Christmas is a holiday about reflection: reflection about the past year of a life hopefully well lived, about what effect, if any, I've been able to have on the lives of those closest to me, and about whether or not I've been able to be a voice for change in society on the whole. After a few weeks of deep thought, I must say that I find myself lacking in the third metric, mostly because I've been lax about yelling at people on the internet about things and demonstrating to the three people that read my semi-annual Facebook status updates for something other than kid pictures that I'm on the RIGHT SIDE of history. I was pondering how to address these inadequacies when lo, two packages arrived at my door over the weekend. Why, what could they be?
The first item and note appeared promising:
The words of Mina Loy are as applicable to my existence now as they were when she first uttered them. Not only is this magnet's plaintive, silent (if colloquially stated) call for the end of the patriarchy as prescient and timely as ever, but there is a deeper meaning within my own life: as my refrigerator is made of stainless steel, this magnet REFUSED to stick to it. This obviously symbolizes the internal white cis heteronormative programming (that I was assigned, against my will, at birth) actively trying to SHED the idea that the patriarchy is evil and oppressive, and something against which I must constantly and vocally strive. On social media. #imwithnotme. Luckily, my office bulletin board frame has no such assigned societal magnetic limitations, so it shall be a constant reminder to me to remain vigilant against oppression, both at work specifically and in the world in general.
So the first gift was both aesthetically pleasing AND thought provoking; how could Christmas get any better? Hark, I could hardly believe my GOOD FORTUNE and PRIVILEGE when ANOTHER package arrived the next day. Pulling open the tabs and reading the packing list, I see that there were TWO MORE gifts inside, so I pulled out the first:
Well, now, this was just too good to be true! Now I can thumb my nose at the numerous (well, three, because my company's pretty small and actually has a pretty diverse set of employees, but those three know who they are, or SOON WILL) white cis sperglords with whom I am FORCED to co-travail the land at the brutal white collar welfare cube farm within which we all are enslaved (don't get me started on the vast quantities of SURPLUS VALUE being taken from me; that is a story for another time, when my neckbeard has even further enthick'n'd against the excesses of the bourgeoisie). But wait! It works on another, more personal level as well, as the size of the cup (11 or so ounces, I believe) is WOEFULLY INADEQUATE for a single cup of coffee; as such, each time I have to, once again, rise and make the interminable 35 foot walk from my desk to the kitchen to refresh my piping hot cup of Jane, I will pause to reflect on that symbolic representation of how I still HAVE NOT COME FAR ENOUGH at conquering my implicit biases and hatred of others different (and differently abled) from myself until my tiny cup LITERALLY RUNNETH OVER with the pain and shrieks of the privileged at having their undeserved social capital snatched from their collective pale bosoms. I shall remain ever vigilant.
I feel so blessed, but somehow still inadequate; the first two gifts (to appropriate an oppressive expression from the bro-gemony) knocked the ball out of the park -- how can I possibly deserve a third gift of similar inspirational quality, when so many people STILL require an enwokening? THAYER ONLY HAS SO MUCH TIME TO PREACH. However, on that somewhat melancholy and bittersweet note, a third gift was indeed included in the package ("package", what a patriarchal term -- shouldn't we call it a "womb" instead? Inspiration LITERALLY SPRANG FORTH FROM WITHIN it's cushioned and forgiving cardboard loins! Anyways, I digress):
Oh, uh, cool, a t-shirt? I hope it's the right size . . . whew, it's a large, good, XLs are too large to show off the physique ever since the cut a few years back. I guess that chick on the front would be kind of hot if she lost the glasses and undid her top button? Hard to tell, but she's carrying that sledgehammer, so maybe she's an IEL? (That is, assuming it's not a pink sledgehammer, am I right? Up top bros!) In any case, I'll try it on later; hopefully once I'm back ramped up in the gym and **** it'll have the appropriate tightness across the pecs and upper arm while showing a little tricep pop when I'm manspreading on the plane. Black is also kind of badass and alpha; I bet I could score some primo tail wearing this while I'm eating dinner in a hotel bar, as long as I leave my wedding ring in the hotel room. The only problem is if (being that this is a black shirt and all) some of the, uh, proceeds from the bang session end up on there it'd be pretty visible afterwards; I guess I could just make her wash it in the sink before she leaves. Leave it to some motel skank to try and get me in trouble with the wife, right guys?
Thanks, Secret Santa!