I Never Understood Why The Hindi Word For Brother-in-law, "saalaa", Doubles As A Casual, Not Quite Swearing

Even though religious women who cover up will claim that they believe in feminism and free choice, they sure do love to call their own particular style of clothing "modest".

Think about that for two (2) seconds.

I don't think it's random, accidental, or coincidental. Words mean things. If you want to reclaim that style of dress as by and for women, rather than dictated by men and imposed on women, then you really do have to step away from the inherently patriarchal branding embedded in words like "modest".

And I'm speaking as a former devoted hijab-wearer. "High-coverage" is right there for the taking. You could also specify what you mean by "modest": high-necked, long-sleeved, loose-fitting, ankle-length, dark-colored, whatever. It's not like women even within the same religion agree on what's suitably "modest". Saying what you mean is a good thing.

You know what's more annoying than a preachy vegan?

Omnis who absolutely refuse to understand that a lot of things they eat that aren't straight-up meat/dairy/eggs often have animal products or by-products in them.

Plus, there are more of the latter than the former, so yeah, officially, the vegans are generating exponentially less as far as volume of annoying, by enormous orders of magnitude.

This post brought to you by a thread full of clueless omnis going on and on about plant-based chocolate, in ableist-as-fuck language to boot. Even when I pointed out that most chocolate products contain dairy, they kept on about it. Because of course.

Either read the fucking food labels (and maybe learn something for once in your smug life) or shut the fuck up. I hope none of them has anyone with allergies in their lives. They'd end up killing them in their insistence that, say, potato products couldn't possibly have gluten. Which, FYI, they can and do.

(ftr aside from a few infrequent but intense flirtations with vegetarian/vegan eating, I spent most of my life omnivorous. I've been loosely vegetarian for about, IDK, 5 years now? though I flex to pescatarian if the situation calls for it. I care enough about food and systemic issues related to it to render myself wholly uninterested in policing anyone's individual food choices)

Here is a list of 10 Black artists/bands you might enjoy if you're millennial indie trash like me, roughly in order from better to lesser known and accompanied by a single song rec. There are, of course, more than 10 Black indie artists I listen to and even more that exist (and lots more songs just by these artists/bands!), so please do drop your recs in the comments.

(and yes "indie" means very little but whatever you know what I means it's vibes OK?!?)

Artist: Solange Jumping-off point song: Losing You Yeah, she's Beyonce's younger sister and fairly famous, but hear me out: I feel like she is perceived as overexposed as a result and therefore is sometimes dismissed as an artist. She really is fantastic and has her own thing going. I honestly don't think her singing voice sounds anything like the other Knowles's. Her style is definitely unique, too.

Band: Bloc Party Jumping-off point song: Flux You may know at least one song by them, even if you don't realize it. They've been featured on video games like Need for Speed Pro Street, FIFA 06, Burnout Revenge, and Guitar Hero 3, as well as TV shows like Skins, Waterloo Road, and How I Met Your Mother. The frontman, Kele Okereke, has also released his own solo stuff.

Artist: Santigold Jumping-off point song: Disparate Youth Formerly known as Santogold, she's opened for acts ranging from The Beastie Boys to MIA and Bjork, plus she was name-dropped by Beyonce in Break My Soul (The Queens Remix).

Band: TV on the Radio Jumping-off point song: Young Liars They've been one my faves since the first day I heard them ~20 years ago and have stayed in the rotation ever since.

Band: Alabama Shakes Jumping-off point song: Don't Wanna Fight The band is on indefinite hiatus for a lot of reasons ranging from messy to objectively awful. That said, what a fantastic and highly influential band, especially considering how relatively short-lived and recent its existence was.

Artist: Ekkstacy Jumping-off point song: i walk this earth all by myself For the record, Ekkstacy himself has expressed annoyance at the comparison. But! The first time I heard him, I immediately was reminded of Bloc Party in a good way, and I'm not the only one.

Band: Black Kids Jumping-off point song: I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You The first time I came across this band, I was convinced the band name was indie irony, like the band Girls. I was wrong. Also, the lyrics to their aforementioned biggest song is accidentally a transmasc mood.

Artist: Toro Y Moi Jumping-off point song: Talamak I've seen a lot of artists live, and his slot at Desert Daze is one of the best performances I've ever seen. The music is danceable and the lyrics poetic and thoughtful, yet unpretentious.

Artist: Yuno Jumping-off point song: No Going Back A man after my own heart, he mentions HIM’s Razorblade Romance and AFI’s Sing The Sorrow among the albums that have influenced him.

Artist: Blood Orange Jumping-off point song, more normal song edition: You're Not Good Enough Jumping-off point song, trippy glam edition: Uncle ACE This is the artist and song that inspired me to write this list, because I absolutely cannot get enough of both of these songs right now, so he gets two song recs. Fun fact: Dev Hynes has collaborated with Minimalist icon and ye olde meme Phillip Glass.

Ibuprofen, a poem

[ content notice: OTC drug abuse, menstruation, manipulative/emotionally abusive relationships, references to fellatio/sex work, emesis, self-unaliving and self-harm attempts/impulses]

2006

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time.

My mind is going and going and going. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what’s happening to me. It feels something like puberty, when, some seven years prior my body’s core was opened so that the flesh nest I didn’t know I had built could be shed before it went septic.  My body has remade itself fully since then. Time for something else to be torn apart.

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time to the point where I’ve learned to dry-swallow so that I don’t have to leave class to take a few to dull that familiar deep ache punctuated by sharp spasms.

I think about the time 7 years and 7 more before when I had stumbled upon a stray pill the brand-name one with the sweet coating looking like a light brown coated chocolate on the beige carpet the best color of all the M&Ms, which were the best candy It didn’t feel like one in my hand. I immediately told my mother what I had found and handed it over. What a good girl.

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time. I’ve been getting it for myself for years now.

I reach up towards the high medicine cabinet shelf. Press and turn the safety cap. I am too tall and too dexterous at that point to be child-locked or shelf-blocked out of it. Should I be? After all, the air freshener, which I didn’t even know was a drug says “Keep out of reach of children and teens” right on the label. Mom and I had laughed about that. I am too mature to be in need of any such safeguards. I got my twelve-year molars at nine and my period at ten not exactly the type to suck down fumes in hopes of a high.

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time and this new anguish feels like one of those times.

I fill my palm with the rounds. They don’t look like the pretty, long-discontinued light brown M&M. Don’t make a nice sound when making contact with each other. We’d long switched away from that smooth-shelled, sweet-coated name brand. These were dull and rough, harder to suck down but by now, I can dry-swallow up to four of them without my teacher noticing. However many these are, they don’t stand a chance against me. I’m home, in no rush, no need to hide anything with a glass of water if I want it just a few feet away. I can hold these for longer, since the coating won’t melt in my hands. They don’t melt in my mouth, either.

The now nearly-empty bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time.

I suck down enough to make me lose time. I drift, lost to time, swallowed by the rounds. I sleep all evening, all night, all morning. For once in my overregulated life, I’m left to be. I’m in college, so I handle my own schedule and alarms. I’m on my period, so no one reminds me of Maghrib, Isha, or Fajr. No one thinks much of it. I wake up, realize I’ve been dead to the world from Asr to Zuhr but not dead enough to leave the world.

The now nearly-empty bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. Mom eventually notices it’s almost gone and adds it to her shopping list. No one thinks much of it, including her aside from admonishing us to tell her when things are running out. Everyone knows I need it from time to time.

I successfully play it off as my usual monthly troubles. The boy I like, the one who’s been taunting me into tearing myself asunder tells me that I have what is essentially a hangover. I need a thick, hearty Irish stew. He asserts, with that full-smirk half-innuendo that keeps me hooked on him that if it weren’t for my parents, he’d bring me some and feed it to me. I don’t tell him I’m too nauseous to swallow water let alone enjoy slurping on some exotic new dish.

The new bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time.

Approximately 2 body-remakes later

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one tracks it, at least not very closely. No one thinks much of it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

What’s wrong, I ask?

"Oh, I needed them but we were out two weeks ago And I know we’re broke so you know" I don’t know. Do you know? Love of my life, look at me. By now, you not only know that I would not only

Get a payday loan Put up the car as collateral Swallow cum along with some mild disrespect Swallow some of my pride and ask my sister Swallow a bit more of my pride and e-beg Sell my soul, if I still had one Swallow what’s left of my pride and ask my parents

just so that you could be the slightest bit less uncomfortable but also that I could. Because I have. You were there. This is a basic that costs less than a tank of gas one that we both need, if differently, to boot. I drop everything post-haste to get the dual-pack of bottles rattling unpleasantly with their full capacity of rough brown pills.

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet. No one I tracks it, at least not very closely. No one I thinkso much about it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

What’s wrong, I ask?

"Oh, I needed them but I couldn’t find it" Love of my life, didn’t we decide on the spot together-- Never mind. From here on out it lives right here, right at your desk along both your sight-lines from every angle.

The bottle sits in the medicine cabinet on his desk, under his eye. I track it. I thinkso much about it. Everyone knows I need it from time to time. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

What’s wrong, I ask?

“Oh, I saw you take it from my desk so I thought it wasn’t there” Love of my life, didn’t we decide on the spot together-- Never mind. From here on out I will sit at your desk when I open it so you know it will never leave you.

The bottle backup sits in the medicine cabinet. The bottle sits stays on his desk, under his eye. I track it. I thinkso much about it. Everyone He knows I need it from time to time. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

What’s wrong, I ask?

“Oh, I saw you take some the other day and you’re on your period And it seemed like it was running low I couldn’t finish it while you still needed it could I” Love of my life, didn’t I say I was tracking it and weren’t you there when I bought the new ones-- Never mind. From here on out I will never touch it. It’s all yours.

The backup sits in the medicine cabinet behind his bottle. The His bottle stays on his desk, under his eye. My bottle stays in my bag, rattling unpleasantly. I track it his. I thinkso much about it his. Everyone He knows I need it from time to time. it’s his. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

What’s wrong, I ask? “Oh, I forgot to tell you I was running low And you know I can never remember the one in the cabinet” Love of my life, I didn’t expect you to remember the cabinet The new one was right behind the old one-- Never mind. From here on out I’ll open the new bottle and I’ll pour the old ones atop the new and I’ll discard the old bottle so you don’t get them confused.

The backup sits behind becomes his bottle. His bottle stays on his desk, under his eye. The bottle formerly his goes into the trash. My bottle stays in my bag, rattling unpleasantly. I track his. I thinkso much about his. He knows it’s his. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

What’s wrong, I ask?

“Oh, I saw you throw away the bottle I thought we were out” Love of my life, didn’t we talk about this last time-- Never mind. I tell him I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. From here on out, I wait until he’s asleep so that I can open the new bottle and pour the old ones atop the new and discard the old bottle so he doesn’t get them confused out of his sight, so he doesn’t think we’re out.

The backup becomes his bottle. His bottle stays on his desk, under his eye. The bottle formerly his goes into the trash doesn’t exist. This is an infinity bottle of ibuprofen. Bulk shopping has progressed so much these days. My bottle stays in my bag, rattling unpleasantly. I track his. I thinkso much about his. He knows it’s his. It’s there, but he’s more incapacitated than usual.

I choke so hard I cannot ask. What’s wrong he asks

The choking merges with a memory of excess and nausea. I slurp down an entire bottle then put my fingers down my throat so I can give it all to him. What else have I left to give?

My former foster kitty Mavis (née Duchess) was incredibly cruel with her affections. Every time I would bring a big strong paper bag home for her benefit, she would fall in love with its crinkly noises. Then, she would use it and use it until the bag had no crinkles left, at which point she'd become bored and leave it alone. There it would sit, reduced to a sad lonely life of uselessness.

Alas, poor shopping bags, destroyed by love and then abandoned.

Someone who identifies as straight: *flirts with my non-binary ass but is visibly confused that they're attracted to me*

Me: "I'm going to wreck you..."

Them: *shudders in mixed fear and arousal*

Me: "...r concept of what counts as sex and the construct of virginity."

*pulls out whiteboard and worksheets*

"Let's start with Hanne Blank."

I'm trying to be charitable, but it's hard for me to not see strong beliefs in manifestation/The Secret/etc. as ultimately victim blaming but with extra steps.

I don't disagree with the idea of setting goals/intentions, focusing on a better future for yourself, speaking desires out loud, etc. Those things are how we as humans help ourselves and ask for help from each other. I do these things, but I don't think it's asking anyone but myself and other human beings for anything. I don't think I'm calling anything forth from the ether.

I also don't disagree with accepting things that we can't change, but I don't believe you have to tack on judgement to do that. This is the world we have, and there's no point in being constantly upset about that, but calling this the best of all possible worlds is dicey.

Like astrology, it seems to be an assumed belief on queer communities especially. It's weird that cis-hets don't generally assume my beliefs in casual conversation, but I'm supposed to go along with it when someone tells me I'm "manifesting" and I'm a big old meanie killjoy at best if I say that those aren't my beliefs.

The two tupperware genders are spaghetti sauce/tamatar ki salan (reddish) and tumeric/haldi (yellowish).

Kids these days and their googling their crushes. Back in my day, we had to steal pictures of them from the stacks of photos being passed around at social events and hope no one noticed or make do with grainy yearbook images.

I am currently reviewing and auditing digital records related to Internet governance. Many are legal documents that underwent endless cycles of revisions and approvals. The oldest among them are over 25 years old.

Much of what used to baffle me about Microsoft Word suddenly makes so. much. sense.