#streotype

while they do provide comfort to the human mind they also limit us. And if you create TOO many labels like what the LGBTQIA+ community did...they call you insane (even though its not).

People are not black and white and never have been and never will be.

I fucking hate how society labels us all the damn time. People are not items in a store that have neat little price tags and names, THEY ARE PEOPLE! People will be different.

There must be a "man" and "woman" in a gay relationship. There is apparently no such thing as just "who the fuck cares?" In a straight relationship, the man and the woman have to fill these rigid roles and expectations. A straight man cannot be effeminate and a straight woman cannot be masculine. A lesbian cannot be feminine and a gay man cannot be masculine. A feminine man must of course be attracted to masculinity and a masculine woman must be attracted to femininity. Because of course, all rules abide by "The Perfect Heterosexual Relationship".

A boy may like Barbies or a girl may like robots. And no, you're not gay for liking things that are against your "femininity" or "masculinity". You are being you. Being gay is not your personality, it is simply a part of you. And I hate it how people act so ignorant about it all the time.

And you know the kicker is that all relationships aren't the same. They don't all have to include kisses or sex. They can be whatever the hell they want to be. And that's what's so amazing about QPRs. It is all based on platonic love and even if you do romantic or sexual things it is not based on romantic or sexual attraction. It is based on emotions and closeness. And I hate how people act like these actions only mean one thing. In a world full of greys, there is so much fluidity.

In this world, you're either a man or a woman. There's no flexiblity.

In this world, you're either gay or straight. There's no flexibility.

In this world, there is romance and sex and nothing else in relationship. There's no flexibility.

In this world, you cannot change.

And while some people may fit this, NOT EVERYONE FITS YOUR STUPID DEFINITION. You apparently cannot be in the grey in this world or be anywhere in between or out of the box at all.

And this shit sounds a lot like 1984 where they kept simplifying, simplifying, simplifying the human vocabulary so that people lose the ability to express their feelings. An example of a Newspeak word is "ungood" which replaces bad and therefore simplifies the idea of good and bad.

i hate it. I hate it so goddamn much. And I hate how all these self entitled bastards instantly just assume your identity or your relationships or what have you. Your world is controlled by other peoples' perception and if you say otherwise you're called insane.

The trauma can be traced back to Jon’s childhood. In what is commonly known as a flashback, painful, suppressed memories surface from the unconscious.

He was almost ready to lower his blade and call a halt when Emmett feinted low and came in over his shield with a savage forehand slash that caught Jon on the temple. He staggered, his helm and head both ringing from the force of the blow. For half a heartbeat the world beyond his eyeslit was a blur.

And then the years were gone, and he was back at Winterfell once more, wearing a quilted leather coat in place of mail and plate. His sword was made of wood, and it was Robb who stood facing him, not Iron Emmett.

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell.”

I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken.

In the end Halder and Horse had to pull him away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, and his sword six yards away. "Jon, enough," Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!" (ASOS, Jon XII)

The social stigma of being a bastard was an emotionally traumatic experience for him and caused a splintering of his psyche. He had spent his entire life suppressing his desire for Winterfell because it was viewed as not only unattainable, but also unacceptable. The complex is readily personified through dreams as the psyche’s attempt at integration.

The castle is always empty. Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It's black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to. I'm afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it's not them I'm afraid of. I scream that I'm not a Stark, that this isn't my place, but it's no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream. That's when I always wake."

The fracture of Jon’s psyche is maintained through fear and resistance. By not accepting that his feelings are valid, this piece of him remains underdeveloped, thus becoming shadow material.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . . he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Even when presented with the opportunity to be legitimized and awarded Winterfell, Jon refuses, saying that he doesn’t want to take away Sansa’s claim. But I think it goes much deeper than that as he is operating out of a place of trauma rooted in a classist society.

Liberals: you have every right to hate racial oppression

Me: I hate the gender stereotypes forced into me

“Why haven’t you married?”

That question again. For some reason, the society I lived in seemed to perceive it as a queer thing when a woman of my age has not yet been married to a man. I kept quiet for a while, before slowly turning my sight to him. I observed the look on his face -- tried to evaluate whatever he might have known about me and how he saw me as a person.

Did he see me as a clever one? Or did he see me as a fool? If he only regarded me as a fool, I would just answer lightly, that I had yet been married because I was possessive of my bed. But no, I knew he regarded me as  more. Therefore, what kind of answer should I give him...?