i dream of being possible

for what its worth (or an email i wrote explaining why i haven't been writing as much)

for what its worth.

sincere expressions of gratitude like this for the work i’ve done in producing hundreds of blog posts in an effort to communicate my understanding of the world

actually make me feel like it wasn’t all wasted effort.

part of why i’ve been in a writing funk is bc i started to feel (and realize) that i could only re-iterate things i’ve written before.

bc (it seems to me) most ppl can’t move past certain things forcing a person to belabour their first concepts over and over and over

(i see this in some of my favourite ppl online. they are forced by ignorance and circumstance to always circle back to shit they wrote about four years ago – or longer even – and its so disheartening. this. this is part of why my words ran out. bc i don’t want to have to keep repeating myself.

how many times must i go over the history of scientific racism and eugenics ppl actually start to get the way these ‘archaic’ discourses have structured modern racism and white supremacy.

its exhausting. i’m tired.

but of course. this isn’t the end of the story. in the cases where you do manage to successfully communicate an idea and the ~discourse~ takes a step in the right direction.

but suddenly you look around and hear echoes of your voice everywhere yet nowhere do you see yourself. you’ve been forgotten by a discourse that you helped shape.

u get to see rich white trans women regurgitating your words to thunderous applause.

and you? when you were shouting. when you were ripping yourself open and bleeding on the page. all this did was bring the wolves to your door. and now ur a broken, bloody mess.

at the end of it all. sometimes you just don’t have any fight left in you.)