Recently I got a tattoo that is a heart with an A in it on my calf. I never had a tattoo before, and had been thinking about getting this particular tattoo for a couple of years before I finally decided that I believed in and love anarchy so much that I was ready to get this tattooed. My mother realized it was there after three weeks. I laughed when she noticed. She looked devastated that it was there, but pretended like she didn't care and said she doesn't care what I do with my body, except I know she was lying because growing up she was obsessed with knowing when I got my period and obsessed with trying to find out which town boys I was with, if any, and obsessed with what kinds of clothes I was wearing and obsessed with accusing me of being on drugs even though I didn't do drugs, but she thought I did because she was paranoid and watched 20/20 every Friday night before falling asleep. After I laughed, she mocked me and said something like, "Aaahaha, my mom saw my tattooo, ahahah!" She often accuses me of trying to fuck with her as I go about my normal life not trying to fuck with her. It's as though she wants to believe the things I do are intended to bother her, when really I am not rebelling, I am being myself. I am actually in my twenties now, so this shit has lasted a long time. Sad, I know. My economic situation does not allow for me to avoid her right now in life.
As a reference to the type of person my mother is, when I was in high school and september 11th happened, my mother called the FBI because she knew the middle-eastern neighbors across the street from our house did not have their papers. Their dad got taken away for three months while she laughed about it, and when he came back, they had to move to Canada.
Later on this evening, my three hundred pound younger brother came down the stairs, laughed, sighed, and said "posers," at my tattoo, before going back upstairs. I sent him this email:
Tonight while I was making my food, I noticed you came downstairs, looked at my tattoo, had a forced mocking laugh with forced dramatic sigh, and said, "posers." Anarchist theory can actually be a very academic study that is important to a lot of people in a way that you are probably too ignorant to understand. It is something that is very important to me, and I'm not sure why you felt the need to call me a poser for being interested in a particular type of political thought so deeply that I decided to get a tattoo. To me, you have always seemed like the type of person who is too lazy and apathetic to become involved in politics in any way beyond watching and reading mainstream news, and making myspace posts to vote for Obama during his campaign. You have learned that Barack Obama is full of shit and the sheep who followed him achieved nothing, yet you laugh an alternative political theory that you don't even understand. I've never known you to become involved in any kind of political movement, protest or change, and to me you have always seemed like a sad little coward too afraid to even leave mommy and daddy's house to move away to college. I doubt your chosen school will fill your mind with anything interesting. I listen to the types of people who get their education from there, and they generally don't have anything interesting to say that challenges the status quo. You are a follower,even as you complain about certain social structures in your conversations. You have no idea what it is to try to change something. I'm sure you'll run to your mama after reading this and whine to her and make fun of my tattoo and email. You are so fucking pathetic it's sickening. You are not my brother, I do not love you, but I hope some day you find a way to be free from all of your shackles and stop being such an asshole in life. Only a sad pathetic fuck would laugh at a tattoo they don't understand and call someone a poser. I pity you. You are a tool. It's really a bad idea to fuck with me any further.
I know that's pretty harsh, but I don't know what else to do besides lash out. Last year I sent him an email asking him to stop talking to me in the home, because he verbally abused me every day and left his ejaculate in the bathtub for me to step in every day that I took a shower (I am an anarchist who showers daily). I'm not sure if that is considered sexual abuse. My family makes me want to die. They always have, and I'm afraid they always will. I love my tattoo, so very much. I love my tattoo, and I love anarchy.
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