I took this picture of myself at the end of a day I spent in bed, scared and crying, feeling alone and hopeless and completely desperate.
This is the face of my mental illness. This is the face of my sadness when it is at its most inexplicable and its most pronounced.
I am not ashamed of it.
I’m coming off of a Cayucas kick and would loooooove some new summer-y tunes, single songs or whole albums, to listen to. Surf rock appreciated, but not required. Go!
There is a concept called body autonomy. Its generally considered a human right. Bodily autonomy means a person has control over who or what uses their body, for what, and for how long. Its why you can’t be forced to donate blood, tissue, or organs. Even if you are dead. Even if you’d save or improve 20 lives. It’s why someone can’t touch you, have sex with you, or use your body in any way without your continuous consent.
A fetus is using someone’s body parts. Therefore under bodily autonomy, it is there by permission, not by right. It needs a persons continuous consent. If they deny and withdraw their consent, the pregnant person has the right to remove them from that moment. A fetus is equal in this regard because if I need someone else’s body parts to live, they can also legally deny me their use.
By saying a fetus has a right to someone’s body parts until it’s born, despite the pregnant person’s wishes, you are doing two things.
1. Granting a fetus more rights to other people’s bodies than any born person.
2. Awarding a pregnant person less rights to their body than a corpse.
"Whatever, I’m too good for these people probably," I say, pausing for a few seconds before closing the app, browsing profiles and hoping, praying for an interesting smile or a new message.
So I wrote one (1) letter to myself last year on a great site called futureme.org, and through the magic of their time machine or delayed sending, they were able to send me this insightful letter from past me to now me. I think it was actually pretty insightful and nice, so I’m posting it here. (Also the letter was titled “Okay, dude” because I clearly do not respect myself)
Montauk Madras - Pacific Stripe
My birthday is coming up.
HUNTINGTON BEACH, Calif. (KABC) — A transgender teen has been elected homecoming queen at a high school in Huntington Beach.
Friday was homecoming for the Marina High School Vikings. It was a big game for the football team, but the players weren’t the only ones hoping to end the night victorious.
Cassidy Lynn Campbell was one of five students in the running for homecoming queen. She’s the school’s first transgender teen nominated to the court. Up until this year, she lived life as Lance Campbell.
A YouTube video of Campbell shows the transformation she makes daily in order to look how she feels inside. Fellow students have been supportive and many of them voted for Campbell to be this year’s homecoming queen.
"I think it’s really cool how we allowed her to run, and I just think it’s a really good thing," said student Kelsey Callanan.
Campbell received the most votes to earn the crown — a crown she didn’t think was within reach, but now wears with her head held high.
"I wasn’t doing this for me. I was doing this for so many others, so many others around the nation," said Campbell.
Her mother, Christine Campbell, is very proud.
"I never would have thought in my lifetime that I would see this. It’s wonderful. She really did it," Christine Campbell said.
Cassidy Campbell says she has dealt with some negativity since she decided to run for homecoming queen. She says it’s all fueled by ignorance.
"They think that I’m just a boy doing this for fun, and I’m just a boy dressing up as a girl and trying to win a crown when that is completely the opposite of what it is," she said. "I’ve always seen myself as a girl."
She hopes her courage will inspire other transgender teens to live life without hiding who they are.
"If this could help one child or more, or hundreds or thousands or millions, then it was more than worth it," she said.
(Copyright ©2013 KABC-TV/DT. All Rights Reserved.)
john quincy adams was the first US president to grant a personal interview to a female reporter, and the only reason he allowed it was because the reporter (anne royall) caught him skinny dipping in the potomac, sat on his clothes, and refused to let him get dressed until he answered her questions and if you dont think that’s one of the coolest stories of early US society then idk what to tell you