you're never fucking muting me again (an open letter)
an open letter to all the people who want me to shut the fuck up
“he didn’t even know you came out: he muted you years ago.”
everyone who wants me to suspend my blog is hereby amalgamated into an imaginary villain to whom i am writing an angry letter. multiple experiences have been fused for the purpose of engaging with this one great villain.
so listen carefully:
all the people who want me to shut the fuck up, which is seriously too many people to count, i hereby construct you into an amalgamated being living only inside my nightmares:
and that is where i am going to keep you for as long as i need you there.
i know you can’t stop reading this blog, so here’s your open letter, which would never have been necessary if you had ever once asked me a question about my feelings.
:“not yours
to touch
not yours
to look at
not yours
to talk to or talk about
not yours
to subdue
not yours
to humiliate
not yours
to abuse, to rape, to kill
NOT YOURS”
now i've changed, i've been feeling comfy
but now i've changed, i've been feeling lonely
'cause your photos suck, your brand is shit
you're up your butt
you never really ask me how i am, ask me how i am(beabadoobee, “i wish i was stephen malkmus”)
i completely reject every single one of your accusations:
💖 that i am unwell
💖 that my behavior on social media in the past 2 months has been “concerning”
💖 that my butterfly bracelets are “an unhealthy choice”
💖 that “girly stuff is unattractive” and musculinity is inherently “classier”
💖 that i am less attractive
💖 that i am an embarrassing person to have in your home or around your family or around your kids or around your friends or for others to see on social media
💖 that my “recent behavior” calls into question my fitness as a parent to my 15 month old son to whom i have provided absolutely excellent care
💖 that telling me “i love you and i’m concerned about you” justifies paragraph after paragraph coming beforehand saying:
above:
this text was sent to me by a person who has seen me 5 times in 5 years and has almost never spoken with me during that entire time
💖 that my blog and my facebook posts have generally been “insulting to women” lately, offered by someone like you whose reading comprehension of my facebook post was not even on the surface, you were somewhere way above the surface:
comments on the above post:
thread to comment above:
above:
more words from a person who almost never interacts with me but nevertheless feels a right to judge my authenticity
more of your points i completely and totally reject:
💖 that there is something wrong with being “perceived as a 12 year old girl”
💖 that i should abide by the norms of people born in the 1930’s
💖 that i should give the slightest consideration for what boomers might think of me when their empty minds are taking a brief break from watching cable news, scrolling on facebook, and freaking the fuck out about some 18-year-old football player.
💖 that i should listen to a single fucking word from the mouth of anyone who finds my behavior alarming even after reading my blog for the past 6 weeks
💖 that i should believe you when you tell me, “i love you and i care about you”
sprinkled throughout: a curated selection of the posts that made you tell me i should go on mood stabilizers
your main priority is getting me to shut the fuck up.
we all exist as movement, not things: no person is fixed as one thing.
we all manifest in different forms, or at least we can.
here is how you manifest to me: a being who wants to mute me, and that is all.
because even long before this, you’ve always been trying to get me to shut up.
you’ve always been worried that i’m about to just act like myself.
i’d rather be alone than a stranger
(clairo, “nomad”)
i say, “my therapist confirms i am mentally stable,” and you look away.
i say, “i feel so calm and peaceful,” and you shake your head in disbelief.
i say, “i wish i could tell you how much this means to me,” and you don’t ask me
a single
fucking
question.
do you feel ashamed
when you hear my name?(phoebe bridgers, “scott street”)
this is what i was “acting like” when you said i was insane
you text me in shock: “fuck your parents! how could you!!!!”
i tell you, “people really liked that post!”
you accuse, “you just did it for the likes, that’s all you care about”
and then i find out that you
didn’t
even
fucking
read it!
shaking your head in disgust, you say, “i stopped reading your blog a long time ago.”
but that’s just like you: to only see the surface of me.
and now all you have of me is pictures:
pictures ripped up and thrown away,
pictures you’ll never see again,
pictures lost forever in the receding depths of social media feeds.
if only you had seen, from the beginning, how beautiful i am
i was so sure you would accept me.
and everyone was so confused when you didn’t.
i always had this sense i was repressing myself around you,
but i didn’t love myself enough to trust my own gut.
i used to think our friendship was so special and important,
but by rejecting me and totally fucking refusing to listen to me, you’ve made yourself into someone i don’t want to be around.
and that’s how i got over you so fast.
when i told you how angry your reaction makes me,
you said: don’t worry, we’re going to get you help
i’ll be in the bathroom!
what am i doing?
looking at myself!
taking selfies!
trying on bracelets!
making scrunchie swirls!
picking what color butterfly i am today!
reading writer girlie substacks instead of listening to you!
i want nothing to fucking do with your standards of sanity!
you say my butterfly bracelets have no meaning!
you say my scrunchies have no meaning!
well then why the fuck do they freak you out so much?
and why the fuck were you so freaked out when i started kissing my scrunchies as you were telling me to “be a man” and think of “what i could lose”?
you know why i kissed my scrunchies while you were speaking to me with your emotionless logic and ignoring every feeling i shared with you?
because when i kiss my scrunchies i am calm and i am happy.
you say, “hey! don’t you know those butterfly bracelets were made in china!”
but the thing is: i don’t listen to you anymore.
i listen to
:
the most ridiculous part of all:
you ask me to stop defending myself.
you tell me to shut up and hide so that others can define me as they see fit.
but i will define me now: not you, and not them.
you’re going to be averting your eyes for a long fucking time
you ask me, “where is this coming from?”
let me tell you: this is coming from within.
and this has always been there within me.
but to stay your friend, i had to keep it there: locked away forever.
to stay your friend, i had to keep the most beautiful parts of me a secret.
to stay your friend, i had to stay reclusive and i had to stay afraid.
to make you like me, i couldn’t be liked by anyone else.
emily, i'm sorry i just
make it up as i go along
and i can feel myself becoming
someone only you could want(phoebe bridgers, boygenius: “emily i’m sorry”)
💖 you’re never fucking muting me again 💖
you say, “be patient!”
but how many weeks has it been now?
and how much of my writing have you read?
i thought my writing would convince you of my beauty
i thought my writing would convince you of my radiance
if nothing else, i thought my writing would convince you of my sanity
instead, my writing has done the opposite:
my writing leaves you feeling even more disturbed than you ever did before.
you are now even less sure of my sanity, even less sure of my stability.
and because of that:
i can no longer be sure of yours.
i need help and i have it, but it’s not coming from you:
nor could it ever.
i am not crazy.
i am not unwell.
i am not the thing you thought i was.
nothing i have done on the internet since coming out in july is concerning, and if you think it’s concerning, then i am deeply concerned for you.
know why?
because this is what your uncle is posting:
your uncle means this completely seriously,
and you don’t even fucking think about it.
you accuse me of “making you the villain in my rediscovery story.”
but as you can see from these screenshots and details, you constructed yourself into a being of my nightmares.
you constructed yourself into a black hole sucking me up into nothingness.
you constructed yourself into someone whose opinion i must choose to ignore.
so if you’re still fucking asking me to shut the fuck up:
well, i’m worried about you,
and i think you need help. 💖
i am this tree
and i am the moon
respectfully, i'm here for the gossip 😇
You deserve to take up space. You deserve to be heard. Be authentic, and the garbage will take itself out. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻