Coconut Dogs

(image description: a three panel drawing with very simple sketched lines and only a little quick coloration. it depicts a woman sitting at a desk, with a computer keyboard, musing aloud; "sometimes I wish my creative works would just make themselves...", after which she is startled by the arrival of a stick figure with a square head labeled "generative AI," which replies; "I can do that." the final panel is the only one with detailed color and lighting, showing the artist whipping out a pencil-shaped laser gun and exploding the AI entity. end description.)

had a conversation in a writing server, decided to make a meme about it.

do you remember when middle school started and all the white kids started going through their “racist phase?” when i started using swear words, white kids started using racial slurs. when i started referencing memes, white kids started making nazi jokes. 

everyone likes to joke about how horrible middle school is, but no one is willing to acknowledge how traumatic it is for kids of color. we understand what racism is from the time we are little kids,–i knew what racism was before i understood what race and ethnicity were–and we understand how it feels to experience, but when white kids start to find out about racism, it’s a joke to them. 

i didn’t know any white kids in middle school who weren’t racist. the ones who didn’t use slurs or make racist jokes or find nazis and nazi propaganda funny hung out with those kids. they segregated their friend groups to the point where even white kids who were friends with kids of color wouldn’t have black friends or dark skinned friends. i experienced tokenization and microagressions and outright being called slurs and mocked for not being white the whole time i was in middle school from both other students and the school’s faculty.

i need to clarify here that i did not grow up in the south. i did not grow up in a conservative place. i did not grow up in a predominantly white place. i grew up in a racially diverse and liberal city in southern california. racism still existed there. i heard the same horrifically racist slurs and jokes and preachings as kids of color who grow up in texas do. the kids saying this shit had democrats for parents and teachers, but they were not told they were wrong for being racist. any time a teacher overheard a kid being racist,–even when a white gentile wrote an ode to hitler for our poetry unit–the kids who suffered because of their racism were told that these racists in the making would grow out of it. we had to forgive them. the authority figures were just as racist as our classmates even though our principal wasn’t white and we lived in a progressive area.

the most painful part of this experience was that i didn’t have the words to explain what was happening to me. i didn’t know it was a collective experience that other kids of color were having. i didn’t know what was so wrong with me that i was being made fun of for not looking white or for acknowledging my culture. it wasn’t until i was in the 8th grade that i finally felt seen by anyone else when i got seated with a bunch of other kids of color in algebra and they would comment on the racism they experienced and noticed in our school. that was the first time in this whole experience–in my whole life even–that i felt like i wasn’t crazy. i was right. none of us had the vocabulary that we all must have now to explain what we were experiencing, but we were all experiencing the same thing.

the white kids i was friends with back then are all around 19 now. i see some of them post about racial injustices in the world. i see some of them wear maga hats. none of them have ever apologized to me or any of the other people of color they hurt with their racism. their activism is performative at best and nonexistent at worst. what’s the point of this post? racism isn’t a phase. racism isn’t a character flaw. racism infects every aspect of our lives. racism exists everywhere. i want the white people i grew up with to understand that the internet didn’t radicalize me, you did. i was not radicalized by learning what racism is when i was 17 or by learning that racism still exists when trump was elected. i was radicalized by growing up a girl of color.

Huge pet peeve in video games is when you can’t hold your breath underwater for very long or it takes a good while to regain your breath above water. Unrealistic. Like my condolences to the devs for your lack of breath support but that just could not be me…

you gotta be able to say "die"

you gotta be able to say "suicide"

you gotta be able to talk about "sex"

they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE

because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.

even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"

like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.

the look of love (for writers)

"it's all in the eyes i was once told"

catching the stare of someone across a crowded room

subtle furrowing of eyebrows beyond a blank facade

coldness easing into warmth

a fond mothering gaze

corner of the lip nudged upward

forced glower/glare as they break underneath

batting their lashes, playful

a boisterous laugh

intrigue piercing the stoic

proud smugness at the other's success

lingering glances

a childish joy bursting through

pupils dilate

eyelids shut in a look of peace, calm and trust

look of longing/betrayal

"there was once a time when they were mine"

terseness

features fold into a scowl

an urgent flinching back

coldness returns (as though the warmth had never come)

lips part then purse

invasion of shock

slow stare at the floor

the ripple effect of a swallow

frustrated breath/sigh

bitter laugh in reminiscence

dread tearing through the seams of their composure

look of hatred

"darkness"

mean smirk- teeth bared grimace- scowl

dismissive gaze

gaze of contempt/impatience

threat lowering the voice

sardonic goading grins verging on manic

rolling one's eyes

flicker of irritation in the eyes

stares stubbornly ahead despite distraction

gritted teeth, clenched jaw

fierce biting remarks

even measured complexions betraying no thought

strangling oneself back from violence

utter apathy

murderous silence hanging in the stare

snobbish laughter

smiling at another's downfall

Peace and love

As an alternative to 'sugar, spice, and everything nice'

I present: 'salt, vinegar, and everything sinister'

Gay people I summon thee