My mind is a weird place, both to inhabit and to describe to others. I have no way of relating to people who describe the world in just words, because, to me, thoughts and emotions are images on a reel, like the Cinematic Records in "Black Butler". This comes with the added difficulty that I have a very hard time separating memories from imagination. Unless I have photos to back up what I remember, I can't tell the difference between what happened and what I dreamt happened. Add in the fact that I've been through the wringer with gaslighting and physical abuse, and I have to have people I can trust to ask if I remember things correctly. I can talk about what happened to me in the past mostly because I can't really tell the difference. Sure, I can say "I have a hard time speaking in front of a group because of the humiliation I suffered from bullies" and my brain and my anxiety will confirm its truthfulness, but I no longer have an emotional reaction when I think about said humiliation. I no longer seek retribution and I no longer get angry if I meet any of the bullies. I have the same response to that pain as I do when thinking about the nightmares I remember.
As I now get ready to move from Ireland back to Sweden, it opens up the possibility that I won't be able to tell with certainty if anything I've experienced here is actually real. I have photos and I have souvenirs, but will that be enough to quell the sensation of waking up from a dream? I don't know. I hope it will. This past year has been so much fun. Sure, my room mate could use some serious social therapy and I've been just as out of luck in the job department as I was before I moved here. However, being away from the pressure from society, the shaming from the Employment Agency and Welfare Office (I wonder if they know that shaming someone is the least effective motivator available), and the feeling of inadequacy I experienced in Sweden, I've managed to get a working foundation for myself. The memory of being on a daily dose of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication is already settling into "Are you sure that wasn't a bad dream?" territory and maybe this nagging dread I feel when thinking about my room mate will join my other bad memories in a faded lull between memories and imagination. In just one year, I've learned to control my social anxiety, to rely on Boy when my general anxiety and chronic depression gets to be too strong, and to trust my own judgement, both when it comes to decision about my life and what my brain can do.
And one day, many years from now, I might look back at all this and wonder if it was all just a dream, something I made up, or if this uncertainty is just something that's part of me and something I can control by photos and people I can trust.
DFTBA
*Title taken from the "Bleach" movie of the same name.
fredag 27 maj 2016
tisdag 17 maj 2016
A family of many
Today is International Day Against Homophobia, Bi-phobia, and Transphobia. It breaks my heart that this day has to be a thing, but it makes me proud to stand with the people defending the right to be an individual and to love whoever your heart has decided to love.
I have tried for many years to understand how people can hate others based on who you love or who you are. I understand hate based on actions. Hitler deserves to be hated. As does Mussoulini, Putin, and several others. They killed and destroyed for their own gain.
But to hate someone because they want to be left in peace? I just do not understand it.
In psychology, there are two terms I have taken to heart and now use frequently - Family of Origin and Family of Choice. Family of Origin means the family that raised you. Doesn't have to be biological in any way. It's just the group of people who raised you. Family of Choice is the group of people you feel close to, but aren't necessarily related to, for example soldiers in the Marines, LGBTQIA+ allies, or a close knit sports team.
My Family of Origin is my mom, my dad, and my younger sister. My parents have been married for almost 33 years now. They both identify as straight and belong to the Swedish Protestant Church. Their church activities are limited to the odd Christmas Choir Conserts and not much more. My sister doesn't like labels and therefore doesn't use them that often, but when pressed, she says she's gay. She's also a Protestant, but mostly in name, like most Swedes. I am gray-asexual and a Shintoist.
My family of Choice is a bit bigger. There's my sibling Jackson, who follows Universe, my, I think, sexuality-fluid sister Sakuya, who's religious views I don't know, and my husband Andreas, who refuses to follow any creed except Ego Sum ("I am"), which makes labels exceptionally arbitrary, both in sexuality and religious views.
My family of Origin are all of Germanic descent. My maternal grandmother came from Germany, my father's ancestors are of Swedish-Norwegian descent.
In my family of choice, there are people of Irish, Latin-American, and Germanic descent.
In my combined family, we all have varying degrees of hair and skin pigmentation. We speak different languages, we see the world through different lenses. We have freckles and ginger hair, we are big bodied and slim bodied. We are tall and short.
And we are all family.
I will never understand hate based on who you were born as. You can't change who you love. You don't choose who you are.
Stand proud as who you are! Do not let others dictate your individuality! Yes, it sounds much easier than it is, and trust me, standing up to oppression is the hardest thing you will ever do, but living in hiding, living in fear, crushing who you are to make others accept you will just make you hate yourself more.
You are a miracle just the way you are, and if we stand together, one day, we will win.
DFTBA
I have tried for many years to understand how people can hate others based on who you love or who you are. I understand hate based on actions. Hitler deserves to be hated. As does Mussoulini, Putin, and several others. They killed and destroyed for their own gain.
But to hate someone because they want to be left in peace? I just do not understand it.
In psychology, there are two terms I have taken to heart and now use frequently - Family of Origin and Family of Choice. Family of Origin means the family that raised you. Doesn't have to be biological in any way. It's just the group of people who raised you. Family of Choice is the group of people you feel close to, but aren't necessarily related to, for example soldiers in the Marines, LGBTQIA+ allies, or a close knit sports team.
My Family of Origin is my mom, my dad, and my younger sister. My parents have been married for almost 33 years now. They both identify as straight and belong to the Swedish Protestant Church. Their church activities are limited to the odd Christmas Choir Conserts and not much more. My sister doesn't like labels and therefore doesn't use them that often, but when pressed, she says she's gay. She's also a Protestant, but mostly in name, like most Swedes. I am gray-asexual and a Shintoist.
My family of Choice is a bit bigger. There's my sibling Jackson, who follows Universe, my, I think, sexuality-fluid sister Sakuya, who's religious views I don't know, and my husband Andreas, who refuses to follow any creed except Ego Sum ("I am"), which makes labels exceptionally arbitrary, both in sexuality and religious views.
My family of Origin are all of Germanic descent. My maternal grandmother came from Germany, my father's ancestors are of Swedish-Norwegian descent.
In my family of choice, there are people of Irish, Latin-American, and Germanic descent.
In my combined family, we all have varying degrees of hair and skin pigmentation. We speak different languages, we see the world through different lenses. We have freckles and ginger hair, we are big bodied and slim bodied. We are tall and short.
And we are all family.
I will never understand hate based on who you were born as. You can't change who you love. You don't choose who you are.
Stand proud as who you are! Do not let others dictate your individuality! Yes, it sounds much easier than it is, and trust me, standing up to oppression is the hardest thing you will ever do, but living in hiding, living in fear, crushing who you are to make others accept you will just make you hate yourself more.
You are a miracle just the way you are, and if we stand together, one day, we will win.
DFTBA
torsdag 12 maj 2016
When toys are no longer toys
When are toys no longer just toys?
When we, as adults, assign certain values to toys and tell children which values belong to which of the binary genders. We tell children that there are only two genders and that Girls can only play with toys with Girl Values and Boys can only play with toys with Boy Values. These values stay with the children into their adult lives and translate into jobs, roles, and interests. Check this article for same sentiments.
And gender swapping toys is just as bad!!
"Oh, I have my son play with dolls to break gender roles!" for me translates to "I know dolls are Girl Toys and I'm so hip for making my Boy play with them."
I will never stop being grateful for my mother being who she was when it comes to toys. She never tried to influence me or my sister when it came to the toys we wanted to play with. She encouraged me when I dressed up as He-Man and ran around the house, screaming "I'm He-Woman!!". This is where conservatives would go "What!? A girl, dressed as a male action figure, and telling everyone she's He-Woman? My mind can't handle the gender-ception anymore!" Psst - there are more than two genders, and generally, a 3 year-old don't really care either way.
My sister and I had a wide range of Legos, Barbies, cars, My Little Pony knock-offs, glass marbles, build-a-slide things, fire crackers, and basically any variety of toy that could get stuck in a bath tub drain, stepped on, lodged in the vacuum cleaner, brushed, braided, or beaded imaginable. We also rode bikes, skied, skated, built tree houses, and climbed hills and trees. My sister was in a soccer team, she played in U17 competitions in tennis (when she was 12-13 years old), and played land hockey. I was a competitive swimmer and practiced martial arts. I can't imagine not being allowed to play sports or collect plushies because of my percieved gender.
Someone, sadly can't remember who, gave me this gem:
Just change "For boys or girls" to "for all gender identities"
And this is really my view on toys. Toys are toys. They usually don't have genders and playing with a toy does not asign any values or traits to the player. Once society stop stereotyping gender and toys, we can all play and have fun and learn without bias.
DFTBA
When we, as adults, assign certain values to toys and tell children which values belong to which of the binary genders. We tell children that there are only two genders and that Girls can only play with toys with Girl Values and Boys can only play with toys with Boy Values. These values stay with the children into their adult lives and translate into jobs, roles, and interests. Check this article for same sentiments.
And gender swapping toys is just as bad!!
"Oh, I have my son play with dolls to break gender roles!" for me translates to "I know dolls are Girl Toys and I'm so hip for making my Boy play with them."
I will never stop being grateful for my mother being who she was when it comes to toys. She never tried to influence me or my sister when it came to the toys we wanted to play with. She encouraged me when I dressed up as He-Man and ran around the house, screaming "I'm He-Woman!!". This is where conservatives would go "What!? A girl, dressed as a male action figure, and telling everyone she's He-Woman? My mind can't handle the gender-ception anymore!" Psst - there are more than two genders, and generally, a 3 year-old don't really care either way.
My sister and I had a wide range of Legos, Barbies, cars, My Little Pony knock-offs, glass marbles, build-a-slide things, fire crackers, and basically any variety of toy that could get stuck in a bath tub drain, stepped on, lodged in the vacuum cleaner, brushed, braided, or beaded imaginable. We also rode bikes, skied, skated, built tree houses, and climbed hills and trees. My sister was in a soccer team, she played in U17 competitions in tennis (when she was 12-13 years old), and played land hockey. I was a competitive swimmer and practiced martial arts. I can't imagine not being allowed to play sports or collect plushies because of my percieved gender.
Someone, sadly can't remember who, gave me this gem:
Just change "For boys or girls" to "for all gender identities"
DFTBA
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