Do u ever talk to a friend n theyre bein super mean to themselves and u just wanna go
"*bloop* u r royalty, treat yourself like it."
Wowowow I miss boone
Super incredibly maddening thing about mental illness:
Fighting your ass off to live a normal life and function as well as you can, and instead of getting credit and having people be proud of you for all the efforts you’re making, having people use your apparently normal behavior as a reason to invalidate you and think you weren’t that sick to begin with.
It takes a lot of badassery to act this normal, but the effort is all invisible
years of mental illness have only helped me hide almost all of my issues and appear happy and healthy
like y’all need to understand that yes i have a lot of anger, a lot of anger towards what has been done to me but i also have an incredible, incredible desire to love unconditionally, to love deeply and without fear and that is, in part, why this violence done to me and to others upsets me so much
like, shout out to all the girls and women who grew into their sexualities “early” and had to cope with it all by themselves
shout out to all the girls and women who still feel the cold abuse of their “firsts”
shout out to all the girls and women who never talk about their abuse out of personal preference, or because they just can’t for safety’s sake
shout out to all the girls and women who always talk about their abuse, who continue to talk about their abuse
shout out to all the girls and women who suffered then, who suffer now, those who are victims, those who are survivors
shout out to all the girls and women who grow up cold and beautiful and hard as glass
shout out to all the girls and women who grow up soft and beautiful and sensitive
shout out to y’all because you still find ways to love, and to love deeply.
i will fight with you, i will shout with you, i will raise hell with you.
i have a lot of feelings about the conversations no one is having with young teenage women. the conversations about expectations for intimacy, expectations for their partners when it comes to sex and making each other feel good. i am so angry that no one told me i could speak up, that i could say no and that it was alright. the culture around virginity and high school makes me so sick to my stomach.
i was very aware that almost every intimate touch i felt in high school i didn’t like. but i dealt with it because i was taught to deal with it. i aimed to please the man i was with, even if physicality hurt. even if, mentally, emotionally, things hurt. i’m so angry that young men are not taught to be interested in their partner’s pleasures, about their partner’s pain. instead they’re taught to revel in their own (masculine) pleasures. i just keep on thinking about all the times i wish i could’ve told my partners no. told them that it hurt. told them that i didn’t like it, or that i was scared or terrified.
i just keep thinking about how many conversations i’d have to have about abortion—promising that i’d get one, promising that i’d take care of it, on my own, no reassurance. then i go out into “adulthood” (18+) and i have to assume I have it figured out, that i can find someone who will love (and not hurt) me. this whole country teaches that a little bit of hurt, a little bit of abuse, in a relationship is healthy and normal. but that paves the way for bigger and bigger allowances.
that was taught to me, that was reinforced in me. how the fuck are we supposed to cope? how are we supposed to cope with the trauma of high school experimentation when the notion of “pure” is still a thing in America? how can we live? How do we survive?
So I just got back last night from a brony convention in San Francisco. I was working a booth for a vendor friend, and let me tell you what happened:
We met a little girl who was there with her family. She got a button drawn at our booth, told us all about her favorite ponies, and was overall just too damn cute. She had an MLP lanyard filled with pins she’d gotten in the vendor’s room, and gave me a Fluttershy pin because she liked my cosplay. She ended up just hanging out with us for a while and bein’ super cute. We call her Babby because she’s 11 and precious.
The next day, she runs up to the booth, terrified, and asks if she can please hide under our table for a few minutes. Turns out a dude had been following her around the con all day, and tried to get her to come up to his hotel room. Alone. She tells us she thought he was okay at first because he was wearing an MLP shirt, but she didn’t want to go anywhere with him, and he made her uneasy. At one point, after she’d refused, he grabbed her arm in the elevators and tried to get her to follow him. She ran, and now she wants somewhere to hide.
We tell her of course, hurry her behind our booth and fucking station ourselves around her because she’s eleven years old and all of us are prepared to physically attack the human trashheap who tries to fuck with her. We’re all dressed up in wings and ears and we’re 100000% prepared to rip them off and launch across that table to defend this kid. Eventually this very large dude strolls by, very obviously looking around, and she quietly points him out to us. At this point I’m ready to set him on fire, but when I ask if she needs me to go report him, she shakes her head. She doesn’t want to get in trouble, or make anyone mad.
We see him a few more times over the course of the day, because he keeps meandering over to our booth and just casually looking around. Eventually he actually stops to take a flier from our table and asks us a question, and we coldly send him on his way. We start sending a coworker with Babby whenever her parents aren’t around and she wants to go check out artist’s alley or the vendor’s hall. Because otherwise she’s not safe. She can’t run around and freely enjoy a convention about a show aimed at her, because instead of being surrounded by peers she’s somehow surrounded by men who pose a threat to her.
My point here: this is why I fucking hate “bronies.” Because grown-ass men are flooding into a space carved out for children—often little girls—and are making it unsafe for them.
I met a lot of non-awful people there, of course. I met a lot of parents and older siblings. A lot of adorable little boys who were happy to empathize with female characters, and a lot of little kids who wanted a picture with cosplays of their favorite pony. I met a lot of people who were cool and nice and just liked cartoons. I met a male Pinkie Pie cosplayer with a Fluttershy lady-friend who juggled and spun plates and was happy to entertain kids, and were generally just really cool people.
But I also met a lot of skeevy dudebros. A lot of guys in fedoras loudly discussing sexual shit in a room with children. Guys who drew/sold/displayed really fucking inappropriate “fanart,” including gross bodypillows that had no purpose in a little kids’ toy convention. I met a guy who gushed with absolute glee about the pleasure he derives from “corrupting innocence.” I met a lot of people who wanted to take something sweet and nice for children and make it about THEM. A lot of guys who wanted to make it about their dicks. People who made it UNSAFE for the intended audience to even be in attendance.
So yeah. If you call yourself a brony, I’m prolly not gonna trust you. Because I’ve seen y’all in action, and I am not impressed. Frankly I’m infuriated. This is like a bunch of gross neckbeards swarming Disneyland and shoving kids out of the way so they can grope Cinderella, and finding nothing wrong with it because they think they’re entitled to it.
My Little Pony is a really cute show with a lot of nice messages for kids, and gross brony shitweasels are trying to fucking take it from them by force. And I will fight them.