When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.
Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”
When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.
Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”
I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.
She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”
“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”
He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”
Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”
When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”
Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”
Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.
He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.
Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.
Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.
One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.
I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”
Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.
It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.
It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.
It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.
There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.
I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.
By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
EVERYBODY READ THIS. RIGHT NOW.
Don’t forget the fear. Anger is easier than fear.
The person who loves you now, at this very moment in time, at this particular juncture in space, once loved someone else before you, and you have to be okay with that. You have to be okay with all the previous mouths they’ve kissed or put their tongues into, all the names they’ve pronounced dozens of times until they got them just right. You have to be okay with those things, and with the beds they’ve slept in that were not their own, with the hands they held and the bodies they explored, even the awkward first dates they went on filled with so much tension it couldn’t have been sliced even with a butcher knife.
Because the thing is, the person who loves you now was a different person entirely before they were with you. Every passageway hidden inside their body was lit differently; every corridor inside their brain was traveled by new thoughts. Their synapses were firing with another kind of love, a love unique to this person and their significant other. If all the different kinds of love in the world were bottled up in tiny vials like perfume or shots of alcohol, there would be millions. Billions, even. Trillions. Because what’s love for one person, is something else entirely to another. So the person who loves you now- they once held a bottle of another color, size, shape, you name it, in their hands, right over their heart.
But that doesn’t mean that you have to try to find this vial, wherever it’s residing currently, and smash it open till all the love pours out in a thick stream, just so you can fill yours with the same kind of love. It doesn’t mean that. In fact, it’s better if you don’t, because what the person who loves you now had with their previous lover can never be replicated. It would be wrong to steal a feeling like that and try to make it your own.
The body is basically a mosaic. Every inch of it- veins, lungs, liver, fingernails- is filled with different memories and experiences. It’s a collage of so many things. If you aren’t okay with the person who loves you now, loving someone else before you, then essentially you’re not okay with all the shards nestled beneath their skin that are made up of this previous lover. Essentially, you’re not okay with some of their pieces, and without those pieces, they wouldn’t be whole. You can’t be with a broken shell of a person, or a half skeleton, or a mosaic missing its most basic parts.
You have to learn to say yes to the entire person, not just the parts of them you wish were yours. The person you love now isn’t a computer chip whose electrical wiring and circuits can be deleted or removed at will. So treat them like every single shard and scar and word is necessary, because, well, it is.
And it can be so hard to lie awake at night while your partner is asleep, tracing the curves of their back and counting the names of their exes instead of sheep. If you’re looking for a cure for insomnia, that’s certainly not going to help. It’s difficult, yes, as difficult as crawling through a hurricane or pulling yourself from the wreckage of a splintered ship lost in the middle of the water, but you have to stop thinking about everyone who loved the person who now loves you, and who they loved before you. The past can’t be changed, only less thought of.
Besides, think of it this way- who you go home to at night, who you wake up to in the morning, who you hold like a tidal wave, who you’d rather lie next to than get up- they’re made up of everyone before them. They’re made up of all this previous love, all these different kinds of love, a multitude of different loves and first and last dates, a plethora of hugs and stargazings and the first time they were ever told or said “I love you.” With all that love buried deep within the basement of their heart, they’ve been taught how to be prepared for you. All their previous lovers were just preparing them for loving you. They’ve been taught so well, by some of the best teachers. It’s okay to be the recipient of someone else’s lesson. Remember that.
The person who loves you now, right now- who even as you read this might be touching your neck in that way they do, or smiling at you from across the room, or wishing they could bed you right then and there- they loved someone else before you. And you have to be okay with that, you do.
Because the fact that they love you now, despite loving someone else beforehand, means that you’re pretty damn special.
I need some faith and confidence regained
Breaking my never-reblog-“reblog-this-if”-posts rule.
i feel special thank you
Dark skin is gorgeous. <3
tbh dark skin tends to be even more attractive than lighter shades b/c it’s so damn flawless