Curious Lil Asta

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 Part 5 6:32pm

Now here we are, in the present, where I’m back after 3 years at 20 years old. Where I’ve learned and grew so much outside of this cage, where I was free from the dark chasm in my life and heart that is home. Where every second around you makes me feel 8 and 10 and 12 and 15 and 17, all simultaneously and all over again. Of course, the abuse has stopped, it stopped a long time ago, but when you have PTSD, things get really muddled. And, yes, I’m an adult now, teaching at an elementary school, and taking care myself for the most part. So, what’s so bad? Well, I’ll tell you.

When I’m back in my childhood bedroom, sleeping on an air mattress, with ALL of my younger siblings, as an adult. When there’s another bedroom that could have been used, but why would it be, when my stepdad uses it to get ready for work, to house the hundreds of products he purchased from Amazon, and in case you forgot from earlier, the thousands of dollars worth of workout equipment that he uses once every 2 months. OH! And get this! His mother is living with us right now, and she now gets that bedroom. Wild, right?

When I’m back to being the in-house, unpaid nanny for the kids. To feed them, watch them, help them with homework, and yes, to correct any misbehaving and report only the extremes. When my stepdad decides he’s bestowing me the responsibility of “supervising the kids cleaning the room”. When he comments on how responsible I’ve always been, and offers me to be back on their car insurance, even though I was never removed from it. 

When he comes in the door, and immediately starts yelling and blaming everyone for how “messy” the house is, and to “get this crap off my stuff”, and “who touched my shelf?”. OH, THE SHELF! When he has a whole shelf in the refrigerator that is dedicated to separate all of his groceries for his vegetarian diet and his on-brand food items that cannot be disturbed by anyone else. When he subjects my mom to buying the cheapest version of all food products, but specifically asks for her to only buy specific brands for him. When he has 2 tables in the kitchen for juicing that cannot be used as counter space by anyone but him. When he’s telling me about the health benefits of one of his juices (or as he calls it every time, “a concoction”), and adds, “Bet you didn’t know that when you were vegan, huh?”. When he continues to not allow anyone to use the washer in the evenings when he gets home because he needs to wash his uniform daily. Also! When no one is allowed to use the only bathroom in the house for at least 3 hours, because he needs it reserved.

When he consistently forgets our birthdays or details of what’s going on in our lives because he doesn’t ask, until my mom tells him of an achievement we’ve made and forces him to congratulate us. When he’s rushing to get to where he’s going and he’s bounding and pushing throughout the house telling everyone to get out of his way because he has poor time management and forgets that there’s 8 people in this tiny house right now. When he asks us a question and we answer, but he doesn’t care because his focus is always elsewhere, so he yells at us that we’re ignoring him. When he impulsively decides to buy the kids something or take them out to eat, and he constantly complains about he could be watching Tv instead or badgering the kids about how much it costs. 

When you misinform your kids by telling them inaccurate retellings of American and Black history. When you feign authority over whether they can go out with a friend, just to forget about it until the time arrives. When you preach about respect and manners, but continue to disrespect and treat me as a child and allow your kids to do the same. When you brag about accolades and compliments from your job because of said respect and manners, even posting a letter on the fridge, but never celebrating any of us for our accolades and compliments.

When you force me to pay you and mom at least $100 a week ($500 a month) as a rent-adjacent payment to help my mom with groceries and bills, just like you used to. When you constantly lecture me about getting a car, but don’t allow the full autonomy of my finances by threatening my ability to stay in my childhood home with the payments. When you try to tell me how to do my job teaching, when you have zero experience of the sort, and try to speak in a proper manner to match my manner of speaking. When you project your superiority/inferiority complex onto me when you ask me about college, by trying to act that you’re more intelligent than me and more knowledgeable about the subject I’m literally having to explain to you.

When you constantly forget about my mental disorders and my therapy and my medication, then you ask me about them as if it’s your time hearing it, even though you know that my mental health is the whole reason I moved back home. When you weaponize your willful ignorance against everyone in the house, especially my mom, to excuse your participation and involvement in our lives.  When you bought walkie-talkies as an updated way of summoning everyone to your room to heed your request, like a bell system that you ring when you need an attendant, saying, “[insert name], report to the bedroom.”, because you can’t be bothered to function independently at home or talk to your family normally. 

How you require that whenever we enter your room to listen to you, that we stand on the side, “where you can see us”. How you make my mother wash all of your clothes or prepare your shower. How my mother goes out of her to make your choice of dinner every night, but you consistently change your mind and inconvenience her, or how my mother is currently in school to get her degree and has HOMEWORK, just to get frustrated when your wife isn’t able to spend time with you. How you selectively recognize that my mom is overworked, just to blame it on us, rather than stepping up and being the parent that you should be. 

How you ask me to complete your online training and learning modules for your job, despite me not knowing anything about truck driving or transporting oil and that you don’t pay me to complete what you should be completing on your own, again, for your job! How you are teaching your kids to stereotype other marginalized communities by saying, “All Mexicans eat guacamole”, or “Those Asian people look like they squint because they’re eyes are too small”.

How you literally decide to manspread every chance you get and take up so much unnecessary space, and force everyone to move around you and yell when someone can’t get around you, when I’m literally taller than you. How you insult your kids daily by calling them stupid, dumb, clumsy, blind, deaf, etc., when it’s because of your own failings as a parent that they don’t meet your expectations of them. How you lie to everyone not in the household in front of all of us about how you act as a parent. How you lie to your kids saying that a box of doughnuts has been sitting on your table for 3 days and needs to be thrown out, when I just bought it that same afternoon. How you don’t know how to react if the kids have a medical emergency because you don’t know their conditions, medications, and what they’re for.

How you manipulate your kids into serving you (“helping you”) by painting it as spending time together, which is the only time you spend together.

How you constantly speak in very vague and general terms, saying “that thing”, “your stuff”, “over there”, then get frustrated and insult everyone’s intelligence because you can’t think of ways to speak in a more clear and intelligent manner, and expect us to be able to always know what you’re speaking of.

How you asked me why I never come home, and I told you a half-truth. How you’re so observational, yet not perceptive. Because if you were, you would at least have the self-reflection to be able to understand that you’re a despicable, horrible piece of shit excuse for a human being, not even a man. How you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror and realize how you scare everyone with your tantrums and violence. How you can’t even recognize that it’s your fault that things are the way they are, and you can’t expect children to have that level of understanding. How you think you’re so exceptional as a person and as a “parent”, but it’s all a delusion that you make yourself believe because you were raised in the same exact way. How you can’t realize that you were traumatized as a child and as much as I know you hated it yourself, you didn’t strive to be different than your father, you strove to get your chance to do the same. 

How you willingly and knowingly married a woman with two sons, and looked at them, and decided to treat them with violence and vitriol, instead of realizing that they don’t have positive father-figures and that you should be different. I hate you for who you made me become. And you’ll never be a parent to me.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4

Economic Freedom Fighters [EFF] in Johannesburg protest Uganda’s anti-homosexuality bill at the Ugandan High Commission in Pretoria.

While right-wing Republican lawmakers in various U.S. states are currently engineering a new wave of anti-LGBTQ legislation, a slate of proselytizing, activist U.S. religious groups have for years campaigned in parts of Africa, especially in countries like Uganda, and sown the seeds for even more hard-line measures there. [WaPo/2023]

colonialism, christian nationalism & US influence

submitting yourself to the mortifying ordeal of getting put into an headlock (hug) and noogie’d by your best friend (love of your life) in order to enjoy the rewards of feeling loved (and arm)

netflix gave us the first official look at Heartstopper season 2!!

credits: netflixuk via instagram!!

GUYS WE ARE ONE DAY CLOSER TO HEARING KIT SPEAKING FRENCH, WHO CHEERED??

Tuesday, Nov. 1st, 2022

4:35pm

Dear Me,

I’m at the Brookside Market today, and there’s so much on my mind. First, when I woke up this morning, Angel (oldest sister) was in a bad mood and wanted the apartment to herself. I didn’t know what to do with myself because I needed the space too, simple as that. The apartment is a safe space that shelters me from the outside, from New York City, while I am still struggling. It concerned me that she was feeling bad and I wanted to give her space, but I also wanted to talk too, we haven’t talked one-on-one much at all. 

I ended up just staying to myself and offering to make her breakfast, to which she turned down. After I ate, she talked to me about me about my spending impulses after the heels I bought as a birthday present for myself arrived. She wants me to stop being so impulsive with “indulging” myself and stop spending my money carelessly. I told her that I never learned what it means to be responsible with money and practically took advantage of the money available. She was extremely frustrated and abrasive, and went towards assuming that I expect for money to always be there. That I expect people to cover my needs while I indulge in what I want. She’s right? I guess? 

Despite whatever negative consequences come, I just move forward with asking for more money when I’m in hot water, just to put myself in the same situation over and over again. I want to be smarter with money, not only for the purpose of learning, but to be successful with the life I want to live. I just need to be more conscious of how I spend. I need to think about the bigger problems more, and really use my money for my needs, instead of thinking about my immediate wants. I need to be more forward-thinking with my money WHILE using my money to provide for myself independently, starting now. All of my basic needs are being covered, but they won’t anymore. 

She decided that she and Gem are no longer giving me money, so I have to change and provide for myself. BUT, this is not to say that I want to rely on them or take advantage of them, ever (I haven’t even been spending their money when I’m “indulging”). I still feel really bad about my actions in response to them helping me, and I don’t want to continue those actions. To Angel and Gem, I’m so sorry for unintentionally hurting you and spending money that I have and that you gave me on unnecessary things, rather than saving towards my potential apartment or my subway card. It was not smart nor respectful to do so, and I promise to take this information (even with the nasty delivery) and be smarter with my money, and to learn from this and grow from this point onward.

Part 2 Part 3

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 6:32pm

Today, we’ll be diving into the wonderfully enraging topic that is my stepfather.

It is truly baffling yet underwhelming that a man such as he, exists. And till the day I die, I will continue to wish the most ruthless hell for that man. So, let’s start from the beginning…

The thing about James is that he’s a deceiver. Someone with many masks, with two sides like a coin, a shapeshifter, if you will. I will never forget the first night I met James, I was only 7 at the time. You could feel the dishonesty in every breath he breathed, with words that hid his true identity. I remember telling my mom I didn’t like him when she asked, after he left. Whether fortunate or unfortunate, she remembers too. 

I learned the context for his odd behaviors long after the time, but he always hated the house we lived in at the time. He would always come home irritated for some unknown reason, acting in very brash ways. My mother would inform me years later that he hated living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed, eating at the same table, as the boyfriend that came before him. So, I guess the only logical solution would be to move, right? At least partially, no?

We had a wonderful 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom house, around the corner from my Nana. My younger brother and I had friends in the neighborhood, and would scooter around the corner to see our Nana, Grandpa, and Uncle. We went to a science academy, and my mom was doing absolutely marvelous as a single parent. But we moved. To a 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom house, 20 minutes to the next state, infested with roaches and mice, all for a little over $500 a month because dear old stepdad had a friend! And as a bonus (which was really the whole point), he got to call everything his! And did!

Anthony and I are almost 4 years apart, so I was almost 8 and he was 4. We moved churches, and it was like you were a completely different person. You would smile and laugh and joke and would be affectionate. But then again, there were people saying, “Oh, look at well behaved your boys are, James!”, “Your boys are so handsome, James!”, “I know they’re going to grow up just like their daddy!”. Umm… excuse me miss, sir, I’m standing right here and THAT is not my dad.  

We would go to our local BlockBuster and would be so excited to see the amazing place that brightened our eyes every time we went. You know, because every kid loves an outing. But, of course, it wasn’t for us. Ever. We weren’t allowed to look at the kids movies, weren’t allowed to ask to see the games they had, just wait for James to pick out the 4 or 5 movies or tv shows that he and his fiance (our mom) get to watch. Thank the universe for Nana for getting us a Wii, because all there was before that was trying to find ways to play with each other or watching wildly inappropriate TV with our “two parents”. Because seeing nudity and sex scenes are important for 8 and 5 year-olds to become men, right James?

Remember that time when me and Anthony were giving each other wedgies because we thought that shit was hilarious? Then, you punched me in the face so hard I flew into and broke our bookcase? Remember that time I stayed up all night playing video games, and you held and choked me against the wall? Remember that time when we lost one of the games we rented from BlockBuster, and after we found it, you threw every single toy, movie, book, game we had in the dumpster? And if not, oh well, because it didn’t stop there!

After my little sister was born, time sped up real fast. All of a sudden, they’re getting married, while just the five of us are standing in the pastor’s office, and I’m holding Malia and deemed “best man”, the day after my birthday. He said to me, “Well, now when you’re grown, you can tell your girlfriend that we got married right after your birthday!”. Then, we’re changing the house layout to where their bedroom and the living room are switching places because we need more space. I’m, now, given the esteemed responsibility as “baby-sitter” at age 8. My mom was pregnant again, and my sisters were going to be 10 months apart. Oh! And the most important bit, Anthony and I were now, “not his kids” (trademark it), and the violence got so much worse.

So, as he built himself a kingdom amongst rags instead of riches, where he is the sole king (without a queen), everyone else became his servants.  Everything in the house now had the possessive “my”, every single thing done in the house needed to meet your standards, everyone had to heed your requests and desires, no matter how untimely, and everyone had to be your audience as you spoke of promises for better that never came.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

sharkboy and lavagirl

boruto redesigns & neji isn’t a ghost!

i don't want to make this month about discourse, because most discourse is arbitrary and pointless at best, and self-destructive and dangerous at worst. but happy pride month to all queer people in the community that have been targets of exclusion, abuse, or erasure by certain jerks in the community.

trans people, intersex people, black queers, aces/aros, mspecs, neopronoun users, xenogender people, transhets, gnc queer people, multigender people, people who use microlabels, mspec lesbians/gays, polyamorous people, queers with split attraction, and any other groups who have been targets of abuse, exclusion, or erasure by other queer people who should have had their backs.

i don't need to tell you that you're valid because it's not for me or anyone else to decide that your way of describing yourself is "invalid." you are the only person who can label yourself in a way that is fulfilling to you- and if that means not labelling yourself at all, that's great too! but i love you. i'm proud of you for existing, despite the fact that you have to deal with some queer exclusionists hating you on top of the queermisia from non-queers. your existence is beautiful. your queerness is beautiful. be proud of yourself, because you deserve to be.

love you. have a wonderful month, because you deserve to celebrate it just as much as every other queer person <3

and to the exclusionists in question: you don't get to blame the rest of us for hating you when you help make queer spaces unsafe for queer people. worrying about how other queer people identify is such a waste of time, because they're going to identify that way no matter what you think. your opinions on other peoples' validity means absolutely nothing. you are wasting valuable time that you could be using to be proud of your own queerness instead of reveling in your misery about other queer people daring to exist in a way you don't like. so try changing and growing as a person and stop spending all of your time worrying about what other gay people are doing.