autistic and a sonic fan who cant focus

Just hours later, I was hospitalized for my pain, which was now accompanied by a fever and a heart rate of 160 BPM. I was confused and disoriented, and every blood test pointed towards high levels of inflammation. The doctors, in their report, attributed my symptoms to sepsis.

That wasn't my first time experiencing transphobia in American healthcare hell, but it is by far the most obvious example. My doctor didn't care that I was in pain. She only cared that I, a nonbinary teenager with an F on their birth certificate, didn't meet her expectations of femininity.

Four days later, it got worse. I was confused, dizzy, uncoordinated, and generally not feeling well. I immediately went to the ER.

Initially, I was treated pretty normally. They put in an IV, drew blood, asked me about my symptoms, all the normal stuff, and they were generally pretty nice about it. But then they had me do patient registration, where I was given the opportunity to put my preferred name and pronouns on my chart, rather than continue to get deadnamed and misgendered, which was causing me additional stress on top of The Symptoms.

They called me my preferred name one time, and sounded very confused doing so. Once they realized I was transgender, the quality of my care immediately declined. No more nice chitchat. No more asking how I was doing. No more smiling.

They sent me home. I got my lab results in my discharge paperwork. My platelets were at 27,000. When I went to my primary care doctor the next day and she saw my labs, she immediately got red in the face.

“What the fuck? They sent you home? They’re supposed to admit you for anything below 30,000! What the fuck were they thinking?”

I didn’t know whether or not she’d believe me if I said it was because I’m nonbinary, so I just said I didn’t know.

She managed to find a hematologist in my network that could fit me in for an emergency transfusion two days later. My platelets were at 12,000 at that point and he said if I’d so much as bumped into something wrong before I got there, I would’ve died.

Regarding economic coercion, that's called having a job. But also I promise you there is a world of difference between trying to buy a person (for the love of fuck will you people ever aknowledge its not only women in porn and work conditions are a concern for EVERYONE involved) and someone making a career in porn.

To help trafficked and coerced sex workers we necessarily must end the demonization of sex work or else you are giving traffickers the literal tools to force unwilling people into it!

One of my family members was sex trafficked. Her case became a part of state legal precedent because her trafficker's conviction resulted in an expanded definition of one of the terms used to define trafficking (kept vague for the sake of my family's anonymity.) You know what one of the biggest barriers was to her getting help?

The fact that everyone she reached out to saw her as a stupid meth head "whore" and not a person who was fucking afraid for her life.

This part. This is the part I’m talking about

This is not a woman falling to pieces because her father won’t let her marry a man she just met.

This is a woman born to a life she has very little say in. She has never had a genuine friend (besides a tiger). She is facing a marriage to a man she doesn’t know and doesn’t like but duty (and the law) demands it. So she took a risk, ran away, ran to a world she doesn’t know or understand and when she landed in trouble (serious, serious trouble) a stranger came to her aid. She finally (finally!) made a real connection with someone but they didn’t get much time together before the guards showed up and she had to reveal who she was.

This moment when she’s crying her heart out? It comes after she’s been told that the first person she ever connected with, the first person to be genuinely interested in her for who she is and not what she is, the first real friend she has ever made, was executed… because of her.

Crying is normal. Even if it's over something trivial. We all face a lot of struggles in their lives, whether we acknowledge it or not. Something minor might end up breaking the camel's back.

Anyway, here's one of my favorite scenes in Beauty and the Beast:

Really, none of the classic princesses deserve the misinterpretation.

Cinderella?

Again, this is not after someone told her “yOu CaN’t MaRrY a MaN yOu JuSt MeT”—this is after she went to great lengths to get ready for the ball, adhering to the intentionally difficult (meant to be impossible) stipulations set by her abusive step-mother for her to be allowed to attend (when really she was invited and had as much right as the others to attend). She made that dress (I can’t recall off the top of my head if the classic animated version was also her mother’s old dress she restyled or not but still, she put in a ton of work on top of all the extra house work) and what did her step-family do? They tore to shreds while she was wearing it. Of course she’s lost hope: it’s the final straw after years and years of doggedly remaining optimistic despite constant harsh treatment.

Let’s go to another favourite: Mulan.

Mulan’s just had the worst day.

She tried her hardest to live up to her family’s and her society’s expectations and vision of a perfect bride but she failed. Not only did it go wrong, but she was publicly humiliated by the Matchmaker—by extension, humiliating her family.

Granted, her family has been kind and sympathetic about the whole thing. Her father even goes to encourage her, assuring her of his unconditional love for her and his confidence that she’ll get it right next time.

She’s just beginning to smile when the drums pound and news of war reaches their village. Her father—her beloved father who’s already a veteran and lives with a disability—is expected as the only male in their family to suit up and head out in the morning.

Mulan can’t help. Nothing she says will be listened to and she can’t take his place (until, of course, she thinks of a way to do so which this moment of crying it out in the rain leads to—score one for having a good cry and clearing your head).

There’s of course more. Take any princess’ dramatic crying momentTM and review the context and I’ll bet you’ll see it’s never as trivial as some have framed it. And, yes, like prev pointed out, it’s this awful thing of people believing boys can’t cry and girls can but then they can never be taken seriously.

SURVIVE: The Future's Echo

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