Let the Light In

I have said this before but...the older I get the more I understand how little I truly know. I have always felt important, like I am here for a reason. For a long time, I misunderstood my feeling of importance. I said I felt important but I think what I meant to say was: I believe I can be helpful. When I remove my ego, I realize how important I am not, and with that, I am able to see the importance of what I do.

It is not me that is important. To live authentically—that is important. To stand up against injustice and bigotry; to call out fascism, colonialism, imperialism, and hate. That is utterly important. To attempt to understand. To be kind, compassionate, and useful. To share knowledge and stories but not speak for others. To teach and to be taught. To listen. To be a student. To question. To be open. To be curious. To explore. To share. To connect. To elevate. To rise. To fight. To resist.

let the light in

My life is a journey towards understanding. What I have come to learn is that while we must support, appreciate, and love ourselves we truly need each other. It is possible to build community around our own carefully curated set of standards. Those who know and understand us deeply will support and love us through it all— and if we’re very lucky, we are granted the opportunity to do the same. For community care is the greatest gift.

The more authentic I am in my own lifestyle, outlook, and choices, the more the universe bestows me, often delivered through the kindness of others. I have become a magnet for positive energy and outcomes, I can only assume it has something to do with the simple act of trying. I have failed many times at many things and what I have learned is that I am often bad at things before I am good at them. My ego hates being bad, but my curiosity is more resilient. There is so much that I want to do. So many stories to tell, lessons to learn, and ideas to share. Practicing authentic vulnerability encourages healing; Two of the most impactful things we can do for ourselves, and in turn our communities. Healing is not a linear process, but it becomes addicting when the practice becomes instinct. 

I am listening. I am practicing. I am wandering, exploring. I am digesting. I am seeking. I am digesting. I am learning. I am searching. I am healing. I am.

I am a storyteller, actor, amateur historian, photographer, writer, designer and activist

an actually autistic adhd pro intersectional feminist killjoy comrade  practicing anti-racism and decolonizing the self. 

Tune in for todays edition of History Time! with Tara!

Just putting this out there to combat the "Irish people were slaves" crowd which historians have dubbed "racist ahistorical propaganda." Linking a helpful tool with resources debunking the propaganda

because! (not so) Fun fact! In reality, some pretty high-profile Irish folks bought, owned, and trafficked enslaved Africans – collusion in the empire that Ireland and Irish Americans have preferred to ignore. Trinity College Dublin was founded in 1592 and is one of the oldest institutions in the world! They have began to acknowledge this truth launching an investigation into its colonial past. It's findings have scrutinized funding, curriculums, and scholars, including George Berkeley, a slave-owning philosopher after whom Trinity’s world-famous library was named.

We've learned that the front entrance to Trinity College, and many other architectural landmarks, were built with money from tobacco and other slave-related revenues. Many slave owners in the American south were Scots-Irish, at least 3% or 4% of the British empire’s slave owners were Irish, and, being Catholic, many were also able to operate in French, Spanish, and other empires. While many Irish rebelled against the Crown, others served colonial interests overseas. They made fortunes from slavery and helped to control – and sometimes massacre – the natives. The fictional plantation in 'Gone With the Wind' has an Irish name, Tara, for crying out loud.

Irelnd's national narrative is that they were victims of colonial oppression. That’s true, but it’s also true that they were perpetrators of colonial aggression elsewhere. The island's long history of subjugation and oppression by the British is no myth. The Irish were indeed colonized, caricatured as sub-human, brutalized, and left to rot by the British Empire. But that isn't the full story and it is important to acknowledge allllllll of the stuff, I say.

The struggles in Ireland and those of Irish immigrants to the Americas make clear that the concept of whiteness in the US (and I suspect the Western world in general, especially in countries where white people have held the majority of power and capital) has always been a precariously propped-up house of cards, useed more as a tool for defining a nefarious “other” than any kind of tool for forming a self-identity.

There is no “white culture” because of this. American Jews are the perfect example alongside the Irish - during the early 1800s Jews lived quietly and peacefully in pocket American communities, and white communities even touted the Jews as fantastic examples of whiteness - they were so oppressed for so much of history, but they survived with their determination and intelligence, so they must be white. They were even marked as such on the census. But then from 1880-1914 a mass influx of Ashkenazi Jews started seeing the rise of the Jewish workforce to the extent that a majority of factory workers in NYC were Jewish - and when the immigrants started taking your jobs, they’re obviously not a reflection of ‘you’ any longer.

The new hot American invention of race science and eugenics were tools used to turn a magnifying glass to Jews, with shoddy research being used to claim the Jews as physically and mentally inferior, and in pop culture, artists made an effort to tie Jews to Black people, portraying Jews with curly hair, big noses, and big lips. The caricature of the “evil witch” is antisemitic propaganda. The Nazis took a wealth of inspiration from and deeply researched the American racial hierarchy system of the late 1800s and early 1900s, which they felt was incredible in its ease of implementation, malleability, and potency in inspiring hate between the created races. Additionally, there were thriving Nazi communities and congregations in the Americas. It was only after America went to war with the Nazis in WW2 that white America had a sort of collective amnesia when it came to their previous treatment of the Jewish folks - immigration centers even stopped marking Jews as Hebrew, and race science fell out of vogue. Because we couldn’t fight a war accusing the opposing power of crimes we were on the path of doing ourselves. Jews were somewhat invited back into the fold of being white. Sort of.

If this cultural flip-flopping isn’t proof that white supremacy isn’t a crock of shit when said supremacists can’t even decide what white is, I don’t know what is. Whiteness is a social construct, not an inherent genetic trait.

Paul is the son of Patrick Doherty, one of the innocent victims. He offers his first hand knowledge and insight into the story from a unique direct perspective.

*Paul Doherty is also available for lectures on Bloody Sunday, the Saville Inquiry & the Peace Process. Click here to contact

One of the problems with the polarized way we talk about the history of racism is that it swallows subtleties. The reality is that no one is white. We're all human beings, and we all come in varying shades and hues of brown; from pale and pink-ish to a deep brown that looks navy blue in the shadows, and many olive and peachy and cinnamon tints in between. "White" is an invented concept, and its definition has varied to include different groups over the few hundred years it's been in use. It has historically been a tool used to ‘other’ communities. The Irish used to be very much on the outside of "white," as were Italians and Spaniards, Poles, and others we easily assume are "white" today, when we have a broad skin-shade-based understanding of the (fake) divisions between "races".

Now that I've gotten that taken care of, I say Sláinte!

Ascension

There were so many of them, like a tidal wave teeming with all their individual narratives, each one of them the cavalier main character. They were then, as they had always felt, like a supporting character. There was an abundance of those who wanted to hear their mind, but only in how it attributed to them. It had become rare for inquiries to be made with devotion being the incentive. Most of the time, this mattered not to them. They customarily felt gratitude for the gift of being an assumed guide, but lately it felt as though their center of gravity had begun to falter. With so few to keep her grounded, many of which so many miles away, they often contemplated whether or not they would just up and float away. 

“surely not,” they would remind themself. For someone who feels the abundance of reality could never posses the weightlessness it would require to ascend.

Be Like Water

I think spending time alone is so important. Sometimes everything just moves so fast that it’s nice to take some time to yourself and really allow yourself to process everything that is happening, the things that have happened. 

Listening to the wind blowing through the trees, my heart skipps a beat. The sounds coming from the stereo are soothing, the sun is quietly rising behind the mountains down the street and all I can think is, “you’re so lucky.” And I am lucky. 

I’m alive. I’m here. My brain works, and it takes me on captivating adventures, all while I’m sitting still. I allow myself to be moved by the music, the sounds of the earth, the places that I go and the people that I speak to. We are all united, and we are all here on this very planet, and I can’t help but think that we’re all connected. There’s got to be a reason that being in nature is so soothing to the human spirit. The connection to something so much larger than we are now. 

Do y’all feel that? Something is happening. Whether or not we realize it, we’re changing the space around us. It might not feel like anything big or important but the actions we take, the words we use, the ways we resist, ripple through time and could very well be the cause to some affect at some point in the future.

Look at where the rivers flow, or even where they used to flow. You’ll notice that as the rivers move, so does the solid land around it. The most jagged of rock faces become smooth, and so slippery they evade your grasp nearly everytime. It happens. It’s gradual, barely even noticeable but, over time, the change can be magnificent. We see the Grand Canyon today because of rivers over 6 million years old. We’re like those rivers but we don’t have as much time.

Its overwhelming. There is so much wrong and so many things to be angry about. I know there are times when everything feels too heavy, too big, too scary. And sometimes it is. So we rest. Today, I need to remember that rest is not the same as giving up. 

Water is powerful, but it’s patient. The space will adjust. The space around us will adjust to our movement. Sometimes all we can do is be and exist, and that’s okay.

Just like water

Making Sense of me, understanding my autistic diagnosis in my thirties

Getting diagnosed ADHD in November 2020 and Autistic in April 2021 (at 34years old) was like finally being handed the keys to myself. Those keys (and medication) saved my life. That is not hyperbole. Memories have come flooding back but now I see them through a lens that makes a lot more sense to me.

Silly things made sense! Like my love of tiny utensils, not being able to sit in chairs properly, my obsession with animals, why certain smells are enough to take me out, and finally the answer to my lifelong question, “why is everything so loud?”

Big things, too.

As a child I acted like a cat. My name was Mabel. I was a cat at school too. I did a lot of “weird” things. I was bullied a lot, I'm sure you could have guessed. I remember sitting out in the grass field alone at recess searching for four-leaf clovers. The other kids didn't allow me to play. I wanted to be Indiana Jones, but girls aren’t allowed to be boys, they’d say.

That didn’t make sense to me then and it still doesn’t now. What makes Indiana Jones a boy? What made me a girl? Why can’t I be both and all the things in between?

I thought everybody’s behaviors were policed like mine were. Assumed everyone had heard “you’re being weird,” or “stop. You’re so embarrassing,” hundreds of times before adolescence. I couldn’t understand why I just never seemed to understand math. I thought I struggled in school because the teachers said I was brilliant but didn’t “apply” myself or, maybe I really was just not smart. But the number of times I was called “gifted” added confusion. How could I, in middle school, test “college-level” language arts but when in actual college couldn’t pass basic, elementary level algebra? I never got a college degree because I didn’t know I have a learning disability (dyscalculia). I knew I was doing this being a person thing wrong, but I couldn’t seem to figure out how to do it right.

I learned by watching. And I grew up with my filmmaker brother, so we were always watching boys. I wanted to be Aragorn, not Arwen. Eowyn would have been fine too, though. I have ADHD too, so my special interests can fluctuate. I can be obsessed with something for a few months, and then never think of it again. Some stay with me forever (LOTR )

When I went to prom, we had to take a Breathalyzer to get in. I stood in line, anxious as all hell. I HATE queueing (Disneyland is hell on earth for me), and I’ve never had to breathalyze before! I don’t know how to do it! There are people everywhere, watching. I don’t go to this school. My friends chatted and laughed in line while I focused intently on the task before me. I watched as one by one, teenagers breathed into the tube as I took mental notes. Stand here. shoulders here. hands here. When it was my turn, I panicked. I asked for instructions, he said “just breathe like normal into the tube.” I said, okay… put my lips on the machine and sighed. That was how my brain translated “breathe normally through your mouth with your lips closed around this thing.” Everybody laughed at me. This type of thing happens all the time, still.

When I am going to a new place, I research it. I need to know what the food options are, how the lighting and ambiance are, what the layout looks like, and prepare myself for it. I didn’t realize this is something I have done my whole life that most others do not do. I have to feel prepared and work through every scenario possible. I have ‘scripts’ in my head for social interactions, and I like to arrive early so I can go straight to the bathroom (it's almost always in the back) and get a lay of the land to plan my escape if necessary. I will always opt to sit outside if that is an option. I like to ‘fly under the radar,’ and generally don’t enjoy being perceived.. especially if my shoulders are showing. But I am an engaging and funny storyteller in the right situation. I change outfits multiple times a day because I’m just not comfortable in that thing anymore. Fuck all tags, itchy things can burn.

After heavy socialization, I sometimes go nonverbal. At parties or gatherings, I walk away from conversations that are boring without a word and rarely every say goodbye. There always comes a point where I just have to go. So, I go.

My accent changes and the echolalia is real. Never before did I know why I had to repeat sounds, or why I make the sounds that I do. I am curiously good at copying accents and dialects just by hearing them yet I can’t watch/process things without subtitles (auditory processing disorder). A quick google offers this fun list of linguistic ‘oddities’ in autistic folks:

* verbosity

* abrupt transitions

* literal interpretations and miscomprehension of nuance

* use of metaphor meaningful only to the speaker

* auditory perception deficits

* unusually pedantic, formal or idiosyncratic speech

* repetitive speech and oddities in volume, pitch, intonation, prosody, and rhythm

* echolalia (repetition of what has been said to them)

Which, if you’ve ever had a conversation with me will likely chuckle and agree.

I’ve always benefitted from written instructions (cheat sheets, I like to call them) and visual aids. Instructions like, “do this” without the how or why are nearly impossible for me to accomplish, and because everything is nonbinary the other side is equally frustrating. I used to run a hat shop in LA and my boss (an incredible woman) would excitedly ask me how I achieved a thing but it was impossible for me to explain. I have these instincts and I just know stuff. I don’t have agenda, I had an idea and I did it and it worked. I can’t explain it, Michelle!! With her help (and a lot of patience), I did get better about that, and a lot of other things. She helped me communicate more concisely. She’d say, “Tara, I love how your brain works, how much attention to detail to pay, and your stories but... let’s simplify. Get to the point.” Obviously, I’m still long-winded, and likely always will be because YOU NEED THE WHOLE PICTURE. It makes me laugh because I literally cannot stand listening to long boring stories and will interrupt folks to ask if there is a point and can we maybe start there instead.

When I was in my early 20’s I had seizures, we didn’t know why so they said I was epileptic. A few years before that, I had my gallbladder removed after months of excruciating pain (that I was not believed about). I did not fit the criteria (old, overweight, man) so they didn’t think it could be that. Turns out seizures and tummy area issues are common comorbidities with autism. I have historically had a difficult time explaining my feelings or sensations in my body. I couldn’t tell my parents what was wrong when I didn’t feel good, just that I didn’t feel good. So, they understandably didn’t believe me and thought I just didn’t want to go to school. I walked on a broken foot for 2 weeks before realizing it really hurt. I don’t know when I am hungry. I don’t know when I am tired, and I have a hard time expressing happiness at the moment I feel it. I’ll often let my friends know after the fact that I had a wonderful time and my favorite takeaways. It sometimes takes me time to process things and decide how I feel. I have a high pain tolerance and often don’t notice I’ve hurt myself until later, but sometimes I will have vivid and intrusive thoughts that cause me to faint. I imagine how I will die in nearly any situation, and it is almost always absolutely horrific. I have never seen the final destination movies, but I have some great material stored away if they run out of ideas.

I have a terrible memory and no concept of time. There are significant gaps where I have no recollection at all. I have struggled to recognize faces. For example, you show me your school class photo, I will not be able to pick you out. Photos of my own parents as children are unrecognizable to me. I pull my eyebrows out (OCD), pick at my face and body, wiggle my toes, fiddle with my fingernails, and need MUSIC. These are all examples of how I stim to regulate. I learned to mask so well that sometimes I still wonder if I’m making it up but everything for me is heightened all the time. It’s incredibly exhausting yet amazingly vibrant. I struggle to understand why others don’t feel and care in the same ways I do.

I don’t like small talk and I only know how to answer “what’s up” because I’ve seen ya’ll answer that dumb question a bazillion times. The answer is always “not much, you?” It’s not even a question that makes any logical sense. honestly, it fills me with rage. “How are you,” is equally irritating because NT folks don’t actually want to know the answer. If I am not well, and I tell them that, they look at me like I am insane and how dare I tell them the TRUTH. I am constantly frustrated by the way neurotypical people communicate. Why don't you say what you mean? I’ve decided to stop trying to read between the lines and force people to be direct with me. I am tired of trying to translate the intentions and meanings, and I hate making assumptions. I like knowing as many facts or details as possible so I can come to an educated decision or conclusion. There is this idea out there that neurodivergent people don’t understand social cues but I think we do. We just don’t understand inauthentic social cues. I have an intrinsic desire for genuine authenticity, I can see that you are in pain or suffering and I am uncomfortable ignoring that obvious detail to talk about the weather or something else mundane. To me, it is kind to be honest, direct, and compassionate.

I have no tolerance for injustice and I will call it out every time I see it. It gets me in ‘trouble’ in a lot of social situations but again, I see this as a kindness. Nice is fake and performative. I’ve lost a lot of friends because of my “high expectations.” One of my favorite compliments (not sure if it was intended that way or not) was that I am steadfast in my beliefs. Integrity is important to me; if your actions do not align with your words I am confused and have to ask questions. Some people don’t like questions and respond defensively like I am trying to ‘catch’ them, but I am usually trying to understand and gain clarity. I misunderstand and am misunderstood often. Questions help so I can better communicate in the future, or just promote a line of questions that lead to an ah-ha moment for all involved. I avoid giving my opinion (unless explicitly asked) and will instead try to ask questions that I think may help them find their own clarity without judgment from me. I understand it can be uncomfortable but it is not a trick or a manipulation. My whole life I’ve had people twist the things I say, claiming meanings in my words that aren’t there— and they expect me to do the same but I won’t. I can’t. It’s exhausting. For example, when you say something racist and I say hey did you know that is a problematic thing to say because___, and you say IM NOT RACIST!! ...... What you should have said is “I don’t want to be racist.” and then suddenly I'm too sensitive. And now suddenly instead of having a compassionate but tough conversation about you, we're having a conversation about my perceived character flaws. This cycle is super obvious to me, but so many of ya’ll really struggle with it.

It’s been hard to keep friends and I’ve been lonely most of my life. I love humans but I like very few people. I require integrity and accountability in my circle. I see things others don’t see. I recognize patterns without realizing I recognize patterns, and I am usually prepared for whatever is going to happen next because I am basically Doctor Strange and can see every possible outcome. I feel deeply and intensely and I can usually tell when people are lying to me, even if they don’t realize they’re lying to themselves. I know when you say one thing to my face and another when I am not around, energy doesn’t lie. I can feel it in my body. I know when something is disingenuous and I will have questions.

Which may prompt a statement like, “You’re so sensitive.”

To which I have started to reply, Yes, thank you for noticing. Can you imagine the bravery and vulnerability it takes to feel deeply for myself and others? I consider it one of my greatest strengths.

Celebrating the life I have while grieving the life I could have had is an odd space to occupy, but I've decided to take up all the space I can. I want to be clear that I do not “suffer” from autism. I am autistic and I suffer, because of the way the world treats autistic brains, and from a system that isn’t set up for me to succeed.

Now, I’ve heard a lot of folks discounting my diagnosis’ because they (incorrectly) assume that I self-diagnosed. I have some problems with this and not because I care what you think of me, but because you may harm someone in your life with such an ableist perspective. Do you really think people want to admit later in life that they have been disabled this whole time? There is an overwhelming amount of grief in realizing your brain works differently and had you known, maybe you would have had more tools to support your needs. I am glad to know who I am but that does not discount grieving the life I could have had, who I could have been, or what I could have accomplished had I had accommodations, support, and compassion instead of the undeniable trauma that comes with moving through life undiagnosed and unaware.

First of all, getting a professional diagnosis isn’t always easy. In fact, most of the time it’s not. I got ‘lucky’— if you consider finally having the tools to myself yourself at 34 lucky. Getting professional diagnosis’ are extremely expensive, there aren’t that many good doctors who are trauma-informed and educated on neurodiversity, a lot of families have strong opinions related to disabilities and mental health that make seeking professional support complicated or dangerous, amongst a plethora of other reasons. A lot of people have such a strong misunderstanding of what these things even are that it’s not even on their radar (like me… I just thought I was broken and weird). Up until very recently the only studies done on autism were done on young white boys, and autism presents differently in every single person and, is like everything, nonbinary.

So keep in mind that when someone has always felt different and finally begins to realize that these could be signs of a developmental disability or neurotype and they come to you, know that is a privilege. It is highly likely that they have only told a few people, people they trust, who they think will listen to them, affirm and validate them, and possibly even support their journey. If someone in your life tells you this ah-ha of theirs you are lucky and should support them. "What if they're wrong?" you ask.

I am glad you care about them and while they may be wrong, you don't know them better than they know themselves and your opinion is not the point. The point is that this person is at a stage in their life where they are questioning their brain type and they need support.

Disabilities, Mental Illnesses, etc. are still controversial in many communities. If someone shares that they searched up a controversial topic, and admitted they relate to it, then there must be something there and you should probably listen to them. DO NOT tell them that only a professional can diagnose them, they must be wrong, or they don't look (like) it.

And yes, this is open to all kinds of Disorders and Differences because the logic here is that you need to support your friend at that moment applies to them all.

perching is the most comfortable

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

PS. FUCK ABA THERAPY AND AUTISM SPEAKS

The Science of Compassion

from the archives, written in 2015

Existence.

Now that’s something to think about, isn’t it? Thinking about the bigger picture, that’s what keeps getting me stuck. I find myself lost in a tangle of contradictions. I’m constantly taught between ‘everything matters” and “nothing matters.” I’m in a constant limbo between ‘be nice to everyone’ and ‘fuck them all.” I suppose that’s why they call it an existential crisis.

I was listening to a podcast the other night, in which the question in question (haha) was: if natural selection boils down to survival of the fittest, how do you explain why one creature might stick its neck out for another? And guess what, it all comes down to science. George Price, with no training in population genetics or statistics, devised the Price equation, an equation that generated the change in gene frequency. Basically, he figured out the equation to determine that we risk for those related to us because instinctually we’re making an attempt to continue our genes. If you have a brother, that brother carries ½ of your genes, and say, your cousins carry 1/8 of your genes. Hence the strong instinct to first risk to save your brother as opposed to a cousin as there is a higher chance that part of your own genetics will continue and hopefully, eventually procreate. Even when we think we’re doing things graciously, it all comes down to self interest that has been calculated within our genetics. George Price was a terrible father, and towards the latter years of his life came face to face with the harsh realities of his own mortality, his scientific discovery and how they related to each other. He detested the idea that the only reason one person would appear to be selfless was actually an imbedded instinct created over thousands of years of evolution, yet his own behavior had displayed just that. He eventually set down a path of selflessness to prove his theory wrong. He helped every person he could, extending so far beyond his means that he eventually became a squatter, living in abandoned homes. I think Price felt that science wasn’t enough, and if there was to be good in this world then he had to be the one to do it. So he took his Christian teachings and attempted to apply them to his life. Price was found dead on January 6, 1975. He had committed suicide, even after spending so much effort trying to prove his theory. Less than 10 people attended his funeral, and he has been left underground in an unmarked grave somewhere in London.

I left religion long ago, and while I’m sure there are underlying themes I connected to as a child that I’ve incorporated into my adult atheist mindset, I do believe in Science. Science motivates me, it makes sense to me because the only constant is change. I think the Bible is full of great stories, but to me, thats all they are. And like many stories, some of them are rooted in great moral compassion. Many of the morals of these stories are pertinent. But all they are are stories. But in hearing this true story, and so many others like it, I can’t help but feel that there’s got to be something deeper than science, and something better than faith. Does science have the ability to really explain love? Why would I risk my life for someone I’ve fallen into romantic love with over someone who shares my genetics? Would I? I think I might, and I think some of you might too, so what is it?

It’s science… but I’ve got to believe that there’s something more, like Price did. If evolutionary advancements have taught our genes through natural selection to risk for those that advance our genes then where does risking our lives for strangers come into play? Friends? Lovers?

What is the purpose of human connection? If it’s all just science than none of it really matters. Love would be nothing but it can’t be nothing. I feel love and I’ve felt love. I know its pull, I know what it can do to a person. I feel how it motivates a person. I believe in how it awakens and challenges a person. I know its strength and weakness’ as I’ve experienced them first hand. My personal experiences create my perceptions.

But are my perceptions a reality? Are yours?

The beginning of Something

Just a little project I’ve been working on…

Sexual Heath Practices & Experience

I want to talk about my experience living with #herpes . My hope is that opening up about my sexual health practices will contribute to the normalization of these conversations & encouragement for us all to think about our own practices

My stuff: I have sex with people of all genders. I am not on any BC (I have not found one that works well for me) I use barriers. Diagnosed positive for HSV-2 in 2015

To start: STIs are not shameful. Most STIs are like catching a cold. Some are viruses that do not go away but ALL are manageable. There is a lot of misinformation out there in regards to our sexual health. Being open & honest about our sexual histories can reduce the harm that comes with having an STI diagnosis

Many people think that you cant pass STIs unless you are showing symptoms. Not true. People can be asymptomatic carriers (familiar?) People who have HSV-2 go through a process called “shedding”- no symptoms but shedding makes it transferable. We dont know when it happens. 90% of people who have HSV-2 do not know they have it

The biggest effect my diagnosis has had on my life is the judgement I deal with when dating. Some people think I’m dirty, disgusting, a whore, slut, what have you. I’ve been called it all. As part of my disclosure, I try to offer space to do their own research & encourage all to never take someones word on what is or isnt safe.

Pro Tip: Consent is sexy, having these conversations early can prevent any naked awkwardness-in regards to STIs anyway

A helpful script:

“My last test was (Month). My results came back (Negative or Positive) I’ve had (protected or unprotected) sex with (number) people since I was last tested, I (did or did not) have this conversation with them.”

It is important to remember that in these conversations we are sharing the information needed to have consensual intimacy. To not disclose/hide information that could influence a persons willingness to engage is not consensual.

&Sometimes we’ll do ALL of this & still contract an STI. that’s okay. If you’re practicing these conversations you’re reducing risk & promoting an ethical way of engaging in intimate relationships. The most important thing is our current sexual partners have the most up to date information they need to consent. That we practice compassion with ourselves & others as we grow towards supportive, informative sexual health practices

One of my favorite Instagram resources is @sexelducation

For STI testing: @plannedparenthood

in ATL: @aid_atlanta @uhwclinic @ahrcgram_official

Los Angeles: @lalgbtcenter @blackaids

NYC: @apichachc

(note: I have not used any of these myself except for plannedparenthood so please drop your recommendations!)

History Time! with Tara!

Yesterday I went to walk among the trees and I felt sad. I felt sad for the Este Mvskokvlke (Muscogee/Creek) people who used to live here before they were forced to move. And then I was on reddit and reminded of my favorite friendship in all of history (that I know of)!: 

The Choctaw and the Irish. Tune in for History Time! with Tara!

In 1847, the Choctaw tribe, having experienced extreme suffering at the hands of English colonists, and having just been forcefully relocated from their sacred lands to what is now Oklahoma, heard of another group of people who were also oppressed and hungry. 

Since 1169, Ireland had been under a foreign force that didn’t officially end until 1949, when Ireland became a Republic. Northern Ireland (where my family lives and has for centuries) is still technically under British rule. 

Over 150 years ago, that colonial force actively took food from Ireland to the point that the Irish people suffered one of the worst famines in history - The Irish Potato Famine, also called The Great Hunger—a period of mass starvation and disease that lasted from 1845 to 1852. Some don’t consider it a famine at all and instead call it a calculated genocide by English occupiers. During those years, Britain exported out of Ireland approximately £500,000 of government-produced food. It had been British policy to constrain the Irish to tiny plots of barren land suitable only for little growth. When famine hit, the Irish would starve. It was an inevitability brought on by nature but predetermined by acts of man.

Within such an environment, the Irish had few friends. And somehow over 4,000 miles away, the news of the ruin in Ireland had reached the people of the Choctaw Nation. The Choctaw were also intimately aware of how society crumbles in the face of tyrannical governance, and in the Irish, they saw shadows of their own past. 

And they were right in that comparison because the English had used many of the same tactics of colonization against the Irish that they later did against Indigenous peoples on this land, including where I currently reside and probably you, too. 

Both the Irish and the Choctaw Nation had histories of the English pushing them off their lands and away from their traditional food sources; starving them by withholding other foods, while also extracting foods and profits from their lands; forcibly 'schooling' their children, and beating their languages and cultures out of them (literally)— Northern Ireland is struggling to pass the Irish Language Act in an attempt preserve the endangered language. Oh and don’t forget that the English were aided and abetted in these efforts by a church that purported to care, while sharing in the exploitation to increase their own wealth... 

Only fifteen years before the Great Hunger, the Choctaw had been the victims of a forced march from their homelands, a deplorable exodus we know as the Trail of Tears. Choctaw land was systematically obtained through treaties, legislation, and threats of warfare. Ultimately, the Choctaw and the United States agreed to nine treaties each one more and more in favor of the US. The Choctaw were eventually classified by European Americans as one of the "Five Civilized Tribes" —(The term has been criticized for its ethnocentric definition of civilization, the population currently living in Oklahoma are referred to as the Five Tribes of Oklahoma)— because they adopted numerous practices of their new neighbors (see: Assimilation/ Residential Schools). 

Like many indigenous tribes, the Choctaws considered European laws and diplomacy confusing. Choctaw history, as with many Native Americans, was passed orally from generation to generation. The US required treaties to be written and signed.

Beginning in 1831, the Choctaw were the first Native American tribe forced to relocate under the Indian Removal Act. About 2,500 died on the journey to their new home. 

The long march from Mississippi to Oklahoma had understandably made the Choctaw sensitive to the anguish of those desperately in need, and when just 15 years later, news arrived of what was happening in Ireland, a group of concerned tribal members rallied together to raise funds for those Irish still clinging on to life.

“We helped the Irish because that’s who we are and what we are,” explains tribal council speaker, Delton Cox, “we remembered the sorrow to befall our people, and we felt the same for the people in Ireland. $170 might not seem like much, we were poor, yet each of us eagerly gave to help our brothers and sisters.”

In 1847, the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma sent $170 to Ireland during the Great Famine. The Choctaw, poor, broken, and tired from war, gave the Irish all they had to help people they never met to keep them from suffering the way they were. 

More than 170 years later, Ireland has returned the favor, raising over $2 million for the Navajo and Hopi nations, which had been hard hit by the coronavirus pandemic.

Today the Navajo Nation reported 0 Covid-19 related deaths for the 8th day in a row!

I want to clarify in case any white people are going to try to say that the Irish were enslaved: No. 

There’s no doubting that the Irish have faced a lot of oppression throughout history, but it absolutely CANNOT be equated with the realities of chattel slavery, or even Black Codes and Jim Crow laws further down the line. If you were white and indentured, you could work to pay off your debts, and your children were not considered the property of your employer (owner). Period.

Community Care is the future I want

Hi! Are you a white person having a hard time understanding how abolishing the police works and imagining a world without police? 

I can understand that! It can be really hard to re-imagine something you've seen as permanent your entire existence. I think one of the coolest things about being people is that we have the ability to re-imagine, to change our minds and the systems in place. Because we know so much more now than the people did when they put those systems in place, to begin with. We have a tendency to look at the things that have existed and not question them. It can be easy to accept the world as it came.

But I think we're all better than this. I think we're smarter, I think we're more compassionate, and I think we deserve a society that reflects that. White Supremacy hurts EVERYONE.

A lot of people still don't know that modern US policing started as slave patrols. The reason that no amount of funding or training is going to fix the problems is that the foundation of the system is racist, the whole point was to oppress Black communities. I went to school for more hours to learn to cut hair than any police officer has in this country, and I am certain that I got more social skills training in those hours than them since their training consists of ensuring they believe every civilian is a threat. Marines have more rules of engagement. The 1925 Geneva Protocol categorized tear gas as a chemical warfare agent and banned its use in war shortly after World War I. The US police use intensive force casually.

In 2020 1,021 people were killed by officers.

This year over 200 people have been murdered by the Police.

Since 2005, Chauvin is the 8th officer convicted of murder. In that time period, there have been over 16,000 killings.

No amount of training can undo that. 

So... White folks hollering but "WHO WILL PROTECT US?!" Open your eyes. They do not "protect and serve." Open your minds. Open your hearts.

It is long past time for us to re-examine what community protection and care look like.

I love this website: dontcallthepolice.com

It is being constantly updated with new cities and resources communities can call instead of the cops. Take a look for resources in your cities and communities. Check the event calendar too! There are some great learning opportunities through virtual workshops. 

This is how we start.

Pointless Storytime with Tara!

Pointless Storytime with Tara!

So mom and I are masked up, waiting in the car for our Covid vaccines (an incredibly efficient process, I must say!) So there we are, just sittin in the car waiting in our car line; there is lots of movement outside the vehicles and in the tents ahead of us and I am trying to mind my own business and not stare at people too much (i havent seen this many people all in one place in a very long time).

So there I am just focusing on minding my own business so I dont out myself as too feral to socialize but I get the feeling I am being watched. I notice a group of military clad humans looking in our direction and I panic a bit (because I had forgotten what it feels like to be perceived). Naturally my panic increases because I GOT CAUGHT!!! (doing what?! IDK!! People in UNIFORM NOTICED ME)!  One of the watchers starts making their way over to my opened window. It was the same kind older Black gentleman who asked me a bunch of questions just a few minutes earlier, but had problems entering my information with his stylus into the Ipad looking device. 

Despite my discomfort with all men in uniform, this man was really quite endearing. But now, he’s headed back my direction. He is still in uniform and so are all his friends. Who are all still percieving me! Did the device not work? Is it me? Maybe I am ineglible!? Did they run my license? Is there a warrant out for my arrest? Maybe I smelled like an extracurricular activity?! Why are they all still looking at me??! I must have done something!

He approaches the window, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Khaleesi?”

nope, never heard that one before

Action

Nothing happens if you don’t do anything. To wait for things to happen is to be a passive participant in your own life. Do you want to look at your life in 50 years and wonder what if? If you don’t seek out experiences or intellect, they will not always find you. The universe is gracious with her gifts, that is for certain, but she does not reward those who do not try. 

I used to sit and wait patiently for opportunities to be offered to me. Someone out there would notice that I am special, wouldn’t they? No one ever did. But I knew all along that there was something there, inside of me, and I was the one who was in control of it. My life and its outcomes are determined by me. My actions and choices. My thoughts, my conversations. How I choose to spend my “leisure” time. Would I invest in myself by gaining more to aide in my growth, or would I sit in complacency and take a gamble on who I’d become? No. 

I have a voice, and I have a vision. And the greatest thing about life is the ability to choose. I get to choose how I spend my time, therefore I get a say in the kind of person I will become. I want to become a strong and resilient person, I want to continue gaining intellect and compassion. I want to continue learning how I can be a better ally and participant in our so often awful society. 

I choose to act. I hope you do too.

Friendly Reminder

I wonder when the trend of men telling women they’re “too intense,” “too sensitive,” or “too emotional” instead of dealing with the terrible inconvenience that is women and their completely rational and valid emotions will end. Probably never.

But!

Friendly reminder that there’s a big difference between being ruled by emotions and understanding that emotions are valid to have and worthy of discussing. 

Disappointed but not surprised

I’m not surprised to be disappointed, not anymore. Not after the past few years. How could I? The world sometimes seems as though it’s crumbling but I wonder if it’s always been this terrible. Not long ago it could take months to send and receive information. We just now have the gift of connectivity and we’re able to share correspondence and information in seconds. 

This is both good and bad. For one, the internet and the ability to connect with others from across the globe who felt similar, or the same. I learned a lot on the message boards that turned into platforms like tumblr and twitter. I learned substantially more on the internet than I ever did in school, and still, quite a bit of my learning comes from things I encounter online. But in the same ways that I connected, learned, grew and became, so did many others. And a lot of those people, in my opinion, learned bad stuff. Thats the thing. It’s hard to know where to learn good stuff. True stuff. Honest stuff. 

I grew up in the south but I spent one year of high school in the northeast. I had learned about the civil war my freshman year, but because the curriculum was different I learned about it again but from northern textbooks. I wasn’t told the truth my freshman year. My sophomore year I learned a different perspective and still I didn’t ever learn the whole story, not in public school anyway.

I am disappointed to say that I believe people have always been terrible. Terrible to themselves and terrible to each other. I don’t know why and studies have been done to come to a sincere conclusion but ultimately cannot be determined.

I have a few ideas, though. The things that frustrate me considerably are simple: colonialism, white supremacy, capitalism, lack of respect, lack of integrity, false information, and patriarchal standards (for starters). Some folks would disagree with my feelings. These people fucking love capitalism. Course they do! They’re the ones benefitting from it- regardless of whether they say they’re “socially liberal and fiscally conservative.” There is no such thing. To be something you’ve gotta back it up. Words are slight in comparison to money. Money is what makes power. 

People have always done terrible things for power. Things like money, religion, ego. Isn’t it funny how those same group has used those same things to control the lives of everyone else since forever? 

This takes me back to my original point. People have always been shitty, but people have always been good too. I find myself on occasion drifting into despair. Sometimes it really does feel hopeless. It’s important to take some time to rest when necessary but not stop fighting. 

There are some things that I feel in my bones to be true. The pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness to ALL people. I struggle to understand why so many people want less for everybody else if it means they get a little bit more. If I have a 6 pack, it’ll be way more fun to share it with 6 others than it would be to drink it all myself. Why does it matter if other people have just a little bit more opportunity when the same people who would take that away are the ones with more than a small person like me can even comprehend? People who hold onto millions of anything would be considered a hoarder, but not when it comes to money. All I’m saying is that if you’re peering into my cup it had better be to make sure I have enough, not to make sure you have more than me otherwise I’m not interested in having you around.

I’ve been struggling lately with the weight of teaching folks things that I feel like they should already be taught. I don’t know whether my time and energy is being put to good use by trying to educate the ignorant on things they could google themselves, but while I do love the internet, I don’t always trust that those seeking information will be taken to the right places. I worry that if I’m not there to teach them, how could I trust they are gathering the right information to form opinions? But then I wonder why this is my responsibility at all.

And then I remember that it is because it cannot be. I can be useful to humanity so yes, for all the terrible people that exist who do terrible things, I’m not that quick to turn away. I want to have tough conversations and I want to push buttons. I want to engage in conversations with those on the other side. I want to understand how and why a person can think such different thoughts. I want to confront a liar with his lie and not back down until an answer is given. I want to force integrity and information from those who would rather spew lies and hate. I will bring science and information as my ammunition. History is on my side to those with open eyes. My job is to help people open. I will always engage and I don’t care who it makes uncomfortable.

I am uncomfortable all the time. This world we’re living in is uncomfortable for me and the only way to do anything is to get comfortable being uncomfortable and continuing to bring ya’ll into the conversation.

Thanks for continuing the conversations.

#Me Too

It takes a long time to unlearn problematic behavior, and all of us have been taught problematic behavior because we come from a problematic society. Boys are taught that it’s cute to pick on girls, so those boys grow up to be aggressive and it’s presented as charming. Boys are taught to manipulate young girls so then they grow up to be men who manipulate and abuse women (and people of all genders). Human beings are the only creature on the planet who cause harm to each other for any reason other than survival. The behavior of all of these men has been accepted in our society for long enough, and it’s time to call it out and call it off. 

We must continue to speak out about bad behavior and hold folks accountable, but I think it’s important to draw a line between. There are those who can be taught, who are still learning, and then there are those who have used and abused their power for decades. Kavanaugh, Trump, and men like them make the rules for the Brock Turners of the world, who in turn, grow into men like Kavanaugh and Trump. 

It’s not just these famous guys who are behaving this way, it’s an epidemic. Because for a long time, this type of behavior has been accepted as just part of life as a woman. But #TimesUp and we’re holding men to a higher standard that I believe is reachable. 

When I was in middle school, I broke my foot running away from a group of boys who were bullying me. They eventually caught up to me where they pinned me to a tree and showed the entire atrium my newly developed chest. They laughed then, and nearly every day after.

Nearly 12 years ago I was out with a group of friends in Atlanta. A few girlfriends and I were having a good time on the dance floor until an unknown man picked me up and he attempted to leave with me over his shoulder as I yelled and hit him. My male friends came to my rescue. I wished I could have rescued myself.

The time that I was wearing a dress, walking through a crowded room, and felt a strange hand on my bare bottom and flick towards the goods before I even realized what was happening. I turned around and yelled but no one even noticed.

The times I had sex with boys because that’s what I was “supposed to do,” after I had been raped by my boyfriend and people told me that wasn’t possible.

The time I was thrown against a wall and choked. For all those times I wished I had been strong enough, or brave enough, or clever enough. 

All those times that I held a friend as they cried in my arms trying to come to terms with what had happened to them. me with words that were utterly useless because it had happened to me, too.

All those times that my friends and teachers told me that when a boy picked on me that meant he liked me I was taught to romanticize bad behavior. 

The time I got sent home from school because my shoulders were a distraction to the boys. The only thing I learned that day was that my body was to be ashamed of and that the boy’s education was more important than my own, that I was responsible for his lack of ability to focus, not him. 

All those times that I didn’t say no when I wanted to because I felt that I was supposed to. My body was not mine, and I had no control over it.

As women, we’ve been conditioned to keep quiet, to be polite. To smile instead of saying no. To lie and say “no i have a boyfriend,” because a man respects someone else’s ownership over my body more than my own ownership of myself.

That’s because when we speak out, we have been shut down. We’ve been told to “prove it.” We’ve been told, “boys will be boys.” Countless men can come out against the Catholic church and nobody ever made them relive their most horrific experiences over and over again just to prove it.

We’re out to get all of these men for their mistakes, and we should be. But let us not forget how problematic we all are. I hear things every day from well-intentioned and well-educated people that make my insides turn. I have said things myself that make me sick to think I ever considered. We’re at a turning point in our culture where we can condemn all of these mistakes, pretend like they’re all the same, or we can continue on with compassion for those who are still learning, those who want to learn. Some will never learn. Harvey Weinstein and Woody Allen and the likes of them have no compassion from me. But I hope for potential in a few of the others. 

We’ve been taught since infancy these social standards and what is considered acceptable behavior, often based on perceived gender. I’m proud that we’re having these conversations, that bad behavior is being called out, but what I truly hope for is an infectious education of the general public. We have to take responsibility, as a culture, a community, for perpetuating the idea that if a man is charming, his assault is a joke to be brushed off. That’s how it’s often played. We know the game but I am not playing anymore.

We are all responsible for teaching, for saying no, for setting boundaries, and for holding ourselves and each other to higher standards of what is acceptable behavior

I’d trade racists for refugees any day of the week

Just this week, the President tweeted suggesting that the cold weather the country faces is because climate change has deserted us and we need it back. The spread of willful misinformation is not just bad politics, it’s also very dangerous.

Studies show the countries most affected by climate change are the ones who are the least responsible for it. The impacts of climate change affect every country on every continent. The increased frequency and intensity of extreme weather events like hurricanes, wildfires, and droughts threaten food supplies, drive people from their homes, separate families & jeopardize livelihoods. All of these effects increase the risk of conflict, hunger, and poverty. 

As climate change-induced events become more and more frequent, floods will displace communities, leaving them in search of shelter. As the sea levels continue to rise, communities near the coasts will be forced to move. Changes brought on by deforestation, overgrazing, and drought will continue to destroy crops and kill livestock. Farmers and their families will be forced to move to find new work and new land. All the while, one third of the planets land is no longer fertile enough to grow food.

One of the biggest reasons for deforestation is to create more land for crops and agriculture, but deforestation also drives climate change. Forest soils are moist, but without protection from tree cover, they quickly dry out. Trees help perpetuate the water cycle by returning water vapor to the atmosphere. Without trees to fill these roles, many former forest lands can quickly become barren deserts which, dramatically changes the ecosystems that have been flourishing for centuries.

Climate change places compounded stress on our environment, as well as our economic, social and political systems. No matter the form, climate change undermines development gains and leads to shortages in basic necessities, especially for the poor.

Nearly everywhere I look in the (white) world there seems to be an issue with immigrants. Whether it Great Britain, America, Denmark, or Australia, the fear stems from far-right populist ideals. 

So it makes me wonder when these nations are inhabitable because of the greed of corporations who continue to feed the notion that climate change is not real, and if it is, it is the fault of the individual, so therefore the individual must combat it herself. But no amount of recycling that I, an individual, can do will ever alleviate the impact of the 100 companies who are responsible for 71% of global emissions since 1988.

We’re too far gone for significant change to be made by the individuals, and the corporate government in place refuses to act in the best interest of our combined future. And so when these nations are no longer inhabitable, who will offer them refuge?

There is no plan(et) B

I have searched for ages for the right passage to describe how I feel about Mother Earth, but nothing ever seems to do the complexities any justice. I always assumed someone must have already said the things I’d like to say, and certainly they must have said them better, but as I grow older my tastes and interests become more specific, and I dare not share something that is not undeniably true to me.

I think the closest anybody came was Wallace Stegner when he said, “I only really want to say that we may love a place and still be dangerous to it.”

I love the world in the ways in which I believe a thing should be loved. I love it unconditionally, with the knowledge that it is not for me to hold onto for myself, but to strive to save what is left of it so that others may experience that kind of love. Nature is not worth protecting so that we may benefit from it, it is for our children, and their children.

I have found myself lost in nature only to find myself not lost at all. I have walked many miles with nothing but the sound of the wild and my own footsteps to keep me company. John Muir said “I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” And he was right. To walk and stand in in the wilderness is to feel something that has become uncommon, it can only benefit to go back to where we became. 

Have you ever stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon and peered in? Taken a moment where the ocean meets the land? Humanity needs now, more than ever, to remember where we have come from, and see how far we have yet to go.  The world is a magnificent and magical place. We have a responsibility to protect the lands laced with culture and history, even if you (falsely) believe that history is not yours. We need to re-examine our history as a people so that we can understand the importance of the lands we inhabit and how much farther we have yet to go.

We stole these lands from people who appreciated them and we have done more damage than we can repair. This Earth is not ours, we are borrowing it from those we stole it from, and from the many generations to come. We owe them far more than to use the Earth’s resources to depletion. If we want any hope for the betterment of the world, we have to make our planet safe and we have to do it yesterday. We should to allow ourselves the ability to reconnect with our respect for the natural world before it’s too late.

Go outside. Sit in silence with the Earth and listen to what she tells you. Take a new trail and get yourself a little lost, discover that spending time is nature is being found. Connect with and learn from Her. Find your own wild places that feel comfortable and stand up to protect them.

Different me, different you

Isn’t it wild

to think that there’s a different version of you running around in every person you’ve interacted withs mind?

I could be somebody completely different to each and every one of you, and those versions of me could be so vastly different than the person I see myself as. One of my biggest fears as a human person has always been being misunderstood. But truly, all any of us can do is have integrity behind the things that we say and the actions we take. We can let our actions speak for themselves, or we can waste away trying to explain our motives and choices to people who are committed to misunderstanding us.

We cannot control other’s perceptions of us. The Controllable vs. Uncontrollable. We’re all just out here in this crazy world humaning the best that we can. And for that, I applaud you. Many of you. I think you’re doing great, and your actions often speak for themselves.