a big reason why a lot of these fandom “elders” are white is because they pushed all of the people of color out of their circles in their teens and twenties send tweet
and any criticism from anyone, but especially black women, is met with complete venom and accusations of misogyny. it’s not misogyny, katrina, you’re a racist and you’ve ruined something for someone so that You can have your fun
“Fandom is meant to be FUN… for ME, screw everybody else lol” - White fangirls. And ironically, 99.9% of the misogyny? Comes from white women. Most of the female character bashing? Comes from white women. The call is coming from inside the house, Jocelyn
thank you!!!!! the erasure of female characters, especially love interests, in fanworks is largely the work of white women who amplify whichever white men are in the center of the story even more than they were amplified in canon
maybe y'all didn't notice but fat people who don't hate ourselves sure did notice that people were obsessed with shitting on fat people in the late 90s and early 2000s (conservative political time) and now are again (fascist political time), coincidentally while the market for weight loss has become a 90 billion dollar industry due to glp1s.
you are not immune to propaganda. it makes some people a whole hell of a lot of money for you to hate fat people and fear becoming (or staying, I think like 70% or something of the US is fat) one of us.
a lot of the fearmongering over fatness comes from studies directly funded by the weight loss industry...i think people don't really realize or think about the fact that research can absolutely be influenced and skewed by its funding. there is also research that shows that an amount of the negative health outcomes for fat people come from anti-fat bias. if you go to the doctor with concerns and the doctor simply tells you to lose weight, your problem is neglected and you may not even bother going to the doctor with the next problem.
every fat person you know for the most part probably has a story like this, of medical neglect. many of the stories i've heard personally are when the complaint or the doctor wasn't related at all, like being told to lose weight at the ear nose and throat doctor or at the dentist. it's straight up just bias. it's such a thing that in the show Shrill it's portrayed, when Aidy Bryant goes to the gynecologist and her doctor suggests she get gastric bypass.
the studies on health and fatness are simply not that black and white and there is basically no research that shows that more than an incredibly tiny minority of people can lose weight and keep it off for more than like 2 years. bodies have set points that they gravitate towards, it's not a personal failure. this also is how the weight loss industry succeeds so well - repeat customers.
some of the harm associated with fatness is also due to weight cycling, which is very hard on your body and is even worse if you get off a GLP1, which according to a recent study causes weight to be regained at a rate that is 4x faster than without taking a GLP1.
you don't have to hate yourself. you don't have to hate other people for their body type either. it makes me so sad to see the thinspo tag going around again in 2026 a lot like it was back in the day.
A study spanning almost four decades and involving more than 100,000 adults in Denmark found that those with an 'overweight' body mass index
there's so much crazy shit once you go down the rabbit hole. for example, BMI was not invented by anyone with a medical background. it was never meant to measure individual health.
I'm gonna say this, and it's gonna spark a defensive reaction within some of you, but I need you to listen to me and let it sit for a moment before I explain further. It is not a personal stain against your morality.
From both my experience reading works by white writers, and my experience running this blog, I have come to the conclusion that many white writers are too used to relying on Whiteness being understood as the default experience of both your characters and your readers, and it makes you weaker writers with weaker technique overall.
One thought I find myself having often is "well, what do you do for your white characters?" I've grown to understand... Many of you don't 😅 you don't actually understand or apply character design techniques because it is Assumed™ that the reader understands- that the reader has the white gaze. It doesn't need to be Said that your character is white, and will do familiar white things. It is Assumed™ that white characters fall under the Magicking It Away rules automatically, while Black characters have to have reality applied to them first. You don't actually have to... Well, write.
The brilliant Toni Morrison explained this in an interview of hers (here's another; watch her doc!!!) that there's this assumption that one's readers are white. So when she would purposefully- and there's a difference!- write stories for the Black gaze, that certain things didn't have to be explained because we Understood, it would get frustrating for white readers. They felt left out, unappealed to, hurt.
And yet, that's standard fare- and everyone's not writing such specific stories like Toni! To be "fair", we did understand y'all. We had to. But those same techniques, both in writing and in media consumption, I believe are atrophied from white viewers ("I don't watch this because I don't relate!" Or projection of ones own identity into Black characters to be "relatable") because it's not Socially Required for you to apply them.
It's why I'm always telling y'all to study Black creations about Black people. Writing is a craft, and a craft has to be honed!! You have to practice!! I had a whole lesson on this and I feel like everyone glossed over it lmao. I promise it'll make your writing of EVERY character better overall. 🙏🏾
the way people always fixate on how anti transfem legislation and policies will impact cis women is infuriating in its own right but it's even worse when you actually pay attention and realize that most cis women would rather put up with any amount of heinous degradation than see a single one of us play sports or even just be alive.
this is my current original project! yes my main character’s name is maisie- it’s the best fit for her in my mind. i hope y’all enjoy!
Dr. Halsted was, in fact, late. As per usual.
Maisie kicked the carpeted ground, repeatedly scuffing her uninjured toe against the worn shag. Her right foot, freshly encased in a clunky black boot, throbbed with pain. Her muscles ached from supporting her weight on crutches.The Victorian-style house where her therapist held appointments always smelled sad, somehow– almost as if the ailments of every client were left behind after they left, seeping into the dark wooden walls like miasma.
“Maisie! Hi, sweetheart, sorry to make you wait.” The wall heaved with effort as Dr. Halsted pulled open the door. Maisie gave what she hoped was an understanding smile –though it was probably more aggrieved, or more of a wince — as she hobbled into the room. Dr. Halsted pushed her glasses up on her nose, giving her own apologetic look. “I hope the stairs weren’t too tough with your leg.”
“No, it wasn’t too bad”, Maisie lied. She collapsed on the overstuffed couch, moving to prop her boot up on a red pillow just absolutely covered in tassels. She forced out a laugh. “I’m using muscles I don’t normally use, this way. It’ll keep me fit until I can start skating again.”
Just those words— until I can start again– caused her throat to go tight, tears burning behind her eyes. She sniffed. Dr. Halsted always had wax melts burning in her office– the kind that smell like a Bath & Body Works fever dream– but the building’s melancholia lingered beyond their stench. Maisie’s own grief broke through the surface like a wave, spilling out through her eyes and nose. She reached for a tissue.
“I watched the competition,” Dr. Halsted offered, closing the door and moving to sit in her own chair. “Admittedly, I don’t know much about figure skating–”
We’ve been working together for three years, you couldn’t at least Google? Maisie thought, but she bit her lip and nodded.
“--but I thought you were beautiful,” Dr. Halsted continued, flashing an apologetic smile. “And I really am so sorry things turned out the way that they did.”
There was a cherry tree right outside of the office’s window, its flowers just starting to bloom. Maisie focused her eyes on the pink buds– she never was good about eye contact, not in therapy, anyway– and nodded, her voice stiff in its cadence. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
She grasped for a subject change, but none came to mind. Everything in her brain was intertwined with that moment in Beijing. The music. The fall. The blinding pain. The screams of her sisters and her teammates when she didn’t get up right away. The look on Chloe’s face.
She shook her head once. She was not getting into the Chloe thing today. There wasn’t time. “My coach called me.”
Dr. Halsted tilted her head, curiously. “Which coach? The nice one or the mean Russian one?”
Maisie winced. “Mean Russian. She’s not happy with me, and said I embarrassed her, all of the usual stuff. My nicer coach– Briana, who’s here at Michigan– brought me flowers and a card in the hospital. She’s sure I would’ve medaled if not for the fall. That’s–” She took a deep breath, tears finally starting to spill over. “That’s the worst part, you know? I was so close to this dream, to everything I’ve ever wanted, and I was the one to take it away.” She sniffed, loud and obnoxious, dabbing at her cheeks with the crumpled tissue. The cherry tree went blurry, fading behind a wall of tears.
Dr. Halsted nodded. She leaned forward, a legal pad propped on her crossed legs. “Was this your first major competition without your parents?”
And there it was- like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. Maisie cleared her throat. “Dad didn’t go last year, because he was going through chemo, but this is the first competition where my parents are both gone from this earth, yes.” Even saying the words out loud felt like pressing on a bruise, the blue and purple flesh of her heart sore.
To her credit, Dr. Halsted dropped the subject. She made a note on the legal pad. “Were all of your sisters there, at least? Or your stepmom?”
Okay. This I can talk about. Maisie shifted. Her foot was beginning to ache. She made a mental note to ask her doctor about that.
“My stepmom was there, yeah. And Ophelia. Serena had midterms, and Logan was doing a college visit with one of her friends.”
“How did it feel, not having them there?”
Maisie exhaled. “I mean… not great. If it were one of them at the fucking Olympics, I’d be front row. I was doing work in my room in the Olympic Village. I was emailing professors through a 12-hour difference. But it’s fine, really.” She set the tissue down, running a hand through her red hair. “I’m trying not to be bitter about it, because I know it’s not the kind thing to feel.”
“Feelings have no moral value, not really,” Dr. Halsted pointed out, not unkindly. “It’s your actions that matter.”
“I know, I know. I get that. But… it still feels shitty. And then I got hurt, and– oh my God. All I wanted was my mom, and she obviously wasn’t there. Caroline tries her best, but–”
Dr. Halsted nodded, knowingly. “I understand.”
To Maisie, this felt like a cop out– she could sniff out empty pleasantries from a mile away– but she had accepted long ago that sometimes, even for a therapist, no other words feel sufficient. She found herself feeling this frustration with Dr. Halsted fairly often in their sessions, but she only had a few months left at Michigan. Then she could find a new therapist.
After a weighty pause, Dr. Halsted cleared her throat. “How was Beijing for you, otherwise? Did you stay consistent with your meds?”
Maisie nodded. “Meds, journaling, walks around the village. It was actually a great time, before the fall. I loved the other girls on the team, but I missed my friends, obviously.”
“What about Chloe? Did you get to see her?”
Maisie paused for a moment before shaking her head. “No,” she said, quiet, voice worn thin. “I didn’t. We’re.. not on speaking terms.”
I was about to start an argument but I’m just gonna leave it alone. But if you can’t say nigga in public without someone asking you to show a pic of your mama or you without your winter shade, I don’t want to hear a fuck thing from you about why you think race and colorism don’t apply to something
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