•~•Willa•~•

apparently the Pokemon Center is making eeveelution based Mimikyu plushies

“Colored”

“Ebony” 

“Caramel”

“Brownie” 

“Cocoa” 

“Chocolate” 

“Exotic” 

Any word or phrase that reduces their appearance to skin color, or relates their skin color to food (or some other inanimate object), or anything that objectifies their racial identity/dehumanizes their racial identity is fetishistic, racist, and misogynistic. I understand that people are trying to disseminate positivity for all women, but please be careful when talking about women of color because language can lend itself very quickly to racist/fetishistic/sexualized territory. It is that kind of language that has been used against women of color, in the long, long history of white people (especially cishet white men) colonizing, trafficking, and commodifying the bodies of women of color. 

There are ways to uplift and celebrate the beauty of women of color without treating them as a monolith, sexualizing them, dehumanizing them, or infantilizing them. It’s very simple and easy. Finally, uplifting women of color isn’t just about emphasizing positivity for their skin color or shade - it’s also about racialized features (such as noses and body hair) that women of color are frequently mocked about and targeted for. 

anyway i go in to see paul one week in the summer of 2016, and i’m doing my usual bullshit which consists of me talking shit about myself, and paul is staring at me, and then he cuts me off and says that he’s got a new tool for helping people recognize when they’re using negative language, and gets up and goes over to his desk

and i’m like alright hit me with that sweet sweet self-help article my man, because i’m a linguistic learner and whenever paul’s like here i have a tool for you to use it’s pretty much always an article or a book or something

paul opens a drawer, takes something out, and turns back around. i stare.

i say, paul.

is that a nerf gun.

yeah, says paul.

i say, are you gonna shoot me with a nerf gun in this professional setting.

he happily informs me that that’s really up to me, isn’t it. and sits back down. and gestures, like, go ahead, what were you saying?

and i squint suspiciously and start back up about how i’m having too much anxiety to leave the house to run errands, like it was a miracle to even get here, like i’ve forgone getting groceries for the past week and that’s so stupid, what a stupid issue, i’m an idiot, how could i–

a foam dart hits me in the leg.

i go, hey! because my therapist just shot me in the leg. paul blinks at me placidly and raises an eyebrow. i squint again.

i say, slowly, it’s– not a stupid issue, i’m not stupid, but it’s frustrating me and i don’t want it to be a problem i’m having.

no dart this time. okay. sweet.

so the rest of the hour passes with me intermittently getting nailed with tiny foam darts and then swearing and then fixing my language and, wouldn’t you know it, i start liking myself a little more by the end of the session, which is mildly infuriating because paul can tell and he’s very smug about it