Observing the Grain

Selfish or Self-Fulfilling?

~ Tael ~ Leave a comment

There’s a lot of this going around on the Internet right now (especially if you follow therapy pages like I do). All the over-givers who are sick of getting “taken advantage of” are entering their “selfish eras” and “doing me” and whatnot. And don’t take my quotation marks for sarcasm; I’m in the same boat. Someone who’s grown exhausted with choosing to over-give (because no one’s forcing us; it is our choice, we just want acknowledgement and reciprocity for it). But seeing my peers say we’re being “selfish” now, I’m realizing we’ve grossly misinterpreted what the word selfish actually means. Because all the “selfish” stuff we’re doing by focusing on ourselves now and taking care of our own wants is really the shit we should have been doing all along.

Let’s look at the dictionary definition of the word selfish: lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one’s own personal profit or pleasure.

That’s not what taking care of yourself is. Taking care of yourself is something we’re supposed to do. We’re not entering our selfish eras devouring fresh cheeseburgers while simultaneously staring down a homeless man with no remorse. We’re not scheming to get ahead at the expense of someone else’s suffering. We’re not shamelessly flaunting our fancy new expensive purchases in front of a friend who’s struggling financially to make ends meet. We’re not inconveniencing others. We’re simply doing more of what brings us joy and alignment in our own lives and trusting our fellow adults to take responsibility for themselves in non-life-threatening situations. You know…like healthy human beings?

We’re eating better, working out more, and focusing on more self-care to improve our mental well-being, not stealing candy from children or dipping into the collection box at church.

But somewhere along the way, society got introduced the notion that if you are always looking out for everyone else, it will come back to you.

Noble, yes, but also a load of bullshit.

Sure, there’s Karma, and sure, being kind to others does benefit you, but stretching yourself thin and exhausting yourself to your own detriment to do it became the gold standard because we all knew a grandma or auntie that always looked out for everyone and was always giving, and do we remember how they lived? Usually poor, on government assistance, and didn’t go out much. Harsh, but a dose of truthful reality. We looked out for them, but still, were their lives thriving? See, the giving notion got twisted to the point where it became ideal and applauded to always give to others even at the expense of yourself. Like, if I’m walking the streets barefoot and I see a guy in a wheelchair, I should give up one of my legs type deal. Sounds a little ridiculous, no? But then, where is the limit?

The truth is, this world is full of leeches who will seek out folks with this over-giving mentality and then suck.you.dry. This mentality also blurs the line of personal responsibility. At some point, as we grow from children to adults, we learn that we must take responsibility for our own lives, actions, and their consequences. There’s a fine line between being “helpful” and enabling someone, which many people forget, and that causes a whole new slew of problems in that by your eagerness to be helpful, you actually take away the learning experience that folks need to better themselves on their own, but since someone else is always willing to do the work for them, they no longer try.

I got called selfish a LOT growing up, especially because I was an only child until I was 15 (and most only children are called selfish by default). One of my earliest standout memories of being slapped with the selfish sticker was when I was about 7 or so, and my two cousins and I were each allowed to pick out one snack from the supermarket. I chose one of those really cute applesauce 6-packs, probably a Blues-Clues variation, or some sort of limited-time variety flavor. Now, I had plans for this snack. I was ready to ration out my portions for the next few days, because that was the sort of precocious child I was. One during a reading session, one hiding under the kitchen table, one on a car ride…I had plans for this snack. But what ended up happening was my 2 cousins snarfed their stuff down in hours, then came to me with their hands out for mine. And I was made to give it to them.

I was livid at the unfairness of it. Here I am, displaying advanced life skills that most adults struggle with like delayed gratification, restraint, and frugality, and I was just expected to hand over portions of the snack I was treasuring, just because my cousins wanted it. I hadn’t coveted theirs. I hadn’t asked for any of theirs. I hadn’t partook in theirs. But I was still berated by my family and called selfish because I didn’t want to hand it over. Why were my cousins not the selfish, greedy, gluttonous ones? Why did it not matter that I was losing out here, getting an unfair portion of the snack I fairly acquired? Why was I not praised for my discipline?

Now, I’m sure my family was only trying to teach me a lesson in being giving, no matter what the circumstances, and I’m sure most parents back then wanted to raise altruistic little Gandhis, but the result today may be a bunch of exhausted, codependent people-pleasers who’ve learned that the appearance of “nice” to others is more important than being kind to ourselves.

There were MANY other instances I was called selfish growing up, and of course I WAS at times, I WAS A CHILD. Children by nature are selfish, and that’s why adults who are selfish are seen as more childish because they haven’t matured out of the “everything revolves around me” phase. But I was an intelligent child; I didn’t lack consideration for others, and I was strongly empathetic. I don’t think I at all deserved it as the personality trait my family accused me of having. I was a big proponent of fairness. Of equality. Of everyone getting what they wanted, if they could. But we were taught that ONLY utter sacrifice of what you want is true giving, and that compromise in the fairness of all parties doesn’t count.

If you are maintaining a gym routine, weekly self-care days, improving on a hobby that brings you joy, taking a class or learning a new skill, that’s not selfish, and we need to stop acting like it is. You are not in your selfish era because you’re taking the reigns of your happiness and not expecting anyone else to do it for you. You’re living your life and investing in the most important person in it; the star of the show. The fact that we collectively see this as somehow selfish and there’s a guilt associated with it speaks volumes to society’s expectations and why so many folks can’t take care of themselves and are always expecting someone else to help them. Unless you are a parent or caretaker, you are not responsible for anyone else’s life. We are the ones in our lives who are in the easiest position to give ourselves what we want because we know what makes us happiest.

A narcissist ex once told me, “A relationship should be two people trying their best to make the other person as happy as possible.”

Awww so sweet–WRONG. First of all, sounds exactly like something a Narc would say; they want you in their pocket doing anything you can to make sure they stay happy and all their needs are met, while simultaneously throwing temper tantrums in response to your requests and trampling the boundaries you try to stand firmly on.

But it’s also unsustainable. There are just some things that another person is not capable of doing for you, that would make you happier than if you did it for yourself.

Another popular insight going around is that we shouldn’t be looking to other people to make us happy. Your source of true happiness must come from within, and not from an outside source. You have to be your own sun.

And being your own sun isn’t selfish. Tending your own garden isn’t selfish. Thinking of your own happiness, in conjunction with those around you is not selfish. The notion that we need to forsake our own needs to appear giving is a foolish one that needs to be retired, along with the idea that we even need to prove how giving we are in the first place, as if we earn some sort of floating badge attached to our human avatars that others can see, confirm, and validate us with. The fact that we actually think that by supporting ourselves in the same manner that we support everyone else is us entering our sElFiSh ErA is unhealthy, damaging, incorrect, and barf-worthy. This is not, and has never been a “Fuck everyone else’s feelings, I’m gonna do me” movement. It’s a “My needs matter just as much as everyone else’s, and I don’t need to hide them to appear ‘good'” shift.

Because what if, by considering your own needs as equally as you considered others’, it actually made things…EVEN.

Balanced?

Fair.

~Tael

I Don’t Need To Be A “Good Woman” Anymore

~ Tael ~ 3 Comments

Frankly, I’ve become sick of it.

Because the “Good Woman” has become the female counterpart of the “Nice Guy.” It’s the woman who gets walked over. Who moves her boundaries to accommodate others and pays for it. It’s the woman who gets burned out from always putting her needs last, and is called selfish when she doesn’t. Who loses her individuality in the identity of the “good wife and mother.” Who stretches herself thin to the point of exhaustion and is praised for this. Who’s expected to treat a man like a king but not receive queen treatment in return. She’s ride-or-die and must stand by her man no matter what, so she swallows indignation and lets indiscretion slide, absorbing her own painful feelings like a sponge. It’s more acceptable for her man to make mistakes but if she slips up, it’s World War III because a Good Woman is expected to be perfect, not human. How often do you hear a story about the complete asshole who got cheated on and probably had it coming? Not nearly as often as you hear about the “Good Woman who got away” or “the man who didn’t appreciate what he had until it was too late.”

A Good Woman should never be too emotional, because he’ll tell her so. A Good Woman shouldn’t nag, because nagging drives a man away. As young girls, did your family groom you to play this role? To believe that “keeping a man” is paramount and if he leaves, you’ve failed and your worth as a woman plummets? That embracing the Good Woman role takes precedent over your own personality and it needs to be displayed; the world needs to know how much of a Good Woman you are by how smoothly your relationship is going and if it’s not, it’s somehow your fault? A “Good Woman” is more likely to settle because at least she’s “keeping a man.” Her goal is being achieved.

Her role as a Good Woman is to cook, clean, care for the home AND work, while the man simply has to…work. A “Good Woman” keeps the kids out of the way so that the man has peace from his own children; his special chair, domain over the television, head-of-the-household dominion without daily household-running participation, simply because of his gender. It’s completely acceptable for him not to be sociable; to retreat to a garage or man-cave for hours at a time, because only men need to retreat. Any input or help he does offer, society applauds him because the bar is so much lower that bare minimum is better than nothing. If he makes one meal to his wife’s 10, he must be praised and encouraged. The Good Woman frequently gives more than she receives out of expectation. Her image is always under a microscope and must always be maintained.

She must always be on her game because she’s expected to provide advice, money, comfort. If she’s not in a state to administer those supplies, then she falls off her pedestal. She can’t be too assertive about her likes, dislikes, and knowing what she wants because this makes others uncomfortable. She really can’t even openly express discomfort with others’ actions, especially her man’s. She must go with the flow at all times and not make ripples in the surface. She makes a huge dinner only for him to come home late, glance at it, and decide he wants pizza instead. She stands by him through drunken tirades and hurtful behavior, lies and half-truths, and blistering criticism of her personality beneath the “Good Woman” cloak. Money mismanagement, she fronts him. Emotional mistakes, she soothes him. Personal growth, she supports him. He explodes on her in public, passersby giving her anxious “Are you okay” glances as she tries to calm him down through the shame. She wilts under the disrespectful behavior from his family and friends that he does not check them for, but is not allowed to defend herself or call them out because then she’s being disrespectful for standing up for herself. She accepts him for who he is, but is not accepted in return. She must smile and always appear agreeable, especially around others in his presence, regardless of whatever storm is brewing beneath her surface.

“At least he doesn’t beat her,” is always a reason to stay.

A Good Woman will receive many apologies when she stays and endures the negative behavior, and dole out much forgiveness because she’s so Good. But she’s not valued for her personality, the way she makes him laugh, the thoughtfulness she puts into gift-giving, her unique traits or how she considers his feelings. She’s valued for putting up with the antics and letting him get away with what he can. Shrinking herself so that she doesn’t appear challenging and her man’s circle certainly can’t know that she has the power to call ANY shots like an equal in the relationship, because then the man no longer appears manly. A Good Woman even has sex when she doesn’t feel like it, simply because “a man needs it.” And he’s still getting “kept”.

Because to “keep a man” is paramount. That’s the most. Important. Thing.

But I no longer want to “keep a man.” I no longer want this to be the driving goal in my life. I want a man who wants. To. Be. Kept. Who doesn’t need to be persuaded to do right by her.

To choose me. Because of our bond and our connection. Who’s in it based off his own integrity and values and not a Facebook “Relationship Goals” meme checklist. Because he respects me, enjoys my mind, and finds me special, not because I’m adorning myself with garments from the “Good Woman” wardrobe, but because of that naked authenticity beneath. Because when we come together, we bring our own unique ingredients that create a flavor that works for us, and not a trending recipe.

Who says, “It’s okay to be yourself.“

I no longer need the validation from the “Good Woman” title. The Good Woman who continuously takes shit because the more she endures it, the more she somehow earns a more valuable badge of honor (and let’s face it, good women take shit). What I NEED, and what’s healthiest for me, is to be myself. Safe within my boundaries, filling my own cup and then giving to others, holding others accountable for their own responsibilities instead of playing a savior role. To express myself freely and make mistakes and learn from them without fear that I’m not following the “guidelines” because I’m too busy following my own compass.

I want the real me seen, not the “Good Woman” costume I’ve been told I need to fit in life. I’d much rather be accepted for that.

And if the real me isn’t “good enough,” that’s okay too. You’re more than welcome to find better.

~Tael

Blackness Mirrored

~ Tael ~ Leave a comment

I see you all, standing with us.

Mirroring our outrage, disgust and frustration. Those who have to be mindful of their skin tone every day. Those who have the privilege of forgetting their skin color.

Those who don’t see skin color at all.

Which camp are you?

I see my Blackness as part of my genetic make-up; an identity trait holding no more weight than my slim frame, flowing dreadlocks, love of music. But I don’t “experience” my skin tone. I share it. The unpopular minority that doesn’t immediately get offended if another race uses the term “nigga.” To me it’s an urban term; you know when it’s being used inappropriately and the intention of the one using it. You know.

You could be the self-hating Black kind like my ex-husband. Terrified to be associated with anything stereotypical, like Red Lobster, fried chicken and watermelon. Clinging to art and classical music, ties and blazers, to remind everyone “I’m not THAT kind of Black.”

While I seamlessly drift through all worlds at once; projects and spacious houses, Flatbush and Midtown, slang and literature.

Because allies are everywhere.

Internally, i’m not very mindful of my Blackness. Because I don’t “wear” it. I just…AM. But outside my bubble, discrimination continues. And when I watch the viral clips and videos, I FEEL it.

When a Black man needlessly gets shot, jogging in his neighborhood or relaxing in his OWN HOME, I get angry.  When a white woman calls the cops on a Black person for existing…calling her out for breaking the rules, waiting for a friend in an apartment building, barbecuing, playing golf…I get angry. When we’re being choked and cry out that we can’t breathe and it’s ignored, and we DIE, I get angry. When four cops need to pile on top of an unarmed Black mother in front of her child because apparently that force was necessary, I get angry. I wonder why, despite growing up in a blender of culture, after 33 years this insensitivity still exists in 2020. Like it’s been frozen and preserved, retaining all the same intensity as the Jim Crow era. I don’t understand racism. I grew up surrounded by blacks, whites, browns, tans, pales, caramels, butters, peanuts, olives, accents, hijabs, yarmulkes, jade stones and languages I did not understand.

I grew up around tolerance. Acceptance.

So I get ANGRY when I hear this bullshit is still happening. And I feel the collective rage. And I don’t NOT condone the looting. And the anarchy. And the chaos. The wild frustrated will to truly be free when you’ve been walking on eggshells the rest of the time. And the melting pot all over the nation feels it, and the unified support and disgust that these incidents keep occurring that non-Blacks are mirroring is a tearful embrace saying, “We got ya’ll.”

And I’m so proud. To everyone who stares down an armed cop to mirror our indignation in the name of our equality, I’m so proud. I want to absorb your courage.

I love you for marching for us.

And I love those unafraid to open dialogue about Blackness. So many of us are quick to lash out at ignorance. And while I fully understand the sentiment, discussion from both sides NEEDS to take place, not just condemnation.

It’s maddening that ignorance exists and some shit we think is obvious still needs to be TAUGHT to others. But we have to accept that we live in a world riddled with ignorance. And if someone is willing to address that ignorance within themselves, and actively seek guidance and understanding in an effort to rise above it, then that is courage as well, and we need to be willing to mentor and educate with a disciplined mind. On why that way of thinking is wrong. On why that sort of action is inappropriate or offensive. Poke enough holes through a closed mind that wants to be open, and ignorance can filter out like a sieve.

I will never be afraid to have that dialogue. Because it’s knowledge that defeats ignorance.

The incidents of injustice we keep seeing, can make you want to give in so badly to automatic hate.

But, I don’t want to be driven to hate.
Because hate is why we’re where we are now.

But if it makes you feel a little better, do it anyway. Get it out. Hate. Emote. Protest. Riot. Loot.

Teach.

~Tael

Pet Rescues? Or Militant Animal Gatekeepers?

~ Tael ~ 2 Comments

Remember the days when you decided you wanted an animal companion in your life, so you strolled down to your local shelter, filled out some paperwork, gave an optional donation, and walked out the same day with the new pet of your choosing, ready to bond and share your space with them?

They gone.

I mean, you can still do this at the pet shop with hamsters I guess. But the way adoption processes for a cat or dog are structured nowadays, you may as well toss in an application for a chance at a black market immigrant child too. You’ll probably be cleared for the human before the animal enthusiasts deem your application worthy.

Those close to me know I was once the proud owner of a beautiful orange tabby who lived to the ripe old age of 19 years. Last April, he succumbed to a thyroid issue that robbed his ability to see, and finally, eat or walk. I syringe-fed him water during his last days and a final vet visit ended in euthanization.

I was devastated, yes, but I know it was probably time cause my cat was pretty damn old. I’d watched the rapid deterioration of both my grandparents (who’d been old forever because they’re grandparents) when their time was up. One minute they seem just fine, and the next, a simple cold or digestion issue destroys their weak immune system and results in their (timely, I guess) departure. It took until the end of the year for me to finally feel ready to adopt again, with the enlightenment one gains from being a previous pet owner. I wanted two this time. Kip had been a wonderful, vocal cat, who initially meow-meowed-meowed his way through the house, to the point where we wondered if he’d ever shut up and neighbors shoved meat under our door because they thought we housed a starving animal. Two companions would keep each other company and hopefully cut down on this, and I felt a bonded pair of litter-mates would do nicely! The idea of a dog crossed my mind (and I work from home so I’d be in the best position to have one), but two cats are still less work than one dog. I was READY.

Twenty years later though, the adoption game has severely changed with the millennium, and I was not ready for the evolved difficulty in the approval process. It seemed a bunch of self-righteous animal zealots now controlled a huge chunk of the adoptable animal population, only willing to release them to those considered deserving of an pet. Oh it SEEMS great on first thought; we all want what’s best for the animals and making sure potential adopters are responsible and bringing them into a healthy, non-abusive environment is a terrific idea. But it’s that arrogant zealousness to find the “perfect” match for animals that causes “Adopt, Don’t Shop” to fail. Slate actually has a superb article that wonderfully sums up how convoluted the process has become here.

Some rejections have nothing to do with how well you can take care of and provide for an animal. Take a look at one of mine here:

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So…ya’ll not tryna have some kittens go to forever homes cause ya’ll don’t FEEL like making the drive? THANKS LYNN. Great effort!

In my personal opinion, it’s pretty damn difficult to neglect a cat. Maybe because I’ve had pets all my life that I was responsible for (hamsters, mice, rabbits, turtles, cats) so it’s a little more ingrained in me that animals need taking care of. Dogs require a bit more effort, but at the bare minimum, you give a cat food and water, change its litter and play with it some. At the bare minimum, someone walking into a pet shelter or rescue organization looking to adopt knows they have to do this. An animal-hater is not going to walk into a pet shelter interested in adoption and pay the fees required, unless some really SICK individual wants to adopt a pet to secretly torture them, but sick individuals will always find ways to do their sick things and I’m pretty sure these guys are in the isolated minority. At the very least, with any adoption, an animal gets taken from a cage or enclosed space in a shelter (I understand foster situations are different, but still) and goes to a home where they get far more attention and room to roam. It is usually going to be a better situation for them to be in. Someone who lives paycheck to paycheck, scrounging for enough money to feed their children or keep the lights on this month, is likely not going to waltz into a shelter and add a new expense of caring for an animal, no matter how cute it is. But still, financials seem to be a huge part of the application process.

References are generally required now, which is fine, however, the world knows how references work. You pick the people who will paint you to be a shining star and say whatever required to make you glow. References are kinda one of society’s biggest B.S. schemes. Even shitty pedophiles have acquaintances who will vouch the high heavens for them if given as references. Mine were apparently asked if I was economically stable enough to own a cat. What, were they going to say NO?

But really, let’s look at the economic status of the nation as a whole. The majority of the U.S. currently lives paycheck to paycheck. :/ They find a way to manage, however, this does insinuate that only the small percentage of wealthy would fit the “perfect appliCAT” adoption (see what I did there?). Most applications ask if you’d be able to afford an animal’s vet bills, but let’s not act like in today’s times, finding affordable health care for HUMANS isn’t a large task in itself already, and many millennials simply go without it!

We’re living though.

Some applications specifically ask how much would be too much a vet’s bill for you. I started putting things like $3000 because I’m not sure what they were looking for. If you can’t afford a $3000 vet bill for your cat, does that mean you shouldn’t be allowed to have one? Because a $3000 doctor’s bill for a human would wipe most people’s savings. Does this mean we should be banned from caring for them? The richest person with an endless supply of fortune could adopt and give a cat a whole wing of their mansion, vet bills pre-paid, and still only be giving the bare minimum: food, litter, a home. Doesn’t mean they’re petting the cat on a regular basis or playing with them, or giving them love. Most hire nannies for their own children, so I’m sure said nanny or housekeeper would be caring for the pet as well. And let’s be real, the wealthy usually don’t saunter into the ASPCA looking to rescue; they find a pedigreed breeder and dole out a handsome sum for a certified, purebred, exotic prize.

I’ll be honest; I didn’t take my last cat in for yearly vet check-ups. I saw no need. He was an indoor cat, had all his shots, vaccinations, and got neutered within the first year of his life. I gave him good quality food and he was not only part of my immediate family, but my extended family too. Once in awhile he got sick, just as we humans do. But most of us know you don’t immediately run to the doctor when you get sick, unless it’s serious. In fact, 75% I’ve run to the doctor for a perceived ailment, I didn’t have to GO. It was something that would have passed and I ended up with a stupid bill, a prescription for some shit I could get from Duane Reade over the counter on my own, and a “This too, shall pass” diagnosis. When he had a REAL issue, I took him. The rest of the time, he got monumental love and support from all of us.

Let’s move from the financial aspect. Many applications ask if I have kids or plan to. Umm…shit, what if I did? It could happen in the future, as I am…an adult woman with working ovaries. Can cats and kids not live together? Do families not have pets? Okay, maybe they’re just screening so they can let you know which of their adoptables don’t do well with children. Understandable! But then they proceed to ask if you DID have a kid, what would you do with your cat? Umm I’d have my kid. And I’d have my cat? “What if you moved? Would you take your cat?” No, I’d leave it in the empty apartment and hope the super overheard the hungry yowls eventually. *Sarcasm alert.*

wallstreetcatguy“Will you ever let the cat outside?” I mean, in a carrier, unless I travel to a family or friend’s house that has an enclosed backyard maybe? What, you think I’m going to walk outside down a New York City block with my cat in my arms? Maybe someone who had a damn good trained cat could do that, like the one who used to show up around Wall Street. But most indoor cats would likely claw the shit out of you if you tried to take them outside in your arms amidst honking horns and barking dogs. Most owners know this. Why the hell would someone who lives in a New York City apartment let their cat outside unless it’s a bodega or apartment complex cat? Common sense. Sure, there’s the cat leash movement going on but I have only come across ONE urban cat-walker in my New York City life. Why are we asking this question like it’s a common thing lol.

“How many hours the cat will be left alone during the day?” Well that’s pretty easy to ascertain if the person has a standard fucking 9-5 job. That they’ll need to have in order to be financially stable enough to adopt the damn cat in the first place and afford those $3000 vet bills, right?

“We require a home visit.” This one may be the most invasive of them all. What’chu mean you wanna come to my HOUSE? And see if it’s SUITABLE for a cat? Some folk are sensitive about their small spaces, or day-to-day messies. What if the “inspector” is a Trump supporter wearing a red #MAGA cap and I have an Obama “Yes We Can” fleece throw on my couch? I’m probably not getting that damn cat.

One place tried to call my apartment management company to verify pets were allowed and ended up getting a new girl that gave her the runaround. I was surprised my management company even answered the phone. You know how hard it is for ME to get ahold of someone there? But trust me, I doubt most New Yorkers would be willing to take in an animal if they weren’t allowed. Especially when it’s rent-stabilized. We ain’t risking that. But what if someone rescued an animal off the street and hid it from their management company? More power to them! We can’t say it doesn’t help the rescue plight.

Through all this, you have the rescues and shelters posting desperate pleas for animal adopters and fosters NEEDED NOW, because the shelters are overflowing, and animals are getting euthanized or remaining unadopted for lengthy periods; all the while simultaneously calling for “A+ adopters ONLY and if you have to ask what it is, you’re not one” (because only the cream of the crop will do and we’re not really here to educate potential adopters >.>) or criticizing potential adopters for having preferences, such as color or age, which is RIDICULOUS! If someone wants an orange cat, let them hunt for an orange cat! If a person loves a certain breed and sees they’re available for adoption with you, what’s the issue? If they prefer a kitten over an adult cat like I do (because I prefer to raise them myself and have an earlier bond), are they less of an animal-lover because of this? And then the raging fan, and I’ll quite bluntly call them “dickriding” comments that back up these ridiculous critiques, solidify the existence of an entire Internet club of perceived cat activists, who must ALL be perfect adopters who take their cats (and they all BETTER have cats lol) for biyearly dental cleanings, consider Fancy Feast actual gourmet cat food, and live for putting down “B-” cat owners on social media.

“Adopt, Don’t Shop” is easier said then done, especially when potential adopters need to pass a figurative bar exam from the gatekeepers to adopt. They are looking for perfect adopters but “perfection” doesn’t exist. I was damn near ready to go through a back-alley CraigsList kitten transaction (because when you want an animal, you WILL get an animal) when a ray of light appeared in my path.

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I spotted this adorable little face on the ‘gram. And some brief reviewing revealed he had siblings! I DM-ed them to inquire and messaged with Holland, a sweet breath of fresh air who communicated with life and feeling and energy, unlike many of the of the short, brusque, almost exhausted-sounding responses from the other places I’d looked into. I was directed to their website, https://catcastlenyc.org where I filled out a simple, non-invasive application and saw that part of their goal is non-discriminatory adoption! She sent me pics of the little guy’s siblings and I decided I wanted his brother too, and within two days she showed up at my apartment to deliver the little darlings. While this could also be construed as a home visit, it wasn’t the same in my eyes, because I was already approved for the adoption, whereas other places use the home visit to further render judgment on your approval.

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Spike and Vash

I am now the proud owner of two rambunctious bonded brothers born with little bent tails, who I’ve spent the last week spoiling with holistic cat food, organic rotisserie chicken, more toys on the way, and that cat condo I’ve always wanted. For my cats. >.>’ We’re working on getting them comfortable being held while standing, but for now they crawl into my lap for cuddles, are no longer afraid when the front door opens, and tear around the house chasing and wrestling each other before falling asleep together in a kitty hug. I make them little aluminum foil balls to play with, tossed a blanket on the floor of my closet because I know they like to nap there sometimes, and now have to carefully roll my office chair out because they like to hang out under there while I’m sitting in it at my computer.

I don’t think I qualify as an “A+ adopter,” and I’m not sure I’d even want to. I’m much happier being the imperfect human I am that loves animals and takes damn good care of her pets, happily welcoming a saved life into my imperfect world. I love that Cat Castle NYC deviated from the drill sergeant adoption routine, and equally loved being able to support a warm, friendly, up-and-coming, humble rescue, who really just seem to want to sincerely help connect cats with homes, and not play militant adoption gods who collect multiple applications on single pets in their adoption arena to determine the winner. I highly recommend and encourage other potential adopters who know they’re responsible enough to take an animal under their wing without having a snotty judge referee with a static checklist whether they truly are to check them out!

~Tael

*See You Space Cowboy*

Girl. Gamer. And?

~ Tael ~ Leave a comment

It’s like we’ve regressed while evolving. A month ago when I went to Otakon, I met a transgender individual who shared that some of their female friends who game have gone through some pretty negative experiences with the male gaming community; to the point where they now hide their gender on forums and social media, and are treated fine until somehow the bomb drops that they’re female. When I was growing up, gender in gaming was never a thing, so why is it now?

As a casual gamer, it’s been amazing to ride along the gaming world’s journey. I started out with my very own Sega Genesis at age 7. ALL of my cousins gamed, boy and girl. And when their friends came over, we all gamed together still. There was never any “Girls can’t play” or “Boys club” nonsense. We practiced Mortal Kombat finishing moves on each other, sped through Sonic levels, and bullet-barraged in GoldenEye as equals. We chainsawed Tediz in Conker, helped snag difficult stars in Super Mario 64, and woke up rubbing the crust from our eyes first thing bright and early to grab the controller and take down Wizpig in Diddy Kong Racing.

Going through middle school, gaming was definitely still considered a nerdy hobby, so it wasn’t really broadcast much. We stayed under the radar so as not to become targets. I kept it hidden behind the scenes, indulging with my family and my bestie, who could be counted on to marathon Super Mario World with me in one night, being overly cautious not to accidentally nudge the glitchy console in any way, lest the save not work properly after having played for hours. I quietly played my RPGs in the safety of my room and found gaming companions in AOL chat rooms. I ducked my head in my GameBoy in isolated corners of the school yard.

In high school (and I admit, the fact that my H.S. population was 75% Asian could have something to do with it) it became much more socially accepted. Dedicated teams set up YuGiOh and Magic rounds religiously every day after school in the cafeteria. I encountered my first IRL Zelda fan who loved to share tips on Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask. I got invited to a birthday party where we each built our own mini-Gundams to take home (Deathscythe, baby). Gamer T-shirts and swag became more widespread.

College came and my love of Smash Bros. continued to blossom. I formed a purely battle relationship with a dude who’d come around to visit his girlfriend down the hall, and always dropped in just to play a few rounds and demolish me. In fact, there were quite a few Elite Smashers in college, and I was surprised at how many others loved it too! I befriended another girl who beasted in Smash and we took down our friends in Team Battles. And then there were other gamers still, happy to lend their assistance to the excruciatingly tedious puzzles of Prince of Persia or MarioKart training, or collaboratively get back to Funkatron in Toejam & Earl.

The gamer’s life had become a breeze of approval. Twitter wasn’t even a thing back then. Is that why everyone was so nice and accepting? Because in-person, things are different? Because a lot of people gain that web-courage, when they’re behind a screen? Or because the younger generations are more likely to be douchebags now?

Once again, I may have been caught in some kind of bubble (I’m starting to believe myself to be a unicorn in life). I was never once called out for my gender. I was never once interrogated, scrutinized, laughed at, harassed, or belittled for being a girl and having this hobby. It wasn’t considered a “cool” thing to do or pretend to like. It wasn’t a trend, as nostalgic things tend to be now. It was strictly a hobby, done for your own individual entertainment. A gamer was a gamer.

It’s interesting to see a hobby I once kept on the low explode into something that can make you Internet-famous now. But it’s also great to see how much more open and accessible the gaming lifestyle is now. I LOVE that I can find controller earrings on Etsy, Triforce handbags on Amazon, support indie artists geeky tee and hoodie designs, actually be a part of a gaming community on social media, connect with Smashers just by logging into the network on the WiiU, and pop up on the Tetris Friends site for a bit of mind-numbing block-dropping. I love that bars are incorporating arcades, Nintendo World at Rockefeller Center is a thing, Pokemon is still going strong, “It’s dangerous to go alone, take this,” has become a meme, and retro-fans recognize and appreciate the question-mark tattoo on my shoulder.

20170928_231443As a casual gamer, (and I’m not speaking for the industry side of things) I don’t feel like women are marginalized any more so than anywhere else. Are there hypersexualized characters in gaming? OF COURSE. Hypersexualization of women is everywhere in the world. We can’t expect it to magically not be in this particular medium. Grand Theft Auto is not meant to be a respectable game (you are absolutely an asshole protagonist), Dead or Alive Beach Volleyball does nothing anime doesn’t already do, yes, Lara Croft is known for having large breasts in the Tomb Raider series, that was their thing, and also seeing Valentina’s boobs jiggle when you attack her in Super Mario RPG is hilarious (because they do jiggle in real life sometimes). But how can we forget about the numerous other female roles over the years? Easy-going Jade from Beyond Good & Evil. Calculating Bellena from Skies of Arcadia (which also happened to have two female co-protagonists). Battle-worthy warrior Marta from Tales of Symphonia 2 (because Lord knows Emil needed to grow a pair) as well as the power-hungry, pint-sized sadistic Alice who put fear in even the largest man’s heart. Xelha from Baten Kaitos was one of my least favorite female characters, mostly because I didn’t find her cute at all. Yeah, sounds horrible, but I like my characters to be cute. I much preferred Mizuti with her crazy mask and garbled voice, who everyone was shocked to find out late in the game that she was a girl anyway. Because if a character is not going to be cute, they should at least be cool and have some depth to them. I see Twitter highly in favor of the fact that Twintelle from Arms has an ass. Sexualization or adaptation of the latest fit and trendy body-type?

Having that knowledge dropped on me at Otakon, that one would have to hide their gender orientation around the community they love to participate in, left me surprised, even though I’ve heard stories before. Over the Internet. I’ve just never heard a real-life story from twenty-somethings in person. I was certain there’s the chill, accepting, mature generation of gamers who love the hobby in person (because don’t Millennials accept everything accept right-wing conservatism?), and then there’s the Internet-thugging 12-14-year-old virgins experimenting with cursing behind their headsets and safety screens because they’re not ready for the real world. And I’m not threatened by children. To my fellow gaming ladies who have experienced such nonsense as this, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’ve been told I can come off as intimidating. Let some little ignorant troll come at me for being a chick who games.

I would skin them. (And trust me, you could probably take them too).

Just saying.

~Tael