This Bitch

 So last night my brother lost it at dinner... he was making one of his casually racist comments and I picked up my phone and blasted Snoop Dogg (don't ask) and he started screaming which led to him pointing his finger and saying "I will not sit down to dinner again if THAT BITCH is at the table."

This bitch.

So anyway, it's actually for the best that we stop eating together. His blackened soul (LOL!!) affects my appetite as is. I internalize a lot of his misogyny and racism and classism (he's such a classic Trumper) and I walk around with a ball in the pit of my stomach all the time wondering when he's going to go off next.

I believe it was Margaret Atwood who said "Men are afraid that women will laugh at them and women are afraid that men will kill them." It's true. I don't have a daily anxiety that my brother would shoot me but if America ever went Handmaiden's Tale, or evil Republican Empire, or Civil War, he wouldn't hesitate.

Mediocre white men's sense of rightness is terrifying.

Please don't ask me why I don't move out. There isn't an affordable place anywhere on this island and I don't have the finances anyway.

But I will start making my own dinners and eating away from the others. I'm ready to break up the "family dinner" which is nothing more than listening to an uninteresting man pontificate about issues he doesn't understand anyway.

(BTW: I had taken this second job for Christmas money and I ordered my brother a computer as a gift which I was able to cancel the order. He'll never know but my relief at not getting him something awesome was even nicer than the getting it for him.)

Oh well. Families are our burden.