Awareness · Rant

Where are the Black Voices?

Warning: White people might be offended at this blog post. I don’t care. Either read this and be offended or don’t read this blog post. I’m not holding a gun against your head to force you to read this.

We all know what happened in Charlottesville, Virginia. We see firsthand what happens when white supremacists use their power to make it dangerous for me, a black person, to live in America. The white supremacists aren’t even hiding anymore. I can no longer travel south of Maryland due to fear of being attacked because the color of my skin is wrong. Another white supremacy rally was allowed in Boston. Fuck Boston. I heard the sports fans are racist there too.

On Sunday, August 13th, there were rallies around the country. There was even one in my county! I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to bring my white friend with me due to my fear that he’d be harassed. That wouldn’t have happened, and it was a good thing I didn’t go anyways. The next day, mom saw images of the rallies around the country. There were mostly white people in attendance.

Tonight, I saw news reports of confederate statues being taken down. Guess what race did all the talking about racism? White people. Whites will NEVER be the targets of racism!

In these two cases, there was a strong lack of black people, the race that is the most affected by these scary spikes in racism that started occurring with Ferguson. Where are the black voices, the voices that matter the most? Yes, I know that white people marched with black people during the civil rights era, but these marches and protests didn’t consist almost entirely of white people. Black people have the power to change the world they live in, but they can’t do that when white people once again try to take the spotlight and silence us. Enough is enough.

White people, please do not speak on my behalf. I am alive. I am the oppressed one. I can speak for myself.


Kickboxer Rage! Shadowboxing Means No Contact!

First of all, I want to give a shout-out to Catherine. She is one of my followers and she’s started kickboxing. Read her blog posts here. Catherine, I will have a blog post in the future that will be able to give you tips for kickboxing.

I’m angry. So angry that I even talked to my kickboxing coach about it. Nearly a month ago, my workout buddy got kicked in the ribs and bruised his rib. No, I didn’t do it! I’d never forgive myself if I did. On the evening of May 17th, he got kicked in the ribs again. Same spot as last month. He also got hit in the nose by a different person and it looks like his nose might bruise. Last week, he got hit in the eyeball by a guy who is quitting boxing to join a different gym. These injuries should not have occurred because we were doing paired shadowboxing, which is no contact.

The combined boxing and kickboxing class is two hours long three times per week. The first hour is conditioning hour, which consists of warm-ups, stretching, shadowboxing by yourself, paired shadowboxing (no contact boxing or kickboxing), and ab work. Read that again. No contact. It means that your punches or kicks don’t hit the person. Tell me, why the hell is my workout buddy hurt again? Another month of him having to sleep on his right side since his left side is hurt! He said he’ll still be in class on Saturday, but I don’t know if he will.

So why are Gary and I angry? I’m repeating myself, but shadowboxing is no contact. Still, people are making contact. Gary got hurt twice in one day and ribs take weeks to heal. He doesn’t even want to shadowbox anymore. I’m angry because people aren’t practicing self-control. I’m starting to not like this gym because more than one person has done contact work during no-contact shadowboxing. Since he was kicked in the ribs twice, I’m worried that he might quit if he gets hurt one more time. I don’t want Gary to quit. I feel a connection with him moreso than anyone else at the gym. I only see him when I have kickboxing, although I want to spend time with him outside of class like some other boxers and kickboxers do.

For 2017, I promised myself that this is the year where I’m not silent. I will speak up. I don’t want to be silent and be seen as passively accepting things that are wrong. That’s why I talked to my coach after class. I suggested that he remind everyone that shadowboxing means that there will be no contact. He told me that he’s going to keep a closer eye on my buddy during shadowboxing and will tell anyone who looks like they may do contact “Absolutely no contact” before they do a round of shadowboxing. He’s also been given the options to either “work the bags” (hitting the bags) during the paired shadowboxing time, shadowbox with the coach, or shadowbox with a few people he can trust (which to be honest, he doesn’t seem to like kickboxers anymore since it’s almost always been kickboxers who hurt him. I hope I’m the exception to his dislike for kickboxers).

Gary, if you ever come across this blog post, Coach and I don’t want you to quit. Coach likes you a lot. I really admire how you figuratively spat in the face of death and decided to pursue boxing after being given your second chance at life. Whenever I get frustrated at my lack of improvement, you make things better. Whenever I don’t want to show up to kickboxing, the thought of you being there makes me want to go to class. You mean a lot to me and if you quit and I never see you again, I would be devastated.


Rage! Get My Name Right, White People!

It’s another rage post! If you’re not white and don’t have a white name, you have experienced this issue. I am black, but I have a Hispanic-sounding name. No seriously, my roommates my freshman year of university argued whether I was black or Hispanic due to my first name. Once they saw me, they knew I wasn’t Hispanic (though people mistake me for Puerto Rican based on appearance). People will mispronounce your name, whether they butcher it badly, call you a completely different name, or drop letters. I’ve experienced the dropping of letters or being called a completely different name.

At kickboxing, people have called me Martika or Marcella (being called Marcella recently is why I’m writing this blog). It’s neither. I thank the people who get my name right. At the dentist, a receptionist called me Martine. I had to correct her, and I was snippy about it. I’m not sorry about that. You can only take so much incorrectness before you stop being nice. I’ve been called the wrong name by people’s family and by a bus driver in first grade (with my bus driver, she would say the wrong name when doing bus evacuation. At some point, I refused to say I was here until she got my name right). You know what all these people have in common? They are white.

Tell me, white people. Why do you feel like it’s okay to butcher non-white names? Do you like the power to piss people of color off? Do you not have the capability of getting names right? And tell me, people of color. Are you also pissed off when people get your name wrong? Do you want to change your name to an easier name?

I will not be nice about people getting my name wrong anymore! I’m even considering having white people call me a different name (possibly Cara) while people of color can use my real name. If you can’t say my name right at all, don’t say my name.


Feminist Rage! Why are Baby Girls Seemingly Less Desirable Now?

Trigger warning: There will be a mention of miscarriage in this blog. If this is a trigger for you, don’t read this blog. I want my readers to be safe.

Oh my gosh! People are reading my blogs! Thanks to everyone who has liked my posts so far! I love you! Today also marks 6 months at my current job! Let’s eat cake!

I rage again! This time, my inspiration comes from many things which will be mentioned in this blog. So in the West, I have been hearing more and more people wanting baby boys and have even heard about people being disappointed over having a baby girl.

I first heard about this after returning from a conference relating to my on-campus job. My brother and sister-in-law had a gender reveal party (I don’t know why they call it that. We’re only learning the sex of the baby) and when they found out they were having a girl, they were openly disappointed. They wanted a boy as their first child (they still only have one child, and I think it’s going to stay that way). I heard about it again at my cousin and his wife’s gender reveal party (I wasn’t there either, because… I don’t remember). At least this time, my cousin’s wife mentioned her disappointment to someone after the party. Here’s something I’d like to say to my sister-in-law and cousin’s wife…


Now recently, I’ve been hearing people say that boys are easier to raise than girls. My mom told me otherwise, but I don’t have kids so I can’t form an opinion. What’s pissing me off is that people are saying things along the lines of “At least you’re not having a girl.” Tell me, what’s wrong with girls? I know people’s brains have been molded by misogyny, and that’s sad. Women have just as much value in the world as men do.

I feel bad for the women who don’t want baby girls or feel thankful that they don’t have girls. They’re just victims of internalized misogyny. Society as a whole favors men more than people who aren’t men. Women shouldn’t contribute to the problem. If I were to have a baby girl (or adopt a girl), I would be happy and support them in this anti-women world.

A message to girls: You have worth. You may not be as famous for good things like Malala Yousafzai, but you are worthy of being loved and desired (not just sexually, of course!). Stand up for other women when they face sexism.

Mental Health · Rant

Rage! Families Not Accepting Neurodivergent Family Members

Warning: I will be mentioning stuff relating to mental health, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, and suicide. Do not read this blog if mental health issues or suicide is your trigger. I want all of my readers to be safe.

If you have a mental illness or a learning disability, you probably have faced issues with your neurotypical family members. For me, my parents don’t seem accepting, though mom seems to try.

In November 2014, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Thinking back, I’ve been having anxiety issues since I was a child. I feel like I have other mental illnesses (like depression, BPD, possibly autism), but no one has diagnosed me yet. I have seen three therapists and I am not fixed (therapists one and three were just talk therapists and my mom forced me to see therapist one. Therapist two was who diagnosed me and did effective Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, but has said a few negative things that kind of seemed harmful). I feel like I am beyond help. My parents not accepting me is not helping me. Despite my parents thinking that I may need to be put on medication, I don’t want to be medicated because that will mean that I have succumbed to my illness.

This blog post is inspired by an episode of My 600-Lb Life that I am currently watching. Steven Jr. has “severe psychological issues” and instead of his dad helping him, he’s verbally abusing his son and is not being supportive of his need for psychiatric help. To the people with a mentally ill family member: THIS IS NOT HOW YOU HELP! THIS IS HOW YOU HURT!

I’m the only one in my family (both sides) with a mental illness. It’s like a big family secret. It’s not the only thing that makes me different from my family (will talk about this in later blogs). My mom does her best, but she can sometimes say things that you never say to a mentally ill person. My dad, he’s a lot worse. He tells me I’m worrying too much whenever my anxiety goes up (and a lot of things make my anxiety go up. I don’t have a specific trigger). I try explaining to him about my anxiety disorder and that my brain isn’t wired differently, but I will not explain it anymore. He tells me to snap out of it whenever I have a breakdown. I almost threw something ceramic at his head. I have threatened suicide many times, but my parents only took me seriously once (never went to the hospital because of it, since I was 21. I’d permanently hate my parents again if they involuntarily committed me). My dad says that people who get off the bridge instead of jumping to kill themselves didn’t really want to kill themselves. YES THEY FUCKING DID! MY BROTHER SAVED SOMEONE FROM SUICIDE THE NIGHT BEFORE MY COLLEGE GRADUATION! DOES MY DAD NOT CARE THAT MY BROTHER GAVE A FUCK ABOUT A SUICIDAL PERSON WHILE HE GIVES NO FUCKS ABOUT SUICIDAL PEOPLE?! HUH?! My dad is also a victim blamer.


I know my mental health will improve when I finally move out of my parents’ house, but dad said it will get worse. I am bullied into staying with my parents. I feel like will likely never get out. I even told my dad that I know that I’m not the perfect child that he wanted. Sometimes, I think he wanted another son. I feel like I’m trapped. I feel like people are about to give up on me. I kind of already gave up on myself.

Remember, lack of acceptance leads to suicide, and it would suck for a family member to be what breaks you in the end.