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Anonymous: you are a pretentious prick who is also a transphobic piece of trash, go to hell



There is so much of this stuff in my ask box, and most of it not even anonymous, but I don’t want to call out any particular user because I know they’ll then get a lot of hateful asks and the cycle will just continue.

First off, there’s a comma splice in your ask. I just have to let you know that, on account of how I’m a pretentious prick.

I hope that I’m not transphobic. I’ve been public and vocal in my support for the rights of trans people for years, and I’ve tried over the years to amplify trans voices, from T Cooper to Stephen Ira Beatty, rather than pretending to be able to speak for them. 

Look, I am a person, and I am not a particularly good one. I am screwed up and make a lot of mistakes. But I am not a piece of trash. I would imagine that you are also screwed up and make a lot of mistakes, but you aren’t a piece of trash either.

But it is still hurtful—very hurtful—to hear people call me a piece of trash. It just makes me sad to hear, the way I think it would make most people sad to hear. The certainty and lack of nuance in that characterization reflects a broader lack of nuance in online discourse these days that just bums me out. 

Stuff like this? It’s not activism. It’s hate mongering. 

And it’s not even correct. Just because you levy an accusation at someone doesn’t make you right about it.

This is the kind of stuff that will ruin the internet, if we let it. I hope we can get ourselves together and end this so we can have good things.

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do you ever just know you typed your pasword wrong but you still press the login button

its called faith

(Source: johnfkennedy, via agentsofskye)

16/4/14, 150797 notes

I find myself tearing up as I write this post from my favorite burrito joint on the corner of Charles and Boylston. Yesterday was a day of shock as was the day a year ago - where people simply didn’t know how to react to what was going on. It was an event of terrorism unbeknown to most people. 

I remember the day after so vividly. The eery silence of the city as people attempted to continue on as if nothing happened. That creepy and horrible and more than disturbing silence. 

So as I’m sitting in my favorite burrito joint on the corner of Boylston and Charles, four blocks from where it happened, I find myself thinking about how proud I am of Boston. Because we’re all talking and that silence is full. But some of our hearts are still silent.

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