Christine Gabrièlle

Two more and we’re done. Promise.

The Politics of Radical Drug Use

Growing up, drugs were always off the table. I had friends who smoked weed occasionally, but nothing harder than that (that I was aware of).

As an adult, drugs are still off the table.

I do believe people deserve respect and access to medical care when needed.

Aaaaand… that’s the extent of my opinions on this section of the book.

Care as Pleasure

“Many of us have been taught that needing care is a weakness we cannot afford and have survived through needing absolutely nothing. A lot of our communities still look down on disability or mental health as weakness and stigma, and we know that if we show ours, we can lose a lot—dates, credibility, social capital, jobs, kids…. I spent decades curating myself so only my ‘normal’ parts showed—on dates, in the social world—and never showed anyone my damn care needs. I did it because it was the best way I knew to survive. But it also made me deeply believe that those parts were disgusting and unlovable, which meant I was too.” (pp. 314-315)

I related to this so hard when I read it. I relate to it so much more deeply as I’m drafting this post because the current state of mind is tuned into isolation and silence. I feel fragile. I feel like crying. I feel like going back to bed and staying there indefinitely.

I have really great days and some not-so-great days, and the ups and downs can be exhausting for me, especially as I live in a persistent state of stress that I am constantly trying to pray my way out of. And who wants to deal with that when they have their own ups and downs and stresses and prayers to contend with?

Sometimes, when I feel just a little bit safe, I let my weird peek through—I say the left-field thing that’s actually on my mind, I get super silly or incredibly cynical, I express my anxieties and fears, I tell someone how sad I feel half the time and how I do everything possible not to let myself feel that because if I let it come completely to the surface I fear I might drown—but then I’m quickly reminded (by myself or others) that those parts are only allowed out when I’m alone.

So, yea, I’m still “curating myself ” so only my “normal” parts show.

That’s exhausting too.

Fly as Hell

During this conversation between adrienne maree brown and Sonya Renee Taylor, founder of The Body Is Not an Apology, a couple things Sonya said stood out to me:

“I had to figure out what had me still operating like an apology…” (p. 346)

“I learned the way that I was bartering myself. I saw my body as both shame and currency. How can I get what I want from you using this? At the same time, deeply not believing that this was enough…. ‘Why do you want to give yourself away, [Christine]?’” (p. 348)

I haven’t unpacked this yet. It’s heavy and I don’t know that I can carry it just yet. Like, I really need to, but I’ve chosen a form of avoidance instead. For now.

…speaking of conversations

There were just so many! Oh, my gosh. So. Many. Conversations. I did like some of them, but it mostly felt like I was spying on an exchange I wasn’t supposed to be part of, nor was I interested in. Mybe that was the point… allowing outsiders (of sorts) in? I don’t know. But I didn’t enjoy it so much.

…

Pleasure Activism is so full of interesting pieces, and I had to speak on a few specific ones. Thanks for hanging in here with me through this series that I did not intend to be a series when I first picked up this book.

Next week, we’ll wrap it up with thoughts on liberated relationships and what the pleasure principles can look like in practice.

🖤