pumpkin patch.

He drove to the center of the pumpkin patch wasteland and the car swerved to an urgent stop. Hopper got out of the car and grabbed the shovel he kept in the truck bed and closed the trunk.

He walked through the fields, shovel over his shoulder to the very center of the field. He stopped when he reached the strongest patch of rot and decay, the patch where the most flies occupied.

Where everything had been killed.

Shovel in hand, he threw it into the ground and began his excavation.

×××

El started at the files before her. Familiarity tugged at the back of her mind at the words 'missing experiment'

Curious she opened it.

El frowned as she read, understanding only bits and pieces.

Before her was a collection of papers stapled together that were typed, like it belonged in the folder. On top of that were scraps of paper, one of them was a photocopy of an old news article, a small section of it highlighted, and then several handwritten notes in red ink. It looked like Hopper's handwriting, El thought. There were scribbles of red ink on several pieces of paper, off to the side with several footnotes in different articles

The first thing she examined was a piece of paper from Hopper's notepad, the one, she recognized from the Don't Be Stupid Rules. It was a messy jumble of words like he was trying to get them down on paper before he forgot. They were scribbled quickly and were barely legible.

"Another volunteer pregnant. Either escaped with kid, or escaped and gave birth?? Woman killed, daughter lived (presumably) Somewhere in Hawkins???"

El frowned, reading further, intrigued.

"Hiding?" The word was scratched out with a single line, next to the words, "she wouldn't remember."

Below that was a small bullet point list of the kid's possible traits.

"13/14 y/o female

Orphan?

Adopted?

Living on the streets?"

El's mind snagged on the familiar word, 'adopted'. She remembered when she first heard it, Mike's voice echoed in her mind.

《●●●》

"...It's funny actually, [Y/N] is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they found her."

"...Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found her, I think?"

《●●●》

El's' first initial reaction was to dismiss the thought, it couldn't be Y/n. But the doubt vanished almost as soon as it came. Memories of her week with Y/n came flooding back to her mind. Granted, she often dwelled on this week, but this time was different. She looked at moments in a whole new light, and it only made sense that it could be Y/n.

《●●●》

"Oh, he was such a great student. Oh, he's going to leave a hole in the community." A boy farther down the bleachers mocked, beginning to fake sob.

Y/n began shaking, El noticed, facing the boy who spoke, visibly furious. El's eyes fell to Y/n's hands. They were gripping the bench she sat on and El noticed the hot shade of pink her friend's hands were turning.

"[Y/N]!" She heard Lucas whisper, making Y/n look at him.

"What?!" She asked.

El watched curiously as Y/n's eyes fell to her own hands and seemed shocked at their hue. Y/n's mood seemed to change drastically El noted, and then she realized Y/n was looking back at her, slightly panicked and confused. El's eyes fell to Y/n's hands one last time, knowing something peculiar happened that couldn't be easily explained.

It almost reminded her of when she used her powers for the first time...

No. It couldn't be.

She shook her head ever so slightly and remembered the word Y/n had taught her. Looking at the boy that upset Y/n, she repeated it back to her.

"Mouth breather."

Much to El's excitement, Y/n chuckled slightly and smiled at El, seeming to feel slightly better.

"Yeah." Y/n nodded. "Yeah, mouth breather."

《●●●》

El thought about that moment a lot. Y/n had always shown that she cared about her, and was truly the first real friend she ever had, besides Mike of course. But she always felt close to Y/n in a different way. A way she couldn't really explain. And she felt truly happy and proud to be the one to make her friend feel better in that moment.

It was no big feat, but to El, it meant a lot.

The only thing that came to mind to explain how she saw Y/n, was another word she had learned from Mike.

Sister.

But she supposed that's why she often overlooked the odd moment with the bench and her red hands.

Then, of course, there was that moment at the school, minutes before she said her goodbye.

It was very hazy though, and she could only remember bits and pieces. After all, she was fighting consciousness when it happened.

El never really understood how she was rescued from Papa that night.

But she did remember being knocked back slightly. And how all the bad men had been standing around her, holding her friends hostage, and then the next thing she knew everyone was on the ground. And a sense of warmth in between. She had still been awfully cold from the bath, her clothes were still slightly damp, but in between consciousness she felt a small and brief burst of warmth. She remembered thinking it felt nice on the still damp and cold dress she wore.

El realized she never really stopped to think about how they escaped. Especially when she hadn't done anything, that she could recall of course, besides getting rid of the woman that killed the nice man who fed her. And the guards with her.

Then Papa showed up. And she called out to Mike. And then the warmth.

As El dwelled on the memory more, she remembered something she didn't before. Something that was said after the warmth.

"'Surprise'"  El repeated her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n. It must have been. Y/n must be the missing experiment, she realized.

It only made sense.

She remembered how tired Y/n had been after they escaped Papa. She must drain easily like she does.

And she must have done something when they got briefly separated when they were all fleeing from the vans. That would explain why Y/n passed out.

But had known? She must not have, El thought, because she was almost certain that Y/n would have told her.

El realized she had been rereading the same sentence over and over again this whole time, as she considered these things.

Shaking her head slightly, she focused all her attention on the words once more, trying to make sense of what they meant.

It was a single sentence at the bottom of the same notepaper, in quotation marks. It was a quote.

"This baby was supposed to have some sorta,"

The words she read next, made her shiver. She couldn't quite say why, but she knew it was important.

Familiar.

"untapped potential for the greater good"

Maybe it had been one of the many things Papa and said to her to get her to work harder.

How she could be just what he was missing.

No, no that wasn't it. How she was what he had to work with.

'She would be enough.'

'They didn't need the other one.'

'Eleven had her potential.'

El hadn't realized her eyes were watering until she noticed she could barely make out the words anymore. Her vision was blurring.

Was Y/n the one Papa had been whispering about all this time when he thought she couldn't hear?

She sighed heavily, setting down the file folder down in her lap.

El looked around the room, steadying her breathing. Her eyes fell on a pinkish-red folder than sat in the box.

She set the missing experiment files down next to her, and picked up the new folder.

El realized her knees were aching so she rose to her feet, taking a seat on the couch.

"Ives. Terry." She read aloud.

She recognized the name from the small mention in the other folder. Curious, she opened it.

Not unlike the other folder, it was an organized mess of articles and files. The first one she read was in big letters and it caught her eye first.

"INDIANA WOMAN  SUES D.O.A. CLAIMS CHILD WAS STOLEN"

She looked to the picture below it, and her heart ached thumped. She had no memory of ever seeing this woman but for some reason she felt like she knew her.

She turned the pages over, and found another article.

"DAUGHTER JANE TAKEN WHEN SHE WAS A BABY, IVES CLAIMS."

"Jane," she whispered.

El noticed a small handful of things, too short to be pinned in like the others, and was paper clipped to the side.

"CHILD ABDUCTIONS AGAINST HAWKINS LAB THROWN OUT."

and

"TERRY IVES SUING - 'They Took My Daughter' By Benjamin Buck"

A specific passage from this article had been highlighted and underlined more than once, like Hopper had looked over it several times.

"Ms. Ives suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and multiple allegations of kidnapping both attempted and successful..."

Next to it was another note from Hopper.

A question of his had been crossed out, and statement was written beside it, as if he answered it.

"Attempted and successful? 'Attempted' must be missing experiment."

El was about to flip the page when she noticed a small corner peeking out from under those two articles. Placing one hand on the files, she grabbed the corner with the other to find a photo.

It was a photo outside Hawkins Lab, of Terry and next to her was,

"Papa," she whispered in slight fear.

Eli suspected who the woman was, but something in her needed to know for sure.

She could contact her.

No, the TV was still broken. But the radio wasn't, El realized.

With picture still firmly in her hand, El grabbed the radio from the bookshelf  and her blindfold before returning to her spot near the files.

She knelt down on the floor where she left the missing experiment folder and turned on the radio, switching through all the channels until she finally heard the static she was hoping to find. El placed the radio on the floor next to her and secured the blindfold over her eyes. Holding the photo tight in her hands and bringing it up to her heart she searched.

She was back in the familiar void. She saw a woman in a rocking chair, facing away from her. El couldn't see her face but it looked like the woman from the photo.

She was muttering something El couldn't quite decipher until she walked closer.

"Three to the right. Four to the left."

El had reached the woman she believed to be her mother, her heart pounding. She walked around the chair to see the same woman, but older, aged by time and trauma.

Her eyes were closed, but she was still mumbling passionately as she rocked slightly back and forth in the chair.

"Rainbow. Three to the right. Four to the left."

El was standing in front of her now, watching her with worry and confusion.

"Rainbow. Three to the right. Four to the left. Four-fifty..."

Her eyes ripped open and she looked at El lovingly.

"Jane,"

It was her. All the doubts she bad washed away and she looked at her mother.

"Mama?"

She stepped forward, leaning down ever so slightly. She extended her hand out to her mother, her mother's finger twitching slightly as if she were trying to reach out to her daughter.

El placed her palm on her mother's hand, having given her nothing more than a loving squeeze when suddenly her mother disappeared under her very fingertips.

El breathing picked up and she looked around frantically, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mama!"

She grasped feverishly thought the air, where her mother once was, watching the dying smoke of her image escape from her grasp.

"Mama?" She wailed.

She dropped to her knees in defeat, sobs wracking her body. Back in the living room of the cabin, El cried out still clutching the photograph.

"Mama! Mama!" El shrieked, pain enveloping her heart.

She ripped the blindfold off her eyes and she felt her upper lip grow wet from the blood mixing in with her snot, tears staining her cheeks.

"Mama..." she sobbed as if by some miracle her mother would hear her cries and come for her, comfort her.

She was told her mother was gone. Hopper had told her that. And there her mother was, alive, somewhere out there.

And just like that, she was gone again.

El collapsed in on herself, holding her own head in her hands as she wept.

||Reader's POV||

The trip to Will's felt like hours, but eventually, we rounded the corner and found ourselves on Will's lawn. Mike and I ditched out bikes and ran up the porch steps. Both of us were still panting from our ride over here, we went as fast as we could.

I knocked on the door quietly but urgently, and waited. That was until, Mike sighed growing impatient and pounded on the door a little harder.

"Hello?" He called.

"Will? Mrs. Byers?" I added.

I heard muffled footsteps and then the deadbolt unlocking.

Mrs. Byers peeked her head out, reluctant to show any more than her own frame.

"Hey,"

"Hey, Y/n, hi Mike" She eased.

"Mrs. Byers, we don't mean to intrude but is Will here? We were hoping to ask to him, see if he's okay."

She looked over her shoulder, growing antsy.

"You know what? Now is not really a good time,"

Mike beat me to it.

"Is he okay?"

She sighed, looking over her shoulder briefly once more, and stepped out onto the porch with us. She closed the door behind her.

"Yeah. You know, he's... he's just not feeling real well."

She kept walking, putting a gentle hand on either one of us, politely ushering us away.

"He's lying down, so I'll tell him you two stopped by, okay?"

She gave us a polite smile and retreated to the door.

I didn't bother to stop myself from what I said next.

"We know about the shadow monster."

She turned to look at me, worry and recognition flashed across her face.

"Will saw him, didn't he?"

||3rd Person POV||

"Mew-Mew! Where are you? Mew-Mew!"

Mrs. Henderson poured out her cat's dinner in the usual bowl, just as her son walked in the front door.

"Hey, Dusty!

"Hi, hey. Hey, mom." Dustin spoke quickly, his movements just as quick.

He was anxious to get to his room and check on Dart.

Mrs. Henderson frowned and straightened up.

"Everything okay, Dusty? Where's your sister?"

"Oh, uh, yeah she's hanging out with Mike and Will. Everything's fine" He said quickly.

He slipped past his mother and into his room. He closed the door and locked it behind him, making his way to the terrarium and shedding his hat and backpack on the bed.

"Dart, I've gotta talk to you, buddy. It's about my friend, Will. I think-"

He ripped off the pink sheet and his stomach dropped.

The glass was broken and slime was everywhere. It was a pale olive green and it dripped from the remaining shards of glass and all over the sand.

And exactly where Dustin had left him, was what looked like a thick, slimy sheen of green film.

Hesitantly, Dustin picked it up to examine it, and he cringed in disgust.

"What the hell?" He whispered, horrified.

Dart had shed his skin.

Dustin jumped in fright and whipped around when he heard a deeper but familiar screech come from the opposite end of his room. Behind his chair.

"Dart?" He said.

Dustin heard a horrible squelching noise, followed by grunting.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest and slowly he crept forward slowly.

His eyes fell to his rug and he noticed a trail of shredded pieces of skin. These pieces were much darker, almost black, and they looked less smooth.

Dustin still heard grunting and growling from behind his chair and he gulped as the trail of skin turned into streaks of blood. It was stained into his carpet and up his chair.

He heard a sickening crunch as he approached the corner, what he found behind the bloodied chair made him gasp in horror.

A dark green slimy creature on four legs hungrily and viciously attacking the lifeless and bloodied body of Mews.

Dart looked up from his meal and faced a horrified Dustin, his long slimy tail flicking back and forth. He roared, causing his head to open up, hundreds of bloodied teeth showing as any other Demogorgon would.

×××

Dusk had fallen over Hawkins, and Hopper panted heavily as he dug. He had been digging all day and it was growing harder to see. The horizon was now a soft lilac bleeding into a darker shade of blue.

His limbs ached but he never yielded, striking the shovel in the dirt for the thousandth time. He had dug a miniature crater that he now stood in, the dirt and untouched ground around him reaching the top of his hat.

Dirt flew over his shoulder and landed in the many mini hills of dirt that had formed around the edge of the crater.

Panting, he threw his shovel into the first once more, and just as he was about to give in to the doubt that he dug in the wrong place, he felt the shovel slow and heard an odd squelch.

His hopes rising, he swallowed his exhaustion as best as he could and dug faster. He held the shovel in the air, before heaving it into the ground with a forceful grunt.

He felt the shovel break the oddly thick wall and pulled the shovel back up with all his strength. He heard the substance rip and tear as it broke and it was soon followed by a sharp hiss as air escaped from the opening. A hiss reminding him of a hiss of compressed air leaving a can of beer.

A small hole formed as dirt filtered through the hole he had created.

He brought the shovel up once more and slammed into the ground. He heard it bubble as he prodded the ground. He cringed at the smell that wafted into his face and chunks of the ground came up with the shovel.

Hopper paused and looked on, mystified and concerned.

He didn't know what he would find below his feet and the thought scared him now. Nevertheless, he dug a hole big enough to fit through and he lowered himself into the ground.

He planted his feet on the ground and caught his breath. Flashlight in hand he looked at his surroundings. He was in a dark tunnel and familiar flakes of dead earth floating in the air.

"Oh, Jesus,"

It was the same purple-blue tunnels from Will's drawings.

Tunnels from the Upside Down.

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared

DM me if you want to be added!

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #will the wise #will the wise pt. 4 #will the wise final part #will byers x reader #will byers #y/n henderson #el hopper #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #billy hargrove #joyce byers #jim hopper #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

[sartle-blog]

Dames Done Wrong: Maya Lin

In the predominantly European dudeified world of architecture, Maya Lin always knew that she would stand out. "Technically, legally, I'm not licensed, so I'm a designer," she says carefully, but almost all of her work relates to the earth and structural productions, especially her most famous work, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. If it walks like a duck, it might as well be a duck, and Maya Lin is architect enough for millions of people. 

  Vietnam Veterans Memorial by Maya Lin, in the National Mall, Washington, D.C. 

  For reasons that I don't need to explain, war is such a touchy subject that almost anything you do, as an artist, is "too soon," and Lin's most famous Greatest Hit is no exception whatsoever. It made former Presidential candidate Ross Perot so angry, for example, that he called her an "egg roll."

  So why the kerfluffle over this masterpiece? First of all, Lin maintains, she never would have been selected from a list of 1,421 applications for the Memorial if they had known that she is a woman of Chinese descent, because apparently racism toward Asian people, in the minds of many people, was part of honoring our fallen men and women in uniform. Lin would say that these kinds of bizarre reactions were a symptom of our inability, as a people and a country, to face the reality of the pain and tragedy that war causes.

  A real heckuva researcher, Lin was influenced by experiences in her youth and adolescence with the Hopewell and Adena burial mounds, near her hometown in the place that we now call Ohio. Archeologists tell lots of stories about the people who built these mounds, but there are so many unknowns that it kinda takes an artist to make sense of them. The Hopewell mounds date from the first century, and the Adena mounds are several hundred years older, and both seem to suggest that the practice of pyramid and earthwork building, as a ceremonial way of mourning and artistic practice, was not at all unique to the Egyptians or Mayans. 

    When she composed the Veterans Memorial, Lin says, "I basically didn't even realize I was Chinese." Growing up with academic parents and friends of European descent, Lin had no idea that anyone would ever express prejudice against her, she adds. She never expected that plain ol' green envy would take the form of bigotry. Art was art, smarts was smarts, and that was the hermetic, almost sacred mindset in which she developed as an architect and an artist. In some ways, her naïvete, as she describes it, was a sort of advantage, because it allowed her to think about things like form, transcendence, and materials without having to prepare herself for the political storm waiting like a tornado on the other side of success. Her grandfather had some enormously famous, like national hero famous, cousins, named Lin Juemin and Lin Yin Ming, who were among the seventy-two revolutionary martyrs of the Second Guangzhou Uprising, and her parents kept her in the loop, but it didn't seem connected to cushy suburban life in the U.S. 

    When critics said things like, "there's so much Zen in your work," she'd say, "you're reading into it too much," but when she got a little older and had children, she realized that it was important to "go back and understand the cultural underpinnings of what makes you." She had already been investigating the cultural underpinnings of the U.S., and the Hopewell and Adena mounds, in a brilliant way, influenced her decision to make the Veterans Memorial an earthwork, not just a proud, jutting tower showing valiant warriors and flags flapping in a David-inspired way. In this way, Lin is agreeing with Warhol's saying that land is the most beautiful thing you can own, slipping the V-shaped black granite form of 58,000 names, organized chronologically, into the earth, creating an unresolved tension between the artistic voices of the earth and the human, like the unresolved tension between indigenous peoples, many of whom give their lives in U.S. wars, and millions of immigrants. Another function of making the memorial an earthwork is, she says, to encourage people to cry, to look downwards in mourning, to find a collective catharsis to commemorate such unthinkable losses. 

Maybe the thing that makes people upset about Lin, and gives her the mantle of a Dame Done Wrong, is her incisive way of displaying her insights in both her work and her writing, which comes out in her interviews. Aware of the constant contradictions and tensions of life, Lin says, "My work is heavily researched, but then you have to kill off that side of you to find the poetry within the thought." In a similar way, we can draw a causal connection of sorts between Lin's heritage, her childhood, the indigenous mounds, and so on, but she cuts us off at the pass by naming exactly what makes art so special: "I do not think you can find a reason for everything you make." There's a certain miraculous and unknowable quality to life which Lin names and sanctifies in her work. 

  Eleven Minute Line, Wanas Castle, Knislinge, Sweden

  Lin has spent her entire career talking about the Veterans Memorial, so we owe it to her to give some love to her more recent work, such as Eleven Minute Line. Twelve feet high and 1600 feet long, this earthwork makes its home in a cow pasture in Sweden, and, once again, takes its cue from indigenous people, who we speculatively call the Fort Ancient people, almost a thousand years ago. These people made the Serpent Mound, which is such a striking, singular work, that when European settlers first saw it, they convinced themselves that somehow, other Europeans must have traveled there, certainly by jetpack or Star Trek teleportation, constructed the work, and gone back home, all without leaving any record of their Europeanness. This totally likely story forms part of the basis of Lin's discussion of Eleven Minute Line: the settlers imagined that the Serpent Mound was European, because it is sophisticated, so Lin did them a favor by putting a similar earthwork down across the pond. You're welcome, Sweden.

Ready for the waterworks? Put away your tissues—we're looking at Lin's trio of water-based earthworks, partly inspired by Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech, which features this excerpt from the Book of Amos: "We are not satisfied. We shall not be satisfied until justice—rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream." Twenty years after her first wavefield work, the emphasis on water is all the more prescient, in the wake of the hard-won legal decision in favor of the Standing Rock Sioux against the would-be builders of the Dakota Access Pipeline. The first book of Genesis talks about the Creator making the heavens and the earth, but not the waters. Why not? Apparently, it's a secret. 

  Wave Field, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, United States. 

  Like a mother bird feeding her chicks, Lin "regurgitates," in her words, science and mathematics into the earth, making an impression of our mathematical, Apollonian sensibilities on terra firma. 

She uses the word "regurgitate" to introduce us to her process of making Storm King Wavefield, the third in the wavefield cycle, which uses nonlinear dynamics, a subfield of math, or maths, if you're British, to create fifteen to eighteen-foot high waves of earth and grass over the surface of an eleven-acre space.

  Flutter, Wilkie D. Ferguson, Jr. Courthouse, Miami, United States

Lin's works tap into the sacredness of water, our best friend who we have to keep a close eye on. Water can be quite turbulent, and it took centuries for people to develop mathematical algorithms capable of simulating water. Still, even today, the most accurate fluid simulations, in Pixar movies and video games, for example, are far from convincing, most of the time, resembling the thick surfaces of jello or the skin on a cup of boiled milk.

  Storm King Wavefield, Storm King Art Center, New Windsor, United States

Lin's goal is not to simulate water, but to incorporate the Stokes wavefield equations, in which, for example, the flow velocity u can be described as the gradient of a velocity potential Φ, whatever that means. I'd love to know what that means, and that's the most basic introductory part of the Stokes theory, but it's very comforting to know that I don't need to understand it, and I can leave it to other people, geniuses like Lin. 

By: Shoshone

#maya lin #5 women artists #female artists #asian american #asian artists #art history #history of art #dames done wrong #serious art history #feminist art history

[frankkjonestx]

A #BlackBirdersWeek cofounder aims to amplify black nature enthusiasts

A black youngster grins widely while holding a falcon bigger than his head. Beside a beaver pond, a black ecologist in waders inspects a sediment core sampler. A bat wriggles in the hands of a black evolutionary biologist doing fieldwork in Belize. 

These photos and hundreds more bird facts, questions and experiences are flooding social media as part of #BlackBirdersWeek, an initiative aimed at recognizing and uplifting black birders and nature enthusiasts. The social media campaign runs May 31 through June 5 and includes Q&A sessions, a Facebook livestream discussion of Birding While Black, and prompts for sharing photos on Twitter and Instagram of birds and being out enjoying nature.

#BlackBirdersWeek comes amid nationwide protests against the deaths of George Floyd, Tony McDade, Breonna Taylor and many other black people at the hands of the police. The protests have elevated the importance and urgency of the campaign for its founders, @BlackAFinSTEM, a Twitter-based group of black individuals who work in science or related fields. They began planning #BlackBirdersWeek in the wake of an incident on May 25 — the same day George Floyd was killed — in which Christian Cooper, a black birder, asked a white woman in New York City’s Central Park to follow park rules on leashing dogs. The woman refused, eventually yelling that she was calling the police “to tell them there’s an African-American man threatening my life.”

Cooper’s experience resonated with other black birders. “What happened to him could have happened to any of us,” says Danielle Belleny, a wildlife biologist in San Antonio, Texas, and a cofounder of #BlackBirdersWeek.

She too has had the police called on her while working as a field biologist and while birding. One of her favorite birding memories — the first time she spotted a short-eared owl (Asio flammeus), “a gorgeous bird with brown streaks on its body, striking yellow eyes and these little feather tufts that look like ears on the top of their head” — while in Martha’s Vineyard, Mass., is marred by the memory of a stranger trailing her for “looking suspicious.” 

“I really hate the stereotype that black people don’t do outdoor activities,” Belleny says. “It’s just not true,” and makes it harder for black nature enthusiasts to recreate, relax and fully develop their interests.

Belleny’s love of the outdoors started early. “There’s a photo of me holding a huge rat snake as a 4-year-old,” she says. Nature shows hosted by people like wildlife conservationist Jeff Corwin further developed her love of nature, but she felt a disconnect because she didn’t see herself represented. “I didn’t know wildlife biology was a job I could have.” 

Feelings of isolation as a black woman in wildlife science continued in graduate school at Tarleton State University in Stephenville, Texas, and her later work in conservation. “It can be really lonely when you don’t see other people like you,” enjoying and working in the outdoors, she says.

Danielle Belleny holds a scaled quail (Callipepla squamata) at the Rolling Plains Quail Research Ranch in Rotan, Texas, in March of 2016.D. Belleny

The field sciences are overwhelmingly white. In 2018, individuals who identify as black or African-American received less than 1 percent of doctorates awarded in the fields of ecology, evolutionary biology and wildlife biology, according to data from the U.S. National Science Foundation. Though Belleny loved her work, “I was really upset about my position and considered changing careers to one I could see more black people in,” she says. 

Belleny’s doubts disappeared once she joined an online community of black birders and naturalists that would become @BlackAFinSTEM. “It’s just a place for us to hang out and talk to each other,” she says. Feeling part of a community made a huge difference — one they now seek to share with the greater online community.

#BlackBirdersWeek aims to amplify and expand that community by showing “that black people are outdoors, we do this, we love it, and we take up space,” Belleny says. “I hope young people interested in STEM will see it and realize that they belong here, too.”

And that community has solidified Belleny’s plan to continue working as a wildlife biologist focused on preserving biodiversity. Recently she has developed management strategies for species of conservation concern, like the eastern box turtle (Terrapene carolina carolina) or piping plover (Charadrius melodus). 

“Ecological communities are more resilient when there’s more biodiversity,” Belleny says. #BlackBirdersWeek aims to show that diversity strengthens birding and the broader field sciences community, too. “We want to advocate for diversity in birding because it will create a stronger and better community for everyone.”

The campaign has allowed black birders to use their passion and expertise to stand in solidarity as a community against racism. The response has been overwhelming, with hundreds of black birders, scientists and nature enthusiasts sharing pictures and stories of them outside doing what they love. “I’ve shed a couple really happy tears. It’s just so nice to see so many beautiful black faces,” Belleny says. “We deserve to be in this space and we deserve to be safe.”

#BlackBirdersWeek

Check out some of the tweets shared for #BlackBirdersWeek.

A day late but here we go. #PostABird #BlackBirdersWeek #BetterLivingThroughFalconry pic.twitter.com/fMQ6Y80Lo8

— The Falconer (@FalconerFilm) June 2, 2020

#BlackBirdersWeek Day 1: Flashback to me in Belize. It was my first time handling bats, first time in the rainforest and first time science took me abroad. So much joy and freedom can come from spending time in nature. We belong in nature too!#BlackInNature #bats #nature pic.twitter.com/TvWHHtPnmU

— Monique Pipkin (@MoniquePipkin) May 31, 2020

I study evolutionary biology of marine invertebrates and climate change adaptation. First generation. I get to be in the water a lot for work and I love it! On vacation I like to visit my family in French Guyana and enjoy local birds! #BlackInNature #BlackBirdersWeek #PostABird pic.twitter.com/n6wIpZ2Wn1

— Dr. Sarah Lemer (@Sarah_TheSea) June 2, 2020

It’s #BlackBirdersWeek ! While I mainly focus in cellular and molecular biology, I’ve been obsessed with birds ever since my first ecology and ornithology classes. It’s been amazing to see all of you birders that are just like me!

#BlackInNature pic.twitter.com/owxekXICzR

— Sagitterrorist (@lilamoebabe) May 31, 2020

From young, I fostered a deep and abiding love for the natural world. Exploring landscapes; appreciating the beauty of all life through my parents. Now, I research how #rewilding our land with keystone species can help wildlife to thrive#BlackInNature #BlackandSTEM #beavers pic.twitter.com/Hj4g4JEb3S

— Kye Davies (@wildearthnotes) June 1, 2020

My sweet sweet quail children from grad school. Yep I’m a quail person

I love galliforms #PostABird pic.twitter.com/L5DPag3a2u

— Richard Cissel (she/her) (@bellzisbirding) June 1, 2020

It is great to get outside & enjoy nature during #BlackBirdersWeek Whether I am hiking through islands in Sweden, chasing bellbirds in Costa Rica, or watching the birds at my feeders, I am always #BlackInNature Let's show the world that the natural world is a Black space too pic.twitter.com/LponGWxM33

— Milton Newberry, III (@MiltonicDynamo) May 31, 2020

from Tips By Frank https://www.sciencenews.org/article/blackbirdersweek-birding-while-black-nature-enthusiasts

[sofard]

"I’m not a racist, but...”

A friend of mine once used a fake name on a job application. He had the kind of pedigree that would have all but guaranteed him at least an interview were it his name was of the fairer skinned variety but as it were, he was deep in a several-months-long streak of rejected applications and the skin suit he was blessed with at birth was of the Indian persuasion.

Evidently what inspired his decision to lie about his name was a study published around that time that showed that people with traditionally “black” names were a third less likely to be called back for an interview than those with “white” names and he figured what might be true of the Daquans and Tyrones of the world might be true of the Daneshes and Tanvirs. 

In what proved to be a fortuitous state of affairs for him and a sad state of affairs for humanity, he was right. He landed the interview (and the job) and apparently explaining to your would-be boss that your name is actually Navin Modi and not Nathan Madison is indeed as awkward as one would expect. Upon receiving word of Navin's deceit, his boss was predictably upset but also afraid of the HR nightmare that might ensue should he raise an uproar, and Navin, for his part, was left with the kind of morose self righteousness one feels when our worst suspicions are vindicated. 

This story is worth sharing because it bears on the pernicious subtlety of contemporary racism. Racism with a capital R still exists, but we have mostly silenced it. The tragedy of today is that even in the upper echelons of progressive, liberal, socially-conscious society, there remains the kind of racial biases we assume we have shed. And because calling someone a racist has become more taboo than actually being racist, accusations of “race based decision making,” to put it kindly, are welcomed with a kind of awkward denial the likes of which you might expect if you publicly point out someone’s hair plugs. 

I think the shaming of racism speaks to why there is so much silent disagreement over its prevelance. Political correctness has done too great of a job of shutting out explicit bigotry in the public sphere, and so pointing out its more complicated or subdued manifestations can make you sound like a conspiracy theorist at times. 

We are wired to notice change and ignore the consistent. It is why we miss partners most when they are gone. And because lynchings and residential schools are a thing of the past, we are left bickering over things like whether or not police brutality is indeed discriminatory, each side cherrypicking favourable details from academic papers and criticizing study flaws to make their point.  

There is a scene in Django Unchained where Leonardo Dicaprio’s character, Candie Calvin, owner of Candie-land, a prosperous plantation, threatens to murder his slave (the protagonist’s love interest), Broomhilda, by bludgeoning her with a hammer, unless his unwelcome guests pay him twelve thousand dollars. Regardless of your opinion of the civil war or race politics today, I imagine any viewer, save perhaps psychopaths, was reeling in empathy watching that scene. Even the most bigoted amongst us will find it easy to condemn the racial-slurs-screaming antagonists portrayed in films; those characters who are portrayed with an ugliness on the outside to suit the ugliness inside. 

Candie Calvin threatening to murder his property, Broomhilda.

These kind of extremes, in film or history books, serve as a sort of healing stone, placating our conscience and forgiving us of the kind of daily prejudices that go unnoticed. This is why it is possible for some to simultaneously hate german nazis from World War II and sympathize with modern white nationals who extol similar rhetoric under the guise of preserving history or cultural identity. 

In this way, art and media pacify our conscience. I am not yelling chink at every Chinese person I see crossing the street and so I am better than the worst portrayed in film, I am conditioned to believe. This is what our understanding of racism today looks like, if you can call it that. The very word evokes such a garish or violent extreme of bigotry that we become blinded to its more detrimental and subtle varieties the way staring into headlights blinds you to the muted glow of the stars. 

People like resolutions. The tearing down of the Berlin wall was a great symbolic end to the cold war. The images of young men and women, sledge hammers in hand, swinging at the graffitied wall bear some kind of cathartic victory over a darker past. There is no physical wall separating races, no monument celebrating racism (though if there were I would be the first person to volunteer its design) we can tear down and so instead we erect one-dimensional symbols of intolerance and make peace with our history by defeating them. 

I once had a conversation about race with a white friend of mine who said sincerely “I wish I took advantage of white privilege” as though it is government-issued token you can cash in opportunistically. “Sorry, I am seeing someone” — “Wait, I have 3 white privilege vouchers” — “Why didn’t you say so? Where should we fuck?" 

There are endless statistics to measure at least the empirical manifestations of racism. White people are less likely to be arrested for the same crime as minorities, more favoured romantically than any other race on dating sites, more likely to be hired with the same resume, more likely to be cast in film roles, more likely to be acquitted for a crime, more likely to be given a loan — the list goes on and on. 

We call this kind of stuff systemic racism. I believe we do so in part because it helps absolve any particular individual from prejudice. It’s more comforting to know that institutions and socioeconomic classes are responsible for prejudice than we are as complicit, voting, individuals. Racism, and other isms, in this way, have evolved from a choice of an individual to a phenomenon as natural as hurricane winds; something to be studied and measured and explained through psychological and socioeconomic theory. 

How privileged a race is on the spectrum of societal tolerance can be measured by the extent to which their improprieties are afforded context. A white woman who murders her cheating husband is understood to be blinded by temporary insanity or moment of passion. We might punish her out of civil duty, but deep down we extend some empathy to the heart stricken widow. Films will be made and books written attempting to explain what compelled an otherwise lovely woman to commit a crime of passion. Psychologists will be interviewed to assess how, perhaps, her father’s frequent trips overseas and the condom she once found in his travel bag plagued her with a mistrust of men throughout adulthood and how that combined with an abusive boyfriend in her past all but guaranteed destiny would bring her to this horrible act. 

Stereotypes are a burden carried by minorities and individuality a luxury afforded to the light skinned. When I go to a restaurant, I make sure to give a nice tip even if the service is terrible. I feel that in social settings I am an ambassador for Middle Eastern people the world over, like I am carrying a lanyard with the words “Iranian Male Corp. Name: Saeid Fard. Ask me about how non threatening I am.” One act of rudeness or impropriety might be generalized to my entire community, I fear, and conversely all the stereotypes of middle eastern men, the chauvinism, homophobia, or proclivity to douse ourselves in a shroud of cologne, are assumptions I have to actively invalidate. 

I recall one corporate training session years ago when conversation of diversity in the workplace came up and the lead administrator, the kind of person who gets off on being offended, asked the group to raise their hands if they have a gay friend. One of my closest friends at the time was gay (which I hate to bring up because invoking friendship with a minority is the go to defence of any bigot), but I declined to raise my hand on grounds of how ugly I found the question to be. I wondered if he would feel as comfortable asking the group if they have a black friend. Did not raising one’s hand imply that one is necessarily homophobic? Needless to say, I was the only one with my hand down. I was hoping this would spark some kind of dialog where I could make the point of how I found his very question insulting and unproductive. Instead he made eye contact with me, lectured us briefly with platitudes about the importance of diverse perspectives, and moved on. That was it. It was a homophobes-anonymous roll call and apparently I was the only member. Perhaps it was my own insecurity, but I imagined him looking up my name on a clipboard later with the words “hates gay people” next to it and a box labeled “verified” which he gleefully checked.

I have spoken to many members of visible minority groups who feel the same way — feel that they must proactively fight against the assumptions made of them. Even “positive” stereotypes are destructive in that they strip us of complexity. Blacks as athletic or asians good at math, are the kinds of expectations that strip  people of the freedom to self actualize. Slavoj Zizek touches on this point in his talk of political correctness and racial cliches. In one binary cultural narrative of the west, natives are cast as stewards of nature living in harmony with the environment, while the white colonialists on the other hand conquered their environment and are now dealing with a rapprochement of sorts. The truth is, of course, more complex. Natives, for instance, employed what would be considered today barbaric hunting practices that brought the buffalo population of North America to near extinction. Giving people the benefit of being fully human requires giving them the dignity to be horrible. 

Modern day racism is the stripping of individuality and complexity. We spend more effort trying to understand why people of European descent do things and yet generalize the behaviours of coloured people to inherent flaws (or virtues) of their race. A white serial killer is a case study in human psychopathy. A brown one is a terrorist. A white drug user is self medicating, or exploring their identity or navigating societal norms. A black drug user is a thug. It’s worth noting now that there is also an undeniable element of social and economic class at play but describing our penchant to strip minorities of individuality cannot only be deconstructed by race. 

When I was in seventh grade I had the misfortune of being granted the nickname Saudi Arabia from my class of mostly east Asian and White children. Kids will be kids and most of them will tease and be teased, but it’s not if but how you are teased during your formative years that defines what talismanic insecurities you will exercise into adulthood. Already different from every student, I became acutely aware of how physically different I was from my peers at the time. Darker, hairier, wide-nosed, the list goes on. Insults and defamations aside, words have a way of mirroring your identity, a literary conduit into the perceptions of others. I was brown (or olive or whatever) and that brownness or oliveness or whatever really seemed to mean something to people. 

Two paths emerge when people are persistently reminded of their differentness from such a young age, they either let that differentness empower them or swallow them whole. We carry our adolescent identities and insecurities to our grave. And it is through those formative experiences and labels that we develop the racial pride and resentments that bias the decision making of even the best of us. 

Our present inability to rid ourselves of this whole messy racism thing is in part due to the fact that we have been trained to care about race in the first place. The moment you devise an arbitrary way to separate people, whether it be race, national boundaries, or gender, the pernicious “ism” won’t be too far behind. Make too much of a fuss about the sexes (as we have for centuries) and sexism will brew and, like a parasite, snake its way into the most fundamental assumptions we make about each other. We have collectively decided that talking of the “positive” elements of our race is permissable but talking of the “negative” is not. The problem is they are two sides of the same coin. The instant you allow a place for value judgments, there will be both good and bad judgments. 

I don’t believe we can ever truly rid the world of racism, but we can make progress to reduce it. And that starts with the inconvenient step of thinking twice when we celebrate our particular race or culture. That is hard, and perhaps controversial, because many would argue that celebrating our race, particularly as minorities, is a step towards empowerment. And that’s true, but empowerment perpetuates the very acknowledgement of race that can stifle progress. 

Our tendency is to cling to identity myths to help give our lives meaning. Race serves as a kind of semi-exclusive club we are born into. Some clubs have better member benefits than others, but better to be a part of a club than a pariah. 

We are tribal, after all. Study after study has shown that when you give groups of children or adults an arbitrary identity, like making some of them team blue and others team red, they will eventually begin to drape themselves in that identity and build real favouritism for their own and resentment for others. We are literally hard wired for it. 

I dream of a day where we have successfully interbred to the point where the human genetic soup becomes some kind of mono race. Then, we can hate each other for entirely novel reasons.

#culture #racism #race

[pretendpapi]

No Apologies for Queer White Tears

By Faith Cheltenham

Delivered as a keynote address to the 2016 BlaQOUT Conference at UC Riverside on April 9th, 2016.

White tears is a term that has a startling effect on white folks. Developed over time to describe the phenomenon of white people being upset at the very act of discussing race, it’s evolved into a funny yet, extremely effective way to describe white people’s discomfort in discussing the very racism they perpetuate. One of the earliest articles available online about white tears written by a person of color is the 2007 College Student Affairs Journal article “When White Women Cry: How White Women’s Tears Oppress Women of Color” by Mamta Motwani Accapadi. In the article, Accapadi describes a case study of a white woman bursting into tears when being pressed by a woman of color about diversity resources at the college that employs them both. Instead of working on the issues affecting students, the case study states that the rest of the meeting was spent consoling the white woman about her white tears. So it’s white tears I immediately thought of last July, as I sat talking to Kathryn Snyder about white folks interrupting Black people to tell us about their own racism, when what do you know? A young Tearful White Woman (let’s call her TWW for short) interrupts us to ask, “Can we talk? Just talk as people? About race?” Her friends tried to pull her back and whisper in her ear but TWW was inebriated and loudly whispered back “No! I get to ask! I get to ask!” I told her, “You can ask, but I am not required to answer you.”See, I’d never met this particular TWW before, and neither had Kathryn Snyder, an amazing Black bi+ queer organizer everyone should know (that’s her on the right with the triangle earrings). We were all of us, tearful white people included, at the 2015 Netroots Nation convention in Phoenix, back in July where a whole bunch of Black folks experienced a whole bunch of racism. You know, like they do most months.The kind of racism where white liberals you’ve never met before are suddenly touching your face without asking in their best petting paternalism, or the kind where you repeatedly turn a corner to find a Black girl sobbing but surrounded in love by other Black people. #YouOKSis? It was the kind of space where Black people were openly targeted, in this case mostly by Bernie Sanders supporters who were reeling from recent reports that Sanders wasn’t scoring well with Black voters. Shit was going down, so it made sense that many white people would immediately turn to any Black person they could find to assuage their white guilt, express their privilege and stump for their candidate too. Like “Black voters” were a product to obtain, instead of listen to, and to harp on, instead of hear from.An older, respected white LGBT advocate invited a number of LGBT people of color to his suite party and made it clear that people of color were welcome. So me and Kathryn showed up, and with a bunch of other people proceeded to have a great time. At one point we went on an excursion looking for supplies, and the elevator was really slow. As we waited, the full elevators would open and we would pose in different forms, much like we used to do when I was a young’un at UCLA. Once when the door opened, I saw a few Black women I had seen before but not yet talked to. I called out, “Hey now, we’re up in Rm 512 if you want to hang with some queer people of color and some Black folks!” The women locked eyes on me, and that moment happened, the one where they were no longer surrounded by oppressive whiteness, discomfort, tone policing, and silencing. The moment when you’re not thinking at all about white tears?  You know, the moment when you’re free?#BlackLivesMatter co-founder Patrisse Cullors, Ferguson BLM activist Ashley Yates, and #NN15 QPOC Caucus co-organizers Faith Cheltenham, Eyad Alkurabi, Sommer Foster and Daniel Villarreal at Netroots Nation 2015. Photo Credit: Faith CheltenhamThe Black women in the elevator called back to us, “We’ll come back up” and we decided to skip going back downstairs.  We went back to the suite and chilled, and Kathryn and I started talking about our Netroots Nation experience so far, in particular the ability of white folks to interrupt her at every moment to “talk about race” or tell her what Bernie Sanders had done for Black folks (#BernieSoBlack has more details). I was just telling her some of the things that had unfolded for me when I got a tap on the shoulder from the aforementioned Tearful White Woman. Even after I expressed that it wasn’t my responsibility to educate this tearful white woman, she persisted. Kathryn raised an eyebrow at me and I decided that TWW did need to know something from me after all. As I finished a custom hand roll, I looked up from licking the paper and said, “Listen to me OK? This is really important.” TWW nodded bravely, visibly squaring herself for a barrage of statements she really needed to hear, but I only had one. “I want you to imagine that every time you walk up to Black folks and interrupt their conversation, you are interrupting a conversation about Black folks being interrupted by white people.” As she opened her mouth to reply, I held up my hand and went all “you shall not pass”. Stoic, I handed her my most recent hand roll. “Listen”, I said gently, “that’s all I got for right now, but you take this with my best wishes. Goodbye.” Her friends dragged her out my space and one stayed behind. Kathryn raised another eyebrow, and I sighed. TWW’s friend quickly said, “Listen, I am SO SORRY her white privilege got all over you when you were just hanging out. We were on the elevator just now and she became convinced you were talking to her and telling her to come to room 512. We told her you were talking to the other women of color and told her about the need for safe space in oppressive white spaces, but she’s really new to social justice.”I had tears of laughter in my eyes, at the ridiculousness of those white folks who ALWAYS insist that EVERYTHING in Black lives is REALLY all about them. And I had hope, simply because of the friend who had stuck behind to quickly explain, apologize, and make right. So I thanked TWW’s friend and wished them all a good night. As they walked away, Kathryn and I burst out into big ass belly laughs because sometimes racism IS good for a laugh. Faith Cheltenham in the San Luis Obispo Telegram-Tribune, age 9. Photo Credit: Faith CheltenhamWhite tears wasn’t a term I knew when I was in middle school and organized my first protest against my school’s “Jungle Fever” ball. See, I grew up in white town, white county, very white USA. My hometown of San Luis Obispo, California prided itself on its “slo-ness” in all things, from the ban on drive thru’s to its slow to evolve racial sensibilities. From a very early age, I withstood taunts of “Aunt Jemima”, pulls on my braids intended to show my “real hair”, and insults from students and teachers alike, with the favorite being “Buckwheat” due to my hair’s tendency to stand up so straight you’d think my follicles themselves were stressed. My daily school experience was of avoiding the kids who threw rocks at me only to come back from recess to fight with my teachers about their racist views. By the time I was in high school I was writing about my experiences of race, inspired by Nikki Giovanni, Richard Wright, James Baldwin, Maya Angelou and Toni Morrison. I won an honorable mention from a USA Today writing racial justice content as a high school freshman and kept writing, hoping to create an invisible ring of protection that would keep my hope (and self) alive. I battled race at school, but when I went home, I didn’t go home to a Black home that welcomed me, but to a biracial one ruled by a mentally unstable, racist, biphobic and homophobic white Pentecostal pastor. At home I faced abuse of a different kind, most of which I kept secret for many years until taking a hammer to my own wall of silence. And at home too, I protested. I protested and called the police. I protested and called CPS. I protested and called for help, and when I couldn’t get it, I called RAINN, a hotline that helped me find a teen homeless shelter to stay in until I could feel safe at home again. These are the experiences of so many Black people: the loss of safety at home and abroad in their everyday lives, all-the-while experiencing the colonization of our bodies, appropriations of our culture, and the fragility of white people who refuse to dismantle their own supremacy in a world where it’s far too difficult to tell the difference between the GOP and the KKK. My background led me to raise my voice consistently for those unheard, and those kept at the margins. I’ve done that with blogging, writing, slam poetry, reality show appearances, stand-up comedy, and Black and bisexual community organizing. Everywhere I go I’ve been standing up for oppressed people, because before I knew the words and the mechanism for my own oppression, I knew the feeling. I knew the feeling of crying alone, desperate to end my own life because I couldn’t take another adult yelling the N word at me at 9 years old. I knew the feeling of being patted down and frequently profiled by police because that’s what walking down the street in San Luis Obispo, CA any damn day entailed. I knew what it was like to be raped because a boy thought he knew what a big breasted Black ten year old girl like me wanted. I have always known what it is like to be treated as a second class citizen in comparison to my peers. Still, racism can always find new ways to surprise you.Photo of #TheBlackPanel at #LGBTMEDIA16 handouts with a love note from ForHarriet.com’s Ashleigh Shackelford. Photo Credit: Faith CheltenhamRecently, I re-experienced the phenomenon of gaslighting racism which Black LGBT YA author Craig Gidney defines as a situation "where (mostly) (some) white people will twist themselves into logic pretzels to deny racism, even when it is obvious."We were about to begin #TheBlackPanel at #LGBTMedia16, an annual gathering of LGBTQ journalists, bloggers and media professionals. Our panel featured a rising star in discussions of race, New York Times columnist Charles Blow, alongside NBCNews.com contributor Danielle Moodie-Mills, and Vox.com’s Race and Identities editor Michelle Garcia. The panel was developed by myself, Sharif Durhams of the WashingtonPost.com and Matt Foreman of the Haas Foundation with the support of Bil Browning, founder of bilerico.com. We were the 2nd panel to go and as we gathered to get everyone settled, I turned around to find a wonderfully styled white woman invading my personal space to whisper to me how beautiful Charles Blow was and how much she loved him and could she have her picture right now, before everyone else because she was such a fan. Since we literally were about to start the panel, I asked her to wait and sit down so we could get started, which she did. As we began the panel and started having a really good and profound conversation, from the podium I noticed a rise in concerning behavior from the wonderfully styled white woman (we can call her WSWW for short). After the panel had begun, she got up and walked over to the panel table and put her phone down to tape. After a few minutes, she began to look concerned for her phone and she began to quietly crawl forward. The whole time I’m watching her, like WTF, are you literally crawling slowly forward towards our panel? And she kept crawling closer and closer. I admit it, at that point all I saw was WHITE PEOPLE. I was furious with the general lack of respect and disregard for the panelists and for myself as a moderator. When, from the moderator’s podium, I asked her to take her seat because I found it distracting, instead of nodding and moving back to her seat she began to argue with me about why it wasn’t a big deal for her to be there, and why I should just let it go and why it’s OK to tape things because “look, we have a celebrity”. In those statements, I felt a disregard for my own work and a general slight to my own experience as a journalist and a person who’s worked with high profile institutions like the White House or Sarah Ferguson, The Duchess of York, a woman I’m proud to call a mentor. While it seemed like such a small thing, coupled with her previous invasion of personal space and her comments on her love for beautiful Black men, it just read racist and real racist at that. However, it won’t surprise you that the only support I felt in that room for my desire to stay on topic was from my fellow Black girl queers. As I struggled to “keep my eyebrows on”, I thought about  Black writer and The Nightly Show contributor’s Franchesca Ramsey’s run in with white queer women at The Sundance Film Festival and I took strength from looking Ashleigh Shackelford right in the face as she raised her eyebrows at Charles Blow for his apologies to the white woman of behalf of me, the Black woman who invited him to speak on the panel. In those moments of racial microaggressions, and in the moment when white tears threaten the ability for Black people to even discuss race, we all lose. All the LGBT people of color in attendance at #LGBTMedia16. Photo Credit: Cathy Renna/TargetCueI believe I pulled it together, and we were able to continue a meaningful conversation that multiple people later remarked being deeply impressed by during the public feedback session. As we ended the convening, I tapped WSWW on the shoulder and asked if we could speak. We went off to the side and had a difficult conversation, certainly for both of us. She, like myself, is bisexual and had been deeply influenced by Charles Blow’s discussions of sexual fluidity. She told me others had apologized to her for my “crazy” response to her being a fan girl, and she said she was worried for me since I had humiliated myself by bullying her.  Image of crying Peter Parker with caption, “White Boy Tears / I’m Offended Your Offended At that, a smile broke across my face, and I will never forget telling her “That’s OK, because you’re going to your grave having told a Black woman that she humiliated herself when she responded to your racism.” WSWW blanched at that, and swallowed hard when I followed up with a tearfully stated, “I call you racist to your face, and name your actions as racist”. As she teared up, she asked me how it could be racist just to bring her phone up to the panel. And I took her through the sequence of events from my perspective, and I asked her if she realized she had touched me, or if she realized she was in my space, attempting to lean across my body to reach Charles Blow, when we’d never even met before. Her eyes went WIDE, and she said, “Oh, my gosh. I totally invaded your space and I didn’t even think about it.” We talked about her “Black friends” in Oklahoma, and I told her that having Black friends doesn’t mean you’re actually invested in the movement for Black lives. We talked about her “love of Black people” and how that can be misconstrued into fetishization if one isn’t careful, especially when you begin crawling towards them with puppy dog eyes during a panel about race in America. We began to laugh with each other and I realized I really liked her even though I didn’t think she’d ever had the opportunity to learn how to respect a Black person like me, and culturally exchange with them instead of culturally appropriate from them. Image from Paying an Unfair Price: The Financial Penalty for LGBT People of Color report by the Movement Advancement Project.That’s a responsibility, I feel should be left squarely at the feet of a lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer community that’s doggedly refused to dialogue about race in favor of reinventing racism in new flavors. I had to wonder if WSWW had been influenced at all by the #LGBTMEDIA16 keynote address the night before that found gay legend and filmmaker John Waters telling jokes about Freddie Gray’s broken back alongside Bill Cosby rape stories. In a rare move, the convening had asked the attendees to refrain from taking photos or video of John Water’s “address”, which was probably for the best, as I feel like someone could have lost their job just for listening to the atrocities that dropped from Waters’ mouth like little white nuggets of gay racism. Experiencing that, even briefly since I walked out early, was a form of racial trauma visited upon the people of color in the space, and for what? Since you’re gay and white, you’ve been hurt and can hurt people too? Since you’re a white gay man, you know what it’s like to fear police so Freddie Gray’s broken vertebrae is a good punchline when you’re feeling salty? Since you’re a white LGBTQ person, you have no problem stepping into photos where people of color are already posed together, with nary a thought as to whether they want you in the photo too? Since you’re a white lesbian, you’re a “sister” to Black women? Since you’re queer, you can culturally appropriate Black culture with a “SLAY!” or “YASSSSS QUEEN!” or “GIRL, GET IT!”? The six openly LGBT U.S. ambassadors, all white, all gay and all cis. Photo Credit: WashingtonPost.com/ (Blake Bergen/GLIFAA) Oh no, I think not!!! I call that racist too, and long past time for an end. It’s time for all people of color to see some basic levels of respect in the LGBTQIA community for who they are. So that means no more “Namaste!”, and it means dropping the “No Blacks, No Asians” from your dating profile. It means fighting just as hard for clean water for Native people as it does for the residents of Flint, MI, and shouting #Not1More to amplify the fight of Latinx immigrants. It means fighting #pinkwashing in all it's forms and it ABSOLUTELY means acknowledging the existence of dozens of cultural experiences and peoples still fighting to be heard. It also means that LGBT orgs should quit touting the numbers of people of color on staff, until the management reflects those colors too. When all the coordinators, service providers, and facility people are of color and all the management is white, it still looks like a plantation in my book! #GayMediaSoWhite that LGBT publishers shouldn't bother counting the magazine covers with people of color on them, if they aren't also counting the number of people of color on staff writing and editing in them. Until the day comes that the rainbow really reflects all of us, I will stand up against racism in LGBTQIA communities with whatever tools I have at my disposal. I will keep telling myself, and telling you too, that it is OK to cry, and BE MAD. We should be mad that our community does not support us! It is OK to protest white LGBT people, in fact one might argue it is our duty as their fellow queer, bi+ and trans* community members. We must do what needs to be done to find some respect for our voices and our bodies, and make clear that the LGBTQIA community is one that supports freedom for everyone, and not just for some.

[free-rolling-burrito]

Story Time: Racist Client

Okay I know that if this gets ANY attention it’ll probably be negative because Racism is taboo but HEAR ME OUT,OKAY?

So my family,by heritage- is Hebrew/Jewish. Which means for me and my family history; that when my family came to America,it was to flee the holocaust. My mom is American born,and so am I. But we also look pretty white. So unless I tell people “hello my family fled the holocaust for being Jewish” or “my family is jewish” most people assume I’m English or something. (Don’t get me wrong,complaining about being white isn’t the point of this story,but this info is important to my story)

So one day,a few years ago now, I was working a quick Thanksgiving shift(I work as a caregiver). So my work had called me on the day I requested off and asked me to pull a quick two hours to help this lady (who we will refer to as Miss T from now on) get ready for thanksgiving with her family.

So I get there and clock in. I had been there before and she was known for being mean. Like,really mean. Making her caregivers stand there with their hands behind their back waiting on her in one spot during the whole 6 hour shift kinda mean.

Ms.T: I hope you can work quickly. I need my hair and makeup done in the next six hours you’re here. And a bed bath. Don’t forget to transfer me either,girl.

Me: Actually my name is *name* and the office sent me out here for 2 hours to help you get changed and transfer you.

Ms.T: I don’t understand why you can’t just stay over to help me.

Me: Because not only is it against company policy,but I have plans with my own family today.

Ms.T: Who cares about you? Ugh you millennials are all so selfish and lazy. Just hurry up and give me a bed bath.

Me: yes ma’am. *Gets supplies and starts giving her the bed bath she requested*

Me.T: NO NO NO YOURE DOING IT WRONG! You have to start with the left arm first then the right arm,then do the legs. I don’t want my legs washed first! Also you grabbed two wash cloths and I specifically always ask for 4 green ones. Those aren’t even green. And where are my wipes at? You need to wipe me down with exactly 8 wipes-

Me: *exasperated and not being paid enough to be yelled at for not caring about wash cloth colors* Look,Ms.T. I’m here for two hours- *looks at clock* now an hour and 20 minutes. If you want to be bathed,clothed,and transferred by then,I won’t have time to do this your way. Either let me do my job,or you can find someone else,with all due respect.

Ms.T: HOW DARE YOU. You know what? I don’t care. I’m calling your manager! And you’re staying those extra hours,whether you like it or not!

Me: like I told you,it’s against company policy,and I’d go without pay for it.

Ms.T: why should you get paid for this? *on phone,dialing my manager*

Me: because I could be at home with my family on my day off. But I came in today to help you. And since you insist on calling my manager and will be busy for the next few minutes,I’m going outside to grab my water bottle I left in there.

Ms.T: *my manager has picked up,and is listening from the point I said I was stepping outside for water* HOW DARE YOU? You don’t deserve water!

Me: pardon?

Me.T: You heard me!

Me: water is a human right. You can’t keep me from getting a drink out of my own water bottle.

Ms.T: YOURE NOT A HUMAN!!!

Me: excuse me??

Me.T: You’re white! And you use all your white privilege! You don’t deserve water you didn’t even work hard for it!! You don’t know what it means to have hardship! To be discriminated against!

Me: *quietly* actually I’m Jewish.. and I got made fun of a lot because of it •_•

My manager: ExCuSe Me you can’t talk to her like that!

Ms.T: this white little whore won’t stay over!! And she won’t follow my rules or instructions!

My manager: *meanwhile I have left and came back inside,listening to the conversation which is on speaker as I look Ms.T dead in the eyes and drink my water.* You can’t talk to our employees that way,especially as she is there doing a favor to you,and isn’t obligated to be there today.

Ms.T: *continues to be racist to me,then cries that my manager and I are racist for making an older black woman cry,as she starts fake crying over the phone*

So I basically ended up walking out to my car because I was boiling and didn’t want to lose my job. So my manager rings my phone and tells me to just leave because she’s being racist and won’t calm down. So I do. I get in my car,pull out of her driveway and park across the street,putting my directions home in my gps. Oh but it gets better.

Not 30 seconds later, Ms.T’s sister who also lives there storms up to my car and rapidly knocks on my car window. I crack the window a tiny bit.

Me: yes? What can I do for you?

Ms.T’s sister: GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THAT HOUSE NOW AND FINISH HELPING HER. SHES CRYING AND UPSET BECAUSE YOU JUST UP AND LEFT HER FOR NO REASON.

Me: no.

Ms.T’s sister: I WILL DRAG YOU BY YOUR HAIR BACK IN THERE.

Me: *rolls window back up*

Ms.T’s sister: IM CALLING THE POLICE ON YOU FOR HARRASSMENT

Me: *Drives away*

So yeah. Needless to say I wasn’t allowed back there ever again. Not that I’m complaining. Fucking crazies.

#crazy client #long story #ive never seen reverse racism in the wild before #work stories #how rude

[batterymonster2021]

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/are-you-right-there-father-ted-father-ted-series-3-episode-1-dead-parrot-9/

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

What about select it will probably you do the 11 o’clock mass kids I do the eleven and the 12 you must have a rest after that weekend away well Paris does are inclined to take it out together with her i am off her sport Ted Kerr join me no thanks Darren what time we gone to the colour for the races I believe after lunch Oh mrs. Carried out hopes you like puzzles i like pheasant however this is what it’s all about pleasant port wonderful surroundings and clever manufacturer did you not have all that at your final parish no something appears to fit your needs though you will have got a newfound gleam for your eyes yes I must be staying here for a just right file there is a little bit metal of myself for doing something silly however a lot of these accounts look in order for this letter I wish to cry ask father credit score about one or two of those things that he is put down below bills goodness what’s making that particularly disturbing noise oh that’s Ronaldo it used to be a bit of lonely with out it head so I acquired a hamster as an alternative sure can i ask although does he ever stop jogging in that 2nd wheel he is ought to use the wheel ever because he rolled this right into a seed tray but do not worry whats up I consider there may be just whatever mistaken with the brake how long has father Jack been residing in there I began only a few days after you left maybe he’s agoraphobic Jack frightened of fighting i do not believe oh hell mrs.Doran simply fell off the roof I suppose i will exit google talk over with father Fitzpatrick I consider he has a ebook belonging to me let’s have a look at that – my girl here regularly I soar via this to look just how a long way we’ve got come Syl normal Christian mysteries dis Canada web beneath ah Stephen King’s The Shining good thanks for the tea father see the subsequent time we we’re sorry for the daddy i’m hoping you mind your having you booked them why must we received a padlock on that door cellphone is there some thing prime-secret in there my collection oh yes oh so you how does this you collect this warfare memorabilia aside you wish to have a look relatively most often taken from the German enhance on Russia you’ll discover the place the hammer hits the shell casing reduce that’s very interesting these are helmets probably infantry sure these could be German as good would it not that is right you don’t have something from the Allied aspect no no that type of factor would not curiosity at all an affair that’s my curiosity satisfied and this is the last photo taken of hair Hitler he’s signing just a few demise warrants they’re humorous the way you get extra correct-wing as you get older twice good grace this that is all exclusive stuff now some persons when they see it they are now not too definite that you look actually although i’m exact you sisters observing you going yeah I told you little sleepy 12 months historic buddies of mine k appear on the desk it is so dirty i will write in a minute there may be a gene Dubin where our 2d instead of dwelling in spin we’re simply going to ought to get this situation easy do –gel and seem at you look at that gap on your tank top what if the character saw that we’re excellent all proper puppies would you look at that this 12 months look a perfectly square little bit of black dirt on the window I mean how could you get a perfectly square but a black dart on a window i would have thought that was nearly impossible it is just mrs.Darling can not do any cleaning her again is very unhealthy due to the fact she fell off the roof sort of hold her balance at all that’s it then i am simply going to have got to come out and say it we’re going to have got to smooth this location ourselves what you heard me doogal are you with me what yeah proper then let’s go let’s smooth this mother kid whatever it’s up into the lamp that came off I would choose that up just right idea i’m bored no look i’m chinese legal come on Google loosen up don’t with or chinese people’s there all right Jack there I imply what mother’s a mement that is the N household dwelling over there no longer historic Chinatown subject town there there may be a Chinatown and craggy Island Sokol i would not seem tall the Chinaman impact if I have no idea her to be a Chinaman there to look which different form of mine impression why no longer dead huh no longer it is racist they suppose i’m a racist i’m gonna must catch up with them and explain i’m now not a racist and essentially if i don’t specialize like regularly i suppose matters just motive spaz i’ve a reservation X is one time see you bye twice the rapid oh that is executed alright what’s that I ordered some new stuff on the condominium get rid of this historical hash Google you don’t consider I upset those chinese individuals er dude I have no idea Ted it used to be just like the time we put on that style show and you did that impact of Stephen Hawking he was the last person you’d count on to show off that was a million-to-one shot God he can barely transfer in that wheelchair when he’s irritated i don’t fear about its head anyway who did your foam habitat no Hobbit hash like habitat itself soft furnishing but additionally clergymen clothes does it not get stressed with habitat though no that is in no way happened earlier than besides just there whilst you did anyway what else did you order priest sucks rather black ones I read somewhere I feel inside an article about pre sucks the pre socks are blacker than some other sort of stuff that’s correct Google repeatedly you see lay individuals wearing what seemed like black socks but should you seem intently you’ll be able to see the very very very very very very very darkish blue that is true I suggestion my uncle Tommy was once wearing black socks but when I checked out them closely they have been simply very very very very very very very very very very darkish blue not ever purchase black socks in a normal save it shaft you whenever no they may be fired seem house out no bows and same as yourself excellent good I hear you are stressed no father what how did you get concerned about that style of thing son of a racist every body’s saying this father must we all be racist comprehend what the authentic line the torch is taken is oh no handiest the farm takes up lots of the day and at night time oh just like a cup of tea I prefer to be in a position to commit myself full time to the old racism insider what Oh mrs.Gorrie good for you father but any person either obtained to stand up to the mid lap coming over right here taking our jobs and our ladies like father like are you you failed to agree sister chinese language legal professional right there handiest get London I can’t preclude the Greek they invented gayness appear anyone i am not a racist all right god sagging Rick how’s Mary she’s exceptional she’s bought that job bathroom hi there whats up is that the indignity Fowley sure this is Sean Yin her father Ted Cunha right here I think I owe you an apology like then do you know why’s a hydrogen that the whole lot cleared up they’re coming straight round I just be very satisfactory to them and individuals will discontinue saying i’m a racist it can be great nothing would go improper wonderful so the story is you’re now not a racist once no it is not a narrative i’m no longer a racist good day all people particularly here you are a racist no mrs. Dog is not a racist i’m not i am not a racist mrs. Doyle we’re gonna must do whatever to your back you can not go on like this i’m simply going to take a look at some no don’t fear mrs.Doyle oh no no just run Mac oh oh yes significantly better oh sure sure sure it’s nice let me in finding no father no significantly father my fetus two decades younger hiya the chinese language are coming all proper the place are they Beckett this large mark is still within the window never mind hi there good day I do not know why we ought to talk to this fascist come on now it may have just been where are they going I invite them circular and they don’t even let me tell them my side of the story that is horrible humans consider i’m some kind of Nazi racist and i am now not fuckin Isis howdy here is an suggestion right off the highest of my head now happens more difficult to so it can be typically not notable however what the hell i do not talk and notice what comes out anyway super some sorta distinct event celebrating all of the distinct cultures and craggy Island after which folks would suppose you are a superb man as an alternative of a colossal racist on the grounds that however that’s a good concept no it is it is real it is noted just more commonly whatever unsuitable with it I just haven’t proposal it by way of no i’ll do it you have had a exquisite idea but destroy it down for me a little bit extra what would an event celebrating all extraordinary cultures in craggy Island clearly be like what what would it contain I imply party sure however what type might it take Ted i need condominium seem at me I went too a long way to tune I did not understand what I used to be entering Ted I didn’t comprehend you have got to follow up a excellent suggestion with hundreds more little just right recommendations i am sorry ok i’m going to sleep within the spare room oh woman i’m sorry you are full a sheltered you for 50 years you’ve got certainly not even made me a cup of tea you make metropolis i do know a lot about our common washing up I feel it is for the whole of 1947 and in these days in 1973 you rewrite you broke all of the situation of and also you went okay i am so worn out and that i not ever had to hurry up plates fill I was within the Verma – on no account you’re using me insane i’ll take a valium – so – oh why does your ate everything I do wait he is on valium these are the cyanide we kept for emergencies you place cyanide next to the valium young fool that is asking for difficulty you shut up Ramona received 50 so that you sir depart me that’s just noted books that is excellent by way of me to position angelicus collide and ok just right excellent good I stepped on the hamsters bike and fell down the steps father Dugan I notion I informed you to position away that’s like safely did to it that is what breaking the cage oh no no don’t worry father it can be brief I think wonderful I absolutely forgotten that i will be able to flip my head round like this all proper good listen that stuff from habitat is arriving at present so when it comes give father jacket the place is father Jack I think eat up the chimney will I burn the monk father smoked with backoffice could be in all places the house anyway when that stuff comes pull all of it up the entire new puppies and the things for the chairs and that’s your factor fairly i might be aware of however that style of stuff considering that i am a person anyway we’re regularly social gathering of Craig island ethnic diversity good this normal beer Widow it can be a first-rate honor and privilege for me to present this social gathering of the vast diversity of cultures that exist at present on craggy Island particularly chinese people and persons from prag Island I secured a brief slide presentation which displays this multicultural mix so with out additional ado that is a stack to show it can be now not visited the island a few years ago I omit his name now however them I acquired on very well with them Sajal as an alternative good the beam is beautiful drunk at this sure there shall be a limited supply of free drink afterwards the fine Wall of China a miracle of chinese engineering so big you’ll find it from anyplace in the world Chairman Mao Secretary of the Communist occasion of China some of the biggest communist parties on this planet in my view the high-quality mr.Miyagi from the karate my favourite movie now not for the reason that of the Karate kid himself however on the grounds that of mr. Miyagi now not ample day goes with the aid of after I do not take into account certainly one of his many words of knowledge kiddo we already spring from them the Maori sorry I do not know how to cuss in there and appear for our no Mary’s on calculator ring the message the first-rate of all of the chinese language men and women themselves seem at them there they usually create that bright a first-rate bunch of that so I feel it can be just all features of chinese culture thank you inquisitive about coming here well slide exhibit free drink very much appreciated thank you father certainly yes well I just wanted to clear matters off i am not a trend and the priest I will have to costume in black and go round telling men and women what to do whereas monks more drink at any place in the air would you adore a cup of tea oh no no thanks no i’ve a style of allergy to as you understand it’s very rare we’re beautiful critical if I drink tea there’s a 70% chance of loss of life you are making cope any approach that you could to change your intellect no thanks anyway to China hooray – cookie Islands hiya extra drink i’m sorry Tabasco how about every person comes back to my location for a drink wait I ought to go to the toilet first this joy we have yet do that stuff like sure and i mentioned so extremely good I’ve blown up in lower than an hour and there was this accretion yeah expensive father critic on the directions of a not too long ago deceased client father Seamus Fitzpatrick listed below are some gadgets which he precise you must have in the occasion of this death i will provide an explanation for the whole lot sincerely no I can’t hello sorry once more after which most importantly have you opened that reward but no looking forward to it although a year’s give of whiskey how very beneficiant sure the main issue there may be essentially you see there’s been a little bit of a metamorphosis of plan Oh you Oh you you

[airoasis]

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/are-you-right-there-father-ted-father-ted-series-3-episode-1-dead-parrot-9/

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

What about select it will probably you do the 11 o’clock mass kids I do the eleven and the 12 you must have a rest after that weekend away well Paris does are inclined to take it out together with her i am off her sport Ted Kerr join me no thanks Darren what time we gone to the colour for the races I believe after lunch Oh mrs. Carried out hopes you like puzzles i like pheasant however this is what it’s all about pleasant port wonderful surroundings and clever manufacturer did you not have all that at your final parish no something appears to fit your needs though you will have got a newfound gleam for your eyes yes I must be staying here for a just right file there is a little bit metal of myself for doing something silly however a lot of these accounts look in order for this letter I wish to cry ask father credit score about one or two of those things that he is put down below bills goodness what’s making that particularly disturbing noise oh that’s Ronaldo it used to be a bit of lonely with out it head so I acquired a hamster as an alternative sure can i ask although does he ever stop jogging in that 2nd wheel he is ought to use the wheel ever because he rolled this right into a seed tray but do not worry whats up I consider there may be just whatever mistaken with the brake how long has father Jack been residing in there I began only a few days after you left maybe he’s agoraphobic Jack frightened of fighting i do not believe oh hell mrs.Doran simply fell off the roof I suppose i will exit google talk over with father Fitzpatrick I consider he has a ebook belonging to me let’s have a look at that – my girl here regularly I soar via this to look just how a long way we’ve got come Syl normal Christian mysteries dis Canada web beneath ah Stephen King’s The Shining good thanks for the tea father see the subsequent time we we’re sorry for the daddy i’m hoping you mind your having you booked them why must we received a padlock on that door cellphone is there some thing prime-secret in there my collection oh yes oh so you how does this you collect this warfare memorabilia aside you wish to have a look relatively most often taken from the German enhance on Russia you’ll discover the place the hammer hits the shell casing reduce that’s very interesting these are helmets probably infantry sure these could be German as good would it not that is right you don’t have something from the Allied aspect no no that type of factor would not curiosity at all an affair that’s my curiosity satisfied and this is the last photo taken of hair Hitler he’s signing just a few demise warrants they’re humorous the way you get extra correct-wing as you get older twice good grace this that is all exclusive stuff now some persons when they see it they are now not too definite that you look actually although i’m exact you sisters observing you going yeah I told you little sleepy 12 months historic buddies of mine k appear on the desk it is so dirty i will write in a minute there may be a gene Dubin where our 2d instead of dwelling in spin we’re simply going to ought to get this situation easy do –gel and seem at you look at that gap on your tank top what if the character saw that we’re excellent all proper puppies would you look at that this 12 months look a perfectly square little bit of black dirt on the window I mean how could you get a perfectly square but a black dart on a window i would have thought that was nearly impossible it is just mrs.Darling can not do any cleaning her again is very unhealthy due to the fact she fell off the roof sort of hold her balance at all that’s it then i am simply going to have got to come out and say it we’re going to have got to smooth this location ourselves what you heard me doogal are you with me what yeah proper then let’s go let’s smooth this mother kid whatever it’s up into the lamp that came off I would choose that up just right idea i’m bored no look i’m chinese legal come on Google loosen up don’t with or chinese people’s there all right Jack there I imply what mother’s a mement that is the N household dwelling over there no longer historic Chinatown subject town there there may be a Chinatown and craggy Island Sokol i would not seem tall the Chinaman impact if I have no idea her to be a Chinaman there to look which different form of mine impression why no longer dead huh no longer it is racist they suppose i’m a racist i’m gonna must catch up with them and explain i’m now not a racist and essentially if i don’t specialize like regularly i suppose matters just motive spaz i’ve a reservation X is one time see you bye twice the rapid oh that is executed alright what’s that I ordered some new stuff on the condominium get rid of this historical hash Google you don’t consider I upset those chinese individuals er dude I have no idea Ted it used to be just like the time we put on that style show and you did that impact of Stephen Hawking he was the last person you’d count on to show off that was a million-to-one shot God he can barely transfer in that wheelchair when he’s irritated i don’t fear about its head anyway who did your foam habitat no Hobbit hash like habitat itself soft furnishing but additionally clergymen clothes does it not get stressed with habitat though no that is in no way happened earlier than besides just there whilst you did anyway what else did you order priest sucks rather black ones I read somewhere I feel inside an article about pre sucks the pre socks are blacker than some other sort of stuff that’s correct Google repeatedly you see lay individuals wearing what seemed like black socks but should you seem intently you’ll be able to see the very very very very very very very darkish blue that is true I suggestion my uncle Tommy was once wearing black socks but when I checked out them closely they have been simply very very very very very very very very very very darkish blue not ever purchase black socks in a normal save it shaft you whenever no they may be fired seem house out no bows and same as yourself excellent good I hear you are stressed no father what how did you get concerned about that style of thing son of a racist every body’s saying this father must we all be racist comprehend what the authentic line the torch is taken is oh no handiest the farm takes up lots of the day and at night time oh just like a cup of tea I prefer to be in a position to commit myself full time to the old racism insider what Oh mrs.Gorrie good for you father but any person either obtained to stand up to the mid lap coming over right here taking our jobs and our ladies like father like are you you failed to agree sister chinese language legal professional right there handiest get London I can’t preclude the Greek they invented gayness appear anyone i am not a racist all right god sagging Rick how’s Mary she’s exceptional she’s bought that job bathroom hi there whats up is that the indignity Fowley sure this is Sean Yin her father Ted Cunha right here I think I owe you an apology like then do you know why’s a hydrogen that the whole lot cleared up they’re coming straight round I just be very satisfactory to them and individuals will discontinue saying i’m a racist it can be great nothing would go improper wonderful so the story is you’re now not a racist once no it is not a narrative i’m no longer a racist good day all people particularly here you are a racist no mrs. Dog is not a racist i’m not i am not a racist mrs. Doyle we’re gonna must do whatever to your back you can not go on like this i’m simply going to take a look at some no don’t fear mrs.Doyle oh no no just run Mac oh oh yes significantly better oh sure sure sure it’s nice let me in finding no father no significantly father my fetus two decades younger hiya the chinese language are coming all proper the place are they Beckett this large mark is still within the window never mind hi there good day I do not know why we ought to talk to this fascist come on now it may have just been where are they going I invite them circular and they don’t even let me tell them my side of the story that is horrible humans consider i’m some kind of Nazi racist and i am now not fuckin Isis howdy here is an suggestion right off the highest of my head now happens more difficult to so it can be typically not notable however what the hell i do not talk and notice what comes out anyway super some sorta distinct event celebrating all of the distinct cultures and craggy Island after which folks would suppose you are a superb man as an alternative of a colossal racist on the grounds that however that’s a good concept no it is it is real it is noted just more commonly whatever unsuitable with it I just haven’t proposal it by way of no i’ll do it you have had a exquisite idea but destroy it down for me a little bit extra what would an event celebrating all extraordinary cultures in craggy Island clearly be like what what would it contain I imply party sure however what type might it take Ted i need condominium seem at me I went too a long way to tune I did not understand what I used to be entering Ted I didn’t comprehend you have got to follow up a excellent suggestion with hundreds more little just right recommendations i am sorry ok i’m going to sleep within the spare room oh woman i’m sorry you are full a sheltered you for 50 years you’ve got certainly not even made me a cup of tea you make metropolis i do know a lot about our common washing up I feel it is for the whole of 1947 and in these days in 1973 you rewrite you broke all of the situation of and also you went okay i am so worn out and that i not ever had to hurry up plates fill I was within the Verma – on no account you’re using me insane i’ll take a valium – so – oh why does your ate everything I do wait he is on valium these are the cyanide we kept for emergencies you place cyanide next to the valium young fool that is asking for difficulty you shut up Ramona received 50 so that you sir depart me that’s just noted books that is excellent by way of me to position angelicus collide and ok just right excellent good I stepped on the hamsters bike and fell down the steps father Dugan I notion I informed you to position away that’s like safely did to it that is what breaking the cage oh no no don’t worry father it can be brief I think wonderful I absolutely forgotten that i will be able to flip my head round like this all proper good listen that stuff from habitat is arriving at present so when it comes give father jacket the place is father Jack I think eat up the chimney will I burn the monk father smoked with backoffice could be in all places the house anyway when that stuff comes pull all of it up the entire new puppies and the things for the chairs and that’s your factor fairly i might be aware of however that style of stuff considering that i am a person anyway we’re regularly social gathering of Craig island ethnic diversity good this normal beer Widow it can be a first-rate honor and privilege for me to present this social gathering of the vast diversity of cultures that exist at present on craggy Island particularly chinese people and persons from prag Island I secured a brief slide presentation which displays this multicultural mix so with out additional ado that is a stack to show it can be now not visited the island a few years ago I omit his name now however them I acquired on very well with them Sajal as an alternative good the beam is beautiful drunk at this sure there shall be a limited supply of free drink afterwards the fine Wall of China a miracle of chinese engineering so big you’ll find it from anyplace in the world Chairman Mao Secretary of the Communist occasion of China some of the biggest communist parties on this planet in my view the high-quality mr.Miyagi from the karate my favourite movie now not for the reason that of the Karate kid himself however on the grounds that of mr. Miyagi now not ample day goes with the aid of after I do not take into account certainly one of his many words of knowledge kiddo we already spring from them the Maori sorry I do not know how to cuss in there and appear for our no Mary’s on calculator ring the message the first-rate of all of the chinese language men and women themselves seem at them there they usually create that bright a first-rate bunch of that so I feel it can be just all features of chinese culture thank you inquisitive about coming here well slide exhibit free drink very much appreciated thank you father certainly yes well I just wanted to clear matters off i am not a trend and the priest I will have to costume in black and go round telling men and women what to do whereas monks more drink at any place in the air would you adore a cup of tea oh no no thanks no i’ve a style of allergy to as you understand it’s very rare we’re beautiful critical if I drink tea there’s a 70% chance of loss of life you are making cope any approach that you could to change your intellect no thanks anyway to China hooray – cookie Islands hiya extra drink i’m sorry Tabasco how about every person comes back to my location for a drink wait I ought to go to the toilet first this joy we have yet do that stuff like sure and i mentioned so extremely good I’ve blown up in lower than an hour and there was this accretion yeah expensive father critic on the directions of a not too long ago deceased client father Seamus Fitzpatrick listed below are some gadgets which he precise you must have in the occasion of this death i will provide an explanation for the whole lot sincerely no I can’t hello sorry once more after which most importantly have you opened that reward but no looking forward to it although a year’s give of whiskey how very beneficiant sure the main issue there may be essentially you see there’s been a little bit of a metamorphosis of plan Oh you Oh you you

[theconservativebrief]

Several stories showing racial profiling of black Americans by police and white Americans continue to go viral — in one video, a white woman calls the cops on a black man babysitting two white children in Georgia. In another, a white student calls 911 when she sees a black classmate sleeping in a dormitory common room. In this essay, a former police dispatcher remembers the racist calls she used to take every day and law enforcement’s rules that forced her to respond to every caller, regardless of the incident.

It was the end of an 18-hour shift. My butt hurt from sitting in one place with only a couple of five-minute bathroom breaks. My brain hurt from staying awake that long, and my stomach ached from all the coffee I’d drunk to keep myself alert.

But the phones rarely stopped.

“911, what’s the address of your emergency?” I said into the headset.

The man gave me his address and then said, “There’s a woman pushing a shopping cart in front of my house.”

This one stumped me. I worked in a large metropolitan area. Yes, the city where I worked was affluent, and most people used their cars to get groceries. But surely he’d seen a person using a personal grocery cart before.

“I’m sorry, I’m not getting it. What’s the problem?” I waited for more clarification as I racked my brain for the correct penal code under which this infraction might fall.

“You need to get out here now.”

“Um.” A dispatcher has to be cautious about how she phrases things. Of all the jobs in emergency services — firefighters, police officers, nurses, doctors — dispatchers are the only ones who are recorded during every single thing they do. Everything they say — and their whole job is speaking — is part of public record. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re reporting.”

“She’s black.”

My heart sped up as it did every day when I heard this kind of thing. This Northern California city was affluent and very white, bordering Oakland, much of which was neither. “Sir, I’m still not seeing the problem. Is she being loud? Is the noise of the cart disturbing your peace?”

His tone got harsher. “Where do you live?”

I was so startled by the question that I answered it. “Oakland,” I said.

“You wouldn’t understand, then. This isn’t Oakland. We don’t have people like her in this neighborhood. Just send someone out to get rid of her. I’m not talking to you anymore.” The click in my ear was his goodbye.

The worst thing about it? I had to send someone out. Dispatchers usually don’t get to choose which calls lead to the dispatching of emergency personnel and which don’t.

If a person wants to make a report, they get to make a report. You can think of police reports as being like lawsuits. Anyone can make one about anything, no matter how stupid. Shortly after 9/11, I had to send an officer to take a report from a citizen because she’d had a dream about a knife-wielding man from Afghanistan.

Of course, dispatchers do have a tiny bit of control. I sent our one Afghan officer to take the report from her. He was amused; she, not so much.

By now, you’ve probably heard about the white Oakland woman who called the cops because black men were using a charcoal grill at Lake Merritt. She’s been memed and mocked, and the department has been criticized for sending officers out. But it all started with a dispatcher, answering that first phone call.

According to the computer logs, which have been made public, the call came in 11:22 am. A woman reported a 40-year-old heavyset black man using a charcoal grill. The dispatcher spent less than a minute asking her for more information. He typed NFD at the end, which stands for No Further Details.

Here’s where I start guessing things, based on 17 years of dispatching in the Bay Area. I’m guessing that the dispatcher rolled his eyes at this call so hard they almost fell out of his head. Yet another white lady upset over what black people were doing. Every single day of my career, I took that call. Every single day, I wanted to slam down the phone.

Instead, the dispatcher typed NFD. That’s subtle dispatch code for “this caller was a pain in the butt and couldn’t give more information about this lame-ass complaint.” It was entered as a Priority 3 call, which essentially means “not important” — the police officers on duty at that moment had much better things to do in a city like Oakland.

Two hours passed, and police had not responded. But then someone called to report the original caller was still on scene and now fighting with the people barbecuing, which prompted an immediate dispatch. “Life before property” is the code by which emergency services run. Potential property damage reports will hold for hours, if not days, if officers are busy intervening in situations where people are in physical danger. Once it was reported that people were fighting, an officer arrived at the scene of the barbecue eight minutes later.

Am I saying police officers aren’t racist — that they question black citizens more aggressively than white citizens because responding to most complaints is obligatory? Heck no. Many are. We live in a country still mired in institutional racism, including its policing. I’m not in the business anymore, and the relationship between police departments and communities of color was one of the reasons I left to write full time.

But I am pointing out that those cops on the video didn’t look happy to be forced to take the complaint seriously. They had way better things to do that afternoon than investigate some guys cooking out in a park.

In every city in America, 911 rings around the clock. Dispatchers are usually too short-staffed to take real breaks, and they can’t shut the center for weekends and holidays. They are the ones who suck it up and keep hitting the answer button, no matter what.

My co-worker once got a call from a man who said, “My neighbors keep parking in front of my house. And they’re black.”

Dispatchers all have moments when they reach the end of their patience, and that was Bonnie’s moment.

She said, “It’s a city street. Unfortunately, anyone can legally park wherever they like. I’m sure it’s very frustrating for you. Why would you bring race into this?”

“Are you black?”

“I am,” she said.

“Put your supervisor on the phone.”

He filed a police report against her instead of his neighbors.

She went through an internal affairs investigation because, of course, any report against a member of the police department has to be investigated. She was cleared of breaking any technical rules — she had stated clearly that no laws were being broken; she hadn’t had an attitude in her voice.

But she was sternly advised to be more circumspect in the future or her job would be at stake. She told me later, “That was the moment I decided to leave the industry. Every time I answered the phone, I felt like I got punched in the face. And I had to shut up and take it.” A few years later, she became a therapist on San Quentin’s death row. She said her new job was easier than dispatching.

The phone rings again. You mime stabbing yourself in the eyeball as the next caller says that she thinks three kids outside the 7-Eleven are getting ready to rob it.

“Why do you think that?”

“They’re wearing hoodies. You never know what those kinds of kids are carrying in their pockets. Every one of them could have a gun, you know. They probably do.”

“Did you see a gun?”

“Just check.” Click.

You swallow your cold oatmeal, you roll your eyes at your cubicle mate, and you enter the call for eventual dispatch even though you wish you could pretend you never got it. (If you don’t enter the call and something happens, you could lose your job for negligence.) Then you grab the next call.

Of course people should call 911 if it’s an actual emergency. But think before you call the cops to handle your feelings about a barbecue, or where someone is parked, or if they’re playing music on a Saturday afternoon. If you get it wrong (and all of us, living in the privileged bubbles of our own creation, often get it wrong), you could be the reason someone gets hurt or even killed.

With some rudimentary math, I’ve worked out that I’ve answered at least a quarter of a million 911 calls in my career. Amid the meaningless, racially charged calls, I’ve gotten so many by concerned citizens who genuinely want to help someone who is hurt or in danger. Good typically wins over evil. But it’s awfully damn close sometimes. And we all have to pick a side.

Rachael Herron is the best–selling author of the novel The Ones Who Matter Most, named an editor’s pick by Library Journal, as well as more than 20 other novels and memoirs. She received her MFA in writing from Mills College, Oakland, and she teaches creative writing in the extension programs at both UC Berkeley and Stanford.

First Person is Vox’s home for compelling, provocative narrative essays. Do you have a story to share? Read our submission guidelines, and pitch us at [email protected].

Original Source -> I used to be a 911 dispatcher. I had to respond to racist calls every day.

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief