Spider-Man Comics: Making Soap Operas Acceptable To Men--And Other Thoughts

I decided to get rid of some of my comic books lately, so I found some Spider-Man comics that I didn't want anymore. I had tried to get into Spider-Man, I really had, but for some reason I never saw the appeal.
So I tried to give them one more chance. Most of my Spider-Man comics are from the 1990s, when it wasn't uncommon to have many-parted stories, even ones spanning up to five different series, so that you have to subscribe to five different series just to see how it ends. (Superman comics were really bad about this in the 90s, but Spider-Man apparently did this too.)
So I picked up a standalone comic (Web of Spider-Man 92, September 1992), thinking that I didn't have to worry about not catching up. But somehow, Peter Parker was still bothered, apparently, by something that happened in the last comic (probably in many previous comics). I had seen no indication on the cover that it was continued from the last issue of WOS, or from another series.
And yet I found myself thinking, "Who is Betty and why does she blame him for her husband's death?"
And then I remembered that this had been typical for any modern Spider-Man comics I had seen. Here are my thoughts on the character:

1) The Bold And The Bugbrain: He lives in a daytime drama.

 I realized that this was the problem with Spider-Man for me: He always had some shit to deal with. There was always something going on, I was always plunked down in the middle of an ongoing story, and if I recall right, it had been happening since the 1970s (in the comics; I was born in 1991).
 And I don't care for this approach to storytelling. I have my own shit to deal with, and now I have to deal with Spider-Man's? I like my peaceful life; why would I escape into one filled with interpersonal drama?
Sometimes his personal problems are related to his villains, sometimes they are not. And while superpowers, insanity, and accidents that drive people to evil corruption can sometimes make things much more interesting, underneath it all, it's still drama. With a big enough budget and a long enough run time, any soap opera series would go into every one of these plotlines. It's a glorified super-powered soap opera.

2) The count of his friends can rival Game Of Thrones (and it's just as bloody and complicated). 

What made the Winter Soldier storyline, in both the movie and the Captain America comic books, so addictive, wonderful, and heart-wrenching was the fact that it was Bucky who was corrupted. Bucky, Cap's sidekick from the beginning--the very beginning in 1942! This was a rare storyline to pursue for Cap, and it had so much history behind it.
It became great, because Captain America was treated like Spider-Man--only they did it rarely, and with so recognizable a character. Imagine if Uncle Ben came back from the dead as a brainwashed assassin that Spidey had to fight. Or Aunt May gets brainwashed, because that's actually someone we know better. How awesome would that be?
And yet Spider-Man has SO MANY friends, that it becomes hard to keep track of them all, or to care about any of them.

3) Flash Thompson was not a bully, he was preserving his own soul.

And when they're not being killed or kidnapped, they're turning evil at alarming rates. Doc Ock, the Lizard, Norman Osborn, Harry Osborn, even the parasitic alien goo that comprises half of Venom--I am not even a Spider-fan, and I could name five off the top of my head! Even if you're living tar from outer space, the minute you befriend Peter Parker is the first step in your downward spiral into madness, your first handshake the dreadful sign of your inevitable and inescapable corruption.
 Flash was perhaps afraid to get close to him, and perhaps he was onto something. He knew that Peter was the Horcrux of a tiny, radioactive, eight-legged Voldemort. (Voldemorachnid?) I would love to know if the evil spider who bit him had previously murdered Ant Man.
Spider-Man has so much going for him, especially all of the many, MANY silly and colorful villains. He is the Flash of Marvel. I should love him. And I do--when he isn't weighed down by his wife wanting a divorce or his aunt possibly having cancer or him feeling responsible for his girlfriend's death. And I have to go pretty far back to get the purely fun, colorful crimefighting of yesteryear. I think even in the 60s, there was still a bit of drama.
When Harry Osborn became the new Green Goblin, that was a great concept and storyline. But they did that kind of thing too much. Now everyone around him is either going to become a villain, or get mixed up with one.


4) He appeals to a victimhood mentality.

And everyone is inevitably going to get mad at Pete for something that isn't his fault. (He's such a "nice guy," after all.) He's sometimes the avatar for a certain kind of male. The kind of male that the internet first called "nice guys," then called "neckbeards," and now I believe they're called "fuckboys." But whatever you call them, these are the guys (usually young, but they can be into their thirties and beyond) who are always a victim. Something is always happening to them, and it's always someone else' fault.
The most famous and common example is that the women they like "always pick the assholes." (I once misread that phrase, and thought someone was complaining that so many women were literally picking THEIR OWN ASSHOLES, like someone would pick their own nose. I was horrified, for one very long and unpleasant minute.)
Or that the woman they are currently with, is somehow ruining their life, and why can't these women just treat them right, because they're nice guys, after all? Apparently not hitting women is enough in their minds.
Usually, these men are blaming women for either not being attracted to them, or once they are with them, not giving them enough sex or making reasonable requests to help with the children or household tasks.
Spider-Man himself is not a professional victim--he tries to help those who cause him harm, not blame them. But I think he appeals to these types of men, because something is always happening to him that is not his fault. It's always someone else who is evil or reckless with their experiments or carrying their emotions of grief too far. It is very rare that anything is his fault. (And let's be real--do we really expect him to give up fighting crime to spend more time with Mary Jane? MJ is meant to be seen as unreasonable. The only time I really saw any fault with him is when he lied too much in one issue, and learned he had a problem.)
I have personally heard a Spider-Man fan or two describe themselves as a "nice guy" unironically. But Spider-Man sets an excellent example for how to deal with--how to try to help--those who cause you grief through no real fault of their own. Yet the danger is that he's too perfect, and everyone around him is unreasonable. And that "everyone around me is unreasonable" is what fanboys will ultimately take from it.

5) He has a rare mother figure.

He also has a mother figure sometimes mentoring him, which is so rare for a male superhero. Most of the time he has the mindset of trying to take care of the helpless little woman (even when he was a teenager). But occasionally Aunt May dispenses advice which is unintentionally useful in his crimefighting.
I am tired of seeing male superheroes obsessed with their dead fathers. Especially Superman, who never even knew his biological father (his sperm donor), but obsesses over him, even comically arguing and taking advice from a computer simulation of his ghost--but cares nothing for his dead birth mother (egg donor). He never knew her, but he never knew his sperm donor, either. And  he constantly shits on his adoptive family by not acknowledging them as his parents, when they raised him from a baby! They weren't abusive or neglectful, so why aren't they his parents?
And there's also Batman, who also seems to worship his father an inordinate amount compared to his mother--and he knew both of them until he was about ten.
So, even though Spider-Man obsesses over Uncle Ben, when Aunt May is still alive and ready to dispense wisdom and good advice, it's refreshing that he has a "mother." And it's very rare in comics that any female would not be a young, pretty love interest (yes, I've heard of those gross movies)--even though he seems to have to take care of her when she should be taking care of him.
(Even when he is still a boy, and she seems elderly but able-bodied--because he has a penis, I guess.  And she can cook and clean a large house, but cannot even be a part-time receptionist, because she lost all job skills upon her marriage.)
At least in the beginning, Aunt May played a much bigger role than either Martha Kent or Aunt Harriet. (In the comics, at least--does anyone even remember Aunt Harriet, other than in the 1960s Batman TV show?) I just wish that he would have consistently looked up to her as the mentor figure she could have been, rather than obsessing over one short sentence uttered by his dead uncle. (Because other than that, what do we really know of Uncle Ben, anyway?) Uncle Ben may have been the reason he became Spider-Man, but the living Aunt May should have been the reason that he continued fighting evil.

My relationship with the character of Spider-Man is...complicated. I wish I could just tell him to lighten up, to stop feeling so responsible for taking on other people's drama. Any time he has a simple, angst-free superhero storyline, I gobble that shit up. But unfortunately, that excludes most of his comic book history. I'm limited, basically, to anything done for little kids--though I don't mind terribly, but it would be nice to have grownup storylines without teenage angst. We need a mixture of light and dark, not all dark all the time.
I realize I'm generalizing very much here. I can't read all of the Spider-Man comic books ever published, or even most of them. All of his adventures could be crammed into ten very busy human lifetimes. He's like a friend that I like as a person, but don't like to be around because I don't want to take on his burdens and constant life drama.
I hope for all of our sakes that Spider-Man is allowed to retire his Midas Touch of Evilness when meeting new friends, has a happy marriage, doesn't have to worry about his elderly aunt, and also fights challenging bad guys against insurmountable odds.
Maybe some people actually like that his inner demons make him more "relatable," but it just makes me want to avoid him so that I don't have to hear about his depressing life--while not even being able to help him.
Spidey deserves to be happy for a while, in his personal life. And we deserve to see him happy.

Supergirl Pilot Episode Review: How To Make Jimmy Olsen Black

Not a lot of people know this about me, but I am a HUGE Jimmy Olsen fan. I literally have every issue of the golden, silver, and bronze age comic series, Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen. It took me a long time to collect all 163 issues from 1954 to 1974. (I quoted that statistic off the top of my head--look it up, I have that much confidence. I know I'm right.) But it was worth it.
I am obsessed with my favorite characters, of which he is one. I love the goofiness of the golden and silver ages, and the changes of the 1970s when he becomes "Mr. Action" and gets more politically involved. And I love that his disguises--including cross-dressing--have remained a part of his character since the very first issue.
And even though I chose not to collect the series when it became Superman Family at issue 164, folding in both the Lois Lane and Supergirl series also (again, off the top of my head), my Jimmy Olsen collection is one of my most prized possessions. Number one is not in Near Mint condition, but it is mine.
And I would never give up even one book in my collection, unless I had to feed myself, pay for a medical emergency, or get a degree for a dream job that I love more than Jimmy Olsen. (Ha!)

So it really upsets me when he is portrayed in movies and on TV as anything less than his magnificent, bright-orange-redheaded, freckled, bow-tie-wearing, Superman-worshipping, geeky self. And he is portrayed with brown hair literally every single fucking time.
These casting directors have absolutely no excuse. Rupert Grint exists. If you can find a Ron Weasely, you can find a Jimmy Olsen. But apparently since the 1930s, redheads have only existed in cartoons and comic books.

I also really love Supergirl, almost as much as I love her friend Mary Marvel. In fact, if Supergirl doesn't end up with Mary Marvel, Jimmy Olsen is my first choice. He is the only acceptable love interest, in my mind, for Hetero Supergirl. The only one.

So at first I was very unhappy, watching the first episode of CW's Supergirl, when the character introduced as "James Olsen" was a thirty-five-year-old, tall, muscular black man with no hair--not just non-red hair, no hair at all!
But then I realized, as a Jimmy Olsen/Supergirl super-fangirl, that, if they were going to change his appearance so drastically, the producers of the show could have had a lot more fun with it. In the pilot, he meets Kara (called her Kryptonian name in real life, apparently--if they didn't want to go with Linda, would it have killed them to shorten it to Lynne or something?), then right away hints at his friendship with Superman. She exclaims, "You're Jimmy Olsen!" and he corrects her--"James." Because apparently in a show called SuperGIRL, we have to be reminded that Jimmy Olsen is all grown up.
There is no iconic bow tie to be seen.
But they could have made it so much better. Consider this instead:

Throughout the first episode, Kara keeps running into the new guy from work--who is wearing a bow tie. Most people will not notice the bow tie at first, at least on a black man. He keeps trying to introduce himself, but they get interrupted every time.
Finally, at the very end of the episode, he gets the chance to say, "There you are. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Jimmy Olsen."
"Oh!" she exclaims in surprise, glancing at his bow tie. "You're...not like I pictured you..."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"I expected you be...you know...shorter," she answers sincerely.
He appears genuinely perplexed. "Yeah, for some reason, when people hear the name 'Jimmy Olsen,' they picture a skinny little white kid."

In this way, we can have fun with the change. We can take it seriously, because of Kara's sincere tone of voice when she says "shorter," as if she is not thinking of some other word. And his real confusion over why people think of him as white would avoid the "wink-wink" type of fourth wall break that thinks it is so clever, but which is severely overused (and which I can't stand).
But at the same time, we would give the audience a mystery to solve, and acknowledge the big change that is made. The exchange about him being shorter could easily be ruined with bad acting or bad direction to the actors, but if the actors are sincere--if the characters really believe that "shorter" is the most appropriate word--then it can be pulled off beautifully.
 (He also could have figured out on his own that Kara was Supergirl, making him look much smarter than if Superman had simply told him, as in the show. That reveal just makes him look like a real jerk for hinting at it throughout the episode, as if he wasn't trying to figure something out but rather just wanted to tease her and make her anxious about her secret identity.)
And he doesn't even have to wear a bow tie after the first episode. Just give us the pilot, have him say later that his other ties were dirty if you want. But Jimmy Olsen doesn't need a phallic symbol on his neck.

If you're going to change such a major and beloved character's appearance so much from the comic book--not just his race, but also his age, build, height, hair style, fashion sense, personality (more confident, less awkward, no gushing over Superman), and even the name he goes by--you're going to have to address that. While also taking the change seriously, so it doesn't look like you're making a black man, and your entire show, nothing more than a joke.
By making a mystery out of who this guy is--while providing a subtle visual clue--and addressing the change without getting overly jokey about it, we can do this. That is something this white, Jimmy-Olsen-purist, super-fan-girl can get behind.

LGBTQ: More On Accepting Yourself IN SPITE of Being Gay

I never thought I would get so many views on my last article, "Sometimes You Have To Love Yourself IN SPITE of Being Gay."

I thought for sure it would be, "Internalized Homophobia And The Importance of...Humming," or "Why You Maybe SHOULD Ask If Someone Is Gay." Not even my article about Slytherin being the best Hogwarts house in the Harry Potter universe got as many views. People believe gay is good, but are having more of a struggle with self-love than I thought.

I didn't even think it was written as well as some other articles, because I talked about myself a lot. And it was smaller than others. But I apparently struck a nerve.

It's exhausting, sometimes, to affirm in your own mind that gay is good, in spite of your homophobic programming. You've got to love yourself in spite of it. In spite of everything.

In my experience, Christian songs still pop into my head almost every day, even though it's been about seven years since I listened to any kind of Christian music (except in the occasional Salvation Army thrift store). So of course it makes sense that the same ideas from my childhood would pop into my head also--especially since I occasionally still come across those same ideas, in spite of trying to avoid them for my own sake. (This is one of the reasons I avoid even the best gay Christian sites, because it attracts well-meaning and ill-meaning homophobes alike.)

Internalized homophobia is like having a sharp knife in your mind, that you try to avoid touching. And sometimes your efforts to remove it or dull it only cut you up badly. So it's best to avoid it sometimes, not confront it head-on. That's why I like trying different strategies than arguing with it (which is exhausting and only winds me up and makes me feel even worse).

Internalized homophobia, especially if it is upsetting enough to argue with myself about, makes me feel like scum, like the worst person, for being gay and choosing to accept it and explore my interest in queer studies. (Though not formally at this time, since I don't want to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a degree.) And no amount of arguing can seem to help my feeling like scum.

So...what if I am? What if I am the worst person? The worst person in the world? (In a world full of murderers, pedophiles, and rapists--some would argue I'm worse than them. Those people scare me-- what the hell are they doing?)

What if I am the worst person I could be? Shouldn't I love myself in spite of that? In spite of my "non-repentance"? (How long am I going to miserable, repenting? I went for years constantly repenting of everything, before I even consciously knew I was bisexual--when I thought I was straight.)

I tell myself, "I love you, in spite of all that." In spite of everything. And it makes me feel better.

I try to make self-love a big part of my life. I believe it makes people physically healthier, not just emotionally healthier. And you have to accept yourself exactly where you're at, right now--whether it's for being gay, being in the closet, not being out and loud and argumentative with relatives that scare you physically or emotionally, being scared of homophobes or religious homophobia (even without physical danger), or not being fully able to say "Gay is good" yet, without internal conflict. You will get there someday. I think I will get there someday. And if I don't, that's okay too. I will try to accept myself in spite of it all.

LGBT: Sometimes You Have To Love Yourself IN SPITE Of Being Gay

All of the rhetoric I have seen directed towards queer persons about loving themselves, has been resting on the notion that being LGBTQ+ is not a personal fault or failing. And that is good. Very good. We are harming no one, so we don't deserve to be harmed or unfairly restricted in any way--by God or man.
But what if you can't just shake the notion that you're doing something wrong? That something is wrong with you? Your head is often less stubborn than your heart, and anti-gay or anti-trans programming can take years or a lifetime to fully unlearn. What if you can't stop thinking or feeling that you're bad?
Let me ask you a question: So what if you are?
What if you are bad? What if you are evil? What if you are the worst, most vile human being on the planet? What if you are scum?
Even if everything they say is true--why can't you still be on your own side?

I find myself arguing with the homophobes in my head more often than the homophobes on the internet or in my family. And it's exhausting. Sometimes I write down my own arguments (though it's ridiculous that I have to argue with people for my own life), sometimes I drown out the inner homophobes by humming. But trying to defeat them is exhausting.
So what if the're right? Does that mean that I should just stop taking care of myself, stop trying to be happy, kill myself? I can't do any of those things. I figured out long ago that I have to be on my own side (even against God). If they want me destroyed, they are going to have to kill me. Meanwhile, I'll live my life and try to do things that make me happy.

Maybe you should not try so hard to convince yourself that being gay is good, and you should just say, "I love myself in spite of my faults." And you can save "being gay isn't one of them" for another day. Especially some other day when you have more energy.
And it's not just useful for being gay itself. Gay guilt is also banished with this technique.
I love myself in spite of being kind-of in the closet to my family. (Though it's not my fault that they assume, and their assumptions are stubborn.) I love myself in spite of my closet.
I love myself in spite of my fear of arguing. In spite of a part of me thinking that homophobes are right when they hurt me, and wondering if that means that they're right about me and my sinfulness.
I love myself in spite of the hurt I feel when people are homophobic to me, even though I don't want to care what they think of me.
In spite of wanting to be with another woman, because I would wonder if people really accept me as myself, if I were with a man. (I'm technically bisexual.) In spite of worrying that my extended family would tell themselves I was straight, and not see the real me, and I would never know if they accept the real me, and a big part of me would be invisible. In spite of worrying that being with a man would make me lose a part of my identity that is so new to me, and so precious. Even if my mom says I should not pay attention to gender and just focus on finding a good person. Even if I can't do that, I still love myself.

I love myself in spite of hating myself. And somehow, doing that makes me not hate myself.

I love myself in spite of being gay. In spite of acting on it in the form of reading gay books and watching gay Youtube videos. In spite of cheering on the character Kevin Keller, on the show Riverdale, when he dates that hot bad-boy gangster Joachim. I love myself in spite of all of that.

I love myself in spite of everything. And I'll save combating everything for another day.

LGBTQ: Internalized Homophobia And The Importance Of...Humming

In black lesbian comedian Wanda Sykes's new tour, What Happened Ms. Sykes, she says that, in dealing with her white wife and children, "Sometimes you just have to hum a Negro spiritual,"
I don't know any Negro spirituals, and I'm not sure how much good they would do to a white person struggling with issues other than race. But I have found that sometimes when I'm stuck arguing with myself, I can actually hum away the bad thoughts.

Sometimes religious songs pop into my head at random moments, even though I haven't listened to Christian music in about eight years. I don't mind those so much. But it's the same with religious arguments against homosexuality--against what I am.Sometimes they pop into my head, especially if I was exposed to homophobic arguments recently (usually try to avoid that).
Long before I knew I was at least bisexual, I always felt like I was not a good enough Christian and never would be. And no amount of Christian "encouragement" did any good. So I know it's a self-esteem issue, not just a gay issue. Being gay is just what allows the negative, self-hating "monster" to hurt me the most.
It's a never-ending battle, and sometimes different strategies--like positive self-talk, grieving for the loss of my faith, or writing my arguments out--work for me, and sometimes they don't. The negativity is sneaky, and each time is different. But sometimes, tunelessly, mindlessly humming, works more effectively than anything else. I find it impossible to listen to the viciously self-righteous inner homophobes when all thoughts are drowned out.

Humming helps to relax you, and the vibrations are good for your body. Some people like to say "om" when meditating, thinking that it's the "perfect" sound, but I prefer to leave off the O. I softly hum or sing "mmmm" or "ahhhh." Occasionally I sing an actual song, but it's hard to come up with a happy and relaxing song when my inner homophobe is attacking. The important thing is to quickly break the pattern of my inner arguing and feeling attacked and defensive.
A cat's purr is said to be healing, especially to broken bones. The closest thing I have to purring is sometimes like morphine to a broken heart. It's probably like a mini meditation.
And according to the teacher of an acting workshop I once took, making your voice loudly vibrate increases your personal power, and the power of your voice--in more ways than one. It empowers you. She said that it especially empowers women, who often have to make their voices small and high-pitched when confronting people, to not have to be "nice" all the time.
So if you can, get loud! But if you can't, hum softly or breathe...well, breathily. Like a character in a novel. (For example, "'I can't be with you,' she breathed.")

Even a few seconds of this can release endorphins and break the chains of your fear and defensiveness. Having the liberty to hum, sing, yell, or even chant, tells your body that it's safe. That you're physically, emotionally, and spiritually safe, that you're loved, and that you have something to sing about. That you have a reason to be happy, if only because you don't have to believe that you're bad and wrong.
I'm not saying that this is better than other methods of banishing negativity. Only that it seems to work better for me right now. Right now, it doesn't always help, but most of the time it does. And there does seem to be something special about it. Give it a try, if you struggle with negativity and self-hate for any reason. Especially if you don't have time or patience for yoga and meditation. I hope this helps someone, like this method has helped me.

LGBTQ: Why You Maybe SHOULD Ask If Someone Is Gay Or Trans

This article on Everyday Feminism makes the excellent point that the onus should not be on queer people to disclose and fight for themselves, but on straight people to "invite them in" to society and their lives. But what is "inviting in," in concrete, practical terms? The author gives no such suggestions. How am I supposed to figure out exactly what to do, much less some straight person whose hobbies don't include reading about queer studies?

I disagree with the author on some things. I don't think it's always taboo to mention to someone that you suspect they are gay and love them no matter what. My mom asked me if I thought I was gay, while telling me she loved me no matter what, before I was "ready" to come out even to her, even with how close we are. And I figured that it would be easier to tell her now, than bring it up later. So I did. I said, "Okay. I think I like boys and girls."
"Okay," she said, then gave me an extra-long hug that night when I went to bed.
She helped me out, on two levels. And I wouldn't be where I'm at, with accepting myself (and buying the queer books I want to read, in front of her--which also helps me accept myself), if she hadn't.
Her asking made things easier for me. So depending on the person, relationship to you, and circumstances, asking might actually help, not hurt. My mom wasn't a stranger, and we had a very close relationship already. I knew she would still love me, even if I felt scared that telling her would be weird. And she didn't ask in front of anyone else.
But if you are going to do this, be sure to do it while expressing a lot of love.
(Another way to "invite them in" is to mention that you are an ally or you yourself are queer. One friend, defensive about why I tagged him in an inspirational post made by a gay Facebook page--I hadn't even thought about where it came from--admitted, "Actually, I think I might be bisexual too. But don't tell anyone!" when I mentioned my own bisexuality. But don't worry, it happened years ago, no one reading this blog could identify him, and I won't tell you his name.)

So depending on the situation, asking might actually help "invite them in." I am assuming that the author meant "inviting them in" to mean, in part, making it easier to be themselves, and express who they are if they wish. Unfortunately, there is no comment section on Everyday Feminism, that I saw. So I can't ask.
So instead of waiting for someone to come out of the closet, if you have a good relationship with them already, maybe knock on the door and ask, "Are you in there? You know it's safe to come out?" And invite them into the room with you. And if they don't come out yet, or aren't in there at all, that's okay too. Make sure they know that you'll be there for them no matter what.

Please Don't Tell Me How To Feel

When I was younger and trying desperately to be a good evangelical Christian girl, I was always told, or had my own religious ideas about, how I should feel about everything in my life. And it prevented me from actually being myself, and even knowing how I really felt and helping myself.

I remember, when I was thirteen in 2004, Massachusetts started issuing marriage licenses to gay and lesbian couples, bringing this issue of marriage equality into public consciousness. I saw a picture in the newspaper of two men sitting together at a protest against a "marriage protection" bill. One was holding a sign saying, "I want to marry the man I love."
That broke my heart. I remember thinking, "I wish I didn't have to take that away from him." I wished that God didn't force us to hurt others, and punish people for love. But I had to suppress those feelings.
Our neighbor "needed" my mom's, and my, help, nearly all the time--every day. I hated having to babysit and work in the fields, and I hated being around that loud, dramatic woman. But I had to be a "good Christian," and an obedient kid.
I had to be okay with the idea of getting martyred or raped on the mission field. I had to be okay with hours of tedious King James bible study, with constant mind-prayer, with trying to control my thoughts so much that I couldn't relax and go to sleep, with witnessing when I was an introvert, and with praying for an hour or more when I had no idea what to say. And I had to like everything that was Christian, just because it was Christian.
And through all this, I was supposed to feel close to God, but I didn't. And it's hard to love someone, when you're trying this hard to please them, with no results. But I had to feel love for God--and not just love, but joy in all my efforts to be near him. I could never change how I felt, and all I succeeded in doing was wondering--no, demanding of myself--what was wrong with me, and beating myself up about it constantly.
And the worst part was, I knew that if I shared my struggles with any Christian, I would again be told how to feel, and again hate myself for whatever was wrong with me--that I somehow couldn't measure up, or even relax and stop focusing on measuring up.

And now I am 26, free from the tyranny of evangelicalism, and fully accepted as bisexual by my parents and all my friends. But there are still others who tell me what to feel, sometimes with quite a bit of hostility. And, well, it feels bad. I'm not "supposed" to care, but it still feels very bad and sometimes makes me demand what is wrong with me.
Most of what is out there to watch or read either has no LGBT characters, or makes their stories tragic or fatal. Meanwhile most straight romances totally lack chemistry and feel contrived, cliche, and forced. And according to some "allies" on the internet, I'm not supposed to care.
I have been catcalled a few times, even in my small town, and even when with my mother. And I'm not supposed to care.
My animals sometimes die or go missing and never return. And according to my grandfather, they're "just animals," and I'm not supposed to care. (That one makes me the angriest, because he knows me, knows how much I love my babies, and he cares about me. It's sometimes hard to be gentle with him, and I avoid telling my extended family about these tragedies because I don't want to hear him say it. It hurts.)

But...I do care. About all of these things. And more. And telling me not to care, is not going to change that.
I have found that, if I tell myself not to feel something, instead of dealing with that feeling, it never gets resolved. I end up going around and around in my mind, asking what is wrong with me, feeling like there is something fundamentally wrong with me. That I'm "too sensitive" or "too negative"--instead of just tackling how I feel and feeling better! And I think I deserve to feel better, even if I have to feel bad first to help myself. And I think I would know how to help myself, after all I'm closest to myself.

Sometimes I think that my life consists too much in dealing with negative feelings. But when I let myself deal with them--for example, writing about them, even if it's so negative that I have to keep the writing to myself--I eventually feel so much better. And my life becomes happier. Maybe I have so much to deal with now, because I couldn't or didn't know how to deal with these things earlier.

Telling other people how to feel becomes especially problematic when it comes to feminist or minority issues. If you're not bothered by lack of good LGBT representation in media--whether you're queer or not--then good for you. But please don't tell others that they're wrong for being bothered by these things. If it's okay to feel love, why shouldn't it be okay to feel other emotions too? We deserve to use our energy building good lives for ourselves and being happy--not wondering what is wrong with us.
If you're a man and you don't see what the big deal is with catcalling, please still respect women enough not to do it. And if you're a woman who takes it as a compliment, please still respect that other women feel objectified and sometimes threatened.
And especially if you're white, please don't tell racial minorities not to be bothered by police killings and microaggressions. And I say that as a white person. (Unfortunately, that still carries more weight to some people, whether they consciously realize it or not.)

My mom finally understood that I needed to deal with bothersome emotions my own way, when I related my feelings to grief. (Unfortunately, we've lost a lot of animals and have that in common. But I'm glad she can understand.)
Like grief, sometimes you just have to deal with being hurt, scared, or anything else. It is intense, and scary, but then you can eventually feel better. I have a mostly very happy life, even with the dark times that come and go.
So please don't tell people to just get over things, or that they're not a big deal, or how they should feel about something. All doing this will do, is seriously mess people up--and that's if they care enough to even listen to you at all.