Sometimes this really seems to shock people. They appear genuinely upset when I say ‘this conversation is over’ or ‘I’m actually not interested in debating this with you.’ There’s an expectation that if you care about social justice and political issues, you’re always ‘on.’ You’re always ready to debate, you’re always ready to have theoretical discussions about your own lived experiences and the issues you care about, you’re always ready to defend yourself. That’s manifestly ridiculous and unjust, an expectation that’s simply not reasonable. —
Sometimes, I Just Don’t Have Time for Individual Fights | this ain’t livin’ (via brutereason)
Setting boundaries/self preservation <3
Oh wow. Especially important for me to remind myself of around this time of year.
The danger of being a woman in the Canadian literary world -
Over the past month, a number of disturbing revelations have come to light within the Canadian literary community
READ THIS AND UNDERSTAND: "…quite simply, when a woman tells you a man you know is an abuser, trust her. It doesn’t matter if he’s “always been nice” to you – don’t give him the benefit of your doubt. Don’t protect his “literary genius.” Don’t publish or review his work, don’t sign him up for your reading series or festival, don’t buy his books, and don’t continue to support his ability to victimize the voiceless. Don’t value politeness, or avoiding conflict, or your career over the safety of the traumatized. Don’t knowingly make spaces intolerable for the abused. And don’t ever tell a woman where or how she’s allowed to tell her story.”
I struggled not to put this quotation in all caps, because how often does someone say, “well it’s not my experience, so I’m not going to change my treatment of this person based on yours,” or “that’s his personal life, it doesn’t affect our business relationship,” or “it sounds like a misunderstanding to me.”
Literally get the fuck out of my life if you can’t see how you’re enabling this shit — and yeah, every one of those examples has been said directly to me.
Freelancers, Level Up: How to Get Better-Paying Writing Jobs - FlexJobs -
hello-the-future:Have you been dabbling in freelance writing but you’re ready for the next level? Here’s how to get better-paying writing jobs, with great expert advice.
I can now add “expert” to my resume.
Actually, this is a really good piece (if I do say so myself) and I packed it with all the best advice I know:
Have trouble facing the blank screen? Here’s a trick I used: get formulaic. Start with an opening sentence that includes a pun, followed by two sentences explaining why you’re writing about the topic. Then three paragraphs, each about a different area of the topic. Then a closing paragraph—ending with a pun, of course. (If that formula isn’t applicable to your type of entry-level writing, find the formula that is, and follow it.)
You don’t have to reinvent the wheel for every 3-cents-a-word piece. You just have to kick the wheel so it spins.
Nicole, your writing output is actually terrifying to me (and I think I’m decently prolific!!). One day we should gchat about freelancing.
How Can We Stop Cops from Beating and Killing? Molly Crabapple on Policing, Violence, and Justice
Occupy Wall Street activist Shawn Carrié always dreamed of becoming a classical pianist, and he was on his way, with a full music scholarship to New York University. That all changed on March 17, 2012, when, during a demonstration at Zuccotti Park, a New York City police officer pulled his thumb back and back and back until it broke. Six other cops kicked him until he bled from his ears, according to Shawn. He told me that while he was held at the Midtown South Precinct an officer named Perez tore a splint the hospital had given him from his finger and said, “You fucking Occupiers. Every time you come back, we’re going to kick your ass.”
Shawn would never play piano at a professional level again.
In December 2013, New York City paid Shawn (whose birth name is Shawn Schrader) an $82,500 settlement as compensation for the beatings and for arresting him on an old warrant meant for a different person named Shawn Carrié. But the officers themselves paid not a cent. Nor were they arrested, as civilians who break peoples’ fingers might be. They admitted no wrongdoing. They suffered no consequences at all. Instead, New York City taxpayers bore the cost.
Shawn’s lawsuit could be considered a success. But it did nothing to dissuade the cops who attacked him from attacking others. When we spoke in my living room, his pale eyes flashed with anger. “Justice might as well be a cotton-candy castle in the sky,” he said. “I’ve never seen it.”
We consistently fail young women—all women—by tacitly relying on them to learn from each other, or from their experiences, which of the people in their communities they can and cannot trust. We ask them to police their own peers, but quietly, through back channels, without disturbing the important people while they’re talking. We wait for the victims of abuse to be the ones to take power away from their abusers, instead of working actively to ensure that these motherfuckers never get that far in the first place. —
Stories like Passwords by Emma Healey (Oct 6, 2014)
This hit me right in the gut.
Nancy Wilson-Pajic - My Grandmother’s Gestures, 1972–1973.
(Source: poietike, via vulturechow)