#middle-aged

But, I'm queer.

My reproductive organs can no longer produce cannon fodder.

But, I still want my right to a no-fault devorce and HRT.

I have a daughter. I don't have a cat or grandchildren. There will be no grandchildren. Not my decision. No one's decision but hers. Period.

I can't just buy a piece of merchandise and call myself a hero.

I don't live in an ivory tower. I live in a two bedroom apartment. I can barely afford that. I'm not at all wealthy. I'm poor. I will have to work til I croak. There's no retirement for me.

I can't walk into any space and feel safe. Everyone is angry with middle-aged white women. For good reason, for the most part. It doesn't matter that I'm queer or poor or a woman. That "supportive" merchandise is not enough. Alone, it's just a fake performance.

I have to prove, beyond a shadow of doubt, that I am a safe person. I have to prove it with action. With body language and facial expression. With my words.

No one sees past my skin color, my gender and my age. I have to show them I'm not the conventional, American, middle-aged, white woman. I have to prove I'm not Karen.

Being an ally isn't something you do on your own terms. You have to support in the way you are asked/told to. You have to submit to the cause.

That might mean you have to shelf your insecurities and work on them in your own time. You're going to have to put your fear on the back burner and address it later. Because your fear and insecurities are nothing compared to their vulnerability.

The Seep is a weird fiction novella (200 pages) exploring a “soft” alien invasion utopia. It begins with a section titled “Tips for Throwing a Dinner Party at the End of the World.” Earth is being invaded by a disembodied alien species–which turns out to be a good thing. The Seep forms a symbiotic relationship with humans. They get to experience linear time and human emotions, and in exchange,…

Middle-aged Matt doesn’t like choices