Underneath my yellow skin

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Labels and dating, part seven

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I’m back! And this time I am definitely going to talk about dating and labels. For sure. I am not going to veer off onto another topic and talk about that for over a thousand words. That is not like me at all, and I won’t deviate from the path at all in this post, either.

In the last post, I actually touched on dating, which was what I’ve wanted to talk about for the past few posts. If I were in my ideal world, this is the ad I would write. “I”m looking for a fuck buddy or three. Hit me up if you’re interested.”

That’s the basic gist of what I want, but, of course, we don’t live in an ideal world so I have to qualify that statement to get closer to what I really want. First of all, no Republicans. That is still my unberakable will not tolerate. Even more so now than when I dated thirty years ago, just no. Anyone who is a Republican in this day and age is on the wrong side of history. There is no moderation in today’s Republican Party. They are trying to destroy me and my kin; why the hell would I want to be a part of that?

Back when Marriage Equality was being debated, some Republicans were clutching their pearls and bleating about how uncivilized the queers were being in what they (we) said. “Why can’t we be civil about this?” They would say in earnest.

Because, motherfuckers, there’s nothing civil about trying to classify me as not a human being deserving of basic human rights. Our words may be uncivil, but your beliefs are worse. Besides, it’s not as if they would listen to us if we just used nicer words. Believe me, I’ve being fighting this fight for thirty years along with several other concerning civil rights. We are in danger of losing many of the rights we have gained over the last few decades, which breaks my heart.

And it’s made me draw a hard line in the sand. If you’re part of the current Republican Party, then you’re actively against me as a human being with equal rights to you. I do not have to date that if I don’t want to, and I most definitely do not want to.

By the way, the ‘both sides are bad’ people irritate the fuck out of me, too. No, both sides are not equally bad. I’m not saying either side is particularly great, but there is one side that is actively trying to strip me of my civil rights. There is one party that was behind the occupation of Minneapolis and the  terror it wrought on my home state.

This is something I touched on previous posts. When it comes to dating, people are allowed to be as discriminatory as possible. In fact, it always makes me chuckle  darkly when people tell me I have to give someone a chance. Interestingly, men usually say it with the belief that women and perceived women don’t have the right to turn down anyone who shows interest in them. The woman should be flattered! Especially when she’s not conventionally attractive.

The women who used to tell me I should give any guy a shot were coming at it from a different point of view–that any man was better than none. But they also believed that any man who had the courage to ask me out deserved a chance. “You never know!”


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One more post about labels, part six

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I still have one more post about labels in me s so let’s go! I’ve been planning on writing about labels when it comes to dating for the past two posts, but, well, that’s not what I ended up writing about. In the last post, I talked about labels I use for myself that I’m mostly fine with, including bi, Taiwanese American, and areligious. I don’t love two of them (bi, and areligious0, but they do the job. The other one (Taiwanese American) is factual, which makes it fine*.

I was going to say that in writing a dating profile, I would like to be able to avoid labels completely and not include a picture–but then I realized that’s not exactly true. What I want to do is avoid the people (ahem, men) who loooooooooooove Asian women and send me pics of their dicks unasked for, and, indeed, unwanted.

This was my experience the last time I tried to use the dating apps, and it was really dispiriting. I explicitly said that I did not want anyone who had an Asian fetish and DO NOT SEND DICK PICS. The  vast majority of responses I got ignored both of these edicts.

In a twisted way, it’s a blessing because they are just self-selecting out. If I didn’t have to actually see the dick pics, I would be ok with that. This was decades ago, so I don’t know if there are strictures in place on apps now that do not allow unsolicited dick picks to go through. I would think there should be a way to do that, but I’m not a tech person.

PSA: Guys. My dudes. I rarely make blanket statements, but this is one I’m more than comfortable in making . Do not send unsolicited dick pics. Period. There is no exception to this, and you are certainly not it. (I know there are guys out there who think their dicks are just that special; trust me, they aren’t.)

PSA II: Your dick really really isn’t that special. For many people who are not dudes but like dicks, it’s a specific dick that is attractive and not just dicks in general. I know for many straight dudes, any tits and/or pussy will do. But even then, I think more of them would be weirded out by random pic of them out of the blue. It can be disconcerting, and especially when you were not asking for it nor especially in the mood for it.

Again, I don’t know how common or acceptable that is now, but back in the Wild West days of PlentyofFish, it was rampant. I would hazard that I got a dick pic for at least one out of four responses I got. And the “I loooooooove Oriental girls” response ratio was much higher.

I was talking about this with my brother when he started dating again. Not the specifics of my travails, but how now that we were in our mid-fifties, we were much more certain about what we wanted and didn’t.

When I talked about this with my Taiji teacher today, I mentioned how as she knew, I liked being alone. So anyone I dated needed to add something to my life and not make it more stressful. When I was in my twenties, I was told that I needed to settle. Basically, that any man was better than none, and the worst fate that could befall me was ending up alone.

After several disastrous relationships, I would have to disagree with that. It’s much worse being with someone who is disdainful of/tired of you than being by myself. In fact, I love being by myself. It’s the only time I can relax and be me. I miss my Shadow (still) more than I can say, but that’s not the same as living with another human.


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When labels are actually useful, part two

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This is part two about when labels are actually helpful and necessary. Here is my post from yesterday in which I was musing about the times when a label actually helped rather than hurt (or just annoyed me). In general, it’s in the medical field when I find useful. If there’s something wrong  with my body or my brain, it’s a relief to know what that is. It’s easier to treat something if you actually know what that something is (and you don’t think it’s all in the patient’s mind).

It’s also helpful when it’s something like autism that marks me as different (though not ‘defective’ as health issues might). I cannot tell you the relief I felt when I realized that much of what I thought was wrong with my brain was in fact something medical (as autism is). It didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have to deal with it (because of course I would still have to do that), but it meant that it was something that was just different–not necessarily wrong.

I think if there’s one thing I could convey to other people who are different for various reasons that have nothing to do with good and bad as defined by Christians, you are glorious the way you are. That’s not to say that you won’t have to mask at times or that you’ll never have to smooth your edges to get along with society, but it is saying that much of that is arbitrary and there may never be a legit reason for it.

One thing I think people who are neurodivergent often have to do is  calculate how much of the weirdness they want to let out and at wwhat cost. This is especially true at work, which, by the way. I have a gripe (because of course I do).

There’s been a movement to bring your whole/authentic self to work. It was supposed to mean that people who were minorities and (including neurodivergent) should be able to be more themselves at work. Meaning that they should not have to heavily mask all the time. Or, as a very basic example, black women should be able to wear hairstyles that are a part of their culture without getting punished for it.

It was not nor has it ever been a way to say that everyone should let it all hang out at work. I am so frustrated that this is what people now think it means. “No one wants to see someone’s ugly side at work!” Well, no, but that’s never what it meant in the first place. It was supposed to be a way for minorities to feel less burdened at work for being so different than the norm.

I know that’s how these things work on the internet, though. The least-generous interpretation of a term (read, the one that the majority fixates on) is the one that eventually wins out and becomes the definition of that term.

Sigh.

Anyway.

I realize it’s still difficult for me to really let my guard down with people because I have had negative reactions to the real me more often than not. I’m not just a little different–I’m a lot different.


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When labels are actually useful

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I’ve made it pretty well known that I do not like labels for the most part. I find them restrictive, reductive, and sometimes, misleading. However, there is one time when I find labels useful. That’s when it comes to health, physical and mental. Let me explain.

When I was in my twenties, I had what I thought was really bad carpal tunnel syndrome in my right wrist. It was logical to think that was what it was because I typed a lot (and I mean excessively), and I didn’t always pracice good typing posture (and by that, I mean I never use good typing posture. I let my wrists collapse more often than I should. I did have a wrist rest, but I relied on it too much).

I had a soft cast for months, but it did not help. Nothing else helped, etiher. None of the exercises that the doctors recommended did one bit of good. After my GP could not find what was wrong with me, she sent me to a specialist. I don’t remember what kind of specialist, but I do remember what happened.  He listened to my tale of woe without saying anything. Without a word, he grabbed my thumb and yanked it backwards; I jumped about ten feet into the air.

“You don’t have carpal tunnel,” he announced as he wrote something down. “You have ______.” I don’t remember the name of it beacuse it was long, and I had never heard of it before. I don’t remember what he did for it, either, but whatever it was did the trick. I no longer had pain in my wrist, and I still don’t to this day.

Another time was when whichever doctor/therapist told me I had depression. or did I realize it on my own? Either way, being able to have a name for what I was feeling was such a relief. It wasn’t just all in my head! I mean, it was, but it was an actual thing–not me just making shit up.

Same with a friend gently suggesting that maybe I had autism. Suddenly, so many things made sense. Like me being too sensitive, me having sensory issues, me not being able to look people in the eyes. For me, putting a name to a bunch of disparate issues and being able to realize they were actually A Thing and, again, not just something I made up in my head was invaluable.

K and I had an argument about mental health. Not about the fact that it matters or the fact that we both have issues with our own mental health. It was about how far should we as a society go when it comes to mental health issues. She was uncomfortable with how much medication was happening these days.

She said that when we were kids, we just dealt with our issues because we had to. I pointed out in a less-than-calm manner that some of us didn’t deal with it well–and, indeed, that somepeople did not deal with it at all (meaning, we have lost so many people to mental health issues). I also said that if I had known more about my issues when I was a kid and how to deal with them, I would be in a better place now.

We got heated. Voices were raised. It’s the closest we’ve gotten to a fight in our thirty years of friendship. Once we calmed down, we found the common ground as we always do.

Her concern was that people with mental health issues still had to get through each day and go about their lives. If they focused too much on the mental health issues themselves, they might get stuck. I saw her point. There’s a thin line between focusing on your issues in order to work on them and obsessing over them.

On the other hand, if you don’t know what the problem is, you can’t deal with it. I lost decades because I didn’t know I was neurodivergent. I mean, I had a hunch, but all the outside signs ponited to it not being true. Because I was heavily emotionally punished if I dared think my own feelings and emotions mattered, and I was castigated for being too sensitive, I don’t act autistic–whatever that means.

In addition, the stereotypical view of an autistic person is based on male traits, and I never thought that there might be any other portrayal of autism. Once I was told to look traits of autistic women and other nonmale people, things started falling into place.

Just as I changed my bother’s life by casually mentioning his autism (assuming that he already knew about it), a friend of mine did the same for me. My brother immediately accpted what I said to him, looked it up, and told me a few months later that it made total sense. He has the classic (and stereotypical) traits of autism–and I’ve known it for several decades.

Me, on the other hand, I have none of the stereotypical traits–at least on the surface. I am told I’m too empathic, if anything; too sensitive; too emotional; and just too much in general.

All of that is a cover and learned behavior, though. Well, not the too sensitive thing. That’s just me, but that’s actually a symptom of autism–hypersensitivity, I mean. I just read that 90% of children with autism experience sensory hypersensitivity. Most of the research on autism has been done on kids, which is unfortunate. And on men. But that’s not unusual in, well, anything.

Once my friend brought up the possibility that I might be autistic, so many things made sense. So. Many. Damn. Things. And once things slid into place, I became so goddamn angry at society for not giving me a fucking clue that I might be autistic. The problem is that I’ve been masking so hard and for so long, it’s nearly impossible for me to unmask. It’s one reason I prefer being alone. That’s the only time I can just be me.

Well, one of the only times. When I’m with my closest friends, I can let down the mask somewhat. But that’s it. Otherwise, it’s on 100% of the time. And part of that is, apparently, people tell me shit about their lives that I would prefer not to know. I have one of those faces that say, “Tell me everything about you, starting with when you were five years old.”

Even when I tried to cut people off, it didn’t seem to matter. Now, I just roll with it since I don’t go out much any more.

More tomorrow.

Last post about labels; no, really, part five

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I have one last (ha) post about labels in me. The ha is beacuse I have way more than that in me, but that’s what I’m going to limit myself to fro now*. I’m so tired of talking about labels, but I feel I have to as long as they have such an outsized effect on on society and what happens to marginalized people.

Side note: I’m playing a demo, a walking sim/graphic novel/something along that line, and it asked me for my gender. I sighed in hopelessness because  I have never–wait, what? I can put in my own pronouns? And I can just put in my name (my character name–mulan rogue. I always use that name as my character name), mulan when need be? The only one that tripped me up was possessive because it’s not an easy one to get around. I mean possessive as in “Dana said the house was _____ (hers, yours, his, theirs). I just put a period. Or maybe I just put ‘mulan’ again. Plus Mx. for a honorific. I considered not putting any (which I assume you could also do), but I like Mx. as a honorific. I mean like as in I would actually choose it, and not reluctantly.

Of course, it’s not used very much and most people don’t seem to like it. Story of my life, really. Me choosing the thing that people don’t like. Or being a part of a group that is most overlooked. I wish I was doing it on purpsoe because then it wouldn’t frustrate me as much–or at all. Instead, I just sigh quietly to myself–or not so quietly because I live alone–and just go about my day.

I have tried all my life to find labels that I didn’t hate with all my heart. I mean, at first I wanted to find labels that actually described me, but I tamped down my expectations after struggling for so many years. I just gave up on even trying after a while. It was less frustration, that way, believe me. Except bisexual/bi. That one still annoys me enough that I revisit it now and again.

I keep thinking I can find a better term, but I can’t. I would love to just leave it at ‘queer’, but as I have said, that’s been taken to mean gay. Yes, I could explain every time I used it that I hdidn’t mean gay, but that’s not something I want to do. I really dislike pansexual (common) and omnisexual (not common). I can’t think of anything else, sadly, so I reluctantly keep bi. I use it to mean those like me and those not like me. I have said that I would just like to use ‘sexual’, but we all know that would not work out well. At all.


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Yet more about labels, part four

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Yes, I’m back to talk more about labels. It’s still bothering me, and I need to write about it until I get it out of get it out of my system. It may take some time because I’m mad and gonna stay mad. I mean, I’m going to be mad for a long time because we have nearly three more years of this bullshit, and we’ll be dealing with it probably until I permanently die. It’s not going to be easy to cleanup the mess, if we can do it at all. Yes, I’m afraid this president might bring the fall of this country. Honestly, that might be preferably to what remains afterwards. Here is my post from yessterday since this is a continuation of that. Somewhat.

Every time I check the nnews, there is just more atrocities that this president is committing. Him and his whole team. I can’t even celebrate what feels like it should be a win (Noem getting canned) because I know it just means someone worse in coming in.

I also can’t trust anything this president or his team says. Like the fact that they are using ICE officers in the airport. Theyi’re not there to deport anyone, they claim, but just to help TSA. Everyone say it with me, “Riiiiiiiiiiiight.”

Look. I am not naive. It’s not like I completely trust any president–not even Obama, who I consider to be the best president in my lifetime. I know they are politicians who will say or do whatever they can to hold onto their power. Even if I believed that they believed what they were saying and doing, you had to have more than a healthy ego to be president. You just do. In order to think you were whatever enough to lead one of the most powerful countries in the world, you had to be very confident, to say the least.

Back to labels. I am at the point where I think I’m ready to give them all up. I mean, I have been for decades, but it’s more in protest this time.

This is where I get caught up, though. Because I know how important it is to fight for rights as a minority. I know that deemphasizing labels if not done in a thoughtful way only hurt those who were already marginalized. I know that we have to speak up for all our kinfolk, even if they are not our skinfolk.

I know all this, and yet, I just want to say, “Fuck it.” I am tired of fighting the same goddamn fight I’ve been fighting since I was in my twenties. Yes, we made progress, but then we have slid so far back again. A part of me is like, “Why the fuck does it even matter?” But then I remember how Minneapolitans stood up to the federal government–and won.


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Put a label on this, part three

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I’m down for one more post about labels and why, while I hate them, they are necessary. I guess. The “I guess” is for the last part, because I’m not sure they are necessary. Or rather, I know we have to have them in general, but do we need to use them to the extent we do? I’m honestly not  sure. That’s what I want to explore in this post. I’m frustrated with, well, everything right now. The state of the world is shitty. I mean, that’s a given at any time, really, but there are times that are worse than others. This is most definitely one of those times. Here is my post from yesterday in which I mostly talk about how I don’t fit in with society. How that’s related to labels you’ll just have to wait and see.

I check the news one or two times a day, and it’s always grim. At least in the States. Every bit of news is more depressing than the last, especially for certain demos to which I belong. It’s just bleak and bleaker with no hope of relief. Sure, there are brief rays of light like when Noem got canned, but the person who’s going to replace her isn’t any better. Maybe less of an an attention-seeker, but that’s not necessarily better.

It’s hard. I don’t necessarily want competent people in these positions because then they can do more damage, but the incompetent people do a ton of damage as well. I guess it’s just what kind of damage I want them to do (ideally, none, but that’s not going to happen).

It’s just really depressing that we have regressed so much in the last year. It’s only been a year and a bit! But even more depressing that more than half of the people who voted actually voted for this hellscape. they can tell themselves any lies they want, but they did this. No, I’m not accepting the bullshit we all caused this to happen. My brother tried to pull that on me. “This is what we voted for.” No. Hell to the fuck no. I did not vote for this. I have voted against this kind of thing ever since I could first vote. I have consistently voted agains this kind of thing. I don’t accept any responsibility, and it’s this kind of false equivalence that we need to stomp out.

Do Dems need to do better in recruiting for our side? Yes. Do we need to make our message fresh and relevant? Also yes. Do we need to crunch our message down into  easy to understand bite sizes? Very much yes. But what we do not need to do is accept blame for something that is not our fault. I did NOT get this guy elected. I reject that will my whole body, heart, and soul.


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More about labels and why I fucking hate them, part two

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In my last post, I was going to talk about why I didn’t like labels, but pretty much only talked about Guess vs. Ask culture and sexism. Both of those are very important and related to the topic at hand, but they weren’t what I wanted to focus on; I’m going to try again. Oh, and I wanted to include why labels are important, but I never even got close to that.

Here are the lablels I have reluctantly chosen for myself: Asian/Taiwanese American; PoC; bisexual/queer; agender; areligious; and ENM. I would also say I’m aromantic, but that’s not something I consider a necessary part of my identity. Let’s add neurospicy to that list.

I don’t like PoC. I don’t know what I would use instead, though, as I have not liked any of the other terms for minorities. Multicultural was fine, but not really an apt description. Plus, I don’t feel an alliance with other PoC because when people use that term, they usually just mean Black people. Taiwanese American is the best fit here.

Sexual identity: queer is my first choice. But, again, unfortunately most people assume it means gay. We leave in such a binary world; it’s really disheartening to me. I still call myself queer, but if I need to be more specific, I will reluctantly use bi. I’m not happy about it, and I’ve never really liked it. Especially now that there are more than two genders, it’s not the best. I and other bi people tend to use it as ‘people like me and people not like me’, but that’s a lot of explaining to do when talking with nonqueers about it. I used to joke that I would rather just call myself sexual and be done with it.

Also, when I first came out thirty years ago, there was a strong push to emphasize that bis didn’t want to fuck everyone just because we could, in theory, do so. I get it. Respectability was a big issue back then (still is, but in a different way). Queer people really wanted to emphasisze being just like straight people except for who we loved.

Which, yeah, I get it. Racial minorities also have that strong impulse. It makes sensre to a certain extent. You want to emphasize the similarities because that’s a good way to create bonds. This has always been the tension within a minority group–to try to be as like the majority as possible or outright rebel.

There are people who can pass and people who can’t. There are people who could pass, but choose not to. It’s a spectrum, really, and I fall more on the ‘can pass’ side as long as I don’t act up. Heh. This is in gender identity. People assume I’m a woman because of my big boobs and long hair. At this point because of the terrible mess that is my country, I’m just going to leave it at that.


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Let’s talk about labels (and why I hate them)

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Subtitle: But why they are necessary

Yes, I want that all in one tittle, but I’m not a monster. If I want three titles in one, that’s my business!

I’ve talked about labels often before, but I feel it’s important to bring it up again. Why? Because I really wish there was a way to get rid of them, and not in a “No Labels” kind of way. I know they are important in order to talk with each other because you simply cannot talk about each individual situation without a common knowledge bond between you and the person you’re talking to. In fact, that’s the basis for many miscommunications–cultureal differences. A basic example is Ask v. Guess culture. I live in a Guess culture with another Guess culture as my heritage.

Guess culture is where you never say anything directly to each other. There’s an elaborate dance you have to do in order to get your point across. You have to be alert to nuance and know the language before you go into any encounter. I have an example that I always give.

Many moons ago, I had a Taiji classmate who was from the South. She was also a pastor’s wife. One day in class, she was complaining because she had planned some kind of dinner or party (probably at church), and several people said they would go. Only one person showed up, and she was so miffed.

I listened to her for a few minutes and then asked what the parishioners acutally said when she invited them to the party/dinner event. I asked how many of them literally said they would come. She said one. The rest said things like, “I need to check my calendar”; “I need to ask my husband”; “It sounds like fun; I’ll get back to you”, etc. In Midwest speak, all of those are soft noes. I told her that if they didn’t unequivocally say yes, it was a no.

I get how that can beconfusing if you’re not from the culture. But, if you are part of the culture, then it’s clear as day. While I’m from that culture, I tend to be more direct in some ways. But, I can play the game when need be.

In Ask culture, the motto is, “Just ask. The worst they can say is no.” It’s clear and direct, and it can be refreshing when everyone is on the same page. There is no guessing or trying to read the room, looking for nuance in every exchange. You know where you stand. And, again, as long as everyone is on the same page, there is a lower chance for misunderstanding.

I’m sure you noticed how much I qualified the latter because everyone invoved has to really be on the same page for it to work. I said that I’m more Ask than Guess, but I think it really depends on the situation. With friends, I’m pretty straightforward because I trust them to not take me the wrong way. But with people I don’t know, I am much more cautious.

Ok. That went for much longer than I wanted, but whatever.


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Stick your labels where the sun don’t shine (part three)

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I’m back to talk more about labels. I know they’re needed and useful, but I would prefer to do away with them. Here is the post from yesterday in which I veered hard into talking about horror games for a bit. Why? Why not. Because it was spooky season, and while I enjoy it, I don’t get scared by most pop media.

I have said this many times before, and I don’t quite no why. I want to emphasize that I don’t count jumpscares in that my body jerking involuntarily is not fear; it’s a startle response. Also, it’s the cheapest way to get a ‘scare’, and I don’t approve. Making my body jump is not the same as scaring me; I will die on that hill. I will also add that I don’t recoil; I don’t screech; and I don’t freak out in any way. In fact, sometimes, I don’t even externally jump.

It’s not a flex; I swear. I’m just born different. I always have had weird responses to things (again, probably a neurospicy thing) so I just don’t process things the same way other people do. I used to wonder why, and it wasn’t until I was in my thirties that I realized it was something with my brain. Not that it was broken, but maybe ADHD?

Side note: I’m glad we’re moving away from just citing the stereotypical symptoms that happen to white boys when talking about neurodiversity. I’m bitter that I might have clocked onto it sooner if I had known that the oft recited symptoms weren’t the only ones, by any mean.

I think that’s one of the reasons I’m chary about labels, too. They put you in a box, and they don’t allow for any wiggle room. It’s one of the reasons I want to opt out of all the usual labels. I’ve said this in terms of ‘woman’. It’s like wearing an ill-fitting raincoat when it’s pouring out. Sure, it’ll keep much of the water out, but I’m still going to get wet. And I’m not going to feel good about it, either. I can’t wait to get out of it and dry off.

In other word, it’ll do in a pinch, but I don’t love it.

That’s how I feel about most labels. They’yll do in a pinch, but I don’t love them. Even the ones I choose.

When I was in college, I loved having tests that had essay questions. I can bullshit my way out of anything because I am good with words. It’s a gift, and it’s something I’m grateful for. If it’s a multiple choice quiz, though, I do horribly. Why? Because I overthink it. I can see situations in which each of the answers would be correct. That’s because most multiple choice quizzes/tests are poorly written, but that’s neither here nor there.


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