or they gaslight you trying to make it your fault because “you’re too sensitive” and “they’re just looking out for you [by gaslighting you and telling you to ‘toughen up’ so they don’t have to be accountable”
this one is totes my favourite.
i often feel like i need to be ‘tougher’ about all of this
but, i was once a sensitive girl
and i actually liked me back then. i had feelings and i liked it.
I was actually told this by a teacher in high school. This girl was tormenting me—gaslighting, in a way, because she was deliberately driving me to the brink passive agressively while acting as if she wasn’t doing anything wrong and we were just having a conversation. It finally got so bad that I ran out into the hallway crying. The teacher IN THE ROOM (this happened in the middle of class) didn’t come out or try to stop it or do anything. And when I finally asked him why he didn’t help me (after he had let the class out for lunch, all of whom just looked at me as they walked by), he told me that “I had to learn to deal with the hard things in life on my own” because “this stuff existed in every stage of life”.
Ironically, every other teacher that was in the hallway checked on me and comforted me. Plus, his words got to me so badly that I actually APOLOGIZED to the girl who was tormenting me for driving her to do that and being too sensitive.
…wow, my heart is aching a bit. I’m nearly twenty three—I’d have thought I’d have gotten over this by now.
Seriously, I’ve had this kind of stuff from a lot of people in my life. The whole, “I just worry you’re taking this too hard” kind of bullshit.
That was actually worse than the original problem, to be honest
solidarity ‘i-know-that-feel’ hugs for everyone in the thread if needed
Octavia Butler (via datadrudge)
I cannot BELIEVE the depts of ignorance of that dude. Bless Octavia Butler.
When I did Kindred, I really had had this experience in college that I talk about all the time, of this Black guy saying, “I wish I could kill all these old Black people that have been holding us back for so long, but I can’t because I have to start with my own parents.” That was a friend of mine. And I realized that, even though he knew a *lot* more than I did about Black history, it was all cerebral. He wasn’t feeling any of it. He was the kind that would have killed and died, as opposed to surviving and hanging on and hoping and working for change. And I thought about my mother, because she used to take me to work with her when she couldn’t get a baby sitter and I was too young to be left alone, and I saw her going in the back door, and I saw people saying things to her that she didn’t like but couldn’t respond to. I heard people say in her hearing, “Well, I don’t really like colored people.” And she kept working, and she put me through school, she bought her house—all the stuff she did. I realized that he didn’t understand what heroism was. That’s what I want to write about: when you are *aware* of what it means to be an adult and what choices you have to make, the fact that maybe you’re afraid, but you still have to act.
By Hugo Schwyzer, published at Jezebel
irony of ironies
It’s a monumental overask to expect women to be gentle with the egos of men who only feigned friendship in order to get laid.