• Not Ashamed: Self-Hater

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    This one will be short, because:

    • I don’t want to dwell on this and feel bad.
    • I have touched on it in other posts, and am likely to do so in future posts.

    For much of my life, starting around age 11, I was a self-hater. Full on irrational loathing (that I thought was totally rational). Unable to admit to anything good about me even if there was proof more substantial than just my mum saying nice things. For example, I just knew I was stupid…never mind that I got good marks in school and was part of assorted academic competition teams. I would entertain a bit of smug satisfaction when, for instance, I got my grades. But that would somehow be swallowed by the howling storm of self-loathing within minutes. And every time I said good things about myself out loud all through my teen years, I was, in my opinion, lying. (And then I felt bad for lying…)

    What I saw in the mirror and what I saw inside me was…worthless, rubbish, unlovable, unworthy of love, and so on and so on and on and on and on. I was shocked when friends proved true or if someone liked me, but not shocked if I was treated poorly or unrequited in my love. Hurt, but not shocked.

    Think of the person or thing you hate most…the one you literally want to destroy and wipe from existence. That was how I felt about myself.

    And there have been plenty of times where I have gotten the sense that I ought to be ashamed to feel or have felt that way. Sometimes, those are even contexts where I’m pretty sure the person from whom I got that impression was actually trying to be encouraging. But those lost in self-loathing are delicate…easily shamed…quick to (without meaning to) twist everything to proof of their inadequacy.

    I am sad that I hated myself, but I’m pleased that I seem to have gained a little compassion and perspective from that.

    I am sad that, if any blame is deserved for this by other people, it will undoubtedly be aimed at some of the wrong people. (For instance, at my parents. Who truly did their best to love and nurture me and help me see myself as the awesome little monster I am.)

    I am sad that self-hatred, whether it’s the total loathing I felt or it’s a smaller beast, seems to be such a normal part of the human (particularly the non-white, non-male, non-upper class, non-cis, non-heterosexual, etc) experience.

    Yes, you should love you. But, if you don’t, that’s okay. I mean, I hope you will someday soon. But don’t feel bad about feeling bad. That sounds like a vicious shame cycle.

    In fact, if you feel bad about feeling bad, I guess that’s okay too. I honour your right to feel what you feel and, again, hope that, someday soon, you will feel less bad.

    But you are not a bad person just because you don’t love yourself or don’t see your awesome parts. You are just someone who doesn’t love themselves or see their awesome parts yet. Yet.

    I hated myself. And I’m sad about that, but I am not ashamed of it.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


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  • Not Ashamed: Liberal

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    So, let’s start out with some graphs, provided by The Political Compass site (which is handy for seeing where you fall and where the parties in your election fall (they stick to the UK General Election and the US Presidential Election and a few other large ones). It is probably an interesting read for people who care about politics, no matter where they fall on the compass.

    Here’s the general chart, though you can find a more detailed explanation on the site:

    liberal1

    Here’s one that shows where some historical figures fall:

    liberal2

    And this red dot is me, per the results I got taking their test:

    liberal3

    I know that political things are divisive, and I know that plenty of people I love don’t fall anywhere near where I fall. But here’s what’s behind all my answers, which I feel like those who disagree might at least not think is as horrific as they will find me after this post:

    I believe in love and light. I believe that all of us, whether we are poor or rich, whether we own companies or scrape by, no matter our religion or class or any of that, ought to take care of and be good to each other. That people should be supported in becoming their best authentic selves. That nobody ought to go hungry or be homeless, that everybody ought to have the option of an education and a healthy life.

    I do believe that there need to be some limits and that having someone(s) leading the whole thing makes sense. I’m not an anarchist. But I put people above corporations and individuality above conformity. Even if your individuality leads you to seem pretty normal.

    For those loved ones who are in a very different part of the graph, don’t freak out. I’m the same person you loved and who loved you before you read that what you feared was true. I am definitely fiscally and socially liberal. And so, so not ashamed.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


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  • Not Ashamed: Night Owl

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    And now for something a little lighter. Or darker, I guess. Because, y’know, night time. Creature of the night! Night owl.

    Owl bobs its head and declares "Owl Power!"

    I’m not an insomniac. I’m a night owl.

    I’m not a wannabe vampire. I’m a night owl.

    My circadian rhythms have spoken! And, sure, being a night owl can be handy for the rockstar thing and the pale thing, but it obviously puts me at odds with the normal world, produces some complications, and seems to lead to (what I consider) unwarranted mocking and resentment.

    People make a lot of assumptions, including a certain loved one who spent years telling me I just wasn’t disciplined enough. Or the many people who think that me waking up at noon is a luxury and I’m lazy. (It’s not; I’m not. I get the 8-9 hours of sleep I need, that’s all, and then I’m stupid busy and don’t even really find time for video games any more.)

    But I can tell you that my body temperature confirms my night owl-ness. Really, you can use your body temperature and some mindfulness to figure it out.

    And my creative rhythm also confirms it. Not that I wouldn’t stay up late to obey the muse, even if I were a morning lark or day walker or whatever you call normal people.

    I don’t think you sunlight kids are less cool. But you’ll have to wait until a little later in the day for me to be awake enough to be legitimately reassuring on that point.

    baby owls acting cute

    To go a little serious:

    • I think a number of people I’ve known, though not all, who seem to suffer insomnia have been trying to force themselves into circadian rhythms other than those their body naturally has. This includes people who stay up late because it’s just what their friends do as much as it includes those forced to sleep the hours their job dictates.
    • Sleep is really, really important. Really. Science has proven it (and said so much about it that your cultural disdain of it is really kind of stupid). My life experience has proven it (in dramatic ways). Get sleep. Figure out your rhythms and honour them. Magic!
    • I might, in fact, have some resentment that, in this day and age, everyone is still expected to cram themselves into the same sleep cycles.

    So, be whatever kind of bird you need to be. Just don’t call or text before noon. (Okay, really, don’t call. I’m never awake enough to love that…)

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


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  • Not Ashamed: Pale

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    I want to handle this carefully, because I’m talking about skin colour. The importance we humans place on skin colour isn’t particular to just one country, nor is it particular to so-called white people (where did we come up with these inaccurate colour names?). For something that does not impact our capabilities or capacities, we put a lot of stock in it. An inordinate amount. For something that people can make very few choices about, something that’s coded into their DNA, we sure treat people poorly, as if punishing them for those choices they didn’t make. So, as I am about to talk about my skin colour, I want to make something clear: racism is not acceptable. It is rubbish. And, to the extent I can manage to be mindful of and shake off my societal programming, I endeavour not to be racist and not to add to the problems of those whose skin colour gets them way, way more trouble than mine has gotten me. (This is not a post to call for pity or to suggest that my experience is anywhere near the worst. Not at all.)

    When I say good things about the colour of my skin, I am absolutely not saying negative things (or even implying negative things) about your skin colour. Your skin colour does not and should not influence my opinion of you (though I reserve the right to be shocked if it’s poorly-done-self-tan orange and you are trying to pass it off as real tan). And so, whilst I am not here to talk about racism today, I want to pause to say “yay for whatever colour your skin is!” and to make it very, very clear that my love of my skin doesn’t even in the slightest imply that it’s better than yours or that you should want your skin to be the colour of mine or that any skin colour should gain anyone privileges. Okay?

    Honestly, as an apparently-white girl who has surely benefitted from white privilege, I am beyond-hesitant to talk about racism other than to say it’s wrong and bad and all the stuff I’ve already said. When it comes to racism, I’d much rather read the many things written by people who haven’t had white privilege. I want black voices and brown voices and red voices and yellow voices and any other colour voices to be heard and to be supported. Even writing this up has me feeling very concerned that I’m going to say something stupid. If I do, please forgive me. And, if you have the patience, I promise I try to be educated and to see truths and will continue that self-education as I am pointed at relevant essays and books and such.

    Going to take a deep breath now and talk about my skin, hoping I’ve clearly communicated my intent and my stand point on inequalities based on, among other things, skin colour.

    So, my skin. I am pale. Really pale. Pale enough that even lightest makeup colours in almost every line I’ve tried have been darker than my actual skin colour. Pale enough that I once had a teacher call me out for breaking dress code based on the white tights I wore every day. (I was not wearing white tights.) I’m one of those who, with little exaggeration, calls herself translucent.

    And this skin burns easily. Wow. Really easily. The one time, and it’s a long story but has nothing to do with not liking my skin colour, I tried to carefully give myself little bits of sunlight in successively longer intervals…it didn’t work. I went from pale to burnt and back to pale. Yeah, pale and it’s not going to change.

    Plus, skin this pale shows every little red spot or blush or eyebrow in need of tweezing. Not to mention that you can see where the hair will be growing in within minutes of shaving (because, yes, naturally dark hair).

    Which is to say that, this skin of mine comes with some issues. Plus, other humans of assorted other colours of skin like to share their negative opinions about my skin colour. More than one (many, many more than one) have had plenty to say to make sure that I know that my pale skin is deserving of insults, that it’s unattractive, that I should feel bad about having it. I had one employer who told me that I had to wear blush because I was too pale and it bothered customers. And that was probably the nicest thing detractors have said.

    I’m supposed to strive for a healthy glow (aka not pale, preferably lightly tanned and with a blush on my cheeks). If I’m lucky, for a night out, I might be able to get away with absolutely flawless porcelain skin (with blush). But even that shade is usually based on the lightest in current makeup ranges and a little darker than I am naturally.

    Again, I’m not saying the rubbish I’ve dealt with is anything near what people on the receiving end of racism have dealt with. Nope. But I’ve definitely had it made clear by a goodly number of non-alternative people that my skin was something to be ashamed of. And media has taught me that, even if I love this skin, I need to be self-deprecating and at least express some shame in the form of apologies for blinding you if you catch a glimpse of my leg or apologies for being difficult if I prefer to stick to the shade and spare myself the chance of a burn. My skin is a maintenance issue and a joke and, oh my, I’m so sorry. (I’m not sorry.)

    And I’m not ashamed. Expecting anyone to be ashamed of skin colour is absolutely, entirely wrong. Wrong. And so I hope that you are not ashamed, no matter your skin colour. And if you’re one of those haters, even if you’re sure you’re entirely not racist but you just think my pale skin is unattractive, keep your opinions to yourself. I am not ashamed of my pale skin. Any shame I might have related to my skin colour would have to do with being ashamed of actions I or anyone arguably of my skin colour (aka white people) have taken that were racist. That’s the only room I have for skin colour-related shame.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


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  • Not Ashamed: Geek and Nerd

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    This is a topic that merited two places on the list, but is probably best handled in one post.

    To start with, some of you would probably like some definitions. Let’s start with a comic from the geeky and nerdy, depending on the day, xkcd. What those of you unfamiliar with the comic ought to know is that the alt text (when you mouseover a picture, that’s the text that might pop up and is traditionally used as a way to describe the graphic to those with visual limitations) is often part of the punchline. Which is why I’ll be noting the punchline (the alt text) for you.

    The definitions I grew up with were that a geek is someone unusually into something (so you could have computer geeks, baseball geeks, theater geeks, etc) and nerds are (often awkward) science, math, or computer geeks. But definitions vary.

    Alt Text: “The definitions I grew up with were that a geek is someone unusually into something (so you could have computer geeks, baseball geeks, theater geeks, etc) and nerds are (often awkward) science, math, or computer geeks. But definitions vary.”

    If you’d like something with more maths or even just more words, this blog post might make you happy. It begins offering these definitions:

    In my mind, “geek” and “nerd” are related, but capture different dimensions of an intense dedication to a subject:

    • geek – An enthusiast of a particular topic or field. Geeks are “collection” oriented, gathering facts and mementos related to their subject of interest. They are obsessed with the newest, coolest, trendiest things that their subject has to offer.
    • nerd – A studious intellectual, although again of a particular topic or field. Nerds are “achievement” oriented, and focus their efforts on acquiring knowledge and skill over trivia and memorabilia.

    As you can see, the two people’s definitions are similar but not exactly the same. And the line between geek and nerd can get fuzzy. For me, I’d probably say it’s something like geeks are motivated by love of a thing or topic (which might lead to wanting knowledge about it but isn’t the same as being motivated by love of knowledge), whilst nerds are motivated by love of knowledge (and, in my head, that’s generally knowledge about academic or technical topics—whereas geeks can be about pop cultural things—and particularly even the dry bits). For instance, let’s take two people who are into space. If the person’s main skew is looking at beautiful photos and that scratches their itch, I’d call them a geek. If their thirsty brain wants to collect data and terms and they thrive on dry and technical bits, I’d call them a nerd. (I’d say I used to be equally both a nerd and geek for space, but I’m now mainly a geek for it.) In general, I think you’d need to be a nerd for something in order to be a scientist or something on that level for whatever the topic is.

    Again, that’s just how I see it.

    If you don’t get the difference, it’s okay.  You can probably stick with me for the rest anyway. With one more note: you can be both a nerd and a geek. I hope it’s obvious by reading those definitions that neither excludes the other. And, yes, I’m quite pleased to have worn both labels. And, no, I’m not interested in arguing with you if you don’t agree with how the labels are defined. You just rock the ones that you believe apply to you and know that nothing I write is meant to take away from that.

    Amber Benson declares herself a geek

    When I was a smart kid at school, it was clear that “nerd” was a pejorative to most people. It seems like, even today, this is one anyone but nerds kind of thinks isn’t a compliment. And even the nerds know this isn’t usually meant as a compliment. But, to my mind, “nerd” means smart and focused on topics that have improved and can continue to improve our place as humans. I’m pretty sure that most scientists will agree that they are nerds. Especially when they see that I deliver that label with a loving smile. As some examples… I happily pin that label on the me who devoured mathematics (I asked for extra puzzles to take home and do for fun) or every book in the library on mythology or who fell in love with coding at the tender age of 8.

    John Green talking about the awesomeness of being a nerd

    Geeks, on the other hand, have seen their reputations improve over the last few years. Now, technically, that has had as much to do with nerds as with geeks (if you buy into the same definitions that I do). We became a more tech-oriented society, with even grandparents online and even the boys from school who hassled me for being a geek playing video games. In fact, it is so clearly the age of the geek that the term has ceased to be used only in nerdy geek circles. It’s not just scifi lovers or computer programmers calling themselves geeks; it’s also now being used in phrases like “sports geek” or “cooking geek” or “any other sort of thing you might love a wholewholewhole lot geek.” Whilst I’ve worked on not having Too Much Stuff and, therefore, don’t have an impressive memento collection, I’ve got the love for quite a list of things, most of which fall into the scifi realms. Remember that year I re-watched all of Star Trek in what would have been chronological order in that universe? Oh, or the year I re-watched all 50 years of Doctor Who and its spinoffs (yes, even all of the K9 spinoff…that’s love…). Or the days given regularly to Star Wars or Lord of the Rings marathons? Y’know, just as an example…

    Olivia Munn explains how widely we now use "geek"

    But, all that said, I’m not going to fuss too much if you don’t know the difference, because even geeks and nerds don’t use those terms in the ways I might. And I’m not at all worried. It’s just two different ways of saying that there’s stuff I love. And I refused to be ashamed of loving things (or of being smart, which is usually rolled in with the nerd bit).

    Simon Pegg talks about the joy of being a geek

    Instead of fighting about definitions, tell me the stuff for which you’re a geek or a nerd! Because why focus on the hate when we can wallow in the love? Yay!

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


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  • Not Ashamed: Awesome

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    This is the only edit I’ve made to the list since I initially posted it. (And I just decided to do it 8 April, 2015, which is when I wrote the first draft of this.) When I first posted the Not Ashamed list on Facebook, and again when I posted it as a web page at the start of this series, my amazingstrongamazonwarrior and awesome herself friend Anne sent me a comment that she thought my list should also include “awesome.” Both times, I noted that it didn’t fit because the list was specifically about labels that could be or could have been applied to me that people thought I ought to be ashamed of. And who would ever suggest someone feel ashamed of being awesome?

    But then, in a lot of different ways the week leading up to writing this, I was reminded that, in fact, this label too could be included on the list. Oh, humans…

    In a different post, I’ll talk about my self esteem, which is one side of this label. Because, in fact, I don’t disagree with Anne. I do rather consider myself awesome. Maybe not everyone’s cup of tea, and certainly a strong cup of tea. But, by my tastes and measures, awesome. Today, I want to talk about why I’m here to declare that I am awesome and that I am not ashamed of that.

    I want to further clarify that my only experiences and observations have come as a biological female in English-speaking Western cultures. I haven’t seen it in other contexts, but that doesn’t mean this doesn’t apply to biological males or to people in other cultures and countries. Though I really hope it doesn’t….

    To be clear, I’m not talking here about bragging or about otherwise making it clear that you think your awesome traits make you better than other people (where “better” means “of greater intrinsic value,” not “more capable in a particular way,” because it is just a fact that not everyone is the same amount of good at everything as everyone else). That’s not something I’m condoning. I’m a big believer that we are all of equal and great intrinsic worth.

    Here’s a little choose your own adventure with which most females will be familiar and that demonstrates the sort of situation about which I’m writing.

    Someone approaches a female to offer her a compliment (this someone can be male or female, a stranger or a friend). It might be about her brawn, her brains, her beauty, her talents, her skills, or any other thing about her that might be praiseworthy. At this point, she has a few options for response, but most of those options lead to the same result.

    If she wants to stay within acceptable social behaviours, she will do one of the following:

    • Deny the truth of the compliment.
    • Look abashed and avoid responding.
    • Look uncomfortable as she thanks the person.
    • Look uncomfortable, thank the person, and then rush to tell the compliment-giver how they are better than her.

    The compliment-giver will feel quite pleased with themselves for having given a compliment to someone who didn’t know they were good. They will ensure the female that she is indeed that. And both parties will endeavour to move the conversation onto a different topic.

    As a middle road, the female might smile and say something like, “Thanks! You are also possessed of some specific praiseworthy trait!” And then the original compliment-giver can smile and thank them and they can try to find a new topic stat.

    On the other side of things, the female might do something like:

    • Smile and say, “Thanks!” and then move on to a next topic without complimenting the compliment-giver in return.
    • Smile and say, “Thanks!” and then go on to talk about how they manage to accomplish the good trait or what they are creating with the good trait.
    • Smile and say, “Thanks! I kind of like me too,” and then move on to a next topic without complimenting the compliment-giver in return.

    Now, the severity of response to those pleasant responses varies. And, please note, none of those responses includes vanity or hating on others. These are just people who are aware of their good traits and not pretending otherwise, not acting ashamed to be caught having a good trait.

    And how, in my experience, does the compliment-giver often respond? Well, here are things I have seen or experienced multiple times in those situations:

    • The compliment giver looks confused, then annoyed, and then changes the topic and pretty much avoids saying anything nice after that.
    • The compliment-giver looks offended and accuses the female of being vain or stuck up.
    • The compliment-giver tells the female they weren’t serious with the compliment and/or hurls insults at her, sometimes really foul ones. (Yes, seriously. For example, a guy told me I was gorgeous. I said, “Thanks! I kind of like me too!” and he then changed to a nasty tone and sneered as he said, and I quote, “F*ck off, you fat, ugly b*tch.” Yes, seriously. And that’s happened multiple times. Even sometimes when my only reply was a chipper, “Thanks.”)

    So, in my experience and the experience of many women I know (I didn’t poll them all), the only safe replies to a compliment are to deny it, imply you’re not comfortable being good, or reply with an equal compliment. Never, ever should we just accept the compliment or, worse, agree with it.

    (In a similar vein, in a recent post, The Bloggess noted that “I often see an apology that’s added with the happy or proud announcements – as if we’re embarrassed to admit good things have happened to us or that we’ve accomplished something or that we’re proud of ourselves or our family.” Ugh. Exactly. Same sort of issue.)

    I have theories about the roots of this issue.

    Some of this, even for those not religious, is from deep societal/cultural roots in religions that condemn pride. And, honestly, I’m not a fan of pride. But people get so paranoid about accidentally being or being seen as prideful that they end up with this sort of behaviour I’ve just been writing about. We are supposed to be so afraid of pride that we lie to ourselves and others (and God, if that’s your motivation for denying your awesomeness) and deny the good traits or at least try to ignore them instead of being grateful for this goodness in us.

    Some of this, for females, is rooted in the gender norming that tells girls they have to be nice, that everyone has to be equal, that nobody should even seem to be above anyone else. Because that’s not nice. So, anyone who sticks their head up by being praiseworthy in a way that cannot be equally and precisely applied to every other person who might witness the praise is breaking that rule. But denying that there are different ways to be awesome or different degrees of awesome is dishonest and broken.

    Some of this is coming from self-esteem issues. We are used to females having those, so that’s the role we are expecting them to play. A confident female is off the script. And maybe she isn’t grateful enough for our compliment, not as grateful as she would be if she didn’t like herself, so she is depriving us of some joy by not having strong enough gratitude.

    Self-esteem issues can lead to another reason for this behaviour. Some people address their self-esteem issues by keeping others down. This type gets offended if you see your awesomeness because they wonder if it means you notice their lack of awesomeness. They feel like your acknowledgement demeans them further. With every bit of empathy, if you are that sort of low-self-esteem-haver, I want to promise you that you aren’t helping anyone by hating people who don’t hate themselves and that you also have good traits that, someday, you’ll wish you could acknowledge without worrying someone will make you feel bad for liking yourself.

    Sometimes the issue comes up because the compliment-giver is better at the thing than the female being complimented. As if this disparity makes the praise untrue instead of making the compliment-giver more of a qualified source of compliments. ?) (If someone who is an off-the-charts-incredible musician, for instance, compliments you on your musical talent, the proper response is not to deny your skill in the face of their greater skill. When you do that, you are devaluing that portion of skill in them as well. You thank them, you accept that compliment, and then you feel free—without saying “but” or “you’re better” to compliment them.)

    To me, all of those seem like really bad reasons for the sort of bad behaviour they lead to.

    So, yeah, many times, I have had it implied or flat out demonstrated that I should not acknowledge my awesomeness. That I should be ashamed of it, or at least ashamed to admit it. But I am not ashamed. Not at all. I’m giddy at the good traits I have and grateful to have been born with them or to have had the opportunities to develop them. And, in acknowledging my awesomeness, I am not in any way saying you are crap. “I am awesome” means, simply, that I am awesome. Anything else you hear in there is, as another friend would say, a story about you. And I hope you keep at the story until you reach the point where you can also see and acknowledge that you are awesome.

    Be awesome, lift others, and be not ashamed of every bit of awesome you are. Not ashamed!

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


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  • Not Ashamed: Bisexual

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    Let’s kick this one off by me explaining what I mean when I say that I’m bisexual. There are a few different ways that it gets defined by people who wear the label, and some have even decided that the way some of us use the term is better called something else. But “bisexual” is what resonates with me. So, that’s my label. And, for me, that means that I am attracted to those like me and those not like me. (Those are the two populations that make up the “bi” in there for me.) I am romantically and sexually attracted to people in both categories on a person-by-person basis. Again, that’s not a clarification that all of you will understand the need for, but it’s something that comes up and that matters.

    I don’t divide by two biological sexes, male and female, because there are people who are intersex or trans. And because I’m open to the belief that there are populations in which more than just two biological sexes are acknowledged (instead of existing but being ignored). Whilst I tend to skew slightly towards attraction to biological males, they’re definitely not the only ones who work for me.

    I also don’t just divide by two genders. As those of you who’ve read my post on being genderfluid have (hopefully) learned, there are more than two genders, more than just the masculine and the feminine. And pinning down which, if any, gender I’m most attracted to is pretty impossible (and not really a necessary task, in my opinion).

    In general, I don’t really divide when it comes to attraction. I’m attracted to individuals.

    I specify both romantic and sexual attraction because there are people who can find themselves sexually attracted to, for instance, men without being romantically attracted. It’s all physical and they have no inclination towards emotional involvement or relationships. And vice versa. For me, sometimes it’s all emotional and sometimes it’s all sexual. Sometimes it’s both. And all three of those states have occurred towards a wide array of those who are both like me in terms of, among other things, sex or gender and those who are unlike me.

    The bisexual umbrella with a list of all the types of people who might live under it

    People have a lot of misperceptions about bisexuals, some of which have been reinforced by actions of bisexuals they have known or by the stereotypes the media portrays (in those rare cases they portray someone as bisexual). So, that’s the next thing I want to clarify.

    That I am bisexual doesn’t mean I believe I have license to cheat or that I believe I am at the mercy of my libido. If you have had a bisexual partner cheat on you with that excuse, that’s a story about them and how they failed to act honestly and be true; that is not an inherent part of being bisexual. I am quite capable of being faithful.

    That I am bisexual doesn’t mean I need polyamoury. I have plenty of friends for whom polyamoury is the answer, and I’m not judging them. It’s just not who I am and is not an inherent part of being bisexual. I am, in fact, zealously monogamous.

    That I am bisexual doesn’t mean that I’m promiscuous. I’m not here to “slut shame” anyone, but people assuming my bisexuality makes me easy (and, by “people,” I mainly mean drunk blokes at parties or bars) has gotten old.

    I don’t “claim” to be bisexual for attention. Believe me, mate, I’ve got plenty of ways to get attention.

    I don’t “claim” to be bisexual to make boys want me. Believe me, mate, I’ve got plenty of ways to get boys to like me.

    This isn’t a phase. I’m out of uni and still attracted to all sorts of people.

    Whether or not I am currently having sex with both males and females, even if I get married to someone and never sleep with anyone else again, I am still bisexual. Just like you are still homosexual or heterosexual when you aren’t getting laid.

    I am not going to pursue your partner, male or female. Part of my zealous monogamy includes a respect for your relationship, even if you are with someone who’s a Very Bad Fit for you.

    One aspect that makes me a little crazy, and you’ll recognise this if you’re heterosexual as well, is a trust issue when it comes to friends. You know what I mean. You are, for instance, a straight girl with a male friend. You get close, and they freak out. You get close and their girlfriend assumes you’re going to steal them. Even if you’re actually asexual and a robot. Once people find out I’m bisexual…well, that can get fun. Am I no longer to be trusted with male or female friends? If you are a female friend, will I be unable to restrain myself from jumping you (in spite of the admirable restraint I’ve shown by not jumping almost any of my male friends)? Sure, boys and girls, I might mention interest, because some of the things that make you a cool friend might also make you a good partner. But I am in charge of me. Even if my heart throws itself, I can manage to not jump you. (I know; how very strong of me. I must be a sodding superhero!) I can even manage, when you aren’t interested, to not be weird and to just be friends like we’ve always been. (I’d give you references, but that might just ruin all the “not being weird” in those relationships…)

    Because, really, I am the same person you’ve known all this time. Even if you hadn’t realised the breadth of my attractions. And, really, I’m probably not interested in you “that way.” If I were, it’s likely that I’d already have told you. Move along, folks, nothing to see here…

    p.s. Here are some stats about bisexuals that I’m going to put in your face whilst you’re already on the topic. (Click to enlarge.)

    Text-heavy graphic, stats about bisexuals

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    📂This entry was posted in not ashamed relationships

  • Not Ashamed: Autistic

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    When I got assessed and a qualified medical professional at the University of Washington Adult Autism Centre diagnosed me as autistic, I made a quick post on social media. For the most part, replies were:

    • That doesn’t makes sense. You don’t seem autistic.
    • That makes sense.
    • How do you fix it?

    As I’ve thought about what I would write in this post, a good percentage of the loads and loads of possible things can be grouped under one or the other of those replies. I’ll try to use those to keep this somewhat organised.

    That Doesn’t Make Sense / You Don’t Seem Autistic

    There’s quite a bit online about how it is that those born female are under-diagnosed as autistic. I spent hours one night searching and reading. If you just want a link, this page wasn’t too long and will probably do it for you. But if you or someone you care about might find this relevant to their situation, I’d urge you to hunt down more reading materials.

    One of the things you’ll read about is how, in addition to the gender bias in the way symptoms are defined, physiological differences and socialised differences between males and females both contribute to the perception that I can’t be autistic (and, apparently, my higher IQ helped as well). Plus, there are behaviours you don’t get to see because I’ve learnt to be careful.

    For the curious, some of my bigger challenges, but certainly not my only challenges, are:

    • Sensory overwhelm issues, which can take far less stimulus than you’d expect. They manifest in different ways and to different extents, and I’m fortunate that I had some good instincts in terms of ways I structured my life and time to minimise the impact of that. The responses vary based on the situation, but they are pretty typical of those on the spectrum.
    • A diminished capacity for dealing with executive function demands…which is part of why I love and strongly prefer to plan things in advance. Fortunately, I have become practised at pushing through a lot of the impact of this, at least to an extent that others rarely have to deal with it. But I’m definitely absorbing the full cost in private.
    • How quickly I get worn out by these things I’ve listed and some of the other challenges…though at least now I understand why certain apparently unremarkable days leave me exhausted by afternoon. I recently read this post on a site that seems to have plenty of entries relevant to me, and I’m trying to apply this to make sure I get as much productivity as I can out of my days.

    A common approach to voicing doubt, especially in person, is to ask me what sorts of things make me think I’m autistic. When I tell the person, their response is that they do that or feel that too. However, their tone makes it clear that they aren’t seeking empathy but, instead, to cast doubt on my “claim” that I’m on the autism spectrum. I have used my mad Paint skillz to show you some parallels to what it is like when people do that. Hopefully, these moving works of art will inspire you to never do that to me again.

    The spider I have to get past is bigger than yours...

     

    The cut on my arm is bigger than yours...

    Of course, my bottom line for all of you who don’t believe it’s possible is this: a qualified medical professional at the University of Washington Adult Autism Centre diagnosed me as autistic. I’m pretty sure the professionals at UW Adult Autism are a little better-qualified than everyone I know to make the call on that.

    That Makes Sense

    Closest friends, friends who are also on the spectrum or are related to or in relationships with someone on the spectrum, and those who know enough about it to have managed to see some of the signs in me have noted that they weren’t surprised. For my part, whilst I wasn’t emotionally wedded to a particular diagnosis, I wasn’t surprised either. Even before I’d read the chain of things that led me to suspect I was on the spectrum, I’d occasionally made comments about certain of my behaviours like, “I guess my autistic side took over.” I didn’t mean it as disrespect or even necessarily as a joke. I think I was quietly poking at the thought long before I consciously considered it. Once I started researching, there was an ever-growing list of reasons to believe this was the case, including many things I’d never have considered part of the evidence. A strong enough list that, when I learned the hard way how difficult it is to find people willing to diagnose adults, I was making peace with the idea of relying on self-assessment for this.

    I’ve worked hard and been as careful as I could to cover up most of the signs that others might see, to keep the behaviours private. But they are there. And they’ve been there for a long time. Now that I know much more about what could go on that list of signs, I can confidently say that there have been signs as long as I can remember (oh, the stimming I did as a child…that’s been coming to mind a lot lately). Which isn’t to say that anyone ought to have caught them. As I’ve noted already, and as the articles you can find will note, even the professionals don’t necessarily catch this stuff as often as they ought. But as I sat with the very kind and careful woman at UW Adult Autism, as she asked careful and neutral questions, I realised how much energy I’d put into building the person you see. If there’s anything we humans figure out quickly, it’s how dangerous it is to be unlike the others in our tribe. I have always been as authentic as I could sort out being, but I have, as I’ve said, done all I could to try to monitor and squash my behaviours…especially when anyone else is around.

    How Do I Fix It

    I know that anyone who asked something like this wasn’t intending to be insulting. So, if that was you, don’t fret. I forgave you immediately. Whilst it’s changing, the conversation about autism has always been more about what a horrible thing it is (and, look, I know I’m lucky to be where I am on the spectrum; I know there are some people where the bad vastly out-strips the good) and how we have to fix autistic people, to save them and their families. And I absolutely agree that some behaviours and issues are negative and answers are necessary. When she confirmed that I was on the spectrum, the woman who assessed me also noted that I’d done a great job of finding strategies and coping mechanisms. (Gold star for having a good reputation in my profession and always managing to take care of myself and my commitments!) I’m sure some of what should happen is that society needs to make some changes, especially given it now looks like about 1 in every 60 persons is on the spectrum, but I also know that some of the answer is me making choices, being aware, and so forth. That said…

    I have done a good job sorting out the concessions, the strategies, the coping mechanisms that allow me to live a life that I enjoy and that keeps me seeming basically typical to most people. I like myself. And some of what comes with this differently-wired brain of mine is good; at least I think it is. I’m not really looking to fix myself because it’s possible I’m no more broken then you, maybe just broken differently.

    If that’s the case, why (you might ask) did I want an assessment at all? Fair question. You can find some good reasons at the end of this article (which is a good read over all), but I had reasons before I ever found that article, most of which are echoed there.

    I want to make clear that my motivation was not to have an excuse that would let me get away with stuff. I wasn’t looking for sympathy or a license to behave badly. I wasn’t looking for approval to throw my hands in the air and play the victim. As pointed out previously, I’m not a victim. I want to be a self-sufficient and reasonable person. And there are more useful things in this world than sympathy. If you are or were suspicious of my motivations, you either don’t know me or have forgotten what you do know about me. Got it? Fab!

    I think that my love of self-knowledge is well-known. That was one of my main drives. And when I got the assessment, a lot of things fell into place. A lot of things made sense. “Oh, that’s why I do that!” In cases where the thing that fell into place was a negative thing, I could now more easily forgive myself, breathe through it, not pile negative feelings on top of what was happening. (It wasn’t things like letting myself be a jerk, more like understanding why certain things made me feel so worn out or frayed.) The more I’ve researched, the more I’ve found out. This means that I feel empowered, even as I realise my constraints and challenges.

    One of my other motivations was that I understood I wasn’t typical. I knew that some of the things on my list of “what seems off about me” might be a little worrisome, especially if they were going to get worse. So, I went in with the intent that, if it wasn’t autism, I might want to figure out what was going on. Just in case there was a “real” problem. So, in a way, I was relieved that I was autistic.

    And I hate knowing that, based on things others on the spectrum have run into, there are still people—including employers—whose behaviours lead to people on the spectrum feeling they need to hide that truth about themselves. (I just read advice on one of the bigger forums, urging people on the spectrum not to disclose their situation until after they had a firm job offer in writing, and then read some disheartening bits at the end of this Cracked piece. Both of these are very recent, not just outdated fears.) Some of the behaviours that my atypical wiring leads to aren’t things I’m proud of, but I am not ashamed. Whether or not you believe it, I’m autistic. And I’m actually okay with that.

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    📂This entry was posted in Actually Autistic not ashamed

  • Vampires, Evil, and Sunlight

    Posted on by amber 1 Comment

    I’m foregoing a clever title for this. I think names of people, places, things, or ideas are important. And, when it comes to the act of naming, I either immediately know the name or I spend loads of time working one out. It is literally taking me less time to tell you why I’m not giving this a clever title than it would probably take to come up with that clever title. This matters to me because, at the moment, I’m fitting in loads and loads of creative endeavours. Music, poems, books, and blogs, to name a few.

    One of those other blogs is Most Worlds, a blog I’m doing with my talented arts writer friend, Cat. This month, we’re writing on one of our favourite themes: vampires. Which is how I finally had a chance to really understand that different people “need” different things to find a vampire story satisfying. And that is how I ended up writing Cat an email about a realisation I had dealing with vampires and evil and why I don’t particularly favour vampires who must be evil. Which, in turn, is how I ended up standing in the shower contemplating vampires, evil, and sunlight until the water got cold. Obviously, that meant a blog. (I’ve already got my posts for Most Worlds written for the month, so this is supplemental reading that I might just link to…)

    First, I’m going to tell you two things about me that will be relevant here.

    Thing One: When I was about 13, my class to a trip to a park where I knew I was going to end up riding a rollercoaster. Now, for those who enjoy any sort of thrill ride, what seems to be happening at a subconscious level is that your brain sees danger, the brain chemicals that deal with danger are released (a heady mix), and then you evade danger over and over (cue more brain chemicals), and you walk away feeling victorious. Yay! Your brain is quick to let you know that, hey, this makes thrills enjoyable. HAVE MORE! For those who don’t enjoy thrill rides, the brain doesn’t seem to get past the chemicals that deal with danger, it doesn’t seem to give you the achievement for evading death.

    When I rode the rollercoaster (as when I’ve been faced with other things meant to provide entertainment via the titillation of fear and thrills), my brain shrieked over the danger, but then it told itself that was rubbish as there was plenty of evidence that there was little to no actual danger. Which, my brain noted, was good because danger leads to fear, and fear is actually not a pleasant feeling. My brain then confirmed that we had paid to give our control to a random stranger so that we could be slammed around in cars with shrieking other strangers. Yeah, yeah we had. Well, my brain was bored, not titillated, and not impressed with my choices.

    So, no, I don’t enjoy thrill rides or anything else that works on the fear = titillation equation. If, on the other hand, your horror film has a riveting plot or can engage emotions other than fear, there’s hope. That is why I read and watch horror anyway, because I’m intrigued by stories of how humans might behave in unusual circumstances or I’m really curious about the traits of monsters. This is why, in spite of my fear of heights, I have been known to enjoy the borderline-thrill-sport of rappelling, because I’ve always done it somewhere where my physical location (hanging on a rope, high above nature) allows me to seem some breathtaking beauty that wasn’t part of my usual experience.

    Thing One in summary: I get no pleasure from fear. I am probably an android.

    Thing Two: Part of the beliefs that make up my spiritual path is that no human will be forced to be good or to be evil. Every human has a choice, even in the face of whatever feelings or urges or circumstances might be pushing them one way or the other. And, should one make choices that could be considered evil, there is always a chance at redemption. Moral agency and the chance at redemption are big catalysts and supports behind my core life values and motivators of love and light.

    Yes, we can talk about vampires now. But first I want to assure you that I am quite capable of both distinguishing fiction from reality and of suspending my disbelief for the sake of enjoyment.

    From what I can tell and what I’ve read, around the time the vampire really entered the public mind via the novel Dracula, the vampire was an awesome and symbolic way to address Victorian sexual standards (among other things). That Dracula was a being who just was evil and had no motivation other than being evil was frightening. Even more frightening was that he could make poor Lucy into a vampire against her will and, therefore, make her evil against her will. The sexual titillation (though admittedly rape-y if we stop to think about it and definitely based in norms and standards that have changed), the exploration of the then-new modern woman via Mina, and the intriguing look at gender norms especially in the face of huge emotion work for me. The fear-based titillation, as you can guess, did not. Does not.

    Worse, whilst I can set aside that these are different times and the things that do work for me aren’t nearly as relevant to my emotional or mental experience of the story as they probably ought to be, and whilst I can suspend disbelief enough to go along with fantastic things like vampires, I hit a massive wall when it comes to setting aside my belief in moral agency or in the only redemption being death. If vampires are real, I’d expect that there’d be a different moral code applied to them from On High, and that they’d be evil not for being vampires or for drinking blood but for the way in which they obtained and drank that blood.

    This applies to all vampire things. Even as I stopped to point out to myself vampire stories I enjoy that don’t involve an angelic vampire, I realised that those stories still had room for the struggle to be good. For the ability to cling to what was left of their humanity. For example, I love Lost Boys, but those are vampires who are clearly evil and, it’s implied, were made evil by become vampires. But then I realised that, via the half-vampires, my precious moral agency and chance for redemption before death still existed. Michael and Star and Laddie could still fight what they were. They might have been tricked into drinking Max’s blood, but they were resisting the last step that would seal their fate.

    Perhaps you’ve realised that one of the allures of the vampire who is evil and can’t help it is the chance for the reader or viewer to imagine a life where they can do all the immoral and unethical things that tempt them as humans without having to take any responsibility. I mean, if you’re an evil vampire, can you really help yourself? And if you know me, you might expect me to totally buy into that particular allure. But I have accepted the responsibility of my actions (the good or bad, the times I didn’t get a thing I wanted because I stuck to my morals and ethics) and I am a staunch believer in the value of personal responsibility. Even when it sucks. (From a darker angle, I’ve had plenty of chances to remind myself and others that, for instance, someone being drunk did not excuse them being a crap friend, a jerk, an abuser, a rapist, etc.)

    Now, sunlight…

    Often, in media where things are symbolic (which certainly includes at least the original vampire stories), the sun is symbolic of Christ and its light is symbolic of the light of Christ. When the sunlight weakens or kills a vampire, we are supposed to see it as symbolic of Christ destroying evil. Even setting aside Christianity, there are plenty of spiritual paths that will get behind the power of light to purge and purify, to cast out what is bad or evil. And, sure, I can get behind that, but…

    If you read my Most Worlds posts this month, you’ll see I’m a fan of the vampire being able to go out in sunlight. (That’s actually one of the things I treasure in the original Dracula novel.) In my original draft, at the first instance of mentioning such vampires and my pleasure at that trait, I’d quickly and thoughtlessly written that was because removing the safety of sunlight made for more tasty fear. I’ve since revised that sentence, because, as we’ve established, I don’t actually find fear titillating or in any way enjoyable.

    Before I get to the “real” thing I want to say here, I want to admit two lesser reasons I like it when vampires can go in sunlight:

    • I’m a pale person. Very pale. Careful efforts to get my skin to have a little colour (so that I’d be pale and not actually translucent and, therefore, less prone to quick damage) all ended painfully. And I like my paleness just fine, but I watch my cat nap in a sunbeam or see what appears to be lazy and languorous joy in sunbathers and I get a little jealous. Just a little. I am not a vampire and the sun sensitivity can be a drag. I can easily extrapolate to imagining how, for instance, you’ll never again see the beauty of a landscape in sunlight. Sadness!
    • We now live in a world with electricity, 24 hour markets and restaurants, and an apparently declining belief in Christianity. So limiting a vampire to darkness doesn’t really do much anymore in terms of adding an interesting logistic to work around. And the initial intended symbol of the sunlight as the light of Christ burning out evil is now more of an empty trope, an easy answer at the end of a story.

    But here’s the thing that really matters…Because I can’t believe in the vampire who is, simply by virtue of being a vampire, evil…and because the harm done by sunlight is supposed to be symbolic of Christ burning that evil away (or at least weakening it)…that symbol isn’t powerful to me. Whereas, because I know that symbol exists, a vampire who can walk in the sunlight suggests to my brain, even if the writer thoroughly doesn’t think so, that this is a creature who has moral agency and, even she does choose evil, a chance at redemption.

    Which isn’t to say I’m against sunlight harming or killing vampires. Looking at my top films, 3/5 of them show vampires who are negatively impacted by the sun. If it just weakens them, it offers an interesting plot complication. If it kills them…well, as long as it doesn’t look like a lazy writer just leaned on that, sure. I’m offended by lazy writing, not by sunlight killing vampires. I just have a special soft spot for the times it doesn’t. I am a sucker for hope.


    📂This entry was posted in inspirations & influences pondering

  • Not Ashamed: Anorexic

    Posted on by amber Comment

    If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.

    (Trigger warning: eating disorder)

    First, once again, I want to stress that my parents have no blame in this or any other of the things in this series of essays. And I want to send out gratitude to my friends who saw what was going on and made diligent efforts to get more calories into me.

    I remember sitting in health classes and trying not to snort with laughter when the instructor would say that anorexics and bulimics didn’t realise what they were doing. Because I knew exactly what I was doing. I’d made a choice. I hated my body and I was mired in depression, and I had made an assessment that anorexia was more effective than bulimia (and knew that I preferred practising some discipline to vomiting).

    I was going to carefully starve myself as much as possible (didn’t want to get caught not eating). I was going to get very thin. My period was going to stop. And then my organs were going to fail. When I actually started, I also found that I was going to feel clean and tight during the process. Yes, I knew exactly what I was doing.

    If you’re reading this and thinking that sounds good, I want to tell you how very not-good a choice it was. Or if, like me, you’ve done this and find that you get a little hungry for it when you read about others doing it, I want to tell you not to give in to that.

    Because what it really did was make sure that, once I started eating again, there was weight put on that was unlikely to ever go away (which also happens to those of you who think you’re just eating a calorie-restricted diet). And it crippled my metabolism so that, even years after I was eating regularly, it took a seriously calorie-dense diet (I ate so much, and foods that I was horrified to eat, and I wasn’t allowed to exercise) to get it back in order. Until I discovered the issue and fixed my metabolism, I had low body temperature (years of wearing socks to bed every night, among other things), more painful periods, fatigue, and apparently it stunted my growth. (No joke. This last year, I suddenly grew an inch—as measured by my doctor—and started to have breasts large enough to need a bra a few days a month. Fortunately, puberty was less stupid this time around. Ha!)

    The saddest thing is that I was never overweight. Not even a little. And I knew that once I started to work on getting healthy. But it wasn’t until recently that I realised I’m skinny. Like many people, I don’t see myself clearly; I don’t see my reflection in the mirror clearly. When I look in the mirror, I see an average-sized body. I just got lucky and saw one photo of myself that jarred me and made me realise the truth. Realise the truth, but not be able to see it…At least, these days, I see “average” instead of “cow.” (And, since people often ask, I didn’t see others through the same lens. Whilst I was hating on me, I might find someone else’s actual curves lovely. Yeah, this is a mental health issue.)

    It’s years later (I got sorted in my late teens), and my body is just now “normal.” But that demon sits in the back of my head and takes any chance to try to convince me do it again. Thank goodness I’ve learnt that food is awesome. That I took the time to get the physical and mental issues of this sorted. Because all the things I meant to fix by starving myself were better handled by eating well and working on the real issues in my life.

    You don’t have to tiptoe around me or worry. I eat quite a lot. I calmly handle it when good friends point out that something I’m wearing doesn’t flatter my bum. (I’m grateful for those honest friends!) I keep meals on my daily schedule and keep a food journal so that I can’t accidentally slip. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just baked some bread and I expect I’m going to eat quite a chunk of that loaf, slathered with butter and jam. Yum!

    (If you’re struggling, please get help. At the very least, use an online calculator to find out the shockingly large number of calories you should be eating. Stop over-exercising. It is insane how much joy I can find in guiltlessly savouring a chocolate bar. It is insane how much more fulfilling life is when I put less time towards exercise and more towards all the other stuff. I want you to have the same.)

    Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).


    📂This entry was posted in food not ashamed