Mapping the positive disintegration of my relationship with my mother, item one Mom: (bla bla bla, ew homosexuality, you seem slutty on facebook, etc) Me: (all caps bcuz yelling into phone) I’M SORRY I HAVE SEX WITH WOMEN SOMETIMES, MOM! Also, if referring to your mom as a psycho bitch behind her back is grossly reliant on pathologies that ultimately oppress both of you in similar ways, but spontaneous eruptions of rage are anti-capitalist and important, which one of us is being the state? Also my mom actually told me I flaunt my sexuality too much on facebook. And I’m like, yeah mom, but you never saw the dyke porn video my friends and I made when I was nineteen. Also she’s taken issue with this fb interaction between a friend and me, Aug 2010 (thanks timeline): Friend: “I have scrapes on my elbows from sucking your dick.” (btw this dick was a metaphor, also how does my mom not understand that learning to emasculate straight cis white men is a rite of passage kinda like prom or weddings or the first time you slash someone’s tires????) Me: “Cool! You should use the blood to make menstrual art!” Whatever mom, we are witty, we are performance artists, we are doing being grotesque oversharers on the internet. Anger at my mom feels unnatural in a way that anger at my dad never does. The worst. XOXO