a magician asks you to pick a card - any card, in fact. you do. they ask you to put the card back in the pack - anywhere in the pack, in fact. you do. they walk away. ten years later, your wife gives birth to the six of clubs. “is this your card?” the midwife asks, in a familiar voice.
what the fuck
Anonymous said: youre a very popular and lovely designer bag
One day, I hope to reach this level of stardom.
Children should remain silent, and they are ‘good’ when they’re quiet, but ‘bad’ when they are not, because they are disturbing the adults and causing trouble. This attitude runs through the way people interact with children on every level, and yet, they seem surprised when it turns out that children have been struggling with serious medical problems, or they’ve been assaulted or abused.
The most common response is ‘well why didn’t the child say something?’ or ‘why didn’t the child talk to an adult?’ Adults constantly assure themselves that children know to go to a grownup when they are in trouble, and they even repeat that sentiment to children; you can always come to us, adults tell children, when you need help. Find a trusted adult, a teacher or a doctor or a police officer or a firefighter, and tell that adult what’s going on, and you’ll be helped, and everything will be all right.
The thing is that children do that, and the adults don’t listen. Every time a child tells an adult about something and nothing happens, that child learns that adults are liars, and that they don’t provide the promised help. Children hold up their end of the deal by reporting, sometimes at great personal risk, and they get no concrete action in return. Sometimes, the very adult people tell a child to ‘trust’ is the least reliable person; the teacher is friends with the priest who is molesting a student, the firefighter plays pool with the father who is beating a child, they don’t want to cause a scene.
Or children are accused of lying for attention because they accused the wrong person. They’re told they must be mistaken about what happened, unclear on the specifics, because there’s no way what they’re saying could be true, so and so isn’t that kind of person. A mother would never do that. He’s a respected member of the community! In their haste to close their ears to the child’s voice, adults make sure the child’s experience is utterly denied and debunked. Couldn’t be, can’t be, won’t be. The child knows not to say such things in the future, because no one is listening, because people will actively tell the child to be quiet.
Children are also told that they aren’t experiencing what they’re actually experiencing, or they’re being fussy about nothing. A child reports a pain in her leg after gym class, and she’s told to quit whining. Four months later, everyone is shocked when her metastatic bone cancer becomes unavoidably apparent. Had someone listened to her in the first place when she reported the original bone pain and said it felt different that usual, she would have been evaluated sooner. A child tells a teacher he has trouble seeing the blackboard, and the teacher dismisses it, so the child is never referred for glasses; the child struggles with math until high school, when someone finally acknowledges there’s a problem.
This attitude, that children shouldn’t be believed, puts the burden of proof on children, rather than assuming that there might be something to their statements. Some people seem to think that actually listening to children would result in a generation of hopelessly spoiled brats who know they can say anything for attention, but would that actually be the case? That assumption is rooted in the idea that children are not trustworthy, and cannot be respected. I’m having trouble understanding why adults should be viewed as inherently trustworthy and respectable, especially in light of the way we treat children."
In my adult life, I’m still trying to work around the weird conditioning that this post is talking about. As a kid, I thought that everyone experienced constant pain/fear/whatever because if I brought it up, then I was being a “drama queen”. Its really annoying to even talk about, but never taking me seriously as a kid rippled through my life in the strangest ways. It sounds so silly, but my parents would ALWAYS make me bundle up in sweaters and jackets even if I was visibly sweating. If I tried to take them off, I was accused of “trying to act cool” (I’m not even joking), and told if I took the extra layers off, there would be consequences. So I just grew up thinking that constant discomfort was normal.
Or when I was swimming when I was 8, and I got a big scratch on my heel. It hurt so badly that I didn’t want to wear shoes (I had flip-flops, because we were on vacation). I was hobbling around for three days until my mom looked at my foot. I had a two inch piece of shell lodged in my heel, and I just kept forcing it in deeper as I was walking on it. I was complaining and complaining about the pain, and I just kept being told that it wasn’t actually that bad, and to stop whining.
It taught me a lot of things: adults like you to be uncomfortable, everything with an adult is a power struggle (don’t trust them), and to not trust myself when I’m hungry/uncomfortable/hurt/whatever.
if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my unconditional love for law & order svu