don’t underestimate the extremity of my procrastination. i was once so desperate to put off learning sinusoids that i sewed a replica of the basilica of san vitale.
working class person: I’m forced to beg for money and am at the mercy of other people’s goodwill as I’m facing serious suffering and/or death because my wages don’t cover the expenses I need to literally stay alive
friends of working class person: we will scrape together some of our own funds at the possible detriment of our own families because we have no other choice if we don’t want our friend to, and we can’t believe we have to say this out loud, die
media: This Uplifting Story of Friendship Will Brighten Your Day :)) Look As These Brave People Go On Happy With Their Lives Despite Hardship :)) This Story Proves That Poor People Who Complain About Their Standards Of Living Are Just Not Trying Hard Enough :)))
this post was sandwiched on my dash between two people’s medical gofundmes and i want to cry
prehistoric burials make me really emotional because people go “it’s natural to only think of yourself to get ahead! people who don’t do anything shouldn’t be a part of society! back in caveman days they would have died!”
but there is archaeological proof that this is wrong. That even at our most “primitive” we cared about the well being of others.
like Shanindar 1. Shanindar 1 is a neanderthal from 35,000 to 45,000 years ago who was buried with many others in Shanindar Cave, Israel. At this point in time we had not yet developed settlements. Shanindar 1 was part of a nomadic hunter-gatherer group.
Shanindar 1 was severely disabled. From his skeleton we can gather the following
At a young age he had suffered a blow to the face which left him blind in one eye
He had significant hearing loss from birth deformities. One ear canal was completely blocked, while the other was only mostly blocked.
His right, and probably dominant, arm was withered, fractured, and the bottom half amputated.
He had a limp, possibly from a degenerative disease.
If you believe that it’s only natural to abandon the weak he should have been left to die instead of drain the group’s resources. Someone like that would have needed assistance for his entire life. He would have slowed the group down with his limp. His sensory impairments meant he would require help to spot and defend himself from predators. His arm meant he couldn’t hunt or build.
He lived well into his 40s. For a neanderthal of that era he would be considered old. His group decided that they would help him survive not because he brought anything to the group, but because he was still a person who mattered to them. Even at the end of his life he wasn’t abandoned; he was buried with dozens of others.
This reminds me of a party I went to last year. I was standing with some friends, chatting, and someone said something that indirectly implied that sexism exists. Some trivial recounting of the basic facts of daily life for most women. Something so mild, so uncontroversial, so mundane that I don’t even remember what it was.
Suddenly, this man standing on the outskirts of our conversational circle piped up with “actually, I think men are more discriminated against than women these days.”
All conversation died.
I turned to look at him and he had this smug, insufferable grin on his face, relishing this moment, expecting us to waste our time and energy refuting this ridiculous thing he had just said.
The Devil’s Advocate was among us.
And, in my mind, I saw the next 15+ minutes playing out. The parade of facts and statistics in a vain attempt to defend ourselves, our gender, and to prove that misogyny is real. The glib, snide denials from some shithead who is getting off on our pain and frustration. The Gish Gallop of bullshit that would take a whole evening to properly dismantle. It was depressing and overwhelming. I hated it. I had to kill it before it began.
So I looked him dead in the eye and I said “OK,“ shrugged, and just walked away.
Nothing I have ever said to another human being has ever been so crushing. As I walked away, I watched the smug grin vanish and confusion and anxiety set in. The rest of the group turned their backs to him and carried on as if he had never spoken - as if he was invisible. He was still staring at me when I walked over to another friend and told her what he had said. I pointed him out for her and made direct eye contact with him while we both laughed.
tl;dr: Don’t feed the troll. Let it perish, cold and hungry, in the wasteland of your indifference. It is weak and you are strong. Live your best life.
I am Silver Tongue, I am an artist. I have many characters and you can check out my art in the art tag. I occasionally practice witchcraft though I don't do anything too complicated. I am girl 2 and don't know what else to put here.
