Dear sweetheart, I’m sorry if someone called you lazy. Asking for help is sacred. I want to be respectful and a safe person to ask for help. Also a safe person to say no to.
The idea of being lazy doesn’t worry me too much because I’m disabled, and I opt out of capitalism productivity tropes. I check no on that form. No one’s going to successfully shame me for not working for money, the only kind of work a lot of people acknowledge as work.
I work so hard, but not at a job or for other people. When people ask me what I do for work, I sometimes answer, “My survival is hard work.” If I smile, do they still hear me as rude?
Also I support my spouse in their survival, and my chosen family.
Rest is so important. I think lazy is a racist concept, a racist word. A way to shame the Other.
Shame is poison, and I’m not going to drink it.
fat
But come to think of it, fat has been associated with lazy. People have tried to pin “lazy” on me, but I laugh at them like I laugh at evil.
I love my beautiful transqueer, fat, disabled body unconditionally, which is a lot of work. I would prefer to love you and your sacred body unconditionally also. I’d prefer you to be my family member, if you would enjoy that someday.
words
A long time ago, a nun told me, “Inside every language is a need.” That reminded me of your idea of words as bioluminescing wants. Yes, like pyrosomes.
Also an old friend told me, “Once something is written down, it exists like a thing and is more like us.” I’m not getting that quite right, but that was the general concept. We can write down words in order to take them across the border from inner life to outer. Then we can relate.
Yes, I’ll smuggle my inner life over the border. I would help you smuggle yours also.
oops
I love nitrogen fixing, and I’m sorry people project onto nature all freakin’ day.
It’s hurt me since I was a young person and visited the San Diego Wild Animal Park. The tour guide made comments about animal lives and gender, comparing lions of a certain gender with humans of a certain gender…. It hurts how people can’t talk about important things directly, so we make jokes. That day I felt like the joke was on me.
I don’t gender right, and I don’t work in a way that’s legible to most people. My body is heavy and confuses people.
Also I have weird harm reduction, like writing this letter to you. Thank you for understanding me as much as you do, and accepting me as I am.
I’m sorry our culture’s default is violation. Let’s wiggle the default over to respect. Love is a skill we can strengthen, and I want to strengthen my skills with you. Thank you for considering.
I love you,
Strawberry
