Fuck Your “Safe Space”

No seriously! Fuck your fucking trigger warnings and your fucking “safe spaces” because they are a fucking illusion! Your safe space, ANY safe space does not fucking exist!

Last weekend a woman from my neighborhood, a single mother of three, went on a date with man she met online. They went to a baseball game and then later that night she ended up hacked into pieces and thrown into someone’s recycle bin in the fucking Central District. How ’bout you stick that in your fucking safe space!

THIS, This, this is the reality of being a woman, being a human, that there REALLY is no safe space. There is no escape from the darkness. No escape from reality, not really, because even if you’ve created the perfect physical space where no one uses bad words, no one ever says anything offensive, no one treats anyone with disrespect, no one is violent, no one even talks about violence, no one has to do, see, say or experience anything that makes them uncomfortable, well, you could still get swallowed up by an earthquake or mowed down by a hail of bullets in yet another random, mass shooting.

Safety is just an idea, an illusion, a concept that exists in our heads so that we can still have hope. Hope, however, is the only honest thing left in this world. It’s when hope is gone that none of us will be safe.

You can spend your time trying to get people to use the right words so that no one is ever “offended” or “made to feel uncomfortable” but at the end of the day none of us can protect anyone from reality, from evil, from each other. All we can do is hope….and love one another as much as possible because you never know when you won’t wake up, when the earth will reach up an take you where you stand, when you’ll end up in pieces in a fucking garbage can.

Can we stop all trying to be social justice warriors and just start being good to each other? Listen kids, you’re gonna see some shit and hear some shit and experience some shit in this life that is going to offend you, make you sad, make you angry, make you fall, make you scared, make you uncomfortable, make you cry, make you want to scream, make you want to change things but life cannot be censored*. It just is.

I tell this story sometimes when people talk about not wanting to be “offended” (which by the way, go fuck yourself….oh, sorry, was that offensive? Just kidding, I totally know it was and I also don’t give a fat shit!) because life does not care about your delicate sensibilities; one time I parked downtown on Second Ave. and was getting out of my car to go to the record store when I looked down the street and saw a man, a clearly mentally handicapped man, standing next to a building where its corner met a parking lot, looking out towards the street while violently masturbating. Would I have preferred not to have seen that? Abso-fucking-lutely! Was I offended by this? Yes. Did it make me feel uncomfortable? Definitely. But no amount of “safe spaces” or “trigger warnings” or “regulating hate speech” could have saved me from having to see that. It just was. Here was a man, who probably did not know any better (or did and just didn’t give a shit), just doing what felt good to him…and no amount of telling him that people would be “offended” by his behavior was going to change his behavior.

But hey, I consider myself very lucky. I am still here. I am not chopped into pieces and tossed into the trash like this man, this monster, who carried out this horrible act would have Ingrid Lyne believe she was. She was not trash. She was a human, a mother, a woman and now she is not here anymore. And I am extremely uncomfortable with this story, this narrative offends me so much, it is beyond the telling. But if we shy away from telling these stories because they are horrible, violent, sad and they make us feel like we will never be safe, then we can just forget about hope. Hope in the face of nightmares is the only thing that will wake us. Hope is truth. Hope is what will carry us forward.

Here’s a link to the fundraising page for Ingrid Lyne’s daughters who are now without their mother. It’s official, the real deal, I checked it out. I wouldn’t steer you wrong. XOXO
Also, I did not edit this so if you want to point out typos feel free, just know that I will tell you to go fuck yourself….just try not to do it in the middle of Second Ave. Cool?

Here’s this in case you weren’t already bummed out enough:

*and don’t think for one second that’s not what everyone out there who is trying to “regulate hate speech” is doing. It’s just censorship that got too far up its own ass to be seen for what it really is.

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5 thoughts on “Fuck Your “Safe Space”

  1. You really nailed it. This city needs that post. Sometimes, I think every person in Seattle, outside of my circle, truly believes in this ‘safe space’ b.s. One hundred years from now we are going to be laughed at. I just hope it’s real Americans doing the laughing.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This paragraph you wrote is best said. So true. “You can spend your time trying to get people to use the right words so that no one is ever “offended” or “made to feel uncomfortable” but at the end of the day none of us can protect anyone from reality, from evil, from each other. All we can do is hope….and love one another as much as possible because you never know when you won’t wake up, when the earth will reach up an take you where you stand, when you’ll end up in pieces in a fucking garbage can.” WHY IS THIS HAPPENING??? Agreed about the tiptoeing and political protection. We want true protection.

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  3. Your blog was very well-written, and I am very sorry for your loss. This has to be so profoundly horrific for your neighborhood. I’ve been crying for two days over this girl, her daughters, and her family. They mirror my family. I also believe that we can exercise our freedom of speech with some tact and respect for those who are still living, and who may eventually read this blog. Again, I agree with everything you expressed, but there are children involved. There is an ex husband, and parents who have to be confused. If this were my family, and my death happened in this horrific fashion, this would traumatize my surviving family. And coming across a blog like this with my face involved would, well, most likely kill them. Again, I understand that you are pissed and upset, but can we express ourselves in other ways, for the sake of this beautiful soul, and her surviving family? I would really love, LOVE, to hear more about this amazing mother, and have blogs be flooded by her legacy instead. If the family is completely okay with your blog, then I’m okay with it.

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