You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.
So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.
But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.
The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.
It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.
This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."
And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.
Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.
I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.
This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.
And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.
Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.
Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.
So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?
And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.
They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.
If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.
If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."
But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.
Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.
If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.
What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.
Today I'm deleting podcasts.
Graffiti in Rockville, Maryland in memory of 23-year old Saudi trans woman Eden Knight.
Eden died after being forcibly detransitioned in Saudi Arabia, after being trafficked from the US by a security contractor named Michael Pocalyko.
Rest in peace Eden
Transphobes will not win
Amen, amen, amen.
For victims of abuse, it’s almost essential to gain ability to stop empathising with our abusers, not only because it’s keeping us trapped in their manipulations, but because we deserve to know that we don’t have to prioritize the feelings of a person who is actively doing harm to us.
Empathy for victims of abuse is almost mandatory, to the point where we’re punished for every moment we’re not displaying extreme and unconditional empathy for the abusers. We can get called out and berated for simply going about our business and not thinking of what the abuser might want of us in the particular second. We get shamed for ‘not knowing better’ and 'failing our role’ if we take a minute to consider our own needs.
When they’re doing their usual play – hurting us, then quickly acting hurt and playing the victim, bringing out their past trauma, crying about how hard they have/had it, how our feelings hurt them, even in the case we don’t fall for it, and refuse to apologize and accept that our feelings are just collateral damage in their personal crusade, we will get attacked immediately for being an emotionless and selfish person. Fail to react empathetic to the abuser’s guilt trip will get us called out for being horrible, for not caring, for being the most vicious demon, the worst person, the most unworthy and ungrateful human being in the world. That kind of thing sticks. We don’t just get over that. It becomes etched in our brains that displaying empathy, even to someone who is walking all over us, is our biggest priority, that showing empathy is the last thing that might protect us against an even bigger outburst, that might help us deserve to not be attacked for our lack of morality. We don’t get to be mad. We don’t get to stand up for ourselves. We have to put up a display of empathy or endure personal attacks that will make us feel like we don’t deserve to live.
To finally be able to cut the empathy and stand up against the abuser, is an act that fights years, maybe decades of brainwashing and conditioning. To not care if the abuser has it bad anymore, means we faced and fought years of trauma, lies, personal attacks, self doubt, self hatred, pain and injustice. Abusers want to take away our ability not to care, not to empathize and not to prioritize them, and seizing that back means seizing ourselves back, existing in a place where our empathy is not mandatory anymore, where we’re not pure compassionate receptacles of trauma anymore. Where empathy isn’t forced and squeezed out of us under the threat of pain. Where our value and personality isn’t dictated by whether we endlessly forgive and accept people who will only continue hurting us and bringing trauma into our life.
It is not a mark of a healthy and normal human being to offer our entire compassion and understanding to a creature who is destroying us in return. If someone proves to be a danger to us, it’s normal to disregard everything except the knowledge that this is a threat, and nothing else to us. To keep away because our well being shouldn’t be put under a fear of a constant threat. We are normal for following our sense of self-preservation and turning away from whatever is damaging us, regardless of how sad or upset this being becomes. We are not to be a collateral damage to someone’s misery or manipulation. Our empathy doesn’t have to be an opening to accept harm. We can save our empathy for those who also feel for us. We’re not bad people if we close up under a threat of abuse, and want to retreat to safety. We’re not evil, cruel or selfish for extending our hearts only to those who also keep ours safe.
quick dismantle for those who are starting to feel like it’s not worth speaking against narcissistic abuse:
children are being abused by narcissists right now, with no way to find out if there’s no resources being written about it
narcissistic abuse has been found to be so specifically devastating on the human body that even if it’s not physical, it causes long-term physical symptoms (chronic pain, chronic fatigue, inability to sleep regularly, over-active cortisol, over-responsive brain chemicals that give you ptsd symptoms)
there are people organizing forums, writing books, articles, posts, people making videos, checklists and all possible resources for dealing with narcissistic abuse. all of those people are survivors and victims of it. they’re not all making it up. they’re not all doing it for something that doesn’t exist.
dynamics of the narcissistic abuse are so pervasive, a person will usually feel they’re going insane and doubt themselves so hard until they finally find resources on narcissistic abuse, which is going to help them regain their sanity and find sense in what has been happening to them
narcissistic abuse has left millions of people feeling they’re not worthy of attention, care, resources, community, support or trust, and they’re accepting abuse as their normal. we can’t abandon them. we can’t say this is okay and look the other way in order to protect the narcissists.
if you’re worried that speaking out against narcissistic abuse is creating stigma against narcissists, remember that our writings and resources are being spread only among victims and survivors. narcissists are still controlling the mainstream narrative and all articles you look up as a non-survivor will convince you that narcissists are the ‘same as normal people’
for survivors of narcissistic abuse, it’s absolutely vital to avoid future narcissists and to be aware of their tactics. this is not limiting their access to public resources or public people in general, it’s only limiting their success among victims and survivors. ask yourself why would they want access to survivors and victims specifically. why is it so important that to this particular demographic, they look appealing.
narcissists claiming that if we don’t want them to have and abuse children, it’s ‘genocide’, genocide against who? narcissists most often don’t make other narcissists, they’re mostly creating abused kids. so the apparent genocide is against the abused children. they’re accusing us of genocide against ourselves.
narcissists finding abused people taking about abuse and attacking them for ‘smearing their reputation’ is a cover-up and darvo tactics. Only an abuser could turn against an abuse victim to act hurt and police their language instead of feeling rage towards the abuser. Anyone non-abusive would immediately have a problem with a narcissist who did the abuse, not with the victim who speaks out about it.
saying ‘not-all-narcissists’ is still admitting that a lot of them do abuse, and for the sake of their reputation, we have to shut up about it all. shut up. about abusers. to protect reputations. who except an abuser would need that to happen.
other times when they’re claiming no narcissist is abusive, they’re accusing millions of victims to be liars. openly denying experiences of abuse victims only to make themselves look good. we’re going to stand around and allow this?
making one narcissist feel like they don’t belong into safe spaces of victims is not more important than protecting the vulnerable part of the population from narcissistic abuse
abuse victims don’t have to be exposed to anyone who has anything in common with their abuser. we have the right to feel safe at the expense of anyone’s feelings.
Speaking against narcissistic abuse is NOT futile. They’re fighting to shut it off precisely because it’s limiting their access to victims. Every day a victim of narcissistic abuse finds their way to their freedom because there are people who spoke out about it.
I adore this, I adore this so much.
that arm’s gonna get covered in stickers, just u wait
also:
it wasn’t designed w mabel’s artistic genius in mind
Thank you for these. <3
- Dipper and Wendy swap hats every year
- Soos and Melody eventually have twins that live in Dipper and Mabel’s old room
- McGucket makes the old Northwest mansion into a mecha because he can…and because Soos hooked him on anime
- Ford and Stan visit the kids for Thanksgiving, which is why you see Mabel making Ford a turkey hand in the credits
- Bill is still kicking around somewhere in Stan’s subconscious, but it’s gonna take him a while to pull himself back together, much less be in a position to do any damage
- Since Soos moved into the Shack, Stan and Ford end up rooming with McGucket whenever they go back to Gravity Falls. Some of the weird creatures end up living in there too. It’s a big mansion.
- Stan still has occasional memory gaps, but he remembers the important stuff - anything to do with his family
- Stan pretended not to remember Ford just to annoy him. Ford is annoyed but hugs him anyway.
- Gideon starts sending his thugs after any bullies, not just ones who pick on him.
- Dipper and Mabel’s parents are understandably annoyed about the pig, but they leave it alone when they realize how much the kids have matured over the past few months.
- (they are in fact, kind of worried about how much the kids have changed over the summer)
- Bill’s statue is still out in the woods. No one wants to go near it.
- …Except Dipper, who came across it the next summer and hangs out there sometimes when he wants to be alone and needs something to complain at that can’t interrupt him.
- (and if Bill ever meets Dipper again he’s going to have a lot to say about his petty human problems)
- Everyone involved in the circle eventually gets a tattoo of their symbol. They can’t exactly explain why, they just end up doing it on their own.
- Gravity Falls’ location? It’s in your heart.
Inktober #24 Silent Hill 3’s Heather and Valtiel
reblog if you worried about your abusive parent more than they ever worried about you
Every single time abuse victims gather the courage to speak about their abuse, they’re not doing something simple and easy for them. They’re going against everything they’ve been conditioned and groomed into.
Every abused person has been forced by their abuser into some form of secrecy; maybe they promised, or they swore they wouldn’t tell, or maybe they were intimidated, threatened into silence, or the worst one, blamed and forced to acknowledge the abuse is their fault, making it so much more terrifying to tell someone, because telling then becomes an admission of their own guilt. And abuse universally makes victims feel ashamed. Because to admit they were powerless and cornered and dehumanized, it risks so much ostracizing and judging by others who do not want to acknowledge it’s possible to be in such a situation and to be able to do nothing about it. People will prefer to turn their back to victims, than to accept it can happen to anyone, even them, and that nothing they do could possibly prevent it.
Sometimes, the abuse will be too horrible to talk about, or to even think about. Sometimes, mere thoughts of it force a person into a panic attack, or a fight-or-flight mode. Some trauma can make us black out. Sometimes just thinking about it is unbearable and makes us wish we weren’t alive for it.
To go against all of that, and to trust someone to listen, acknowledge it, take us seriously, and sides with us, it’s a huge risk. We risk every single retribution from the abuser, we risk our own emotional and mental state, we risk venturing into the unknown territory of having someone else know our most painful, shameful and vulnerable moments, it’s a risk not everyone can make.
For a person to side against us, after we’ve done all this work in order to be able to speak, is devastating. For someone to call us liars, to accuse us of ulterior motives, of making it up to hurt the abuser, of wanting attention, of burdening them with this, it’s almost unbearable punishment for speaking out. Even worse, siding with abuser and agreeing they had the right to do this, or that it is our fault, it’s the worst possible scenario. It inflicts incredible damage on our lives. Makes it impossible to speak out again. It’s often a risk of speaking out in horrible desperation, only to be silenced forever.
And sometimes, it doesn’t even matter if we want to speak out, because there’s nobody who could help us. Our friends, acquaintances, peers, authorities, we can tell they will do nothing even if they knew. We can tell they will easily side with the abusers, because we heard them supporting the same rhetoric abusers use to justify themselves. Even if they felt sorry for us, we can tell they’re not going to do anything to help. For some, the knowledge of the abuse would only be a burden we don’t want to inflict.
You are not at fault for staying silent. You are not responsible or guilty of a sin if you never told anyone. You are not responsible for the abuser’s actions. You are not responsible for anything. Chances to speak out were either denied or ridiculously risky and/or hopeless to grant you rescue. Even if you stayed silent because your abuser lied and threatened you, you had no way to know for sure. You couldn’t have risked what little safety you had for the possibility of being hurt even worse. You’ve walked with this on your shoulders for so long, you should get to put it down without risking a thing.
i dropped off my resume at this place at 1:15 and got called for an interview at 1:45 holy dang
A tiny Stan I doodled. Mullet love