Maybe A Sunflower. Or not.

Making fun of a group of people that are privileged over you is one thing, but wishing non-cartoonish violence and death on them ("they should fall off a cliff" vs. "they should be wiped out"), wishing sexual violence on them, dehumanising them, claiming that they're less capable of creating art or living meaningful lives, saying that their relationships are inherently shallow and fake - these things are fucked up. I understand venting and saying extreme things when in pain, but when you find yourself regularly posting about wanting certain people tortured and killed, you need to examine that.

From the book What This Cruel War Was Over by Chandra Manning:

During the Civil War, most Union soldiers didn’t care about the issue of slavery and were more focused on preventing the collapse of the United States. This would change as many Union soldiers encountered horrific circumstances of slavery and it’s widespread influence on southern society, with accounts like these: “Pvt. Chauncey Cooke experienced an epiphany when a fair-skinned slave woman whose children had been fathered and sold by her master told the young Wisconsin boy that her children looked like him, and that she missed them dreadfully because she loved them “just likes you mammy loves you.” ” “When an Iowan encountered a young child about to be sold by her own father, who was also her master, he vowed, “By G–d I’ll fight till hell freezes over and then I’ll cut the ice and fight on.”Sgt. Cyrus Boyd.

The president called in the US Marines and the state militia (in addition to the US Marshalls who arrested him and held him in jail) to allow this one man to be dragged back to slavery.

There’s more, which you can see on Burn’s Wikipedia and on the Committee of Vigilance’s page, the abolitionist group founded after the Fugitive Slave Act to protect and aid Boston’s large community of escaped slaves & black citizen.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

In a huge way that's what even the current (a year after OP's post, this being the second time the Lefebrvists are being excommunicated) kerfluffle - and all "mad about Vatican II and the Church having the audacity to be more focused on proving that it serves the poor and the vulnerable than proving that it can tell people how they're allowed to have sex and that they're not holy unless they are also Catholic" piss-fits from so-called tradcaths - is about: in the middle of the twentieth century, and in some cases even solidly previous back into the nineteenth century, very powerful people in the establishment started heavy duty realizing that they were losing the laity at an alarming rate. And they realized that they were not losing them to Protestantism (which had also started losing people, in a large scale way) but that people were literally going " . . . maybe I just . . . don't want this church thing in my life" and often the tagline was "because frankly it makes me miserable, and sucks, and is hypocritical as everloving shit, and is just a lot of work really."

And you can shake your fist at that all you like on a purely moral angle (people should care more about the state of their soul than - !) but the Church did not survive the 1800+ years of violence and upheaval and threats from secular powers that actually did march right up to the gates with an army that felt ABSOLUTELY FINE about killing everyone inside . . . it did not get through all of these by ignoring the pragmatic realities. The schismatics will try to give you the impression that eg Vatican II reforms were the pet project of specific popes but almost 3000 bishops spent a number of years hashing them out and they were quite literally voted on by the assembly of bishops and at no point did any one of the reforms get less than over a two-thirds majority (the one that was the least amount over was actually the first vote on a thing about how to use broadcast media).

And the special status of Vatican City in the world is not something that was coincidentally bestowed or just Happened to the Roman Catholic Church. The historical struggles over control of the physical city of Rome, and the land surrounding it, and then post-Unification - like this was fought over and the key, core, most important part of it was at heart ensuring that the bishop of Rome - the Pope - did not actually answer to the laws of a secular power in terms of trying to do his job as pope. At certain points in history this de-facto wobbled as one secular power or another invaded Rome with "forcing the Church to do what I want" in mind, and the other side of the wobble was some OTHER secular power going HEY THAT'S OUT OF BOUNDS and people died over it; and then the point of the papal states was to go ok you can't do that anymore because we actually own a country around us, and then the people unifying Italy were like no we require Rome for lo what is Italy without Rome and there was a huge fucking fight about what to do about that before the Lateran treaties validated this weird little city-state we now have inside Italy and Rome called "Vatican City".

But this is because the Roman Catholic Church wants to survive, and wants to survive as what it can recognize as itself, and not answer to any king or president or anything else in terms of where its supreme pontiff Actually Lives.

you know that your boss the lord chancellor is ambitious, and since you've read his letter you know he's stalling the proper procedures, possibly deliberately, and will certainly try to benefit from the power vacuum and presumable incompetence of said emperor—the only thing you, or anyone, know about him is vague rumors that he might be insane.

you arrive at the place and it's the most badly lit, cramped, dilapidated, drafty, horrible manor you have ever delivered to. the person who is presumably your new emperor greets you half-dressed in dirty clothes. he is barefoot, his hair is not even braided, and he is accompanied by a man who is possibly drunk and blatantly contemptuous to both of you.

despite this ridiculousness, you follow the proper protocols (as much as there are protocols for this situation) and get your letter delivered. the emperor proves himself less Maybe Actually Feral and more just... possibly terrified, most especially of his guardian. while you are processing this you are informed that you are to escort the two of them back to court on the same airship by which you arrived, which you have to know was not part of the lord chancellor's plan and may very well lose you your job.

this might as well happen, i guess. it's not like you really have a choice. maybe you can just scurry away once you arrive at court—oh the emperor wants you to show him around. OH he wants to know who you are. like actually you think he might care about you. ok new plan. fuck your job, fuck the lord chancellor, this guy is your life now.

I have a folder of these on my phone... I'm not sure what that says about me!

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.