My first job was my dream job as a sales associate at Hot Topic. For the most part it was a pretty cool job, I was the only WoC there but there was another black boy (for stories sake his name is Jay). My boss (store manager her name is Kayla) was a white girl who, at the time, I thought was the coolest person alive. We liked the same music, she introduced me to different bands and shows and artists. On the surface she seemed like a dream boss, then there was the assistant store manager (her name is Sarah). She was a hatin’ ass white bitch and the rudest mother fucker I’ve ever worked with, she was one of those ‘otaku’ types and was an adamant cosplayer. She was on Japan’s dick 24/7 and claimed that she only dates men that fit the embodiment of her fav anime character at the time (she’s not really important to the story I just hated her ass for obvious reasons).
So one day Jay offered to give me a ride because at the time my mom was having car troubles. So me and Jay get to work and were greeted by Sarah, she was saying some shit that no one cared about then she mentioned dreads and Kayla. This peaked my interest because I’d never seen a white person with dreads before. After Sarah left I started talking to Jay about his opinion and he was visibly upset and told me he’d talk to me about it later. A few hours later Kayla comes in, and my excitement to see her hair turned into PURE DISGUST. She had 4-6 giant mats on her head that looked like a sewer rats asshole and smelled even worse. I was in pure and utter shock. All the other dreads (well locs) that I had seen were so beautiful and glorious and well kept, and most importantly they smelled just as good as they looked.
I asked her what made her want to get ‘dreads’ and she said that she got tired of doing her hair and figured this was a way to go. She said it seems easy because so many other black people do it. Jay wasn’t to far from us when he heard that, and he EXPLODED. He stormed out, and I went with him because he was my ride home. When we got in his car I asked him what that was about and he basically explained how his family (mother, sisters and father all have dreads) and how white people always talk shit about their hair and how dirty it is, but don’t know how much care actually goes into having dreads. Then when they pull nasty shit like that and say ‘black people’ inspired them to do it because of how low maintenance dreads are it boils his blood. He then told me how he used to have dreads and when he left for college some fuck boys cut his hair and how traumatic it was. From that day forward I’ve always, and will continue to, side eye non-blacks with dreads. Just because they will never know that struggle of having them and seeing it basically get shit on by everyone.
That was just my 2c on why I hate non-blacks wearing dreads.
“TW DOMESTIC ABUSE —— When [an abusive man] tells me that he became abusive because he lost control of himself, I ask him why he didn’t do something even worse. For example, I might say, “You called her a fucking whore, you grabbed the phone out of her hand and whipped it across the room, and then you gave her a shove and she fell down. There she was at your feet where it would have been easy to kick her in the head. Now, you have just finished telling me that you were ‘totally out of control’ at that time, but you didn’t kick her. What stopped you?” And the client can always give me a reason. Here are some common explanations: “I wouldn’t want to cause her a serious injury.” “I realized one of the children was watching.” “I was afraid someone would call the police.” “I could kill her if I did that.” “The fight was getting loud, and I was afraid the neighbors would hear.” And the most frequent response of all: “Jesus, I wouldn’t do that. I would never do something like that to her.” The response that I almost never heard — I remember hearing it twice in the fifteen years — was: “I don’t know.” These ready answers strip the cover off of my clients’ loss of control excuse. While a man is on an abusive rampage, verbally or physically, his mind maintains awareness of a number of questions: “Am I doing something that other people could find out about, so it could make me look bad? Am I doing anything that could get me in legal trouble? Could I get hurt myself? Am I doing anything that I myself consider too cruel, gross, or violent?” A critical insight seeped into me from working with my first few dozen clients: An abuser almost never does anything that he himself considers morally unacceptable. He may hide what he does because he thinks other people would disagree with it, but he feels justified inside. I can’t remember a client ever having said to me: “There’s no way I can defend what I did. It was just totally wrong.” He invariably has a reason that he considers good enough. In short, an abuser’s core problem is that he has a distorted sense of right and wrong. I sometimes ask my clients the following question: “How many of you have ever felt angry enough at youer mother to get the urge to call her a bitch?” Typically half or more of the group members raise their hands. Then I ask, “How many of you have ever acted on that urge?” All the hands fly down, and the men cast appalled gazes on me, as if I had just asked whether they sell drugs outside elementary schools. So then I ask, “Well, why haven’t you?” The same answer shoots out from the men each time I do this exercise: “But you can’t treat your mother like that, no matter how angry you are! You just don’t do that!” The unspoken remainder of this statement, which we can fill in for my clients, is: “But you can treat your wife or girlfriend like that, as long as you have a good enough reason. That’s different.” In other words, the abuser’s problem lies above all in his belief that controlling or abusing his female partner is justifiable….”
Lundy Bancroft, Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men (via seebster)
THIS BOOK SAVED MY LIFE AND I CANNOT RECOMMEND IT ENOUGH
EVERYONE ON EARTH SHOULD READ THIS *except abusers
white girls can’t wear bindis because in sixth grade one time i was dropped off at school by my aunt who was wearing a bindi at the time and some girl’s mom whispered to her friend how she would never let her daughter play with me because my family had probably been happy about 9/11 and then four years later that daughter showed up to school wearing a bindi as part of her “”“boho”“” look
look if you unironically say ‘money can’t buy happiness’ then either you’ve never faced a real financial struggle or you’ve achieved enlightenment, because goddamn does financial security feel an awful lot like happiness when it’s something you’re not used to