UPDATED : Racism: Bad: Sizeism: PERFECTLY OK, APPARENTLY.

(Copied over and expanded on from tumblr.)

hungergamestweets: Luna Lovegood?!?!?!? That little heifer looks like Casper the Friendly Ghost.
But of course, the rule applies. Pale skin equals innocence.

I found the above-linked blog through an article in Jezebel, and browsed through, appropriately horrified by the racism (as well as massive reading-comprehension fails) so nonchalantly displayed all over twitter. And I admired the author of this blog for calling people out on their horrific attitudes. Then I got to this post, where that same author who is outing people as racists displays a casual, hurtful attitude by calling someone — I’m guessing the actress who plays Luna Lovegood, who just had the misfortune of being mentioned by a random person on twitter — a heifer? 

Granted, I'm a little cranky today and I have a massive headache. But -- and correct me if I'm wrong, please -- isn't this a little, I don't know, HYPOCRITICAL? Now I'm not saying calling someone a heifer is comparable to calling someone a nigger. (That was painful to type out, but I did it, because that's the point, right?) But you can't call people out on a public platform for being racist and then turn around and use derogatory language about someone completely unrelated to the topic at hand, who did absolutely nothing to warrant the insult. Not to mention, if Evanna Lynch, the lovely, seemingly average-sized actress who plays Luna Lovegood is your idea of a heifer, I think you have been brainwashed by Hollywood and the fashion industry as to what people really look like. (And I won't even get started on that topic, or we will be here all day. And well into tomorrow.)

Since this tumblr doesn’t have comments enabled, I clicked the “ask me” button and submitted the following question: 

I was directed to this blog via coverage in jezebel and admired you for calling out racism on twitter. Then I got to the post where you call “Luna Lovegood” — I’m assuming the reference is to the actor who played Luna in the HP movies, since you talk about her “looks” — a “heifer.” How can you speak out against racism then be that cruel about someone else’s appearance? The comment was rude, inaccurate, and obnoxious, and it makes me take your blog as a whole far less seriously.

I'll let you know if I get a response.

UPDATE, 3/30:

Although the author of this tumblr, who now has been freaking interviewed by the New Yorker, has not responded to my email either directly or on the blog, he has removed the "heifer" comment from the post linked above. Good call, dude, but I'd prefer you own up and apologize. I have major problems with him getting attention and interviews for being horrified and outraged and willing to call out racists, while harboring other hurtful (if more socially acceptable) stereotypes. 

SECOND UPDATE:

He apologized, publicly, on the blog. Which I very much appreciate, although as I said in a tweet to his twitter feed, he doesn’t owe *me* an apology. And that’s why I’m glad he had the nerve to post a public apology, because when something blows up temporarily like this tumblr did, the responsibility not to be  massive hypocrit is toward your audience as a whole. 

He also says he didn’t mean it in a “sizeist” way, which, ok, but you’d never call someone a heifer as a term of endearment, either. I’m guessing he was upset about the content of the original tweet and used hurtful language unthinkingly, misdirecting his anger at an innocent party. I think this just points out that we all have a responsibility to be careful about language, whether we think anyone is reading what we put out here on the internet, or not. 

In which I ramble somewhat incoherently

What kind of effed-up world do we live in where people are telling us that we should be more scared of a kid in a hoodie than a maniac with a gun? Where "slut" is apparently a perfectly acceptable thing to call a woman who happens to enjoy sex, and people in long-term loving relationships are told they are what's wrong with America? Where people just go on shooting rampages because they are mentally or emotionally crippled from seeing their friends blown up or because they are indoctrinated by a certain worldview that says some people don't even count? Where if you don't agree with someone you don't ignore them them or sit down and listen to there side but instead call them every filthy thing you can think of because it's all anonymous on the internet? How did this happen?

I cannot stop thinking about the completely and utterly arsed-up state of the world and hoping that at least we are starting some kind of resistance and change by talking and protesting and making ourselves heard, which is easier than ever because hey, retweet, and I've done my part. But then I become paralyzed by my inability to comprehend and articulate how truly horrific it is that someone just shoots a child, here or in France or in Afghanistan, and I just want to protect my children from ever finding out about any of it; and then I think that if I do, I'm part of the problem because they need to grow up and be the people who make this sort of thing stop.

And if my kids are going to change the world they have to eventually become aware that not every child grows up happy and healthy with their only concerns about why we don't have their favorite Pop-tart flavor and how unfair it is that Alyssa got her ears pierced at NINE and why do I have to wait until I'm TWELVE. But how do I tell them that, and when?

Not right now, obviously. I'm not going to sit my kids down like that dumbass in the Kony video who is explaining, unprompted, to his 5-year-old about a crazed madman who kidnaps children and makes them kill other people, showing him pictures of "the bad guy," like, thanks, Dad, when I wake up screaming for weeks I hope you are there to reassure me that no one is going to come kidnap me out of my bed and make me shoot you. But I will always tell my kids the truth when they ask.

And maybe they won't want to change the world, but dammit, I hope that they do, even though I'm sorry that we've screwed it up enough that they need to change it. I hope that we are doing something right now, between the Occupy movement and marriage equality finally being a thing that can really happen and people sending knitted lady parts to their congresspersons and people speaking up, finally, about how shitty it is that we have so much and do so freaking little, but there will be so much more they will have to do.

There are things we can do but I am starting to think that the best thing we can do, in this generation and the one just behind us, is to try and raise fewer assholes, racists, misogynists, and xenophobes, and more people who speak up and speak out and are willing to listen, not just talk.

Don't pretend to your kid that skin color doesn't matter and we're all the same inside, because it's not true; don't let them think that civil rights and the feminist movement are just something in history class because if recent events prove anything, it's that it's not enough that our great-great-grandmothers got the vote; we have to keep protesting and talking and working to protect what they put themselves on the line for. It's not over.

I don't know the point of what I'm typing here, I'm just typing because the first line of this started out as a Facebook status, like "I'm so horrified about the state of the world right now that I just want to lock my children inside forever," but then I couldn't stop typing so I just kept going. It's Friday and I've had less than five hours of sleep for the last four nights in a row and that's probably a big part of the reason I can't actually formulate a constructive and supported argument or opinion, but am just typing until it seems like a good place to stop, but really, world, cut it out.

Stop being assholes to each other. I want my children to grow up and I want them to see the beautiful parts of the world and not have to deal with this shit. So stop it. Is that really so much to ask?

The walls go all the way to the floor, and some days that's all you can hope for

First day at Disneyworld: "Mom, today is going to be the BEST day. As long as I don't fall down."

Oh, Boo. My funny, frustrating youngest child. This morning she had a meltdown when I told her to stop threatening to poop on her sister and get dressed; I had to drag her out the door and into school, 10 minutes late, and she was fighting me every step of the way. Stubborn. So, so stubborn, so determined to show me that I can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do.

Waiting Game

(I imagine I'd be surprised at how many people feel this way, too, about their own lives, and this sounds more like some faux-introspective college journal entry than I intended it to. But, it's true, even if it's not original.)

When I think back on my life, it hurts me to think about how much time I've wasted, just waiting for something to happen. I'm good at waiting. I'm good at pretending, even to myself, that I'm living, when I'm really just waiting.

I spent most of high school waiting to go to college, so that my real life could start. I knew I was waiting. High school sucked; there seemed little reason to try and make something better of it.

I spent most of college waiting to graduate, so that my real life could start. College wasn't what I expected, and I didn't know how to make it better, and I was scared to try.

Extremely Local Politics

On Tuesdays, Boo has gymnastics. (Wednesdays Mimi has soccer, Thursdays we all have therapy. It's always something.) After gymnastics, because Tuesdays are also "kids-eat-free" days at several area restaurants, we usually go out to eat. This past Tuesday, though, I can only assume the kids were a little burned out on eating at sit-down restaurants after last week and requested McDonald's. I was too tired to argue the point, and also did not want to MAKE dinner, so we went to McDonald's.

Yesterday was also Michigan's Republican primary, and the giant flat-screen tv in the McD's dining room was tuned to CNN. The girls were paying no attention until they saw a map of Michigan appear, at which point they were all "hey! That's us! What is up with that?"

This is how I ended up explaining democracy (the Cliff notes version) over a Filet-o'-Fish.

I should have just shown them "America Rocks" instead.