It's your fault I'm hateful, not mine…

I'm often amazed by the statements people make to justify their prejudices, but nothing is quite so stunning as people saying, "The real problem here is, YOU don't care enough, bitch." So the person trying to spread awareness, who has a history of verbal and financial support to these causes, is the person who doesn't care enough, while the person unwilling to discuss the topic or get involved is really the "good guy."

This isn't true. There's no logic twist of verbal Kung Fu that can make this statement logical, and it requires leverage coming from privilege to make this tortured dog hobble a few steps. Yet, I've seen folks in the comments use it multiple times for multiple topics. And I ought to know, because I've just spent the other night stripping the ability to comment out of both my blogs. Every time there's been a round of personal attacks against me, it's because I've highlighted some news article that didn't sit well with others.

Most of the people who responded tried to shoot the messenger and tell me that the real problem in the world was me. Not the people who committed the crimes, or the people who do nothing and don't talk about the problems. No, the real problem is me, for always trying to ruin your day with "bad news." So I don't care about you, or that you're suffering from your first world problems too.

Well, maybe you're right. Maybe after watching hour after hour of your Facebook stream, I got tired of trying to care about you. Maybe after the 23rd status update where you complained about the teenagers in Starbucks making goo-goo eyes, I stopped caring about your opinions of other people. Maybe after your complaints about how others look or dress has left me with a lower impression of you. Maybe after your most recent "high-larious" Twilight jab, I wandered away from your sparkling wit. Maybe after your passive-aggressive complaints about your co-workers, I've come to expect nothing from you but more complaints about little shit that doesn't mean anything at the end of the day.

You can't stand Justin Bieber? Boo hoo, that's not a real problem. It's a first world white person's problem, and has the shallowness of a standing puddle in a pothole. There are people with real problems in the world, and if you would shut up and tune into the world instead of finding petty reasons to ignore it, you would find problems that you could help resolve. You could care more and do more, even with just a few dollars a month and a little commitment of time. You could care more and have a direct impact on the lives of people around you.

Or you can tell me that you're really a good person, and I'm the mean one who doesn't help anyone. I just complain and complain and never do anything direct. Right, because if I don't tell you specifically on the blog, "Today I donated grocery money to Billy Martin," it didn't really happen. That means it's perfectly okay for you to say "You abandoned your people," because you've never personally seen me hand cash over to other trans people. I think this is bullshit, that every time I make a cash donation to any person, I have to publicly report it, or else it opens up the possibility of folks later saying that I didn't help out, or that I don't care enough about others.

It's denial, really. It's putting on blinders and filters so that your behavior is seen as good to you, even if you're an abusive douchebag. And because I know there's that one guy saying "What about you?" I always say I'm a bad person. In fact, I get into arguments with people because they cannot stand the idea of someone being "negative." It never dawns on them that I'm being honest. I wish more of you evil bastards could be honest enough to admit that you were evil, because then it would spare everyone you know a lot of grief. Instead, you'll tell them you're good, always getting folks to believe it, right up until they need your help with something and you use verbal Kung Fu to get out of helping. Then it's their fault for expecting to much from a friend who probably told them repeatedly, "If you need anything just ask." And these are the people claiming that I don't care enough.

I care plenty, people. I give what I can, and if I had more money, energy, and time, I'd give more. But for some of you folks, there's nothing I can do that shows I care enough. I've said something that offended you, and now you have to take umbrage, even if you don't have anything valid to be mad about. I said you're privileged. You are. I said you ignored pressing civil rights and social problems in favor of petty complaints about your neighbors. You have. So when you come here complaining that I don't care enough, and that's the real problem, it isn't that I don't care enough. You're in denial and looking for a way to justify your self-centered world view.

I'm not. In the scheme of things, I'm one person out of seven billion. I don't even have the skills to make the Z list of athletes, artists, or other celebrities, and I'm way past my prime to be dropping a porn and letting a publicist sweet talk my way into reality TV. So all I can do is open up my own blog, and shout from my corner of the world, "There's more important stuff to worry about than what the couple next to you in Starbucks is doing!"

And for this, I get called a bitch, among other things. Well, I'm sorry, but I am a bitch. I was raised by an alcoholic redhead who never went an hour without finding a way to say something mean. When I wasn't with her, I lived with an almost alcoholic dad who thought parenting was lectures and spankings. I had a schizophrenic little brother who alternated between claiming to love me and trying to kill me. At every turn that I'd reached out to find a best friend and ally, some adult told me to go away. I had a shit life, so I'd turn it around that after decades of abuse, it's amazing how much an evil person like me still can give a shit about others, when after all I've given, people can still turn around and say, "Bitch, I don't owe you nothin'."

And here's my pickle. I was abused every day, for years. I didn't just live in a figurative closet. For two years, after coming home from school, I would shut myself in my closet and cry and pray for God to just take me now. You probably don't have a past anywhere near as dark as mine, but you can't spare thought for others. So, my excuse for being wary of trusting others is because I was sexually assaulted by my best friend. What's your reason for ignoring the world and pretending that your problems are so bad that you can't spare any give a shit for anyone else? I mean, really, I've been trying to give some of my spare shit so you can at least give that much. But instead of thanking me for bringing these problems to your attention, you're attacking me, for not caring enough about "real problems."

One of us is wrong for our views. Mine involves self-assessment and recognition of my flaws. Yours involves assessment of my life and finding fault with my presentation. If you could just admit that and begin real self-assessment, we'd be halfway to you giving a shit without my help.