Welcome to the 83rd edition of Into the A+ Advice Box, in which we answer all the queer and lesbian advice questions from A+ members who submitted their queries into our A+ ask box! Here, we answer your questions in a space just for A+ members, safe from the general public. (No guarantees regarding your ex, however.) Here, the Autostraddle team’s doling out advice on everything from sex and relationships, to friend and family dynamics, career questions, style, and more! We’re doing this column TWICE a month, now.

Every SECOND A+ Advice box of the month is themed like this one! Next month’s theme is POLYAMORY. This is an advice box for our poly community. Bring us all and any questions related to opening up, to navigating life as a poly person, to poly relationships and families and friend groups — even to being monogamous but relating to a poly person or people in some way. Get those questions in by Monday, June 5th!

The general Into the A+ Advice Boxes, where we take questions on practically any topic, publishes on the first Friday of each month (sorry we missed the last one for the annual report — we’ll get an extra long box together for the first Friday of June), and you can send questions on any topic, at any time.

So, now, let’s dig in!!

Q1:

Editor’s Note: The following question and answer contain mentions and discussion of sexual assault.

Last year, I was assaulted by a female coworker and fellow media professional. Not a rape situation, but instead one of sexual touching and incessant attempts to get it on despite repeated denials of consent, when we were the only two people left at the end of a party at the house where she lives with her husband. Although we didn’t know each other too much at that point, we got along very well and were on our way to being friends, which just added to the hurt. She was drugged, drunk, and I later found out she not only did not remember what she did, but had erased several hours of that night. It took me a couple days to even realize what had happened, but once I did, I was very triggered by the incident, with the worst anxiety I’ve ever felt -along with its physical symptoms- and, later, waves of anger and resentment that finally settled into a depression that just keeps getting worse. At the same time, I felt a lot of compassion because “hurt people hurt people.” I initially told her the story and set up some boundaries -although I kept being very triggered at work- but eventually reached out to her again to look for some other conflict resolution options that did not involve reporting her to law enforcement or our bosses, with the idea of not creating more harm. That is what we’re pursuing now and, while I really want to fully forgive and move on, what she did really opened Pandora’s box, turned my life upside down, impacted my professional life, and has severely crippled me emotionally. I am getting specialized help from mental health professionals, and there’s the ongoing mediation work, but as the months of pain keep piling up and, in contrast, her life and psyche seem impacted but not as much as mine -she just switched jobs to something so much better- it does make me wonder about the ethical conundrum that has hung around this problem since the very beginning: when is my own misery and suffering “too much” that it’s time to go after her job or, now that we’re not coworkers anymore, go public with this and let this story do what it would do to her reputation? What is justice in this case, if I am finding it so hard to follow through with the alternative I myself proposed? Should I just let go of my concern for maintaining privacy and say, “well, if I’m sinking, we’re both going down”? Am I being an idiot for being too nice or too compassionate?

Anonymous

A:

Nico: Wow, I really appreciate this question. Thank you so much for writing in and for sharing your story. I’m so sorry this happened to you. As a fellow SA/rape survivor, I feel you deeply in that you’re so profoundly affected while, seemingly, the person who assaulted you is moving on and getting closer to something like thriving. I’ve been there and it really fucking sucks. So, you asked: “when is my own misery and suffering “too much” that it’s time to go after her job or, now that we’re not coworkers anymore, go public with this and let this story do what it would do to her reputation? What is justice in this case, if I am finding it so hard to follow through with the alternative I myself proposed? Should I just let go of my concern for maintaining privacy and say, “well, if I’m sinking, we’re both going down”? Am I being an idiot for being too nice or too compassionate?”

In this situation, I think your first thought was your best thought. No one said abolition is easy, but I just want to take a moment to really, like, applaud your anti-carceral instincts and tactics here. Now, I have to say that because she is cooperating with you (according to what you said above), I do not think that it is the best move to go into revenge mode at this time. I might feel differently about you going public if a) she denied everything and was not working with you on finding what justice looks like in this case b) if you thought she would go onto hurt other people in the same way if you did not out her and you were doing so to protect others from a repeat predator. I don’t think either of these things are true, at least going off what you’ve said here. The key thing is you asked her to engage with you (props for this), and she agreed. So, I think you do need to pursue that path.

So, there’s a Shona proverb that goes “the axe forgets, the tree remembers” which I think is apt here. You are always going to be more affected by this assault than she will be — because you were the one assaulted, and I don’t think there’s a thing you can do (that isn’t violent which I definitely do not advocate for in this situation) that would cause her to feel the way you do. I know it’s not fair, but I just don’t think there’s any way that aspect is ever going to be balanced, no matter what you do. Even if you did go public and ruin her career, that is a different kind of pain than the pain that you’re experiencing. I’m sorry.

Now, this is where abolition gets really hard, right? I believe that a desire for revenge is both protective and perfectly natural, and also something that we have to grapple with and redirect if we want to build a better world. The desire for revenge is at the root of so much of our carceral culture. And I think that if we’re looking to uproot some of the deep-seated ways in which we collectively buy into and enable mass incarceration and a police state, that we’ll find that our desire for revenge on a person-to-person level and as a society as a whole are attached, deep down. Which means that, from an aerial perspective here, I don’t think that revenge will take you where you want to go, not ultimately, right?

Okay, now that that’s out there, I also think that if you’re spiraling, then she’s not doing enough to help you get the kind of closure you need. You mentioned mediation, so I wonder if this is something you can reach out to the mediator about and set up a time to meet and work through your feelings. I think you need to be honest with her about how this is still impacting you. She should know. And I want you to have a chance to discuss what that means in terms of the support / closure you need to feel something closer to whole. Maybe it will be healing to see her remorse in-person once you really get into the details. Maybe there are things that haven’t been brought up here that would be helpful for her to do. Do you want her to attend, say, a workshop or course on consent? Do you want to ask her to go to therapy and get help? Do you want her to read some books on the topic and write you an apology essay? I think that asking her to do some work to prove that she understands the whole of what she did is okay and fine and a part of what transformative justice looks like because, look, you both have long lives to live, and this is going to be with both of you forever. So the question I’m trying to ask is, beyond revenge, what would it look like for both of you to truly process this situation?

You ask: what is justice in this case? And there are not easy answers, and I don’t have them, because part of the work we have to do here in our time on this earth is to try and grapple with that. But I do have a couple book recs, if you’d like them. I reviewed this essay collection on queering #MeToo and it was challenging in a lot of ways to read as a sexual assault survivor. There are multiple essays in there that look at and try to unravel the complexities of interpersonal harm between queer people. I also recommend reading We Do This ‘Til We Free Us which looks at, not just abolition from a destructive viewpoint, but from the viewpoint of creating the world we want to live in. It also sucks that this work falls on you, because that is not fair. But that’s also why I suggest meeting with her as soon as you can to try and talk this through before things get worse and to see what she can offer in terms of remorse and self-work (or what she won’t – in which case, proceed back to the questions I asked before about whether or not you thought she would repeat this behavior).

Finally, I don’t know what your circle of support looks like here, but I want to suggest that you see if you think you need to expand it. You’re receiving mental health services and I think that’s great. Have you been able to process this with any friends? Is there someone you trust who can talk about all of this with? Is there a support group for survivors you can attend? What has traditionally brought you comfort? (Certain movies, places, people, books, activities.) Can you seek those things out?

I’m sorry you’re going through this and I’m also sorry that there are no easy answers, but I also want to point out that I see a kind of fatalism in your question, where you ask if you should go down together. I am holding so much hope in my heart for you that you won’t keep going down, that you’ll manage to climb back up, that you’ve got this. During these dark moments, it can feel like there’s no way out. But, while I can certainly attest to the fact that I am not ever going to completely get over what others have done to me, there is more to life. So, I’m hoping that you’ll hang on here, and that you’ll keep trying, and that time and continued attention to your mental health will also give you some relief from this pain. Sending you so much love.

Q2:

Editor’s note: The following question contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

I feel like I’m grieving a fading/dying friendship w someone I care about and I’m coming to terms with their absence from my life (we used to talk daily, are both queer women of about the same age, similar interests, etc) but I am worried for their mental health. They’ve been sharing a lot on social (and somewhat over text) their thoughts about how friendships change, people don’t owe each other anything, they feel like they’re outgrowing ppl/places/etc and I feel I’m one of those ppl lol.. over a few months they’ve stopped being as emotionally available/supportive, been colder and overall more negative, cagier… But I know from what they’ve shared w me in the past that they have a history of suicide/depression in their family and have gone off and on medication etc themselves, so I also worry some of this can be warning signs. I’m not a therapist (much less theirs ofc) so I don’t want to overstep, but I do worry. Is there any world where it’s ok for me to just directly check in and be like Hey, I respect if you don’t want to be in touch but for the record I am worried these are warning signs, and I’m here for you if you ever want to reconnect/want support/etc, or am I just over involving myself w someone I need to let go of?

A:

Kayla: I think you could reach out using the exact language at the end of your question there. Sort of an opening of the door if they wish to step through that doesn’t come off as demanding or overstepping their personal autonomy. You haven’t heard directly from this person that they want new boundaries or a new/nonexistent relationship with you, and I don’t think reading too much into social media posts is fair to either of you — it’s possible they’re not about you at all! I think what you wrote here is a great approach to opening the door: “Hey, I respect if you don’t want to be in touch but for the record I am worried these are warning signs, and I’m here for you if you ever want to reconnect/want support/etc.” If they don’t want to step through it, that’s their choice.

Ro: I agree with Kayla — it’s totally okay to reach out to a friend who seems to be struggling. It sounds like your friend has mostly been making vague statements about outgrowing friendships and the tone of their communication with you has changed, but based on what you’ve shared, your friend hasn’t specifically asked you for space or shared an issue they’re having specifically with you — so go ahead and check in. But if/when you do that, keep two things in mind:

1. Don’t make assumptions about how your friend is feeling and why. Maybe they’re depressed, and/but also maybe they’re going through challenges at work or at home. Or maybe you said something a while back that unintentionally hurt their feelings and they haven’t brought it up with you yet. So asking a question like “How have you been feeling?” and/or “It seems like you’re going through a rough time and I’m concerned — is there anything I can do to support you right now?” would probably be more helpful than a statement like, “SOS! You’re exhibiting the warning signs of suicide,” ya know?

2. Respect their boundaries. This doesn’t seem like a situation where your friend is in immediate danger, so if they don’t want to talk to you about their mental health or if they don’t want to talk to you in general, that’s their choice. You can let them know you’ll be there for them if/when they want to talk.

Q3:

Hi! I recently discovered this company called Dipsea, which is an erotic storytelling app. I was really excited upon finding out about them, as they have a lot of (hot.) queer stuff, and they appeared to be very woman centric. Also I discovered it’s a lot easier for me to get off to stories rather than by watching visual porn (it distracts me.)

However, I’ve also found this article published last year by this woman, Kristin Corry.

In the article she talks about how the site still tokenizes black women (especially in her case as a straight woman she points out, black heterosexual women.)

And fetishizes black men. Often placing them with non black women.

I wasn’t aware of this problem until I read the article, probably because I’m not listening to a lot of non-queer erotica. And in the queer section of looked like they had a good range of diversity. But now I’m thinking about this more. If I really want to practice anti-racism, should I be focusing on these things too? I sent a feedback email to the company voicing my concern about their writers room, etc. but should I consider canceling my membership? Is it bad if I want to hold onto the subscription because of the queer content? I’m really disappointed in the company’s response to Ms. Corey. But some of those stories…god. A lot of conflicted feelings here!

A:

Thank you for writing in! So, I read the article, and I would say that, yeah, if you have a choice as to where you spend your dollars and you don’t think they’re being spent at a company that is trying to do better or doing better already, then you have the option to spend those dollars elsewhere. So, I got a recommendation from a friend about Quinn, an audio erotica platform that I think functions more in the realm of like…OnlyFans populated by individual creators as opposed to a central writers room. Here, also, is a list of audio erotica platforms to explore. Now, the issues pointed out in that article are deep and systemic, right? So you might face some difficulty in finding a “pure” source for this, but the closest you can probably get to that is by finding individual creators — via whichever platform — that you like and directing your dollars toward supporting them. I’d also keep an eye on Dipsea and see if they improve in the future. So, basically, my answer is: if you feel uncomfortable with the way a company operates, there are definitely alternative spaces where you can get similar products/services, and while it’s always more work to try and do things the “right” way — or sometimes, the less evil way — a little research will likely lead you to a better synthesis of getting your needs met and living in alignment with your values, and you can support some cool independent creators along the way! Wishing you luck!

Q4:

Is it morally wrong to have appriciation for small luxeries and experiences when you also claim to be doing activist work? Is it right for me to still daydream about things like macaroons and pretty dresses when there’s still people left houseless? I keep on feeling this back and forth in terms of my activist work. I don’t even physically indulge in anything all that much but on one side I have a very lofty and soft side and my other side is still trying to police my thoughts and remind myself that I need to put my focus in my activist work. How do I find balance? How do i be productive about this?

A:

Kayla: Omg you don’t need to police your thoughts/fantasies! You can still do meaningful activism and also want nice things. Think about it this way: You having these appreciations for small luxuries (and really truly pretty dresses and macaroons are so small) doesn’t actually materially impact the inequity of the world. You’re also not saying you want to buy a literal mansion that displaces people or a yacht that is not only exorbitantly costly but also terrible for the environment. I think what you’re feeling is guilt, and I get it, but I don’t think it’s always the most productive feeling in these situations. Policing your thoughts is actually probably taking up more mental energy than having the thoughts in the first place.

Ro: Friend, your guilt isn’t helping anyone! It’s not helping people who have fewer resources, and it’s definitely not helping your mental and emotional state. Hell, it might even be taking brain space and energy away from the activist work that’s important to you. If you’re having a hard time getting unstuck from this thought pattern, talk to your fellow activists, talk to a therapist, and definitely read Pleasure Activism. Also Michelle Tea has an essay about a similar experience in How to Grow Up, but I can’t remember which essay it is! Maybe another Autostraddle writer or reader knows.

Nico: To me, it’s always important to remember that activist work will be, ideally, something I’ll be engaged in for my entire life. So, what does that mean for it to be sustainable? It means that I also have to live my life alongside activism. Things will ebb and flow. It means that sometimes, I won’t get sleep or I’ll have to give up my free time or that I’ll be in super uncomfortable or even downright scary situations — and it also means that sometimes I’m going to go camping with my girlfriend and eat vegan hot dogs cooked over a fire and look at the stars. Sometimes I’ll be in the streets (with my feet hurting because of my genetics lol) and sometimes I’ll be reading a book in bed. We cannot be one thing all of the time. We are whole people. Especially, as I get older, it’s important to balance recovery time for my body and mind with work that is super stressful. So, to speak to small luxuries, my colleagues above are right about that, too. You’re not talking about owning a fleet of yachts or raking in millions or billions while your workers are on food stamps. You’re talking about wearing a pretty dress and eating cookies. At the end of the day, we’re fighting so that everyone can live liberated lives with small pleasures and comforts and love and community. And in the meantime, it’s okay for you to experience pleasure in this life when you can get it. It really is!

P.S. Between first answering this question and returning to it, Janelle Monae released “Lipstick Lover” and if that isn’t your cue to celebrate pleasure and good things, I don’t know what is!

Q5:

This is an advice question, not sure if it falls into ethics or not, prob depends on how it’s answered. It’s really for the folks of color on the team. I used to have a no-new-white-friends policy – I have a history of lots of white friends, who I’m still long-term friends with, & also a white gf. At the time, it was a way for me to focus on relationships with POC. Now I live in a small, v white city, & w pandemic / my desire for kink and sober community, have let that policy slide. But in friendships / dates (am nonmonog) w white people, I keep butting up against classic white nonsense – conflict avoidance and politeness culture and white woman’s victimhood and white fragility, and there’s a particular kind of inauthenticity that feels like a contagious slime.

What are y’all’s policies lol? Do u date white ppl or have rules about when / if to date white people? Do you seek or nurture friendships with white people? How do you screen white people for friendship / relationship of any kind? I keep getting hurt and want to protect myself; I don’t want to fully shut myself out from the possibility of relationship, esp when it comes to specific community relationships, but I’m tired of this infinitely repeating predictable white nonsense, and am extra done with of contorting myself for their sensibilities & walking on eggshells.

Love,
A person of color who’s sick of this shit

A:

Sa’iyda: Oh I definitely understand this one friend! I have never had a hard and fast “no new white friends” rule, but I can 100% see why and how it’s helpful and necessary. The endless bullshittery of whiteness is EXHAUSTING, and you have to protect yourself from it any and all ways you can.

As someone who has been in majority white circles for most of my life, I find myself holding on to the friends I already have, but that’s because I’ve vetted them and they have proven that they will not act out when pushed. I also have a white fiancée and same thing. We had A LOT of conversations in the beginning of our relationship about my relationship to my blackness and how I see the world. That’s always my test: having really tough conversations and seeing how it plays out. I got burned by a white woman I thought was a friend several years ago, and that’s when I knew I was done with the white tears and nonsense. If it happens now, I don’t make a big deal about it, I just begin to quietly remove myself from their orbit. If they ask, I tell them that I’ve realized our priorities are different, and I no longer have time or space in my life for people whose beliefs don’t align with mine more specifically. Like you, I’m done walking on eggshells or being afraid to take up space, or most importantly, educating! You have to be who you are, and I’ve found that the white people who are supposed to be in your life will let you take up all the space you need. There will always be people who come and go, and only you get to decide who is actually worth your time. Trust your gut.

Carmen: I really appreciate your question, as someone who has lived and moved both in predominantly Black and/or POC spaces, as well as predominantly white spaces, at different times in my life. For instance right now, I work on a predominately white senior team and a website with a large white audience, but I also don’t have many close social relationships with white people outside of those spaces. All of which is to say that I am sending you a lot of love with this question.

I don’t have a “no new white friends” policy, though I would say that it’s often harder for me personally to make genuine connections with white people because there is so much difference between us? I’ve never had a romantic relationship with a white person. I went to white schools in high school and college, but otherwise didn’t grow up around a lot of white people, so I often find myself missing cultural shorthand (this happens a lot at work) — and that’s not to even getting into political parts, a lot of white people love to “play” ally but have zero interest in doing the humbling work of being one, especially on a consistent basis. And I have no time for that in my life.

That said, I do have some very close white loved ones in my life, my God sister is white and she’s probably my oldest friend. I don’t usually identify her this way — ”here is my white God sister!” — but it felt pertinent to the conversation at hand.

Ok! In general, my rule of thumb on this is that I try very hard not to be surprised when white people… show exactly who they are, because they always will (note: disappointment and surprise are not the same. I find my self disappointed, often). I make it a rule not to play a teacher in their lives because the emotional exhaustion of that work, for me, ruins any relationship that otherwise might be built there. If I do find myself in the role of having to be an educator, for example, if their words or actions have harmed me or another person of color in my presence, which is absolutely unacceptable under any circumstance — then I do so firmly and bluntly, because I don’t believe in holding hands for racists. And I’ll only do it once! I don’t repeat myself and I don’t believe in going around in circles. Flat out.

So I guess my answer is that white people in my life, they can exist happily and often in close ways after years of trust gained, but also they exist around some very firm boundaries. They have to be able to understand that, and accept it, for our relationships to be able to grow. If they can’t, then they aren’t the kind of white people that work for me. This keeps my circle small. But it works for me and I’m a thousand percent fine with it. I don’t live a life that centers on whiteness or white feelings, and I don’t plan on starting now.

I also think that as people of color, we all get to make those choices for ourselves, and that whatever we each decide around those boundaries and realities are for no one else’s judgment but our own. I don’t believe in rubrics that police other people of color from belonging in our community — assuming, of course, that those decisions aren’t compromising safety or causing harm. That includes how many white people they have chosen to allow in their lives.

Himani: So I’ve spent a lot of time in predominantly white spaces and got really sick and tired of it and decided to not do that again, if I could avoid it. But, that’s often hard because, even in a place like the NYC metro area, I often find that queer spaces are predominantly white unless they are specifically dedicated to a particular racial/ethnic group. Which is fine, except that I’ve had several not-so-great run-ins in the past six months alone with Asians of all varieties, and it’s really left me wondering if by having a “no new white friends” policy in practice (if not, explicitly), I was trying to use race as a shorthand for figuring out whether someone is an asshole or not. Which, as I have learned recently, isn’t really foolproof. (And believe me, plenty of white people have let me down in the past several months too — I honestly want to have nothing to do with cis straight white women if I can avoid it, but sadly that is not my reality.)

Personally, I’ve found that having a no new white friends / no dating white people policy has served me well, for sure, but it’s only gotten me so far. There are pretty substantial amounts of inauthenticity, politeness culture, fragility, and victimhood that I’ve experienced from a lot of non-white people — as well as the joys of dealing with toxicity and terrible communication that are the hallmarks of a lot of Asian culture, as well. So, honestly, for myself at least and the advice I want to share with you, is to know what your lines and boundaries are and feel free to cut people off as soon as they have crossed them. The fact of the matter is, white people will, by their very nature, do this way more often than most other racial groups. Don’t walk on eggshells or contort yourself: if they can’t handle you as you are, then they aren’t worth your time. But if the question is about protecting yourself, then for myself, at least, I’ve found that holding this practice as a general way of existing in the world has gotten me farther.

Q6:

So you know the saying “there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism”? I wonder from time to time if there’s no ethical labor under capitalism either.

So in my current job, I’m being paid the most I’ve ever been, I get along decently with my boss and coworkers, and I don’t hate the tasks on a daily basis. For privacy reasons, I don’t wanna go deeper about the specific industry, but it’s an office job. It’s not like everything we’re involved with is terrible, but I know off the top of my head that our customers include at least one company’s armed forces, price-gauging pharma companies, and at least one big tobacco company.

I guess I just feel bad sometimes that I’m indirectly helping these things, but I also value my own economic security. I worry that I’m just self-justifying by guessing that most if not all other gainful employment involves some kind of ethical compromise and figuring that if I can at least survive comfortably maybe I can contribute to bettering the world in some other way.

I guess this isn’t my only existential concern with work more broadly, but since you’re doing an ethics-themed advice box this time, maybe I can get some other perspectives on this.

A:

Darcy: Hi, friend! I appreciate that you’re trying to be mindful and consider the ethics of your office job. I keep thinking of that meme where a guy says “we should work to improve society,” and then another guy says “yet you live in a society. Interesting.” Basically, we all live in a very imperfect world. I think that within this imperfect world (and even within each of our lifetimes), there is space for various types of work.

Life is long, and there are many seasons in our working lives. Right now, you’re working at a job that pays you a decent salary. That money is a tool. It’s a tool to help you meet your needs and some of your wants, of course (something we all deserve, regardless of our ability to work). Beyond that, once you achieve a certain degree of financial security, it can also be a tool to help support others, and to affect change in ways that make the most sense to you. Direct giving, supporting organizations you care about, and having your needs met so that you have the time and energy to donate your expertise to organizations as a volunteer — these are all ways that your job can help our community, even if you’re not working for the World’s Most Ethical Corporation (which surely doesn’t exist anyway). Get yours! Spread it around! And if you can, in small and large ways, try to focus on action over guilt. Good luck out there!

Himani: My very first job out of college was working for a consulting firm that exclusively worked with pharma companies. I made a lot of money for straight out of undergrad — more than my sister with 7+ years of medical training who was doing her residency at the time — and I can tell you with near certainty that the company I worked for was involved in the price-gouging around EpiPens that happened some three or so years after I left. I didn’t believe in the work, but I stayed there two years, and the financial stability it provided me, as well as the concrete data skills I gained, set up the next ten years of my life. And that financial stability was, frankly, crucial for me to be removed enough from my family and, specifically my parents, to even begin to think to ask the question that maybe I was not straight.

So, let me just say, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about your question.

At the end of the day, we all have to sleep at night, but there are two sides to that. There’s the side that’s about being able to pay your bills and have the financial stability you need to really feel secure. And then there’s the side of being able to live with yourself. For me, personally, I couldn’t live with myself working for that consulting firm. But I also couldn’t live with myself four years later working at a social policy non-profit research organization that engaged too heavily in white savior culture and was deeply hypocritical with their own internal policies, even though I could see that this organization was doing far more good in the world than the consulting firm was. And now, five years after leaving that job, I find myself again at this crossroads of “how much longer can I do this?” (For the sake of my own privacy, I’m not going to get into my current situation more than that.)

Similar to what Darcy said above, I’ve found that I’ve tried many different ways to address this question of ethical work at different points in my life, and I’m fairly convinced at this point that there really is no such thing. I do think that some work is less ethical (for instance, I’m not about to go work in Pharma again, even though I could easily get a job with my background). But honestly, I think everyone draws their own lines around this and at some point they become a bit arbitrary? Especially when you see all the corruption and racism and sexual harassment and myriad other scandals that come out of allegedly mission-driven organizations…

So, I don’t know. I think we do what we can. I think it’s important to ask this question, and examine it, and answer it honestly, and keep asking yourself if you can live with that honest answer. And maybe that’s the best you can do. I think we really run into trouble when we start glossing over the ugly realities of how we get paid.

Q7:

Thank you so much for doing an ethics advice box! Currently I’m feeling confused and hung up about the relationship between ableism and expecting/wanting people to be timely.

I recently briefly dated someone with various issues that made it very difficult for them to be on time, including ADHD and long covid. This meant they might arrive anywhere from 30 minutes to 3-4 hours after the stated time, with text updates being pretty infrequent and not necessarily reliable. I really liked them and I was making a lot of effort to not get mad, researching ADHD, reassuring myself that it wasn’t a sign of uninterest or disrespect, but ultimately things fell apart partly because I sent a not-very-nice text message when they were an hour+ late for the time we’d scheduled to talk about our relationship status, slash because I’d foolishly agreed to have that conversation when I had a hard work-related end time.

I apologized a bunch, but it still just didn’t work out. Lately I’ve been dwelling on the lateness thing in particular. Like, what I felt in the moment was I wanted them to acknowledge that it was shitty for me to have to wait a long time for them, especially when I was feeling vulnerable. BUT if you replace lateness in that sentence with another disability issue (e.g., please acknowledge that it’s shitty for me when I have to calm you down from your anxiety), well, that sounds more clearly to me like an icky ableist sentiment!

Laziness isn’t real & I KNOW tardiness isn’t the “sinful” behaviour many of us were taught it was – there’s so much more at play. But isn’t some reliability still important? Agh :(

A:

Kayla: This is hard because I think it comes down to communication, mutual respect, and relationship-building. The lateness in and of itself isn’t necessarily the problem, but perhaps it’s the way it was handled or communicated after the fact? Did you feel they were ultimately respectful of your time when they were late? Did the lateness usually result in a fight where bad communication patterns were developed? Were there ever any attempts — from both of you — to mitigate the lateness, things like rescheduling or building in extra time or a process where they texted you with updates about their whereabouts? If things are approached less as a problem to be “fixed” and more as a matter of compromising, working together toward solutions, and mutual understanding, then I think this avoids treating lateness as some sort of moral deficiency. It sounds like you’re already doing some good unpacking work here.

Darcy: Oh hi, I also have ADHD! I’m also a person who tends to be very on time. I have friends who are chronically late (the time blindness is REAL, I understand), and while I’ve adjusted to how their minds work around time by resetting my expectations about when we might meet up/get to the thing/do something, I do think that it would be challenging for me personally to date or share my life with someone in that camp. Not because it’s a moral failing — it’s absolutely not! But because I personally have a brain in which certain types of routine/expectations are very difficult for me to deviate from. It’s possible that I would adjust! It’s also possible that I wouldn’t be able to.

I agree 100% with Kayla’s thoughts here, and it seems like the issue in this relationship might’ve perhaps been less about this person’s ADHD and more about a breakdown in communication, and/or a difficulty in connecting fully. However you unpack things as you move forward, I do want to stress that while it’s fine and good to work through challenges with a date or a new partner, it’s also ok if something about the way each of your brains work just don’t end up gelling together. Not all of us were meant to be romantic partners, or share our lives, and that’s ok!

Q8:

For the Ethics Box (if it’s not too late!):

What are y’all’s thoughts on adoption? My spouse and I are both queer and happen to have the parts that let us make a baby, which we did twice. Now we are considering:

a) trying for a third biologically
b) fostering and/or adopting
c) remodeling our garage into an ADU for a single parent and kiddo or two to live in

I do believe that no matter someone’s intentions, adoption inherently has all kinds of trauma wound up in it, and I hesitate to be part of that system (especially as a white couple). However, I also believe that we have the tools to be better adoptive parents than many others out there, and as a public school teacher, I know there are so many awesome kids who need stable, loving homes.

I would love to hear others’ perspectives if you are willing to share.

A:

Dani Janae: Hey! Adopted person here.

I have very complicated thoughts about this so first I’ll offer a little of my history. I was adopted into a family with a white mom before I turned a year old. I was adopted with two boys who came from other families, that I consider still to be my brothers. Back in the 90s when we were adopted, I’m sure things were very different. I haven’t spoken to my biological family, but my brothers have spoken to theirs, and the general consensus is that the process was not entirely ethical.

My childhood was filled with trauma on top of the trauma of separation from my biological family. That experience greatly changed my views on adoption.

Couples or people who can’t have children the “traditional” way often think that adoption will fulfill something that they have been robbed of and that line of thinking is harmful. Adopting because you just really want kids may seem harmless, but you (speaking generally here) have to really ask yourself what you can bring to the life of a child who may be of a different race, background, may be disabled, may be queer or trans, and so much more.

This is going to sound harsh but people also think because they already have had their own children, adoption will be the same. It’s not. Adopted kids have questions, needs, and concerns that your biological children won’t have. People will tell you that love is enough but it isn’t. You can totally love your foster or adopted child and still not be able to provide what they need.

What do adopted kids need? I firmly believe that adopted kids need a connection to their biological families and their cultures. This is complicated because sometimes bio families are abusive or don’t want that connection for their own reasons, but if all parties involved want an open adoption you have to ask yourself if you can live with that. Many foster parents can’t. They fear losing the child that they fought to claim as their own, but that is a selfish endeavor.

Can you handle a child who will ask questions about their “real” family? Can you handle a kid that has health issues? Can you handle a child that was abused or was born to a parent that was an addict and all that comes with? You might bypass all this by adopting a child that has no trauma in their background, but if they are in the system it’s likely they will have some.

I’m not trying to discourage you, I just think you really need to sit and think about what you could be signing up for. Maybe even talk to a family therapist first and see if your family is a good place to raise an adopted kid. There are some adopted kids that are eternally grateful to their families for taking them in. They might disagree with what I’ve said here. I’m sure you are thinking of doing things the right way, not like how it was done with my brothers.

Children are naturally curious and want to know where they come from. My mom used to lash out when I asked about my biological mother. You might think you’d never do something like that but you don’t know until you’re in it.

Ultimately I believe in reunification before adoption. Give families the tools they need to raise healthy children instead of taking them into a stranger’s home. It’s not always possible, but if a family is loving but just struggling in addiction or poverty, it’s my thinking that they should be supported by their community and helped to raise their children.

Like I said, I’m not trying to sway you either way but just offering some perspective as an adult that’s been through it.

Julie: Hi, also adopted. Love my parents and appreciate what I’ve been given, but I’ve spent a lot of my childhood and adult life trying to heal and wondering about a different life.

I agree that a lot of consideration and planning goes into even ideating about adopting a child. And it’s always a plus to have access to tools that would help you and your partner raise an adopted child. However if and when they arrive, it may play out differently than you expected. There will be curveballs and unexpected questions and it’s important in my opinion to really consider all the factors of your potential new child’s life and experiences. What will you do when your child gets tired of telling their new classmates why you don’t look like them? How will you ensure that your child knows about their culture and will you encourage them or let them come into it on their own? Will they get to meet people who look like them and can empathize with their experiences?

A lot of the pain in my life comes from being adopted. I spent a lot of my childhood looking at the birth documents that came with me from Korea and wondering about who the crossed out names were and why they didn’t want me. I could not speak my mother tongue and was never encouraged to read or write it. As much love as I did feel from my parents as a kid, I wish I could have been more connected to where I was born. My sibling is also biologically related to my parents and as much as I was told that I was loved the same, I still often felt insecure about it as a kid which often made me either angry or sad.

I’m 26 now and this is the first year that I’ve been able to contact my birth mother. It’s a journey that I’ve been going on alone. Emailing back and forth with the adoption agency, waiting for them to translate my emails, and receiving a response 5-6 months later. It’s draining and painful, with little to no resolution or answers. I’ve told my parents about it a little bit, but I feel like it’s something that can only be mine. My adopted mother gives me support and encourages me, but I can feel some hesitancy when I express my deep desire to reconnect. Will it be okay with you and your partner when your child reaches for a stranger, even though you’re the one that’s taken care of them from a young age?

I don’t doubt that you could adequately take care of an adopted child. I just implore you and your partner to do a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of preparing. I agree with Dani’s idea to talk with a family therapist to vet yourself and see if it could be a good fit. I also hesitate to tell you to do one thing either way. I’m still in a lot of pain and it’s so deeply ingrained that I’ve had to put in a lot of work to just get here.

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