[isuggestlandback]

With American Thanksgiving coming up, I'd like to remind everyone reading this that it's a day of mourning for the Wampanoag people. If you can, donate to help them preserve their culture, their language, and to fight for their legal rights and recognition.

If you live in the New England area, make a trip out to the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribal Museum. Hear the history of the First Thanksgiving from the people who were most affected by it. They go into detail of the events and cultural impacts of the first five years after the Mayflower's landing.

Donations — Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe

Support the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe and its efforts to protect their homeland and many programs.

[mad-intersex-mermaid]

Today is November 28th, 2024. For the settler world, this day is called Thanksgiving. But for Native/Indigenous Americans, it's a Day of Mourning, as this day was built off of colonialist genocide of Indigenous people, namely the Wampanoags. Don't fall for that revisionist tale of this day being a friendly dinner party between the Natives and the pilgrims--this day was not a friendly dinner party. This day was a day of genocide.

Am I demonizing anybody that's celebrating Thanksgiving and spending time with their families? No. Not by any means.

However, I am calling out and criticizing the American education system and mainstream culture for repeatedly pushing a false revisionist tale that paints this day as some friendly feast when it isn't. And I am stating that it's important that each and everyone of us educate ourselves and make ourselves aware of the true history of this day, honor, acknowledge and respect the memories of Indigenous people that were genocided and honor, acknowledge and respect Indigenous people-- elders and descendants--that are still here, that are still alive and paved the way for us to survive, thrive, build and maintain our culture and work towards honesty, reconciliation and healing for the present and the future. And this is especially important for me to speak this from the heart as an Afro-Indigenous individual (with Wampanoags being one of my tribes and my people).

I am the descendant of a proud, strong, beautiful and resilient Indigenous people that colonialist settlers couldn't kill.

And that on its own is enough reason to celebrate and have thankfulness and gratitude.

[letters2ben]

What a strange and mostly sad day.

I did end up sleeping through most of it, since I work nights and am used to being asleep during the day. Plus my family is quite far away and I miss them. I've never felt right about celebrating today as a holiday, and this year I finally got away from it. It doesn't feel good, but on a day representing such sadness, that feels appropriate enough.

Still, silent sadness alone in my apartment like any other day does not feel any more productive than celebrating as my family does. I can save up to donate to Indigenous orgs and buying winter presents from Indigenous artists is a good idea but nothing I can do immediately.

I will take the rest of my evening to learn more history. As the darkness of Winter overtakes what is already a dark time, and has been for over 300 years, I wonder about personally giving into despair and if that is not worthwhile. Generally, the feedback I've gotten I'd that it's not, and I wouldn't recommend it to others.

I have no good ideas or meaningful words to bring to the conversation. I write these little vents for myself, and apologize if anyone finds them distasteful. I do not wish sadness on anyone, but it is ridiculous to say that in the face of centuries of violence, death, and destruction that Indigenous people and the land and plants and animals here have faced. The violence and destruction feel too big to do anything about, too encompassing of everything we do and think in mainstream american culture. Going against that culture feels like it raises more questions than answers.

I hope everyone can find a little peace today and this winter. Try to understand our past and why we are here now. Donate to and become educated on what goes against Indigenous prosperity. Take a moment of quiet in the darkness for what has been lost. Keep living anyway.

[letters2ben]

Is there a job that doesn't make life not worth living? Haha, just kidding. I know there's not.

[letters2ben]

Vent moment:

I'm not sure I can do this. I don't know how other people are getting everything done.

I recently started a job and I was excited for the improvement of not getting my ass beat every day. The hours and pay are worse, but it is a huge win to me that I will not be physically beat by children nearly every day.

On my first week I already broke down. I worked on the day the clocks changed and I didn't bring enough food. After 13 hours a client yelling at me got me into tears. My coworkers told me to go home, which only really made me feel worse and not suitable for the position. Of course it's hard, anyone can see that, but others are doing it much more successfully.

Then there's the cleaning, taking care of the dog, paying bills, buying food, cooking, eating, and other things. I want to go back to school. I want to have a healthy diet so I feel decent. Currently I don't even feel like eating my favorite snacks.

One person at my job is a single mother with three kids and pets, working 3 jobs, and is amazing at everything she does. Certainly her work I've seen is great. I'm not saying she isn't struggling or that the amount she does should be humanly possible. It's a fucking tragedy that the lack of a social safety net means she has to work as hard as at least 3 people. But she does it. It's difficult not to compare myself to her, when I'm struggling and wondering if dropping dead would be better than all this, when I do maybe barely a 6th of the work she does. I feel pathetic and weak. I feel like I don't belong here.

In my home country (USA) the government is taking away the little help they were offering people. We are on the brink of collapse. People are stretched thinner and thinner with nothing to show. I am very lucky to have a job and an apartment and a dog and food to eat. I am very lucky to have a job where I am not getting physically hurt. I don't understand why the shifts are 12.5 hours long. It's not a reasonable amount of time to work, even if it is only three days a week. I am really lucky to only work 3 days a week so I can try to go back to school and go to appointments and exist outside of work.

I'm worried I can't do this and what that means about me. I don't know how much more we can give. Something's got to change, right? Should we all drop down dead first? So many people died during the hight of covid and things have only gotten worse. What could make change happen? How can we live decent lives? I don't know. I don't know.

[letters2ben]

I can't work less hours or I won't qualify for health insurance. I already can't really afford my rent and bills, so that's a reason too. I am paid above minimum wage but I don't make enough to cover my rent (in the city I work). I just don't know what to fucking do.

[letters2ben]

Vent moment:

I'm not sure I can do this. I don't know how other people are getting everything done.

I recently started a job and I was excited for the improvement of not getting my ass beat every day. The hours and pay are worse, but it is a huge win to me that I will not be physically beat by children nearly every day.

On my first week I already broke down. I worked on the day the clocks changed and I didn't bring enough food. After 13 hours a client yelling at me got me into tears. My coworkers told me to go home, which only really made me feel worse and not suitable for the position. Of course it's hard, anyone can see that, but others are doing it much more successfully.

Then there's the cleaning, taking care of the dog, paying bills, buying food, cooking, eating, and other things. I want to go back to school. I want to have a healthy diet so I feel decent. Currently I don't even feel like eating my favorite snacks.

One person at my job is a single mother with three kids and pets, working 3 jobs, and is amazing at everything she does. Certainly her work I've seen is great. I'm not saying she isn't struggling or that the amount she does should be humanly possible. It's a fucking tragedy that the lack of a social safety net means she has to work as hard as at least 3 people. But she does it. It's difficult not to compare myself to her, when I'm struggling and wondering if dropping dead would be better than all this, when I do maybe barely a 6th of the work she does. I feel pathetic and weak. I feel like I don't belong here.

In my home country (USA) the government is taking away the little help they were offering people. We are on the brink of collapse. People are stretched thinner and thinner with nothing to show. I am very lucky to have a job and an apartment and a dog and food to eat. I am very lucky to have a job where I am not getting physically hurt. I don't understand why the shifts are 12.5 hours long. It's not a reasonable amount of time to work, even if it is only three days a week. I am really lucky to only work 3 days a week so I can try to go back to school and go to appointments and exist outside of work.

I'm worried I can't do this and what that means about me. I don't know how much more we can give. Something's got to change, right? Should we all drop down dead first? So many people died during the hight of covid and things have only gotten worse. What could make change happen? How can we live decent lives? I don't know. I don't know.

[letters2ben]

Writing snippet

And there, as I slumped on the wall in my last heroic inhale of the smoke, was a figure.

Baggy clothes, baggy enough to show crisp edges of collarbone in their lose fit. A sauntering walk and fouler grin. Dark eyes unslept under that mop that would look no different with or without a run of a brush.

I was mesmerized by him.

He took the cig out of my hand as effortlessly as if I was kneeling with it in my teeth. It was his, of course, it had always been his. He finished it in one breath. I was reminded of the state of my throat and cleared it in solidarity.

"Why are you back here pretending to smoke?" he asked me. The ember was crushed mercilessly under his heel and for the first time he looked me in the eyes.

We stood in silence, me, choked by a force of sensation and emotion only tempted at human description by hubristic poets (struck down by gods), and him, an unshakable pillar of resolute self-actualization. He wasn't going to repeat himself.

"I...

-m ...sorry," I said.

He narrowed his eyes and held out his hand. I had no idea what he wanted. The silence persisted.

I patted my pockets. My keys, my wallet- was he mugging me? Wait- no, the carton. I dropped it in his hand without hesitation.  His hand remained open. The lighter followed.

It seemed to be what he came for, or a suitable payment for putting up with a kid hacking out a lung under his window. He retreated back beyond this moment with me.

There was nothing I could do.

[letters2ben]

Journal

I've been wanting to write down my thoughts somewhere with a bit more legitimacy than scattered papers in random old journals. I don't want actual legitimacy, so tumblr seems about right.

The final push: starting Lou Sullivan's diaries. The collection is so good, and he's just like me in so many ways. It's inspiring to read and be less alone in my isolation. Self-imposed, of course, I should really get out sometime.

Tomorrow I go to the doctor to try to get back on T. Hopefully there's no bullshit (unlikely). It's been a hot minute and the red tide returned, too. I was really upset when it showed after a few years respite. I quit my job recently too, trying to find myself, or survive, or whatever luxury I think I can manage. I feel a little more relaxed, don't have to try so hard to be taken seriously because there's nothing to be taken seriously about me. Maybe that's better.

Tonight my ex talks about me while I sit on the couch and don't even pretend I'm not listening. Nice things, for sure, and she loves to throw about "EX" for the reaction it gets. I don't love the connotation but I can appreciate the appeal to juxtaposition with the term.

I hope to continue this.