some things that horror movie culture has taught you are scary…. are just ableist
….clarify?
okay sure. psychosis? scarier to have than to know someone who has it. DID? im more a threat to myself than people around me. wheelchairs and psych meds? are tools that help people live more functional and flexible lives and are not judgments of the persons character and for sure are not scary things. and for real, intellectually disabled people are not threats, but movies love to make them villains because they act different and understand the world differently. and people with notable physical differences? people who’s bodies look different? people with scars, growths, amputations, etc? are literally just people. and seeing themselves painted like monsters on the big screen is absolutely sickening and damaging to how society will see them.
its not only bad writing but its extremely harmful to people who actually live with conditions that are misrepresented in media. when i found out i had DID, my mom freaked out because her only point of reference was Sybil. when i was younger and first went on psych meds, i thought it meant i was set on a track to be a bad person, because in so many movies and video games you find out the bad guy has medication in his bed side table for some sort of psych disorder. the worst thing a hallucination has ever made me do was wake my mom up at 3 AM to check my bathroom to see if the bugs i saw everywhere were real and the worst thing an “episode” of any sort has made me do is hurt myself. my ptsd doesnt make me kill people, my alters dont kidnap people, my autism doesnt make me so morally unaware that ill murder for senselessly, my ocd doesnt make me hurt people etc etc etc
literally the only “horror” is the ableism. and the only way you can write good horror about disability and mental illness is if the focus is on how society and the medical field treat us rather than focusing on how we are apparently so scary, threatening, and bad.
The native Maori people of New Zealand have tattooed their faces for centuries. They had a complex warrior culture before the arrival of Europeans, and suffered under early colonialism, but have experienced a cultural revival since the 60′s.
The marks are called moko, and are etched with chisels instead of needles to leave grooves along with the ink. The true form is sacred, unique to each person, and distinct from European tattoos that mimic that traditional style.
There arent many pictures non combat related that look this badass
Actually most
Tā moko are done with modern tattoo equipment these days, but some people get them done the traditional way. And, as others have said, they’re not for Non-
Māori, as they have specific meanings and significance. If you want a tattoo with Māori
style, you can get a
kirituhi. These avoid any designs associated with particular tribes or famous people you’re not related to.
Kirituhi is a Māori style tattoo either made by a non-Māori tattooer, or made for a non-Māori wearer. Kirituhi has mana of it’s own and is a design telling the unique story of the wearer in the visual language of Māori art and design. Kiri means ‘skin’, and tuhi means ‘to write, draw, record, adorn or decorate with painting’.
Kirituhi is not restricted to only Māori people, and it is a way for Māori to share our cultural arts with people from around the world in a respectful manner, and for non-Māori artists to enjoy our beautiful art form as well. I happily do kirituhi for my clients around the world and it is a privilege to do such work for them.
Kirituhi is no lesser an artform than moko, however it is different and I believe these differences must be acknowledged and respected, so that the integrity of our taonga Māori – moko, is maintained around the world.
Moko is uniquely Māori and it is strictly reserved to be done by Māori, for Māori.
If either the recipient or tattooer do not have Māori whakapapa, then the resulting design is a Māori Style tattoo or kirituhi, NOT moko. The word moko originated from the Māori atua (god) of volcanic activity and earthquakes, Rūaumoko – therefore the origin of tā moko is divine and sacred – to me this is no small thing, nor should it be dismissed.
As my mentor once told me, ‘moko is about 99% culture, and 1% tattoo’.
“You may recover from an eating disorder and never think about it again. You may recover from anorexia and relapse with bulimia and have no idea how to deal with it. Suddenly, your coping skills won’t work. Suddenly, you’ll be back in treatment. You’ll have recovered from anorexia. That won’t be your problem, much to the confusion of therapists. You’ll have to reevaluate your life and the things you thought you knew about yourself. You may recover from an eating disorder in a year. You may recover from an eating disorder in ten years. You may never recover the way that other people say they have. You might have thoughts still, you might not. You might come out with scars and stretch marks on your body, you might come out with scars and stretch marks on your heart. You might come out with both. You might gain weight, you might lose weight. You might be told that you can maintain and then gain weight and have to deal with the emotional consequences. You might have traumatic experiences. You might not. You might know exactly where, why, when and how your eating disorder started, and conversely, you might have no idea. You might come from an abusive family, a chaotic family, a healthy family, a loving family, a family that tried their best and didn’t manage to be what you needed. You might come from no family at all. You might relapse. You might not. You might need to go back to treatment, you might not. You might never need to go to treatment to begin with. You might have anorexia. You might have bulimia. You might have binge eating disorder. You might have some other unspecified disorder that might not feel as serious but is. You may have to drink extra supplements, you may have to eat extra snacks. And also not, for a multitude of reasons that aren’t always what you think. You may be female, you may be male, you may be a different gender entirely. You might be ten, you might be twenty, you might be fifty. You might be underweight or overweight or perfectly normal. You might get dizzy. You might get headaches or cramps or skip your period if you get it normally, which you might not for a number of reasons unrelated to an eating disorder. You might also do none of these things. You might watch other people eat almond slivers and quinoa and agave nectar for breakfast, fuck anorexia! You might do this yourself. You might eat doughnuts and waffles with syrup and butter but only as an excuse to binge. You might do either of those things but for the right reasons. You might go in kicking and screaming, you might already hate your eating disorder. You might have depression, anxiety, OCD, borderline, bipolar, schizophrenia, or any other mental illness to go along with the eating disorder. And then again you might not. You might frequent pro-eating disorder websites, you might scorn them. You might think you’re being healthy or you might know all along that this is wrong. There is no correct way to have an eating disorder. There is no specified way to recover. There is only you. You have your own pain, and as such, you have your own struggles. But dialectically, you have your own joy, and as such, you have your own recovery.”