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the smell of my desperation has become a stench

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the smell of my desperation has become a stench

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I am a white woman in Utah who can remove herself

I am a white woman in Utah who can remove herself from all media content that causes her anxiety to explode and experience suicidal ideation.

Yep. Even saying that proved my privilege. I just talked about my own pain. That is privilege. That is the definition of privilege. And I own it. I did it. I know this.

Heather Armstrong cries white woman tears better than any white woman. They are so white they glint even in darkness.

Do you want to know why I’ve been silent? I had to hide my phone. I’d post a photo, respond to the first few comments, some to the comments of a previous photo, and then I had to walk away from it all *IN ORDER TO REMAIN ALIVE* because another 20 fake accounts had been created to tear down my body and my humanity. And in these circumstances I am trying to navigate the darkness of it all minute by minute, and I’m not subjecting myself to any social media.

I am on your side. I on on the side of not remaining silent. And I was writing about his, but Jesus Birget Christ on a Rask.

This side has come to the point of granting no ounce of grace or even an inch of space for someone’s mental health. It does no good. It isn’t helping anything or anyone. Except I’m screaming into a void. Because the responses will be, “But that’s privileged white woman tears.” I won’t delete them. I’ll leave those comments here for you to read.

When what you really should be saying is, “Hey, Leta and Marlo. Your mom is dead, but she didn’t post to Instagram fast enough or in the right way. You understand, right?”

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