This is what white privilege looks like

Here is what white privilege looks like, even if you don’t have a lot of money and have other stuff stacked against you:
I saw a couple cops at Chipotle a few days ago. I was very very very tired from moving and painting and moving again and moving again, and so my usual wary look whenever I see cops probably looked much more hostile.
The cops immediately changed their order to go, followed me and my boys out of the place, and begin to follow me. They followed very closely, and waited until I put on my signal each time I turned to put on their signal. They wanted me to see that they were following me. I raced through my mind whether I’d paid my tabs, weather my very hungry breath might be confused for alcohol on my breath, if when I got pulled over Arie would flip out, I wondered if they were running my plates and made sure through my head that there is nothing they would find, which of course there wasn’t. I kept my hands at 10 and 2. I came to a very very very full and complete stop at all stop signs, and I waited for a while before I started when the lights would change. I was so so careful. 
After they had seen me nervously checking my rearview mirror over and over and met my eyes multiple times, I guess they figured that they had taught me not to glare at cops, and they turned and went their way.
At no point during any of this did I have even a MOMENT of fear for my life. 

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On Gender Categorizations

Dax Schwartz just started a story that I FUCKING LOVE based on a tweet that made her super angry.
I went to look at the tweet, which was a list of lesbian categories from high femme to stone butch with our accompanying weapons of choice:
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I thought it was funny, although in soft butch/butch the weapon was not sledgehammer, so I was not represented.
And we had a really interesting conversation about how freeing it felt to me to have a woman ask me at a bisexual conference: “Do you identify as butch?”
And to be able to say back, after some hemming and hawing: YES.
For me, identifying as butch (which I get is a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to certain gay communities as I am bi/pan and some folks might think I am not allowed to use it) was incredibly freeing, relaxing, and affirming. So many of my anxieties about my presentation, etc. just melted.
I call myself a ‘swishy butch’ instead of ‘soft,’ because there is nothing soft about me except for my gut, but it’s basically the same thing. And defining myself, with the help of that lovely woman, felt like power.
Whereas Dax, as well as, I think, several of my other friends, found this enraging gender policing essentialist bullshit.
I won’t speak for her in too much detail, but I believe that her self identification as flouting the binary is also essential to HER peace of mind and identity.
tl;dr
People who come from very different perspectives can come to opposite and yet entirely correct conclusions on the same image. OH MY GOD IT’S DIALECTIC!
#dbtFTW