Okay, fellow white people. We need to talk.
Let me tell you a story: I was an angry punk teenager. Not violent, but I did a shitton of trespassing, and I got into a lot of screaming matches with cops.
I have never been arrested.
I have never been violently attacked by police. Hell, I have never been seriously threatened by police.
I am fully aware that I’ve survived to adulthood largely on the benefits of my race.
When you are white in America, you get away with all sorts of shit. Have you read this account from a white dude who actively tried to get himself arrested? You should. It’s telling.
So, if that’s your main frame of reference for dealing with law enforcement, it is really easy to assume that when someone else gets targeted by the police, they must have done something really bad. After all, you know the police aren’t that petty, right? They’re there to help: That’s what TV tells you, what your teachers told you, what your parents told you. “If you’re in trouble, find a police officer. They’ll help.” And, y’know, if you’re white, most of the time, that’s probably true.
When you’re white in America, it is awfully easy to pretend that you don’t live in a country where the nonviolent physical presence of black people, especially black men, is considered sufficient threat to justify use of lethal force. It’s really easy to pretend that laws are enforced equally; that arrest rate has any demographic resemblance to actual crime rates; that the police are there to protect us from the bad guys.
And, I mean, I get that. It’s a lot more comfortable to pretend that safety correlates to virtue than to confront the ugly truth that a system that benefits you very directly does so at the cost of other people’s lives; that what you were taught was the just reward for being a good person is, in fact, the privilege of your skin. That’s a big part of why we work so hard to retcon narratives about how the black people our police murder must have been dangerous, highlight every casual infraction like it’s a killing spree. We are so desperate to believe that the system that feeds us is just.
It doesn’t feel good to acknowledge that stuff. It feels gross. A system we trusted—one we should be able to trust, that should work for the benefit and protection of everyone has made us accomplice to some deeply horrifying shit.
But here’s the thing:
This happened. This is happening. Not recognizing it; stonewalling and insulating ourselves in our little bubbles does not make it go away.
And not acknowledging it, not having asked for it, does not make us any less complicit, or any less responsible for owning and fixing this. We are actively benefitting from a fucked, corrupt, murderous system. That is on us. As it should be.
So educate yourself, get the tools, and start dismantling this fucker. You have the time: after all, no one’s shooting at your kids.
Privilege is the bandwidth to speak up and dismantle because you’re not in fear for your life. And there is no conscionable excuse for failing to use it.
Please, please read the guy trying to get arrested.
Protect autistic kids at all costs.
Make them feel loved and important in a world that says they’re wrong for existing. Tell them it’s okay to stim, or info-dump, or mimic, or be non-verbal. Defend them from shitty ableists who demand they supress their traits and don’t treat them like real people.
p r o t e c t a u t i s t i c k i d s
Since Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders, this means they know where the best hiding spots are (having discovered them at one point or another).
So when the Battle for Hogwarts raged on, the Gryffindors were fighting the Death Eaters head on with the Ravenclaws and Slytherin supporting them. It’s agreed that the Hufflepuffs will find a way to get the younger students out.
DROPPING FROM THE RAFTERS (“Death from above, mothafathas!”)
SPRINGING OUT OF CLOSETS THAT WEREN’T THERE (“Peekaboo, I stunned ‘choo!”)
POPPING FROM THE FLOORBOARDS LIKE DAISIES (“Excuse me, Mister Death Eater, but nice shoes!”)
"without us you wouldn’t have any rights!" without you we wouldn’t have to fight for them
Always this. Always.
"Remember that men gave women the right to vote!"
And remember that men should never have been at such a social and political advantage as to be able to literally give and take away rights from groups of people.
It’s difficult being comfortable with yourself. It’s even more difficult when you’re disabled. It means knowing your limits intimately. It means running into a brick wall for your efforts and licking your wounds in the wake of your failure.
For me, it means learning what acceptance truly means. I’ve pinpointed my struggles; I’ve explored ways around them. But the more I embrace both my talents and my limitations, the more people latch onto only one or the other. Some have an image of who I should be — this smart, talented, enthusiastic girl — and when I tell them I can’t always be that girl, they call it a waste. They call me a waste.
Others wax rhapsodic about how I prove autism is no excuse for laziness or failure. I’m an inspiration, they say; I overcame my disability. Me? I just gape. After all my years of difficulty, the last thing I want is for people to use my experiences to put down others who struggle. What’s so inspirational about accepting your limitations? When did I overcome anything?
I never overcame. I incorporated.
ugh okay so i made a gofundme campaign to help pay for my dental, it’s getting pretty serious like i can’t chew properly at all anymore and it hurts all the time and i can’t talk right like a real person and like i’m on income assistance while i try to get on disability and i can’t work to get more money for this so pls pls consider donating and/or signal boosting http://www.gofundme.com/d5lxvw