I blame the 90s.

My generation was told we could do, have, and be everything we ever wanted.

That, friends, is what is called a LIE.

I am a woman. I am also genderqueer and sexually queer (demisexual) and Jewish and disabled and fat and currently working class, which means..you guessed it. In the Game of Life Under Capitalism, which is basically a game of collect all forms of privilege you can grab, I have basically none of them.

Except being a person of color. But my mother is. So I still have a lot of the internalized racist crap and my point is, that I really was never meant to survive. I was never meant to survive my life.

The good news is, I can stop blaming myself.

The nice Jewish lawyer was never going to nice Jewish pick me over the nice Jewish blonde girl with the Harvard degree and the nubile young body. I was never going to Columbia and I was never going to be on the cheerleading squad in high school and I was never going to become president of anything at all but you know what?

None of that is my fault.

It’s not because I’m not nice enough. Or because my brand sucks. It’s not because I’m ugly, or awkward, or too cynical, or not cynical enough. I am at the bottom of every heap I have ever been in and I am picked last for every team I have ever tried out for and I will never have a date on Friday night.

Anyone who says otherwise didn’t read the fine print of this life. Anyone who ever says otherwise is a liar.

The good news is, I can stop trying.

I was a smart girl, I got into smart girl schools. I was a mass of talents and I followed all the rules and you know where it got me? I am sharing a bathroom with a guy who doesn’t know how to clean a bathroom because he assumed he would always have a wife to do it.

Me, I am no wife.

I will probably never be a wife or a mother or somebody’s best friend or somebody else’s lover. I will never get ahead and I will never win the race.

But that’s okay. Because the place where winners go, up there on Mt. Olympus, well. It’s real pretty and all. It is just not my place.

No, I belong with my mothers. I belong at the back of the line. I want to be where the people are. I want to be there, where we can all teach each other how to shine.

So call me the leader of nothing. Teach me how to rule over red dirt and barbed wire. Because if there is one thing I will always be the best at, it’s teaching everyone else how to build a fire.

Cuz in case you were wondering? The revolution looks like me. Fat and ugly. Traumatized and diseased.

Game of Thrones got one thing right. The most broken person really does have the best story. But how like a room full of white dudes to assume only the pain of another white dude really counts.

Screw that. Give us whores a chance to speak. White pop culture feminism has broken our chains, now don’t you want to know what we’re going to do about it?

The people Danerys Stormborn would have freed were worth the genocide of a few spoiled white people. Hot take.

Nobody ever considers the fate of the whores, when the status quo is maintained. Nobody ever thinks of us at all. Not until it’s much too late.

They made a mistake. They left me alive.

Well then, trust me. For them? It is already much too late.

I blame the 90s. I wanted so much better for myself. In so many ways. But I forgot about fun. I forgot about fighting back. I forgot about living for more than just myself.

Just hope it’s not too late.

Writes all the things. Photographs the light. Smiles at odd moments. Reads in the shower. Sings to the trees. Hopes a lot.

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