OK, I’m still annoyed about this, so here’s my partial refutation of a reblog: just because an abuser chooses you as their victim doesn’t mean you’re weak, period.
People who have been ridiculously strong have gotten into abusive relationships. Abuse can happen to anybody, and saying that abusers only choose weak people implies the opposite, and that so long as you’re “strong” you’re “safe” from them. This is not true. Please don’t spread that.
Sometimes abusers target the strong on purpose, because if you think of yourself as a strong person, you’re less likely to see it coming. This very nearly killed a dear friend of mine. We never saw it coming.
I hung in because I had to, for myself and other old
women. Sometimes I felt as if all I had to justify my presence
was a piece of the truth. As women grew weary of confrontation
with each other, I felt they must be saying, “Not another
oppression!” Often I felt out of step, as words like patriarchy became trite and other feminists were beginning to talk of the
second wave as history. Sometimes I felt the voice of my own
internalized ageism taking over — the fear that, in my refusal to quit the radical struggle, I would be seen as passé, not “with it”
any more, a woman so old that she could not even comprehend
that the movement had come and gone without her knowing. […]
But I have also felt an urgency, not only to speak for
myself and other old women, but to make sure that ageism is
understood by those women who, in large numbers, were the
young feminists of the ’70s. For when they leave the work force
in their sixties, ageism will be for them a glass ceiling and a
soundproof room if they do not understand that it is a political
scenario. Not only will they be robbed of twenty or more of the
most powerful years of their lives, but the course of feminism will
be robbed of those twenty years as well. Ageism assures that young
women, bonded with the fathers, will have no communication
with old women who are outside the system and who could disclose the hidden lies of generations of men in power. Only
the knowledge of the politics of ageism can break that bonding.
Feminists of the second wave have uncovered the many ways that men have divided women — by race, class, by looks, and by able-bodiedness — and feminists are breaking down those barriers.
What we have not understood is that the separation of
women by age is critical. It means that every future wave of
feminism will end and another have to begin in ignorance.
But if those with experience are not silenced, I believe
that […] our energy will again rise with our anger. We will hear
again the voices of radical women standing together in solidarity
to fight for change, and the voices of radical old women will
surely be heard among them.
— Barbara Macdonald, “Barbara’s Preface to the Expanded Edition,” Look Me in the Eye: Old Women, Aging and Ageism, Expanded Edition (1991) by Barbara Macdonald with Cynthia Rich. Bold mine.
How can we make it even better? Make that infectedeczema. That you have to keep wearing compression stockings over. (Which probably had a lot to do with it getting infected to begin with.) While trying to heal a freaking leg ulcer 😱
Chopping this foot and ankle off wouldn’t help the overall situation much, but it’s feeling too tempting about now.
(For an extra level of fun, what set off the outbreak and made my skin start peeling off in the first place was some cohesive wrap with latex in it. Never reacted to latex before, so of course that’s the perfect time to start. Turns out that this isn’t an uncommon thing, with the existing ulcer inflammation making it so you can get sensitized more easily to just about anything. Of course.)
* Even British-hot weather, when you’re not used to it anymore. At least it’s not 90F+ like when I was a kid, is all I can say.
is a traditional Russian headdress worn by women and girls to accompany the sarafan, primarily worn in the northern regions of Russia in the 16th to 19th centuries.
Кокошник –
(от слав. «кокош», обозначавшего курицу и петуха,старинный русский головной убор в виде гребня (опахала, полумесяца или округлого щита) вокруг головы, символ русского традиционного костюма.
On Monday, a city in the southern part of Pakistan soared to 122.4
degrees (50.2 Celsius). This might just be the highest temperature ever
reliably measured on the planet during April.
This is the second straight month in which Nawabshah has set a new
monthly temperature record for Pakistan. In late March, a heat wave pushed the temperature there to a national record of 113.9 degrees for
the month. Several other countries in Asia also established March
record highs during the hot spell from the 29th to the 31st.
let me share a memory with y’all. it’s from i guess 1978 or thereabouts. it’s high summer. i don’t remember where my mom was driving me, in our avocado green chevette, i just know there was a traffic jam that turned 35w northbound into a parking lot from horizon to horizon.
picture it – wait, you don’t have to use your imagination, this happened all the damn time back then.
every one of those damn cars was burning leaded gasoline. there were no emissions regulations. there were no safety regulations. there were just thousands and thousands of detroit steel shoeboxes belching visible smoke as they idled, engines loud and hot, here and there a radiator giving up in the heat, a cloud of burning oil rising.
i, a smeet of five or six, was choking on toxic smog.
i reckon it was about a half hour into the traffic jam that i first threw up. i remember a blinding headache, i remember being confused, i remember dry heaving with my arms and head hanging out the window, the green metal of the car burning my hands and my chin. i don’t remember passing out, but i’m told i lost consciousness before mom was able to get to an off-ramp, because there were no emergency lanes on the highways back then.
i lived. and life went on. what were we going to do, complain? if i’d died, the cause of death probably would’ve been recorded as heatstroke, not carbon monoxide poisoning.
i know i’m probably preaching to the choir here on tumblr. but i really wish i could tell that story to the people who think deregulation is no big deal. i wish they’d put themselves in my mom’s shoes.
or even just look at some old pictures, then look out the window.
ever notice how cityscapes used to have that orange tint and hazy aura? yeah, that’s poison gas.
remember how the mississippi river used to be a stinking soup of baby-shit yellow sludge covered with disturbingly stiff rafts of light orange foam?
i can’t even find pictures of the sludge and foam, i guess they didn’t end up on the internet. the smell was indescribable. that oily shimmer. the reek of dead things. people didn’t boat on the river for pleasure; it smelled too bad, it was too ugly, and you could get super super sick if you touched the water.
and now look at it.
i still wouldn’t want to drink it, but if i fell in i wouldn’t bolt for the shower in a panic, you know?
if the thieving billionaires get their way, we can kiss those sailboats goodbye, and learn the smell of toxic foam once more. the ultra-rich won’t even feel the extra money, they’ve already got more than they could ever touch, they just stash it in offshore accounts to rot, but the rest of us will return to a time of neverending nausea and weird cancers. a time when every elementary school class had at least one kind who’d been born with no fingers or their heart outside their body, and this was just… the way things were.
i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to longpost. it’s just. god. y’all have no idea how CLEAN everything is now, compared to when i was a kid. and these rich old men are counting on that, on people not knowing or not remembering how bad it was before regulation, not realizing how much we need these protections until it’s too late.
I enforce federal worker health and safety and pollution regulations.
When I was learning my trade, when my classmates and I were having a chuckle over the “well duh” level of specificity written into the Code of Federal Regulations (try “no hazardous material shall be stored in crew berthing” on for size), I will never forget the silence that followed when our instructor spoke these words:
“Your regulations are written in blood.”
These regulations were not written on a whim.
They were written because someone thought they could cut costs by storing however many more pounds of a radioactive, toxic, carcinogenic, or whatever else material in the same rooms where the human beings they paid to transport those materials slept, and then did that, because no one was telling them not to.
They were written because people died. Horrifically. Because unregulated capitalism values profit over human life and suffering.
Can I say it again, for those not paying attention?
Unregulated capitalism values profit over human life and suffering.
Do we also need to fucking talk about the Radium Girls again who slowly fucking rotted alive because the company they worked for deliberately hid knowledge of radium’s effects on living matter?
I’m gonna talk about it. It’s depressing and dark as hell, but if anyone ever thinks to themselves that companies will just regulate out of a sense of civic duty or basic human morality, and don’t need outside enforcement, then they need to keep this story in mind.
United States Radium Corporation
that knew radium was lethal, and hired factory girls to work at painting watches with glow-in-the-dark radium faces. To emphasize – they knew radium was lethal and dangerous. Scientists who worked with it wore safety equipment and knew better than to touch it with bare skin. The factory girls, on the other hand, were instructed by their employers to keep the tips of their paint brushes pointed by sucking them between their lips. An act that guaranteed that they were ingesting small amounts of radium daily. They were told that radium was safe, and in small doses even good for you –
United States Radium Corporation
had paid for ‘studies’ and promoted other products which used small amounts of radium, and had branded at as, basically, a medicinal curative that just need to be doled out in appropriate dosages.
This was bullshit, and not even bullshit which the company higher ups could reasonably be expected to actually believe on all levels, with the information that they had readily at hand. What they knew was that a small amount of radium wouldn’t kill you right away, and that there was a two year statute of limitations on workers compensation claims. When the girls began dying and the finger was pointed at radium, the president of the United States Radium Corporation
had an independent researcher investigate the claim. The research established that the link between the girls’ deaths and radium was clear. The company, not liking that result, covered up the independent research and hired other people to simply state that this was not the case.
Of course, by this point there were dying factory workers who were literally glowing in the goddamn dark, whose bones had become so infused with radium that they were visibly radioactive in their autopsies (when said bones weren’t just falling out of them while they were alive, anyway), so of course the company was forced to admit – oh wait, no, they started stealing dead women’s bones from morgues so that they could dispute their causes of death.
Like. Let’s be clear.
United States Radium Corporation
didn’t just fail to keep their workers sufficiently informed, they didn’t just not investigate things well enough, which would have been bad enough on its own. They told their employees to ingest a deadly substance, and when those DYING WOMEN got together with their last breaths to try and make the world aware of what was going on, purely to try and keep it from killing all the other girls who might get jobs in factories (because they were all doomed to painful cancerous death themselves), they paid for hush-ups and cover-ups and fake studies, and stooped to full-on grave robbing to keep people from finding out that they were killing women in droves.
There were factory workers giving testimonies as they physically fell apart on their death beds. The company’s response was not to even revise workers’ regulations to be more safe. It was entirely, 100%, to lie about it, so they could keep making money and keep killing their workers.
And do you want to know what happened to that company? To the United States Radium Corporation?
It eventually became The Safety Light Corporation, and was decommissioned in 2005. The radium girls were dying in the late 1920′s. The company that killed them didn’t even go under with them, didn’t even die when their efforts to raise awareness actually resulted in better and more stringent regulations. So the prospect that better regulations will hurt a corporation are laughable. Even the corporations that deserve to be destroyed by them still manage to do alright when they’re forced to make less money and kill fewer people. Boo hoo, how sad for them.
But inadequate regulations will kill actual human people. Full stop. Some companies will still adhere to ethics, sure, some will have people in charge or on various levels who care and can intervene. But not all of them. And the United States Radium Corporation was just ONE company. One company, that had no regulations to hold it accountable, that decided it didn’t care – and so many women died horrible, horrible deaths for it.
Do not ever let anyone kid you about the ramifications of deregulation. And do not forget that people who died, with their dying breath, fought to establish regulations to keep you safe. Anyone who takes them away is spitting on their graves.
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