Online Ooze

I love the internet. I love to read on the internet and write on the internet and talk to people on the internet and watch TV on the internet and live half my life on the internet. Such is the Y2K generation. That said, I am hurting lately. My head hurts and my brain reels. It’s my own fault. I maintain a Tumblr.

My Tumblr blog contains two things: gifs of Sherlock and Doctor Who, and (for want of a better word) social justice. And here is the thing: reading and signal boosting information and knowledge and academia which educates us on the oppression and stigma and discrimination some people face is a good thing. A very IMPORTANT, very good thing. I don’t want to get into privilege and queerphobia and intersectionality and racism and everything because it’s late and I am not eloquent enough (or in a position to speak for other people). Part of being a good activist and a good ally is raising awareness and pointing out when things are super hurtful, triggering, or problematic. It is about slowly informing people so that this horrible system that we live in is broken down, one person at a time.

But I can no longer deal with these discussions in real life. Because they are no longer discussions. They are arguments. They are straight up verbal fights about proving that “I’m not like the others though.” And me yelling back that I don’t care and if you’re not working to break down oppression, you are passively contributing to it. I don’t want to yell and I don’t want to fight. But I am sick of getting angry at the people I love. Because I am not angry at them. I am angry at the lack of human rights. I am angry at the higher risk of mental health disorders and sexual assault. I am angry at microaggressions and assumptions. I am angry at the fact that I have to be “be calm” to the people who are arguing to make sure I can’t get married, or risk losing the “allies” who I need to change the law. I am angry. But not at individuals. Frustrated sometimes, but I don’t want to hurt you. And really I can’t. No matter how badly you feel after me referring to you as a cishet (which I don’t understand because it is just short for cisgender heterosexual), my words cannot take away your right to marriage or adoption, cannot make you more susceptible to murder or rape, do not make you more likely to get fired or harassed, really cannot do anything at all.

But the fighting hurts. Should I stop? Deep in my soul, I cannot. But, friends, can the arguments stop? Its not personal, I just want to see change. I need to see change. And derailing a conversation doesn’t make it stop. It doesn’t make you correct, it just makes you louder than me, and I can’t concede on what I know to be right. So, let’s just be friends. My church has a saying “In the essentials, Unity. In the non-essentials, Liberty. In all things, Love.”

In all things, love, friends. In all things, love.

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