Snakes,Sex,And Witchcraft ^×^

Upfront: I am a Black Woman. I currently live in Portland, OR.

In 2020 I had been living here permanently for about a year with a roommate who I didn't know before I'd moved in. She was a white woman, younger than me by over 10 years, who was very left and self-identified as someone who cared about social justice.

As you might know, in the summer of 2020 there were major protests here in response to police violence and murder. One day I was chatting with the roomie and it came out that she had been going to those protests (I wasn't aware). I was very agitated because, well, covid. When I mentioned that going to the protests put her in danger of catching it, she said:

Who cares about getting covid when the police are killing Black people?

Friends. FRIENDS.

My brain froze because I just could not fathom how she could make that statement.

She knew that I didn't have health insurance. She'd heard that there were worse outcomes for Black people. And at this point -- before vaccines or any other protections beyond masking and hoping you didn't get it -- if she caught covid it meant I would certainly get it, too.

In arguing about this with her she claimed that it wasn't that dangerous and that really only elderly people and the immunocompromised were really in danger. When I yelled: I AM IMMUNOCOMPROMISED she apologized for not knowing that.

But she still wanted to keep going to the protests. Even though I stated that I needed her to not.

Because Black Lives Matter is important, you see.

Not my Black life, though. Not as much.

anyways, this woman called and without even saying hello after i said the usual “public library, how can i help you?” spiel, she said, “i have a very important question: when you shelve books, do you push them all to the front of the shelf or all the way back?”

it took me a second to process the question and then i answered that, at the library, we always shelve them so that they are even with the front edge so they’re easier to grab and see. she was obviously delighted by this answer and then, as if an afterthought, she asked, “okay, what about you? what do you do at home with your books?” i said i did the same thing. she hummed in obvious agreement and then just like that she said “thank you!” and hung up.

so i had been having a string of very time-consuming, draining calls. my line rings again, i steel myself for another angry caller, and i pick up. “[redacted] roadside assistance, how can i help you?” i chirp, in my Customer Service Voice.

“yeah, hi,” a gentleman with a thick southern accent responds. “my motorcycle won’t start.”

i brace immediately for another long call. motorcycles were notoriously difficult to work with - a lot of insurance companies wouldn’t insure them, and a lot of tow companies refused to pick them up because they require a specific sort of trailer.

“i’m sorry to hear that, sir. what’s your current location?”

“oh, i’m just at my house. i was wondering if it would be okay for me to just load it into my trailer and take it to my buddy’s shop. would that interfere with my insurance?”

i click through his account and am Relieved to discover he’s in the clear. “No sir, it looks like you’re good to go. Can I help you with anything else?”

A pause. “Have you heard the good news?”

My Anxiety, which had been receding, suddenly spikes into the fucking stratosphere. I live in the rural south. The “good news” usually means “Jesus” and i was in no mood to be proselytized to for god knows how long.

i steel myself for the Religious Talk. “What news, sir?”

“McDonald’s is now serving breakfast all day!”

followed by

attorney general bailey has set up a website where you can report “concerns” about transgender care.

DO NOT SUBMIT PLAUSIBLE ENTRIES.

bailey will take those entries as real stories and use them as fuel to come down even harder on transgender care in missouri. instead, do what we usually don’t do and spam the absolute shit out of it. vary your submissions so they can’t just filter out certain keywords. but DO NOT submit stories that could sound real, because bailey will present them as real.

here is the link.

I have decided to pit plant taxa with a lot of edible members against eachother in a bloody battle to the end– this post is to keep track of the tournament and will be updated.

Week 1:

Alliums 🧅🧄 vs. Amaranthaceae

Poaceae 🍚🌽🍞🌾 vs. Annonaceae

Citrus 🍋🍊 vs. Sapindaceae

Rosaceae 🍎🍐🍒🍓🍑 vs. Arecaceae 🥥🌴

Brassicaceae 🥦 vs. Asteraceae 🥬🌻

Fabaceae 🥜🫘🫛🍀 vs. Cucurbitaceae 🍉🥒🎃🍈

Solanaceae 🍅🍆🥔🫑🌶 vs. Apiaceae 🥕🌿

Malvaceae 🍫🌺 vs. Lamiaceae 🌿🍵

Week 2: Quarterfinals

Alliums 🧅🧄 vs. Poaceae 🍚🌽🍞🌾

Citrus 🍋🍊 vs. Rosaceae 🍎🍐🍒🍓🍑

Cucurbitaceae 🍉🥒🎃🍈 vs. Asteraceae 🥬🌻

Solanaceae 🍅🍆🥔🫑🌶 vs. Lamiaceae🌿🍵

Week 3: Semifinals

Rosaceae 🍎🍐🍒🍓🍑 vs. Alliums 🧅🧄

Cucurbitaceae 🍉🥒🎃🍈 vs. Solanaceae 🍅🍆🥔🫑🌶

Week 4: Finals

TBA

THE WINNER:

Like. I remember back in my grocery store cashier days I did so much crazy shit.

When WIC (Women, infants, and children voucher program to help low income mothers/families with children) people were in my line I would pretty much know who they were. Before the cards they had to tell us upfront they were WIC and show us their vouchers for what they were allowed to get (it was awful some times. Like. 2 gallons of milk. $4 worth of vegetables etc etc). They’d always have items hanging back, waiting to see what the total was and if they would have to take it off the belt.

I began to place the fruits/vegetables a certain way on the register scale so that like 1/2lbs of grapes read as like .28lbs or something. Then act shocked when I said that they still had X amount of lbs left. They got all their fruit and vegetables.

I think it started to kinda? Catch on to the women? Because I would have the same moms in my line month after month. And even after they switched to the cards (they worked like food stamp cards?) I’d still do the same thing. They were able to get more produce for whatever shitty max amount Indiana gave them.

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