Shut up

Jun. 7th, 2017 10:48 pm
improperlyhuman: (Default)
You can always tell when whitey wrote a story, can't you? They always gotta mention hair and eye color. Sometimes more than once. I'm like, all your other stories are about white people; just let me have this one where you aren't shoving race in my face.

But no. For some reason we need to know that the main character is a brunette with piercing blue eyes. I'm like, shut up. All your characters have melanin deficiency so who cares how it manifests exactly.

Back in the good ol' days, fiction was about what people did and not what they looked like. Nowadays we got reality TV in book form. And worse. At least reality TV has plots.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I used to be able to go to bed whenever and wake up whenever I needed to wake up to ensure that I got sufficient sleep. Now I wake up round abouts 6 a.m. no matter when I've gone to bed, so going to bed late leaves me tired all day. I think. I can't think of another reason for my being so tired.

Martha Monthly arrived today and I'm pleased with the way my diapers are standing up to blood stains. Blood stains, think of it! Human biology is so sick.

I read through the first chapter of Robinson Crusoe while sunbathing this afternoon. I kept interrupting myself. After the first sentences, I thought to myself that no female would have even had the opportunity to live Crusoe's seafaring life, to leave home and seek adventure. I asked myself what my life would have been like in seventeenth century England. Nothing fun, that's for damn sure.

I've never much like history, and it occurred to me this afternoon that part of the reason for that is my tendency to imagine and put myself in the place of the oppressed. The slaves, the womyn. I could have been burned at the stake. It is most disturbing. Not to forget the lives that are available in the present, of course. I hear tell that a prepubescent young girl can be married off to a guy three times her age, impregnated before she's physically mature enough to safely give birth, and end up dying in the process. Lovely.

It's not so easy to get through books sometimes. I can no longer view them in terms of Something That Happened To Somebody; I can't help but view the adventures of old in terms of Something That Could Only Happen To One of A Privileged Minority, or Something That Could Have Been Much, Much Worse If It'd Happened to A Womon (Crusoe's enslavement, for example). How quaint it seems to be carted off by a kidnapper to a strange country and only be consigned to domestic servitude.

Even when the characters face physical abuse or even murder, it seems infinitely better than having to face rape and forced pregnancy. I would be so happy if all I had to worry about when I went out alone at night was mugging, physical assault, and murder. That would be a large improvement. A sex-neutral victimization would relieve me of being reminded of the ugly reality of brutal, widespread misogyny.

A rock song about indiscriminate violence? Great! Just don't remind me that I lost the sex lottery with rapey lyrics. It is so much to bear that otherwise gratuitous violence is a relief as long as it's equal opportunity.

Fiction isn't really an escape for me, is it? I don't escape from reality by reading; I simply read a fictionalized, white-washed version of it. Entire plots are still infused with patriarchy and white supremacy, from the lack of female characters (except as "love interests" or, more properly, fuck interests) to the sudden, unnecessary racial tagging of non-white characters. The same is true of movies.

A whole book of racially unmarked People Doing Things, then all of a sudden we have A Black Person Doing Things, which is apparently somehow notably different.

I came across this in Needful Things, and I almost didn't finish the book because of it. I didn't want to finish it. I feel like a fool when I willingly expose myself to the white man's racist propaganda. Ok so it isn't meant to be propaganda; it seems like propaganda. After a million fictional works, I'm completely accustomed to an mostly-white cast, no matter how unrealistic this is in comparison to reality. Intentionally or not, the seed was planted in my mind and has flowered to the extent that it seems weird to see otherwise in a movie. The people I see in life would look weird on the screen.

It's ten p.m. so I should try to get some sleep. I just woke myself up with this post.

I've been thinking about working my ass off and trying to afford my own therapist. I don't think I have it in me. I struggle a bit to get sixty dollars worth of work done per day. Paying for my own shrink would cost one to two days worth of work per session.

I'm going to look up the gifted counseling center tomorrow and make a futile phone call to see if they will accept Obamacare.
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