radchaphruek said: Hi, I love your blog! I’m a mod at bookendeds. We’re a diverse media review blog focussing on books. Our aim is to bring media with themes and characters that are scarcely represented in mainstream media to your attention, as well as to give you an overall assessment of its progressiveness and quality. We’re new and could use some promotion. Would you mind publishing this ask for your followers to see?
Yey! Please follow!
By Lily Tsui
My mother was/is awful:
“Why can’t you be like other girls, and care more about how you look? No man will ever want you,” she lamented, when I showed no interest in make-up.
“I will kill myself if you don’t do what I say,” she threatened, waving a kitchen knife around, in an argument about curfew.
"You need to talk to your father about not sleeping with other women. If you can’t stop him then he is going to get AIDS and then he will give it to me and then you will be an orphan," she said, when I was twelve.
“I will pay for surgery to get your nose and eyelids fixed,” she offered, even though I didn’t care about my mismatched eyes and my perfectly functional nose.
“You must go on the pill because I don’t trust you not to get ‘carried away’ and have sex,” she demanded, when I started dating, even though I had no intention of having sex at the time.
“Have you lost any weight?” she asked, each time she called on the phone in lieu of “hello.”
“Why don’t you quit school and take better care of your husband and your home?” she asked, after a lifetime of demanding academic achievement.
“What did you do?” she asked accusingly, when I told her my marriage was ending.
“There is something wrong with your personality. You’re too much like your father.” she declared, to explain why my marriage ended.
“I had you because I thought it would make your father want to be at home more,” she said, as though that wasn’t selfish and incredibly hurtful.
“Doesn’t your husband/boyfriend/fiance mind if you travel without him?” she asked, and continues to ask.
During a severe bout of major depression after the end of my marriage, I decided I needed space from her toxicity, as she had reacted exactly as I predicted: she blamed me. First she asked if I was cheating. Then she asked if I had failed to “take care” of him and the household sufficiently. Then she asked if it was because he resented my education, my independence. Then she cried and made it all about her. This all happened within half an hour.
After a few days of this self-centred diatribe, I told her not to contact me until she heard otherwise. Instead of respecting my boundaries, she emailed and called relentlessly. When I didn’t reply or pick up the phone, she progressed to ask other members of my family that I was close to, some of whom lived overseas, to plead on her behalf. One by one they contacted me. One by one they heard my side of the story, and understood why I needed that space for my own well-being. Most of them apologized for getting involved. More than a year later, when I allowed her (cautiously), back in my life, she accused me of being cruel:
“How could you not speak to me for a year? How could you do that to your own mother?” she said, sobbing. In a Thai restaurant.
She never understood that her behaviour was/is problematic. She never accepted that her words, regardless of intent, were hurtful. From the time I was a teenager, right up to the present, she was and can still be abusive.
Only through intensive psychotherapy did I realize how much of her toxicity I internalized. I blamed myself for things I had no control over. I felt guilty about everything, and whenever I managed to get the guilt got under control I would feel guilty that I didn’t feel guilty enough. I had to learn how to love myself without constantly using guilt and self-deception. I had to learn how to stop talking to myself abusively, inside my own head. I had to teach myself something everyone should know about themselves right from the beginning: that we are worthy of being treated with love and respect.
It didn’t help that the people I confided in rarely believed me. When I was younger, people would say, “all teenagers fight with their parents.” When I got older, people would say, “she just doesn’t know how to say ‘I love you.’” When she asked about my weight, people would say “she’s just concerned about your health.” Sometimes they would attribute her abuse to misunderstandings due to language (she is ESL, but so am I, and although it is not my primary language anymore I am still fluent in Cantonese). “It’s a generation/culture-gap,” people told me. “A mother would never hurt her child intentionally,” some said, especially those who were mothers themselves.
That was all bullshit. That’s people’s internalized ageism, fatphobia, racism, and idealized ideas about parenthood masquerading as explanations for my mother’s verbally-abusive behaviour. It’s straight up denial. Sexism and her perception that I should only exist for others (whether as a prop in her relationship with my father, or as a domestic worker for my partners) guided her words. I often wished she had hit me instead, because I figured it was harder for people to explain away a bruise or a cut. I want all those people who ever excused her behaviour to know that, even though they may have never spoken with her directly, that their words and excuses enabled her abuse, and that by not believing me they gave her more power to hurt me. They may have had the best of intentions, but my mother believes she has nothing but the best of intentions too.
Many people won’t believe you, when you tell them your mother’s words burn like fire and tear you to pieces and leave you scarred on the inside. But there are people out there who will believe you. I know, because I believe you. It’s not your fault. I know, because it wasn’t my fault either.
I BELIEVE YOU. IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT.
- Lily Tsui
New eatery with deaf servers encourages diners to use sign language -
Fan-Yee Suen, CTV Toronto
Published Tuesday, July 29, 2014 10:51PM EDT
A new eatery on a busy stretch of Toronto’s Yonge Street is hoping to teach curious diners about some of the challenges deaf people face daily.
Signs, which had its soft opening Tuesday evening, is staffed mostly with deaf servers. Patrons at the restaurant are encouraged to order their food and drink using a sign language cheat sheet included with the menu.
The restaurant’s owner, Anjan Manikumar, says his establishment will likely introduce many people to some of the basics of American Sign Language.
"They will enjoy learning sign language," Manikumar told CTV Toronto. "They’ll make some mistakes, they’ll have fun — so it creates an experience for the guests."
The restaurant — billed as the first of its kind in Canada — also hopes to help an underemployed segment of the population.
"I think this is one of the largest breakthroughs we’ve seen in our community in a long time," he said. "We probably have 35 staff (members) working in one place…that’s huge for our community."
In Canada, approximately five per cent of Canadians 15 years of age and older have some form of hearing loss, according to Statistics Canada data collected in 2006. Of that population who were surveyed, the agency says 6.5 per cent of them believed they were refused a job due to their hearing loss, while three per cent say they were refused a promotion.
Chandni Sugrim, one of the servers who work at Signs, says although she has never worked in a restaurant, teamwork with his coworkers seem to come naturally.
"It feels like we’re a family unit. It’s really easy to understand each other," Sugrim said. "Teamwork comes really easily."
The restaurant also employs a team of hearing hostesses for sign language novices. It joins a growing international trend in raising awareness of the deaf community through sign language menus. Similar establishments exist in San Francisco, San Antonio and Paris.
Signs, located at 558 Yonge St., near Wellesly Street East, will officially open to the public next week.
With a report from CTV Toronto’s Scott Lightfoot
Luke Duggleby: Wrapping a surviving tree, 2013 (Thailand)
*nominated for the Atkins Ciwem environmental photographer of the year
Cambodian Buddhist monks and local villagers bless one of the remaining large trees in an area destroyed to make way for a banana plantation. While arriving too late to stop the destruction completely, by wrapping an orange cloth around the remaining trees and praying, they are making the trees sacred with the hope to deter future loggers. Following uncontrolled forest destruction in the Central Cardamom Protected Forest in south-west Cambodia, an eco-warrior monk movement had begun to try and protect forests at risk.
I just started this blog as a safe space for Chinese women to share their experiences, connect with one another, vent and be heard and of course submit photos of themselves!
I am sick of seeing Chinese women being fetishized on Tumblr and I’ve also noticed that Chinese women are often glossed over in discussions of feminism and racism. This blog is an attempt to fill in this gap and give Chinese women a place online.
You are welcome to follow this blog if you are not a Chinese woman. However, you are not welcome if you are here because you have a fetish for us. You will be blocked and reported if you are a fetish blog.
Cheers! And I look forward to connecting with all you beautiful people.
Gabi Moon and Park Sungjin by Hong Janghyun for W Korea July 2014