Tag: statue genocide

bookmark_borderMy heart hurts…

Posted on by Marissa

Today, my heart hurts. I feel exhausted, drained, and demoralized. I feel weak and tired, my brain feels dull, foggy, and slow, and my body feels heavy.

I have not been blogging as much as I would like. For the entire month of September, I did not blog at all, and so far in October, I have done so only sporadically. This is beyond frustrating, because there are so many thoughts in my brain that I want and need to express. But I can’t. I simply do not have the time, or the energy. Things have not been going well for me. I have been experiencing autistic burnout for four and a half years, and for the past two and a half months it has been particularly severe. 

The Olympics marked the beginning of this bad stretch of time. Sports have traditionally been one of my biggest special interests, so this was something that I had been eagerly anticipating. But NBC’s coverage decisions meant that I was unable to watch all of the coverage that I needed to. There was simply too much of it. And so what I thought would be both a challenging and exciting experience turned into a nightmare of overstimulation, information overload, mental exhaustion, and sleep deprivation. I managed to alter my goals and mindset regarding the Olympics, allowing me to endure the experience. This was extremely difficult for me as an autistic person, and is something that I am proud of myself for doing. But being proud of oneself for accomplishing something is not the same as having a positive experience. The Olympics turned out to be something that I needed to endure, rather than something enjoyable and rewarding. And that is not great, to put it mildly. Not only was I subjected to an inordinate amount of stress and exhaustion, but I was denied the rewarding experience that I was picturing and expecting. 

Also starting around this time, I began to feel vaguely physically unwell, which continues to this day. I have been suffering from a runny and stuffy nose, sore and scratchy throat, cough, itchy and watery eyes, headaches, earaches, and low-grade fevers. These symptoms come and go, waning and giving me hope that they will finally be gone, only come roaring back the following day. These symptoms haven’t reached a level of severity that would cause me to miss work or cancel any activities that I had committed to, but they have caused me to be constantly miserable. It has really taken a toll on my mental health and quality of life. 

Throughout August and September, I also had an inordinate amount of difficult interpersonal situations put onto my plate to deal with. Texts and messages that I didn’t know how to respond to, uncomfortable phone calls that I had to make, requests for social get-togethers that I knew I wouldn’t be able to do but that were excruciatingly painful to say no to. I have made the decision to quit socializing, because friendships simply don’t work for me given my autism and history of trauma involving interpersonal situations. But people continue to ask me to socialize with them, and every time they do, the wound is ripped open and I essentially am forced to make the painful decision to quit socializing anew. These situations have been emotionally exhausting and have used up a lot of mental resources.

Because of my overall level of exhaustion, I have been sleeping very late, even when I go to bed relatively early. As a result, I essentially don’t have time to do anything other than getting ready for work, and working. I don’t have time to take walks, I don’t have time to run errands, and I don’t have time for writing. Such an enormous amount of time is spent sleeping, that there is no time for anything else. Despite this, I wake up exhausted, and it is painful to wrench myself out of bed. In other words, even this enormous amount of time spent sleeping is not enough. Most likely, no amount of sleep would be enough to make me feel refreshed and well-rested. Normally, I enjoy walking around the pond near my house, in the woods, and in the center of town, looking at the beautiful fall foliage and photographing it. But I haven’t really had time to do this. The fall season is passing me by, and I’m not able to enjoy or experience it in any meaningful sense. This is a depressing way to live. In fact, I would argue that it does not quality as truly living, but merely as existing. 

I’ve also had numerous workdays get screwed up. My work is usually a source of stability and routine. I can focus on something concrete, such as ringing up customers’ groceries at the cash register, bagging the groceries, collecting shopping carts in the parking lot, or stocking groceries in a section of the store. But I’ve been subjected to various instances that have turned my job into a source of dysregulation and chaos. On multiple occasions, I’ve been trapped with slow-walking and talkative co-workers during the commute home, causing me to miss the train and preventing me from doing Italian lessons on my phone. One night, the staff was asked to stay an hour late (not a problem in itself) and a co-worker pressured me into getting a ride home with another co-worker rather than taking the train as I usually do (apparently thinking, for some reason, that the fact that it was an hour later made it unsafe to take the train). Another night, the manager didn’t give clear instructions, so I didn’t know what section of the store I was supposed to work on or when I was supposed to stop. And another night, too much frozen food was ordered, so I ended my shift by pushing boxes of food with all my might in a (futile) attempt to force them into the completely packed walk-in freezer.

Worst of all, when my manager was explaining how the Columbus Day holiday would affect projected sales, one of my co-workers interrupted to “correct” the holiday name to “Indigenous Peoples’ Day.” When my manager responded that people could call the holiday whatever they wanted to, another co-worker interjected, “As long as you don’t call it Columbus Day! Anything but Columbus Day!” If you know anything of my feelings about Christopher Columbus, you won’t be surprised to learn that this caused me to be flooded with excruciating, agonizing pain. And it brings me to the next cause of this recent exacerbation of autistic burnout: Columbus Day.

Given that I love Christopher Columbus more than anything in the world, Columbus Day should be the best day of the year for me, or at least a better than average one. But this year at least, it was horrible. I attended and sold my artwork at an Italian festival, which should have been fun and exciting. However, I had to stay up late the night before in order to get my work ready, it was cold, rainy, and windy (all things that severely bother my sensory sensitivities), and a friend came by to sit at my table and help break it down at the end of the event (despite the fact that I had previously told her, as nicely as possible, that I did not need or want her help). This all amounted to an uncomfortable, angering, and draining experience. Instead of celebrating and honoring the man I love, I spent the day coping with an experience that was exhausting, out of control, and chaotic. 

Plus, as has been the case every year starting in 2020, various people, companies, and organizations used the occasion to attack Columbus, and therefore myself. I am too mentally exhausted and in pain to describe these things in detail, but the culprits include various cities and towns, American Gril (yes, the doll company), and every museum and park in Boston. Every time I see the words, “Indigenous Peoples’ Day,” I am filled with agonizing pain. There are no words that can adequately express the hurt of seeing other people’s perspectives validated, suffering acknowledged, cultures celebrated, and voices heard, while my perspective is dismissed, my suffering ignored, my culture shamed and condemned, and my words ridiculed. No matter how hard I try, I cannot force others to listen to my ideas, understand my point of view, or empathize with my pain. When you combine this with all the other things that I’ve described in this blog post, I feel beaten down. My spirit is crushed. So many things that used to give me pleasure have been taken away, contaminated, ruined. There is almost nothing that I can direct my time, energy, or attention towards that does not cause excruciating pain. It is difficult for me to see a path forward.

I am trying to keep the faith. I am trying to remind myself that I have felt this way before and have survived, and have returned to a state of happiness again. I am trying to remind myself that at some point in the future, my body will have more energy, and my brain will once again feel sharp. But right now, that isn’t the case. Right now, everything feels heavy, dark, and hopeless. Right now, everything hurts.

bookmark_borderWise words from Arlington amicus brief

Posted on by Marissa

According to an email that I received from the organization Defend Arlington, several amicus briefs were recently filed in the litigation surrounding the atrocity that was committed at Arlington National Cemetery.

The organizations filing amicus briefs in support of reversing the despicable atrocity include the Foundation for Moral Law, the Society for the Preservation of Jewish Civil War History, the Virginia Council, Guardians of American History, Hood’s Texas Brigade, and Veterans Monuments of America.

I was struck by the following quote by the Foundation for Moral Law:

Sadly, the Reconciliation monument – erected in 1914 to reconcile and bring closure to harsh feelings about the War, and to honor those who fought bravely for their homes and families – is now being sacrificed on an altar of political correctness. Not only is Arlington National Cemetery being deprived of what is arguably its most impressive and beautiful work of art, but the relatives and survivors of those who are buried in that section of the Century are also being deprived of this Monument to their ancestors, all because someone thinks they should not have to be exposed to ideas with which they disagree.

I would go even further and argue that not only do the worshippers of political correctness believe that they should not have to be exposed to ideas with which they disagree; they believe that they should not have to be exposed to the existence of people that they dislike. The defining quality of political correctness (and “woke” ideology, which is a synonym for political correctness) is intolerance for people who are different. Believers in this ideology possess complete and utter intolerance for people who are different from them. Essentially, they believe that people who are different from them should not be allowed to exist. (Many people would say that I am exaggerating by claiming this, but I truly don’t think I am.) This is extremely ironic, given that this ideology purports to be all about diversity and inclusion. In reality, it is about the opposite: conformity, compliance, and obedience to authority.

The Virginia Council, for their part, argued that by committing the atrocity, the Department of Defense “frustrated national historic preservation policy and contributed to the proliferation of cancel culture.” That, I would argue, is an understatement.

If you are interested in supporting the organization fighting back against the Arlington atrocity, you can visit their website at DefendArlington.org. You can also view the press release about the amicus briefs here.

bookmark_borderFour years ago today…

Posted on by Marissa

Four years ago today, three historical monuments were removed from the North Carolina state capitol grounds in Raleigh. One honored Confederate soldiers, another honored the Women of the Confederacy, and the third honored Henry Lawson Wyatt, the first Confederate soldier from North Carolina to be killed in the war.

“Monuments to white supremacy don’t belong in places of allegiance, and it’s past time that these painful memorials be moved in a legal, safe way,” stated Gov. Roy Cooper.

Even four years later, reading these words makes me sick to my stomach.

These were not monuments to white supremacy; they were monuments to the idea of being different, thinking for oneself, and resisting authority. They were monuments signifying the right of people who are different from the norm to be accepted and included.

These memorials were not painful. Rather the removal of these memorials was painful. The removal of these memorials – along with countless others like them across the country and world – was not only painful but was the most painful thing, by far, that has ever happened to me. I believe that it was the most painful thing that has ever happened to any person.

Because I am a person who is different from the norm, these memorials were necessary in order for me to have a life worth living. And Roy Cooper chose to take them away, on purpose. This action was so completely lacking in empathy that it defies comprehension. And Cooper’s words, in which he characterizes the memorials that he removed as somehow “painful” – while completely failing to acknowledge the excruciating, indescribable, and unbearable pain that he inflicted by removing them – are even more lacking in empathy.

In other words, not only does Cooper falsely condemn statues as “painful” and “white supremacist” when they are nothing of the sort, but he simultaneously fails to acknowledge the pain inflicted by his own actions.

Four years later, I am still grieving. I am still in pain from Roy Cooper’s actions and words, and the dozens upon dozens of similarly horrible actions and words of bigots and bullies across the country and world. To some degree, I always will be.

It is reprehensible for bullies like Roy Cooper to describe the statues that they obliterated from existence as somehow painful, when in reality it is the statues’ removals that are not merely painful, but excruciatingly, indescribably, and unbearably so. The words and actions of these bigots demonstrate a complete lack of empathy, complete intolerance for people who are different from them, and complete disregard for our feelings and thoughts.

Confederate memorials are not painful.

Removal of Confederate memorials is painful.

And not just painful, but the most painful thing that has ever happened, and the most painful thing imaginable.

Period. Full stop. No exceptions.

bookmark_borderFour years ago today…

Posted on by Marissa

Four years ago today, a sequence of events began, which changed my life completely.

Over the past four years, I’ve experienced unimaginable pain. Pain more excruciating than I thought was even possible for a person to feel. Pain so overwhelming that for the first few months I was reeling, in shock, unable to truly comprehend what was happening or to find adequate words to express how I felt about it. Pain that will take a lifetime to fully process. The events of the past four years have made the world a worse place to a degree so enormous that it is still not fully comprehensible. For a large percentage of this time, I believed that suicide was the best option, given the extent to which the things that make life worth living have been destroyed.

The BLM movement, the “racial reckoning,” the push for racial justice, the statue takedown movement, DEI, political correctness, “woke” ideology…. whatever term one uses, this movement and this ideology did not originate on this date four years ago, but they did rise to power and prominence. What happened four years ago enabled this ideology to become mainstream, to dominate our society, to become the norm. And make no mistake: it is an ideology of authoritarianism and intolerance that has inflicted tremendous harm.

This movement claims to be all about diversity, when in reality it is waging a cruel and brutal campaign to obliterate from the world all forms of diversity that actually matter.

This movement claims to value inclusion, at the same time that it calls for anyone who is different from the norm to be attacked, condemned, and exiled from society.

This movement claims to strive for equity, when in reality it has perpetrated injustices so egregious that they shock the conscience.

This movement claims to fight for the oppressed, yet it itself is the cause of oppression.

This movement claims to help marginalized people, while stomping on the faces of those who are truly marginalized.

This movement insults and shames me for allegedly having “privilege,” when its adherents are the ones who actually hold privilege in our society.

This movement condemns people who have done nothing wrong for allegedly “causing harm,” when its adherents are the ones causing horrific, agonizing, and indescribable pain.

This movement lectures people about empathy, at the same time as it itself demonstrates appalling lack of empathy.

Black Lives Matter, people chanted in the streets, repeated mindlessly in their social media posts, and pontificated in self-righteous press releases. But what about my life? Why does my life not seem to matter in the eyes of society?

People pontificate about “the harm done,” but what about the harm done to me? Why does that not seem to matter in the eyes of society?

It boggles the mind that a movement and ideology could portray itself as, and be perceived as, something so much the opposite of what it actually is.

Because this movement and ideology are profoundly immoral. This movement has inflicted immense harm on the people who deserve it the least. Its ideology is cruel, intolerant, destructive, totalitarian, and completely lacking in empathy. At its core, this movement and ideology are about compliance and conformity, about obliterating all meaningful diversity from the world, about condemning and destroying anyone who dares to be different, to challenge authority, or to diverge from social norms in any way. That is why underdogs and rebels are its targets. This movement is about awarding further benefits to those who are already the best-off in our society, providing further validation to those who need it the least, and inflicting further hurt on those who are already facing the most significant challenges, struggles, and difficulties. This movement’s rise to power has been, by far, the worst thing that has happened in the history of the world. Its adherents do not hold the moral high ground.

But the events of the past four years have also caused me to realize what matters. For too long I had been spending my time and energy on things that are not important, things that I felt I had no choice but to do, because other people expected them of me. But now I have realized that historical figures are the true purpose of life. This does not make the atrocities that have been committed any less atrocious… but I have found a meaning and purpose that I did not have before. The historical figures will live on through me. I will continue to share my perspective, because despite what our society says, it is just as valid and correct as anyone else’s. I will stand up for the historical figures and for myself. I will do whatever I can to honor them and bring them justice.

bookmark_borderA small reversal in the trend of intolerance: Confederate school names restored!

Posted on by Marissa

A sliver of good news that gives me hope in these dark times: two schools in Virginia have restored Confederate school names!

Stonewall Jackson High School and Ashby Lee Elementary School (named for Turner Ashby and Robert E. Lee) had been renamed to Mountain View High School and Honey Run Elementary School during the nationwide war against people who are different that began following the death of George Floyd. (Waging a war against people who are different in response to a cop killing a person who happens to be black is about as logical as it sounds.) But now, in a triumph for true inclusion, diversity, and human decency, the school board has voted to change the names back!

This is fantastic news. This is a victory for all people who are different from the norm, like me, because Confederate place names, holidays, statues, and monuments are symbols of inclusion and acceptance of people who are different. The restored school names send a message of inclusion and acceptance of students who are different. They make a statement that it is okay to be different. They send the message that students who have trouble fitting in – whether they are nerdy, dress differently than the other kids, like different music, watch different TV shows, have different interests, or are on the autism spectrum – deserve to be included and accepted for who they are.

Taking the Confederate school names away was a cruel and mean-spirited decision amidst nearly four years of ubiquitous and soul-crushing cruelty and meanness. It is a tiny iota of justice, and brings a tiny glimmer of hope, that the names have been changed back.

Sources: Monuments Across Dixie and Confederate States of America Facebook posts

bookmark_borderThe return of the bills whose sole purpose is to hurt people as badly as possible…

Posted on by Marissa

I could not believe my eyes when I saw this. The Virginia bills whose sole purpose is to hurt people as badly as possible are back. Governor Glenn Youngkin has seven days in which to either veto or sign them.

I heard about these bills through the social media posts of people / organizations who are fighting against them, and have not read any coverage of them in the news media, but the mere thought of what the news articles might be saying about them makes me sick to my stomach. The Instagram post linked above says, “the left is pushing hard for [Youngkin] to sign these bills.” The idea that anyone would push for these bills is absolutely sickening, and it makes me sick to my stomach to imagine the arguments that proponents might be making in favor of them.

I cannot wrap my head around why someone would think that either of these bills is a good idea and should be enacted into law, particularly after the indescribably horrible atrocities that have been committed unendingly and relentlessly over the past four years. It boggles my mind to think that anyone would favor inflicting additional suffering on people who have already been tortured by the infliction of unbearable, indescribable, relentless pain. “Left” isn’t even the correct term for someone who supports these bills, in my opinion. The desire to make the world as bad a place as possible, and to inflict the maximum possible amount of pain on other people, can’t accurately be categorized as a political ideology at all. A person who considers this to be a worthy goal, which must be the case for anyone who supports bills HB 812 and SB 517, is so filled with brutality, cruelty, meanness, and nastiness, and so completely devoid of morality and devoid of a soul, that such a person doesn’t even deserve to be categorized as a person at all.

“I’m so sick of this,” wrote one commenter on the Instagram post.

“Unbelievable,” wrote another. “I spent 4 years in Virginia and I loved it there. It’s been a shame to see legislation like this, the desecration/removal of monuments, etc..”

Amen. My thoughts are the same as these comments, but multiplied by 100.

I am so incredibly sick of things like bills HB 812 and SB 517. So, so incredibly sick of it. More sick of it than I ever thought it was possible for a human being to be sick of anything. My soul has been beaten down by the brutal, cruel, mean-spirited nastiness that is bills HB 812 and SB 517. Brutal, cruel, mean-spirited nastiness that just keeps occurring again and again, relentlessly. Where the people who hold 100% of the power just keep hurting the people who hold no power, as badly as they possibly can. For no other reason than inflicting pain and suffering. As if inflicting pain and suffering on people is somehow noble, or honorable, or morally good. I am so incredibly sick of it that there are no words to convey the extent of my exhaustion. It is soul-crushing.

To say that legislation like this, and desecration/removal of monuments, are a shame is an understatement. Legislation like this, and desecration/removal of monuments, completely defeat the purpose of Virginia. They completely defeat the purpose of the US. They completely defeat the purpose of life, because they erase from the world the very things that make life worth living.

The actions that have been committed, and that continue to be committed, are absolutely soul-crushing. People who support bills HB 812 and SB 517, and/or any policies even remotely like them, have inflicted indescribable agony. My soul is sick, aching, and in pain.

This is the email that I sent to Governor Youngkin about these bills:

Dear Governor Youngkin:
I am writing to express my opposition to bills HB 812 and SB 517. In my opinion, these bills are mean-spirited, destructive, hurtful, and without any redeeming value. I am on the autism spectrum, and my special interest is history. I really admire Confederate generals such as Robert E. Lee, and Confederate history is extremely important to me. I have been severely hurt by the attacks on history and statues that have taken place over the past few years, and these bills are just a continuation of the same attacks. It is extremely upsetting to me that these bills have a chance of becoming law. I feel that these bills have no purpose other than hurting people who love Confederate history, such as myself. I have already suffered tremendous pain due to the relentless and cruel attacks on Confederate history and statues, and inflicting additional pain on people like me, as bills HB 812 and SB 517 would do, is the absolute last thing anyone needs.
Therefore, I respectfully urge you to please, please veto these mean-spirited and hurtful bills.
Sincerely,
Marissa

bookmark_border“I’m going to re-create it just so that it can get melted down again”

Posted on by Marissa

You’re going to inflict excruciating pain on other people, just because they are different from you? Just because they are different from the majority?

You’re going to actively and deliberately harm people who are already worse off than you are?

You are going to take an action that has no purpose other than to express hatred for people who are different?

Why, exactly, do you consider that to be a good thing?

bookmark_borderAll lives matter, including mine

Posted on by Marissa

In our society, there are categories of people universally acknowledged as having suffered. There are certain experiences universally recognized as difficult.

Whenever a person falls into one of these categories, or goes through one of these experiences, everyone expresses empathy. Everyone rallies around them. People offer condolences, say how sorry they are, say that they can’t imagine how difficult it is to go through that experience. Everyone falls all over themselves in their eagerness to help, to support, to stand in solidarity.

My life, from the time I was a little kid, was difficult and painful. I’ve suffered enormously and experienced tremendous pain. But I don’t fall under any of the aforementioned categories of people. The things I’ve experienced are not recognized as difficult by our society.

Instead of rallying around me, instead of saying how sorry they are, people tell me that what I am going through is no big deal. They tell me to stop being so sensitive, to stop complaining. They tell me that it is for my own good, that everyone has to do things they don’t like, that I should have acted differently. They tell me that I am a jerk for being upset, or that I caused the situation and therefore have no one to blame but myself.

Other people’s suffering and pain are acknowledged. Mine are not.

In the eyes of society, I am a well-off, able-bodied person who ought to help, support, and sacrifice for the benefit of those who are struggling. For the benefit of those who are “less fortunate.” But in reality, I am the one who is struggling. I am the one who is less fortunate. And others should be helping, supporting, and rallying around me.

In the eyes of society, because I don’t fall into a category that is considered “oppressed” or “marginalized,” because my experiences don’t match up with society’s idea of hardship, I am considered “privileged.” But in reality, having one’s suffering and difficulties acknowledged is the most significant form of privilege that exists.

That’s why the things that have happened in our society since spring 2020 have been so devastating, infuriating, and enraging.

During that horrifying spring and summer, society collectively exploded with eagerness to acknowledge black and indigenous people’s suffering, even though these are categories of people whose suffering has always been acknowledged. In other words, society doubled down on the practice of acknowledging other people’s suffering while ignoring mine. This would be bad enough in itself. But this time, society decided to do something even more unfair and unjust than merely ignoring my suffering. This time, society’s acknowledgement of other people’s suffering took the form of actively destroying something that is very important to me – statues.

What has happened in our society since 2020 represents not only the failure to acknowledge my pain, but the active infliction of additional pain on me.

That is why the events of the past four years have been so horrible.

Whenever a statue is removed, a holiday canceled, a street or building renamed, society is saying that other people’s suffering matters and mine does not. And over the course of four years, this reprehensible message has spread to contaminate more and more of the world. What used to be parks, cities, squares, historic sites, cemeteries, have been transformed into monuments to the idea that other people’s pain should be acknowledged and mine should not. Society’s rejection of me is now inescapable. Countless places, things, events, institutions have been turned into sickening reminders, that before were innocuous. The grim results of the traumatic events are everywhere.

Perhaps if I had experienced a life that was more or less easy, in which my needs were generally met, I would support the BLM movement. Perhaps I would agree with the idea that I am “privileged.” Perhaps I would willingly check my privilege, educate myself, be a better ally, work to become actively anti-racist, and center and amplify the voices of those who are less fortunate than me. Perhaps I would post mindless platitudes on social media, and then go back to cooking perfect meals in my perfect house on a tree-lined street with my adorable kids and dog, like the people who unfriended me when I had the audacity to speak out against the statue genocide.

But I didn’t experience such a life. I experienced a life of difficulty and pain. And society’s failure to acknowledge the difficulty and pain was the most difficult and painful thing of all.

So I will fight vociferously against any movement or ideology that considers me “privileged.” I will not silence myself in order to elevate other voices. I will not advocate for others, when others do not advocate for me. I am not interested in educating myself about the horrors of slavery or racism or “settler colonialism” (whatever the heck that means) when others demonstrate no interest in learning about the horrors that I’ve experienced. And I will not sacrifice my needs and wants for the benefit of the less fortunate, because the people considered less fortunate than me in the eyes of society are, in reality, anything but.

This is why I support All Lives Matter. Because it’s not only black lives that matter. My life matters, too.

You might consider me an asshole. You might say that I have no empathy for others. You might even call me a psychopath.

If I am an asshole and a psychopath, then so be it. Why should I have empathy for others, when others do not have empathy for me? Only when society acknowledges my suffering and my pain, will I consider doing the same for others.

As our public spaces are transformed one after another into sickening monuments to the idea that other people’s pain should be acknowledged and mine should not… I have erected my own monuments. They are only 4 feet tall and are not located on publicly visible land. But they are everything to me. I love them more than anything else in the world. They are monuments to Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and Nathan Bedford Forrest. But they are also monuments to myself. They are monuments to the idea that my feelings matter, my thoughts matter, my perspective matters, and my pain deserves to be acknowledged. Through these statues, I take care of my favorite historical figures, celebrate them, honor them, fight for them. And in turn, they fight for me. They are my little army, standing guard outside my castle, my little world in which I matter.


bookmark_borderThe cowardice of Glenn Youngkin

Posted on by Marissa

Two days ago, the Virginia bills whose goal is to hurt people as badly as possible failed to become law. 

According to the Virginia Flaggers, an organization fighting against the bills, Governor Glenn Youngkin “sent the partisan bills back to the general assembly with amendments that include requiring them to be approved again in the 2025 legislative session after additional studies, essentially kicking them down the road.”

Although it is obviously a good thing that the repugnant and sickening bills did not become law (at least not yet), I’m exasperated by Youngkin’s failure to take a more definitive stand against them.

Youngkin should have made a forceful public statement unequivocally condemning these bills. 

He should have said:

These bills hurt people.

These bills are immoral.

It is immoral to introduce, sponsor, or vote in favor of bills that accomplish nothing other than hurting, as badly as possible, people who are different from the majority. 

These bills are absolutely disgusting, despicable, and reprehensible.

In fact, it’s disgusting, despicable, and reprehensible that anyone would even remotely consider supporting such bills as these. 

Youngkin should have condemned the repugnant and sickening bills in the strongest possible terms. He should have done so publicly, unabashedly, and without equivocation.

Instead, he waited until the final hour to take action, and it was an equivocal and wishy-washy action at that. Youngkin waited until the deadline for taking action on the bills; if he had done nothing they would automatically have become law. And he didn’t even veto them outright. He sent them back to the general assembly, which (sickeningly) leaves open the possibility that they could still be passed next year. 

Although I’m glad the bills won’t be getting passed this year, the fact that a horrifying, abominable, unimaginably disgusting thing has merely been kicked down the road is not a victory. The moral truth is that bills like these shouldn’t exist at all. No one should introduce them, no one should support them, no one should vote in favor of them. No one should even remotely think that anything even remotely resembling these bills is even a remotely good idea. I want there to actually be positive bills to support, efforts to enact positive change, potential for positive news, rather than fighting with all my might in a (usually futile) effort to prevent new atrocities from occurring. I’m tired of existing in a world in which staving off horrific outcomes is the best that I can hope for. 

Youngkin’s cowardice is exasperating, demoralizing, and discouraging. 

bookmark_borderPrevious me would have loved going to a Red Sox event…

Posted on by Marissa

On Saturday there was an open house at Fenway Park to celebrate the new baseball season. It featured autograph signings by former Red Sox players, photo ops, mascots, and a chance to run/walk around the bases on the field.

This is the type of event that previous me would have been all over. I would have set my alarm, walked to the train station, and taken the Orange Line and then the Green Line to get to the ballpark. I would have jumped at the chance to add to my autograph collection, take a selfie, and post the fun pictures on social media.

I didn’t go to the Red Sox event.

Current me is very different from previous me.

Due to the way that the city of Boston and its sports teams handled the statue genocide – by failing to speak out against it and in some ways by actively supporting it – I’m not the enthusiastic Red Sox (or Bruins or Celtics, for that matter) fan that I once was.

My job situation and daily routine are also completely different. I work in the evenings and therefore tend to go to bed late and get up late. I don’t have to set an alarm for work, as I did for my 9-5 job, so I avoid doing so at all to the maximum extent possible.

Additionally, as a single adult, I do unfortunately feel awkward asking famous athletes for photos and autographs. I think it’s wrong that our society considers these types of things to be “for kids,” because I believe that all people should be treated equally regardless of age, but unfortunately it does. I am now too old to pass for a teenager, and I feel that I will be perceived as weirder and weirder the older I get.

But most of all, I have found over the past four years that I gain the most happiness from focusing on my inner world and not focusing on the outer one as much. The activities that I gravitate towards consist of drawing, writing, spending time with my statues, and organizing my toy soldiers and dolls. I am not as strongly drawn to activities such as following sports, walking around Boston, photographing the city, and attending events.

Our society has this idea that withdrawing from the outside world is somehow unhealthy, or even a “symptom” of depression. But I have found that this is the healthiest way for me to live. I wish more than anything that the terrible events of the past four years didn’t happen, but they did. Given this reality, it makes me happier to focus on the historical figures that I love, and the imaginary world in which they reside, rather than on the society that has hurt and rejected me. And I have read that doing fewer activities is exactly what helps with recovering from autistic burnout, something that I’ve been struggling with for many years.

So for now, I am making a deliberate decision to live a slower-paced life with more free time. I am going to do the things that I feel like doing, rather than pushing myself to get up before my body naturally wants to in order to attend events that I don’t have the energy for. I am going to do activities that bring me joy, rather than ones that are filled with reminders of the trauma that I’ve experienced. (Of course, some activities have the potential for both these things, which can make the decision about whether to do them or not difficult, but I will deal with those as they come up.)