Y'know, I went there to learn. I already know how to kiss butt. I hate it; that's one reason I'm poor.
I went to learn a career.
Mostly, what I hear is how inadequate I am. I hear I'm not to be trusted. I hear myself yelled at, threatened, ignored, gossiped about, sabbotaged, hit.
But I don't know how to act in an office?
Now, I'm going to pay for this blog.
Who do I have to talk to? I tried to talk to you, but you set me up and cornered me.
I talk to my blog.
I took your names out. No worries. Believe it or not, my readers don't know who you are, anyway!
It's pretty sick and twisted, the way people "communicate" there.
It's pretty ironic, when you think about it: all this stuff about inclusiveness, telling people's stories, diversity, communication....
But I get abused?
What's THAT about?
Why did you think I wouldn't do something to protect myself from it?
Why did you think I was stupid?
Why did you think I had to pay to be there with my dignity?
Oh, NOW you've paid attention to what I've been trying to tell you, the whole time. Because it's on the 'net.
In person, no biggie.
But What Will People Think rules the day.
You didn't care so much what I thought, though.
I know every institution has its levels of doublespeak. I accept that.
But I've been forced into a positon for which I would never have volunteered.
I'm sick of feeling hated. I'm sick of apologizing for my existance. I'm sick of being insulted in silence.
I told you, directly, what I needed when I needed it. I need respect.
So, you think I need therapy, because I don't blend so easily into your middle class, academic secret hand shake, huh?
Maybe yours are the unrealistic standards.
I'm not fancy, but I'm real. My life functions in a way that satisfies me, for the most part.
Maybe honesty isn't evil. Maybe trying to be helpful, friendly and creative has value.
It really makes me confused, this doublespeak double standard in which I'm squeezed.
All I wanted was an opportunity to do radio.
What I got was too many mind games to figure out.
If you'd spoken to a Black person the way you spoke to me in that "meeting..." or to a person in a wheelchair, or....
But my race, class, disability you can't see, so it must not be real. I must just be trash, in need of therapy.
Very inclusive.
Tell a Native they need therapy! Tell a Queer! A Gimp! A Black! Guess what? you just did!
Yeah, diversity. As long as the diverse comply with white, male, able bodied, property owners' standards!
What a farce.
I don't have time, energy, strength or resources to educate you out of your ignorance.
So, now you're pissed. After HOW long, you FINALLY read my blog?
YOU'RE pissed?
Me, I don't get to have feelings, ideas, thoughts, needs, dreams.
I stepped out of my place. Now I must be punished.
Child abusers and wife beaters do the same thing: hurt and hurt and hurt. And, when the victim hollers, accuse, "you're crazy! Nobody's hurting you! Shut up! You're making me look bad!"
I tried. I really did.
If this is "normal," why be normal? For the money? And the diseases of stress and self loathing? Hell, no!
I had something to tell you; you wouldn't listen.
The institution struggles to silence another malcontent who points and shouts, "The Emperor wears no CLOTHES!"
The same university which funds you receives funding from the DOE for nuke weapons research.
Being a kept woman, a gal is expected to suck the missle on demand.
So, I'll come in tomorrow, clean out my drawer, and leave you alone.
Everybody's for sale.
All I wanted was to work. Can't use computers; can't use studios; can't use field equipment; can't work in another department.........
All I wanted to do was WORK!
What did YOU want?
Whatever it was, I'm taking it with me!
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