not all lawlessness is violent

I can't bear this world a moment longer. 'Then, child, make another.'⭐e-altar to Dysnomia ⭐ I'm Frey, a queer disabled hellenic polytheist!

[babyfoxcollectionthings]

[noping-out-deactivated20241117]

READ. EVERY. WORD. OF. THIS. Account of a medical team out in St. Paul last night.

Link to original tweet thread.

EDIT: I originally posted this on June 1, 2020, and it was tweeted either that day or possibly the day before. The OP has since locked down her Twitter, presumably due to harassment.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I'm a white 13 year old, I want to help with the protests, and helping poc, but no one listens to me and I can't get any money to donate. I'm stressed and paranoid, I don't want to be a bad person, but I don't want to break down every night. What should I do?

At some point you need to take a step back and realize when you can’t do anything. I want to go to protests but I have asthma and tear gas could kill me. I want to donate but I don’t have a job right now. I want to offer support but I know that my words might seem performative and hollow.

I remember being a teenager when the black lives matter movement started. I remember being a very young child when I first learned that racism still exists. It still confuses and frightens me. I still sometimes throw up when I think too hard about the atrocities that happen on a daily basis. I grew up hearing my friends talk about how scared they were of cops while we all knew that I was the one person in the group that cops might protect.

Over time, talking to poc and deciding who I am in all of this, I’ve learned that sometimes all you can do is make it very clear where you stand.

Someday when you can drive and have time, you can march. Someday when you have money, you can donate. Someday if something happens in front of you, then you can stand up. Someday if a friend needs it you can bail them out, give them a hug, be a shoulder for them to cry on. In the meantime you can learn.

You’re really young. You’re a lot younger than you think. At 13 your job is to start growing up. To become a person. Which is a difficult job, and a very important one. And I know, I know how difficult it is knowing that some of your peers are facing that same challenge with an added burden thrown on that you can’t ever hope to understand. I know. But for now, please focus on being a 13 year old, and focus on becoming the best person you can be.

I know falling for your feelings of white guilt is tempting. It’s painful thinking about any of this. It’s painful knowing what horrible legacy you carry with you. It’s painful knowing that millions of others are feeling even more pain that you can’t begin to understand. I think about it a lot. My dad once told me that he wishes he could go to every black church in America and apologize to every person in there individually. But practically speaking that would do nothing, and practically speaking you and I feeling guilty for not doing anything when we are unable to do anything does nothing.

You’re a kind young person that I hope will understand this. Let me leave you with roughly what my dad told me when he gave me the white privilege talk and a couple other things my friends have told me over the years.

You’re going to feel guilty sometimes. Suck it up. Being white doesn’t make you a bad person. Not being able to single-handedly fix the system doesn’t make you a bad person. But what wastes everyone’s time and energy, including yours, is spending all of your time apologizing instead of listening to marginalized people. Do what you can. Learn. Listen. If an opportunity comes up and you can, act. If you can’t do anything, then you can’t do anything. Wallowing in your guilt and sadness doesn’t help anyone.

And I know it’s hard to hear that. You want to help. You want to make a difference. But torturing yourself and dwelling on your guilty feelings during this time helps nobody, least of all you. You’ve got a lifetime in front of you to fight. Keep yourself alive, and start growing up. That’s a very important job you have right now, and its a very difficult one. Focus on that. And with the amount of empathy and understanding you’ve shown me from just this one ask, I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully.

[andhetakesandhetakesandhetakes]

and READ! educate yourself

[e-seal-deactivated20210319]

Tweet from Twitter user @hakan_geijer: "Today I released the first edition of Riot Medicine, a public domain book to help street medics in the struggle for liberation, autonomy, and dignity for all. You can download all 466 pages for free here: https://riotmedicine.net/downloads"

[ms-demeanor]

Hey. Sorry if this is kinda intrusive or whatever, but my nerdy teenage ass is absolutely fuckin amazed/terrified by the life you led, and it's led mr to ask one thing, and one thing only. How do I get a life like that? Preferably before I graduate

Okay, so here’s the thing: your life is probably already very awesome, you just don’t know how to tell your own stories yet.

When I was in high school I was catastrophically depressed, had basically nobody I considered an actual friend (until I got to be friends with Dani but we weren’t good friends until I was a senior and they’d already graduated), I was a teacher’s pet who was *loathed* by the school administration, I failed a bunch of classes really hard, and six months after graduation I was suicidal and had a pretty significant mental breakdown. I was a clusterfuck tire fire and kind of still am - I currently work a job I hate and live with an abusive shithead mother-in-law.

What I’m saying is that my method is FOR SURE not any kind of target you want to aim for.

BUT.

For all that I was miserable and sad and had a lot of really, really bad days I was also willing to say yes to trying new things and if an experience went bad I tried to find something funny in it.

And that meant, later on, all the things that were really shitty and stressful were fodder for entertaining stories.

So here is my advice to you:

1) Try new things. The worst that could happen is that the new thing could completely suck and then you have a funny story to try later.

2) Keep a sense of humor about shitty stuff. Shitty stuff is FUCKING SHITTY but it hurts less if you can laugh at it.

3) Recognize that academic performance isn’t the end all be all of all things. Don’t burn yourself out and miss out on cool opportunities trying to get the perfect GPA to get into the perfect university to get the perfect internship for a field you hate because that’s where the money is.

You know what’s great? Making friends and hanging out at the mall and being in silly plays and playing sports you love. You know what sucks? Missing your period for three months because you’re in two sports, a cheerleader, and an honors student, and then feeling guilty because you were just salutatorian instead of valedictorian. You know what sucks? Taking college calc in high school and making your own prom dress and being president of the future business leaders of America and then crying because you have to give your valedictorian speech alone and can’t have a friend to support you at the podium because you didn’t actually want any of this, you just felt like you had to do it to get into Yale. (The valedictorian and salutatorian at my high school were, in many ways, more fucked up than I was.)

Take this time to enjoy being young and just do shit you think is fun sometimes, I promise that’s actually more important than good grades or perfect attendance.

And here’s the big one, and it’s for everybody of all ages:

YOU GET TO CHOOSE WHO YOU WANT TO BE.

Every day. Every single day you get a choice in who you’re going to be. That doesn’t mean you get a choice in your circumstances (poor people don’t get to just choose to be rich, ill people aren’t choosing their illnesses) but every day you get to chose who you are in response to the world around you.

You can choose to be cynical or excited, you can choose to be sarcastic or genuine. You can choose to be kind or choose to be cruel. You can choose to try new things or stick to your routine.

If you want to be the kind of person who has zany adventures there’s a great big world out there to throw themed camping trips in. If you want to be the kind of person who starts a punk band I have VERY good news for you: you don’t have to be good at music to be in a punk band you just make one and start yelling. If you want to be the best rollerskater in your town strap on some skates. If you want to help people then go start helping - girl scouts and food banks are good places for structured helping opportunities.

BE THE WEIRDO YOU WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD.

NOBODY ELSE IS GOING TO DO IT FOR YOU.

YOU CAN START BEING THAT WEIRDO TODAY.

Be a person you like. Be a person you’d want to be friends with. You’ll learn to tell the stories along the way.

Also if you are a young person reading this FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK DO NOT START SMOKING I WILL MANIFEST PHYSICALLY IN YOUR HOUSE AND TAKE THE CIGARETTES AWAY FROM YOU I FUCKING MEAN IT.

[red-moon-witch]

Canary Cry - a glamour to help your words make an impact on people.

*inspired by Black Canary’s Signature cry*

Needed:  - a white candle - a lip product. (balm, crayon, gloss, stick, Its up to you what you use)

Steps:  - Light your candle.  - Focus on your intention.  - Wave your lip product over the flame.  - Focus your intention on your lip product and say/think:  “I must be heard, My words cannot be slurred,  Let my tongue be exact, Let the message make an impact. The time is nigh,  This is my Canary Cry.” - Apply your lip product, blow out your candle, and go say what you need to say.  -Aesa <3 This is my original Spell. Please do not repost on any platform without my explicit permission. Reblogging is okay, Reposting is not.

[grit-and-gasoline]

[ithelpstodream]

[a-hurricane-thundercloud]

To those of you that fear recovery because you’ve become so comfortable with your suffering:

You don’t notice it leave. It goes away slowly and you don’t even notice it’s gone until youre happy and content.

You won’t miss it. It won’t hurt. You won’t be empty. I promise it will be so much better than your head tells you.

[onfirewhenifoundit]

To those who worry you won’t be “you” anymore: You’ll be different, yes, but it’s a process of growing into the best version of yourself. You’ll stumble sometimes simply because some habit you developed to cope is now out of place, but you’ll be so much more able to pick yourself up again. And you will be who you were meant to be, without the distortion caused by illness. Be prepared for some grief for your old life, but don’t let that make you afraid to embrace the new one.

[sorion]

That voice that’s telling you to not get help, not take meds, to keep to yourself or it might change you? That’s a symptom. The depression doesn’t want you to get rid of it, and it’s lying to you to stop you from doing it.

Don’t listen.

[sundathe]

[doomhope]

[id: Photo shows a white piece of paper taped to a grey wall. The paper says this in all caps text: “Say it over and over until you are out of breath: I will not make myself small.” End id.]

[sol-korolevas]

“Perhaps she was glass. But glass is only brittle until it breaks. Then it’s sharp.”

— V.E. Schwab, Vengeful

[faeriepools]

Do not touch your body with bad intentions. Rub your belly when it is full. Stroke your soft skin. Hug yourself, even if it’s silly, because it feels nice. Pleasure yourself. Do not touch your body with bad intentions. Do not pinch at the fat on your stomach. Do not scratch at your skin. Do not hate the shell you’re encased in.

[comforting-suggestions]

you are not being mean by standing up for yourself. you are not being mean by demanding respect. you are not being mean by advocating for your own needs. stop feeling ashamed and apologising for being your own advocate when necessary. 

[phemonoi]

have tender hearted relationships with your gods. speak to them softly, giggle, let them ornament your life. drink tea with them, write love letters to them and share your secrets. wear flowers to honor them, walk barefoot. let your gods comfort you without fear, like old friends, like lovers.

[dysnomiashearth]

Where Dysnomia lives

Dysnomia is beside protesters in the streets, beside those wounded and beside those fighting.

Dysnomia is beside people seeking abortions, standing with them against the crowds that call them murderers.

Dysnomia is beside people of all walks as they stand together under their flags at pride, screaming we are here. We will always be here. We will not hide.

Dysnomia is beside activists at rallies, lending her voice to their cause and fighting beside them for their rights.

Dysnomia is beside artists and musicians and writers, watching with pride as they create undeniably human, undeniably revolutionary art.

Dysnomia is in I love you's between friends, holding hands with people you love and defending those you care about.

Dysnomia is in the tremor of voices as they name the things that have hurt them.

She is in cries of outrage, cries of rebellion and revolution and rejection of a system that leaves no room for you.

She is in love for your friends and for yourself, compassion and support for those forgotten and left behind.

She is in your reflection and your heartbeat when you find a way to give yourself the same kindness you would give a loved one.

She is in rejection of diet culture, of heteronormativity, of white supremacy.

She is in the hands and hearts of a new generation that will bring change about through force of will and rage and love alone.

She is furious and she is lawless and she is kind to those who the law stands against.

Dysnomia is justice, equality, the power of taking up arms and words shaped like bullets and saying no more, no more.

Dysnomia is the lawless lady, the grinning rebel, the weeping, raging goddess of those swept aside.

Dysnomia is here, in your heart. She is there, in your friend's voice.

She is everywhere, and she will always find those in need.

[dysnomiashearth]

There is no girl in the mirror

There is no body that I own.

I am these lungs

I am this heart

I am the rolling swell of flesh and blood.

These bones and joints are me.

I am entirely

This throat and these thighs.

I will no longer speak of my body

As a foreign thing

It is I and I am it

[wyrmsandrocs]

“We were those girls, the artist’s daughters, the mermaids, the ones with long, tangled hair who did what they wanted. Inside, always, she knew she was free.”

— Wonderland by Stacey D'Erasmo (via lainevierge)