“ It is important to recognize that when we speak of housework we are not speaking of a job like other jobs, but we are speaking of the most pervasive manipulation, and the subtlest violence that capitalism has ever perpetrated against any section of the working class. True, under capitalism every worker is manipulated and exploited and his or her relation to capital is totally mystified. […] The difference with housework lies in the fact that not only has it been imposed on women, but it has been transformed into a natural attribute of our female physique and personality, an internal need, an aspiration, supposedly coming from the depth of our female character. Housework was transformed into a natural attribute, rather than being recognized as work, because it was destined to be unwaged. Capital had to convince us that it is a natural, unavoidable, and even fulfilling activity to make us accept working without a wage. In turn, the unwaged condition of housework has been the most powerful weapon in reinforcing the common assumption that housework is not work, thus preventing women from struggling against it, except in the privatized kitchen-bedroom quarrel that all society agrees to ridicule, thereby further reducing the protagonist of a struggle. We are seen as nagging bitches, not as workers in struggle. Yet, how natural it is to be a housewife is shown by the fact that it takes at least twenty years of socialization, day-to-day training, performed by an unwaged mother, to prepare a woman for this role, to convince her that children and husband are the best that she can expect from life. Even so, it hardly succeeds. No matter how well trained we are, few women do not feel cheated when the bride’s day is over and they find themselves in front of a dirty sink. Many of us still have the illusion that we marry for love. A lot of us recognize that we marry for money and security; but it is time to make it clear that while the love or money involved is very little, the work that awaits us is enormous. This is why older women always tell us, ‘Enjoy your freedom while you can, buy whatever you want now.’ But unfortunately it is almost impossible to enjoy any freedom if, from the earliest days of your life, you are trained to be docile, subservient, dependent and, most importantly, to sacrifice yourself and even to get pleasure from it. If you don’t like it, it is your problem, your failure, your guilt, and your abnormality.
Silvia Federici, Revolution at Point Zero (via antineutral)
"Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does." (-William James)
Next March, the federal government is paying for me to fly to Atlanta with my clinic supervisor (and earl) to give a presentation and do a panel about opiate addiction and maintenance treatment at a national SAMHSA convention. This is actually a really big deal. No patient from any clinic in Portland has ever been given a chance to do this. They have asked me to go so long before the actual date because I am working with the SAMHSA people to build their whole presentation. My fucking name is on the press release and proposals! This is an event that treatment facilitators, judges and other people involved in addiction treatment, use to plan future initiatives and set goals. They will be using my ideas! Hundreds of important adults will be watching and listening to me talk about my struggles with heroin! Almost overwhelming. And something I have been told to keep secret from other patients, especially other members of the Patient Advocacy board. Also- this is not something I asked or applied for- I was just chosen because they were “impressed” by me and the newsletter/ magazine I do for our community. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..!
Anyway. Bragging session over now.
im literally always looking at my reflection not because im conceited but because i just think it feels kind strange to have a physical form and im constantly trying to process who and what i am
Look at these sunglasses. Arrived (from amazon) yesterday. Yessssss
Something strange and stressful.
I do a newsletter at my methadone clinic….a really nice one. (Figured i would put my bachelors degree to work somehow!) anyway. Every year, the federal government audits treatment facilities with their regulatory agency, SAMHSA. The people at SAMHSA were “very impressed” with me, apparently. And I just got a call from a woman with the federal government/SAMHSA, who wants to talk to me about presenting at this big upcoming conference with her. WTF!? I am too nervous about this whole situation.
So much is going on and I can’t stop sleeping and sleeping and sleeping.
I can’t leave Bun out! But she won’t be still enough for a picture together. My beautiful puppy daughters.
Me and my baby Bean. And smeary summer, napped-in makeup.PS- I’m probably way too old for tumblr. Guilty. I’m 26, btw. :,(
Okay onneee more. Last time, promise.
They don’t know nothing about recovery-
My *THREE YEARS* is coming up in about a week and I’m actually more excited than I thought I would be.
*three years without a needle in my arm(/hand/leg/foot/neck)! Or being controlled by all the very worst parts of me. Earl constantly talks about it still and it makes me upset. His three years is in like two months.
Crushed by Life. HAHA. For real.
I’m sorry for doing this again. I will start putting better content on this blog soon(/eventually). !