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Wednesday archival carry from when @chrishoran20 and I played dress up in this v gentlemen prefer blondes @coach number ๐ŸŒžโ˜„๏ธ๐Ÿ˜œ๐Ÿ˜ผ๐ŸŒน
By the eternal Mark Aguhar, 2011. ๐ŸŒน๐Ÿ’”โค๏ธ (Maybe less of a state sanctioned, commodified, coopted Happy Pride, and maybe more of a Happy Pride and all of those other, less digestible emotions and  languages of queerness that will go unrecognized but not forgotten in a rainbow parade. Being queer publicly isn’t the same for everyone, having Pride isn’t for every queer person, here’s to those who choose to stay in a closet, whose visibility is a personal risk, the queers who are queer in secret whether by force or choice, this is your family too. ) ๐Ÿณ๏ธ‍๐ŸŒˆ๐Ÿ–‡ w e s e e y o u ๐Ÿ–‡๐Ÿณ๏ธ‍๐ŸŒˆ
Mental health is a sort of dysphoric topic for me, the thought of “self care” is even more so. I don’t feel equipped anymore like I used to, to speak so publicly about my own mental health. I found that it was something that was unavoidable, mostly unanswerable  and subjective -there was nothing cathartic in me sharing my own struggles online, but maybe my efforts to do so laid more subconsciously in just getting comfortable with saying “I’m not okay” out loud (or into some sort of internet void.) I get opportunities that as of lately I have felt unsettled with, to discuss mental health on panels, in clinical rooms, all publicly. I have been asked to give tips to “self care”, which people  forget is so deeply rooted in accessibility, which is then rooted in racism, sexism, and overall, patriarchy- these conversations of “self-care” so vehemently lacking the nuance of who has to care for who, who gets time to care for themselves, who has the funds, etc, etc. Anthony Bourdain was a privileged man who (assuming so) had access to so many of the things we offer up as self care tactics under capitalism, yet it seems as though at the end, darkness won, or any other word you associate with suicide. My rambling point being this: I am pretty sure mental health lies mostly in the unanswerable, in tactics we have maybe forgotten about. Maybe it’s about communication in smaller ways? Maybe it’s about confiding? Maybe it’s about talking to someone, and them reassuring you even if it is not believable in that moment, that you are not alone? I think you know at this point if you have suicidal thoughts there are so many hotlines that you can reach out to, some even intersectional for different marginalized communities. But I also want to say this, and maybe this offers up something: it is okay to not be okay, or to be worse, or to have had better days. I think most of us are there with you, but haven’t molded enough courage within ourselves to say that
Who’s pride ๐Ÿฉ
*Whispers into void* for a while I’ve had this film account to archive movies that are significant for me in any way from overall mood to aesthetic to lines that feel like a simple but important  rumination on sad girl ness ๐ŸŽฒ I haven’t used it in a while but as of an hour ago! I decided to start archiving things again, follow if you’re interested? ๐Ÿน♠๏ธ๐ŸŽž (top row: Daisies, Shadows, Claire’s Knee/ second row: My Life In Pink, The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, Fallen Angels, bottom row: Vertigo, Funeral Parade of Roses, Birth) โš”๏ธ๐ŸŒนโš”๏ธ
Lookin like I’m about to tell Bella to “Stay gold, pony boy!” in her dorm, March ๐Ÿ†
#sundaybest #frida
#pride (?) month; eternal American questions ๐ŸŒชregram @blythemarks ๐ŸŒช Barbara Kruger, 1991 ๐Ÿ’‰
Last day of May, mid point of year, feeling like a “passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?” Sylvia Plath in her journal, some point between 1950 and 1962 ๐ŸŒŸ
Happy birthday Agnes Varda je t’aime pour toujours!!!!