Archive | October, 2018

A Dream about Social Rejection and Gaslighting

27 Oct

I had a dream in which I was one of four young women, in our twenties, going to a convention. They kind of singled me out for ridicule while we were all sitting in a shuttle. One of them may have been in the military. They were all skinny and white, with long red hair or long blond hair; the one to my left had titian hair.

They were talking about something, and I was trying to follow. The one on my right said something about red-heads. I didn’t understand what she meant and asked. She spoke quickly and seemingly, and part of what she said was, “You’re rather a fool…”

I felt as though she slapped me. That may have been when I scooted further away from her and said, “You’re mean, and I don’t like you.”

She then accused me of being snobby and insulting, and I said, “You’re projecting,” though simultaneously I felt confused and was trying to figure out if that was true and wondering what I said or did to make her think that. (That clearly represented gaslighting.)

Meanwhile, I sensed that the other two were on her side against me they didn’t come to my defense.

At some point in the dream, I was standing with a bunch of luggage in front of an elevator in what looked like a hotel hallway. I’d been sent to another hotel, while everyone else was checked into the hotel where the con was taking place, so here I was being switched to the con hotel. Several people were standing there talking with me. The elevator was taking a long time.

Kay appeared, and I chatted with her. There was a high, long window to our right, and she pointed out how close we were to the ocean. We were in Hawaii. I stood on tiptoes and peeked, and I could see a beach and water rolling toward it, and I got excited about where we were.

The elevator finally arrived, and by then many people had been waiting for it. I may have been the person who made a comment about how we’d get all that luggage onto the elevator. Someone took the comment very seriously, and next thing you know, people backed off, and I was one of only a few on the elevator, and it was only half full. I felt guilty that I was one of the lucky ones.

Another scene, back in the shuttle: the vehicle was moving, surrounded by traffic, and I was seated on the left side and looking with my head turned toward a little front window–it was like riding a tuk-tuk in Nepal. I saw that we were about to drive through a tunnel.

My mind was full of self-doubt in this dream. I had thought I was sort of like a compassionate warrior, an activist working for the greater good, but right then I was wondering if I was evil, some selfish villain. It would explain why nobody liked or respected me. (Interestingly, that sounds like me when I’m being gaslighted.)

The Only Good Troll is Under the Fremont Bridge

26 Oct

Since a misogynist (and semi-literate troll) on Instagram essentially told me to shut up and go back to posting cat photos, I’m not posting any cat photos online at least until the end of November. I’ll be posting feminist stuff (feminist books mostly, I suspect) and promoting my self-published books…and perhaps mentioning other stuff I’ve written, perhaps including NaNoWriMo posts (such as pictures in coffee shops).

I wonder if others are experiencing an increase in misogynistic trolling since Christine Blasey Ford’s hearings. I don’t remember trolls attacking me personally before that (not counting people I shouldn’t have accepted as Nazibook “friends”—which makes me wonder if these so-called friends’ only motivation was to harass me). Both these recent incidents have been specifically misogynists attempting to invalidate me and shut me up. Misogynists are excrement.

Actually, that makes me more determined to get more published. I should resume contacting agents for Hauntings—though I know I must do a lot of research on said agents, and it takes a while.

 

Queer Fish

25 Oct

I had a dream in which I was at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It looked completely different. I was in this maybe outdoor theater with grey wooden seating forming perhaps a circle.

People were wandering around on the steps between the seats, I think after a performance. There was a buzz of talking. Actors may have been wandering among the patrons.

Suddenly, a giant, slimy, yellow fish dropped out of nowhere. It was right behind the wooden auditorium, at the bottom of a set of wooden steps. Two male actors in Renaissance costumes struggled to pick it up, as it flapped around. I think it attempted to crawl along the ground.

I climbed down, near to the fish, and a much smaller fish, maybe a foot long, dropped out of nowhere. It was mostly off-white but with fins and tail made of rainbow colors, and it had a rainbow-colored unicorn horn. It was as though a trout mated with a queer narwal.

I soon forgot the huge fish (which was about the size of 2 humans) and was the only person who concentrated on the rainbow fish. I chased after it, though it was trying to crawl away in grass. I think grass. I grabbed it, and one of its fins or something slipped off.

I kept going after it, near a wooden staircase, and the next time I grabbed it, its unicorn corn fell off, and it kept quickly crawling away from me. It was so slippery, I was having trouble grasping onto it. I felt horrified that the fish was falling apart while I chased it.

The Flores Agreement

22 Oct

The Dump administration is violating the Flores Agreement, which states that children of immigrants should not be detained for more than twenty days. We have until November 6 to give feedback about the Flores Agreement.

You can send your letter via email or snail mail.

For email, the subject line must include: DHS Docket No. ICEB-2018-0002

The letter goes to:  ICE.Regulations@ice.dhs.gov

Or:

Debbie Seguin, Assistant Director, Office of Policy/ U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Department of Homeland Security/ 500 12th Street SW/ Washington, DC 20536

Below is the letter I’m sending (probably by both email and snail mail, actually):

Dear DHS AND HHS,

You need to honor the Flores Agreement. This is just common sense for anyone with a conscience. The agreement allows for twenty days of detainment for immigrant children, and only twenty days…which is twenty too many. Many of these refugee children have been detained considerably longer than that, which is illegal.

There is absolutely no excuse for treating desperate asylum seekers like criminals and separating their children from them, let alone continuing to keep their children separated from them, let alone keeping the children in cages.

Only under extremely desperate circumstances do people take their children and leave their country of origin to enter this country. They’re fleeing from, for instance, a domestic violence situation in which the entire town sides with their abuser against them, and their life and that of their children is in danger.

The refugees—including the children—are already traumatized. Tearing children from their parents and treating them like criminals is child abuse. While the children are detained, in some cases they are subject to psychological, physical, and even sexual abuse. These are many layers of abuse and trauma, and this country is contributing to much of it. Even during the Japanese internment camps, children remained with their parents.

And by the way, insisting that people write letters like this in English is just more racism and xenophobia.

Cordially,

Susan E. Wigget

Second Rowanwick Witches Novel Published!

15 Oct

My new middle grade fantasy novel, Rowanwick Witches, Lesson 2: Gingerbread, is available for purchase on Amazon.com!

BookCoverPreview (2)

Aunt Amaryllis throws a Summer Solstice party with an eccentric assortment of old friends, all good witches. When her niece, Violet, asks if wicked witches exist, Aunt Amaryllis is offended. Meanwhile, Amaryllis’s old friend Wilhelmina invites them to come visit…in the Black Forest of Germany. Recalling the story of Hansel and Gretel, Violet begins to wonder if Aunt Amaryllis’s old friend isn’t as good as she claims….

 

 

Dietland Fan Fiction

6 Oct
Sarai Walker wrote a wonderful feminist novel called Dietland, which is a lot more than a criticism of fatphobia and diet culture.
Below is a tiny bit of fan fiction I wrote, possibly the beginning of something:
Jennifer straightened up over the mound of dirt, leaned on the shovel, and surveyed her work. The mound was an oval, about six feet long, and covered the remains of a sexual predator whom overtly misogynistic politicians elected for the Supreme Court, the highest court in the land. Yup, the entitled parasite wouldn’t be getting away with anything ever again, not in this lifetime. Jennifer sighs in relief and smiles faintly.
Her smile fades, and her sigh becomes shaky, as she mentally reminds herself: so many more sexual predators and their supporters to go. I can’t dilly-dally here.

As if I haven’t had enough Gaslighting

5 Oct
Every woman and girl in every patriarchal country has been gaslighted since the day she was born. The past two weeks have been a nightmare, not unlike being in an abusive relationship.
Today I realized that, emotionally, the past two weeks have felt like being in an abusive relationship.
The abuser in this relationship is the Senate judiciary committee. The abuser is the government of this fucking country, which has told every woman and girl, and every survivor of sexual harassment, sexual assault, or rape, that they don’t matter and that they are invalid. It has told yet another sexual predator that he’s so fucking valid that he’s fucking entitled to be on the Supreme Court, taking away women’s reproductive rights.
This calls for a REVOLUTION.
Facebook had an event on September 27: a rally in Portland, in support of Christine Blasey Ford, across from the courthouse. It began at noon, and I didn’t get organized in time to leave by 10 am…so I posted a comment on the event page.
“It’s too late for me to drive the 2 hours, so instead of attending, I’ll be revising a story about sexual harassment. But I’ll be with you in spirit.”
Just this morning–days later–an entitled male troll fucking reacted with a “laughing face” and commented, “What do you mean revise? Make stuff up?”
I became so furious that my hands were shaking as I typed. At first, I was going to reply before blocking the fucking piece of shit, but I remembered my usual policy of not replying to trolls. I didn’t want this smug and arrogant misogynist and possible sexual predator to have the satisfaction of thinking he’d succeeded. So I deleted what I’d started to write with very shaky hands, blocked the parasite….yelled KILL ALL MISOGYNISTS a few times, and then found the event again and posted this comment:
“The only good troll is the one under the Fremont Bridge. “Revising” doesn’t fucking mean “making stuff up.” It means revising, asshole. As in adding more details. Your attempts to gaslight and invalidate me only prove that you’re devoid of any redeeming quality.”
 I then posted a variation onto my Facebook page:
“The only good troll is the one under the Fremont Bridge.
“Revising” an autobiographical story about sexual harassment doesn’t fucking mean “making stuff up.” It means revising, asshole. As in ADDING MORE DETAILS. Your attempts to gaslight and invalidate me only prove that you’re devoid of any redeeming quality.
And I really, really enjoyed blocking your evil, soulless, entitled ass.”
As a fiction writer, I do indeed make things up. I look forward to writing a story in which a group of vigilante feminists chop rapists, sexual predators, the politicians who gaslight us and reward sexual predators, and gaslighters. At the very least, I could post it on a fan fiction site as Dietland (by Sarai Walker) fan fiction.