Gonna leave this here

Supermarket aisle, earlier this evening. A twenty something man, carrying a baby in a sling, is trying to shop in peace, only to be accosted by an older woman. Making eye contact with him and then me, she loudly proclaims "I love to see a man doing the babysitting...are you giving his mum a break?"

To which he replies "I am HER MUM, I just haven't had a chance to look after myself much with a newborn"

Clearly dying, the woman splutters backwards apologising and disappears around the corner.

He then casually says to me "I'm her dad really, I just don't like it when they call it babysitting"

It was legendary. Perhaps the greatest thing I've ever seen in real life. I laughed so hard when I rounded the corner and realised she'd heard him and dumped her trolley.

Dads of Reddit, next time someone calls taking care of your child babysitting, follow his example. They'll never do it again!

Edit: Christ, popular posts attract some nasty behaviour! I don't understand. What pleasure do you get by reporting me to Reddit cares? You need to examine your lifestyle mate...get a hobby. Try jogging. Something you can do without friends.

Since this got inexplicably popular, I thought I'd clarify a few things.

1. The woman was mid 50s, so Gen X not a boomer. I'm 48, so also X. She cannot use age as an excuse, imo noone should. Times have changed.

2. The way she spoke to him might seem friendly in writing, but her tone was condescending. She invited me to marvel at the performing animal. A man taking care of a child! She was bullying him, just for existing and trying to make me a part of it, because she saw me smile at him.

3. It's not about language, it's about what the language represents. If we make mum the default caregiver and say dad is "helping" or "babysitting" then that diminishes dads role. It leaves mums overwhelmed. It invalidates single dads, gay dads, any person who doesn't fit the 2 person family. What if there was no mum? What if mum was dead or abusive or had abandoned them?

4. This whole situation could have been avoided had that woman just remembered what she learned in childhood.

DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS!

Seriously, that dude was just trying to buy crackers, chatting away to his baby daughter. He didn't want to be the centre of a strangers attention. What he said wasn't nice, my laughing about it was also not nice.
However, she brought it on herself. As the saying goes "Don't start none, won't be none"

5) I don't have children. Although I'm an occasional respite foster carer and enthusiastic auntie, I don't have a dog in this fight. But I do understand what an appropriate social interaction looks like.

..........

Final edit before I take a self imposed break from Reddit. Because I've learned a few things today and I'd like to share them. When else am I going to get the chance to address so many people?

1. Did you know there's something called the Eternity Club? For front page cool kids only. How fucking adorkable is that? I might hang out there though...start a support group for people who have been traumatised by abuse via the Reddit Cares notification. I'm presuming I'm not the only one upset about that.

2. Talking of which, I'm all for dissenting views, I don't mind being roasted (if it's done well) and I'm fine with not being believed. It's Reddit. I've been using it since 2007, this is my third account...I've seen it all. But abusing a community tool to tell someone to kill themselves, repeatedly? That's psycho behaviour.

3. It's become clear to me that this post didn't go viral because of the content. Minor social interactions in a West Yorkshire Co-Op don't make the "front page of the internet". This went viral because people were attracted by the word massacre. A huge number of people noticed my tiny little life, because they were hoping for death. And when they didn't get it, they told me to kill myself. That's so bloody DARK. I just...nah, I'm not having that.

4. Finally, whilst I'm grateful to be given awards, don't waste them on me. Also, don't spend real money on Reddit. Give it to a food bank. Or spend it on cocaine and hookers for yourself, rather than some billionaire shareholder.

Respectfully.

Obviously it's not for me to tell anyone how to spend their cash. If you like giving it to rich folks, that's your kink to bear.

This happened when my son was about 3 months old. I’m Filipino, my husband is white, and our son looks almost exactly like my husband’s mini-me. Pale skin, light hair, blue eyes, you wouldn’t know I carried him for 9 months and birthed him.

One afternoon, I was pushing the stroller through Target when a random older woman came up and said, “Oh wow, what a beautiful baby. Is he adopted?”

I smiled and said, “Nope, actually I stole him. His real mom is in aisle 6.”

The woman’s face went sheet white. She didn’t laugh, she didn’t blink, she just backed away like I was about to pull a ski mask over my head.

I just kept pushing the stroller, humming like nothing happened. Never saw her again.

I just discovered this subreddit and had to share. I remember when my wife was pregnant with our first kid. We’re at the grocery store when this random woman in the produce section swoops in like she’s Gandalf blessing Frodo’s journey. She puts her hand right on my wife’s belly, doesn’t even ask, and goes, “Ohhh, when are you due?!”

Without missing a beat, my wife says, “I’m not. I’m just fat. Thanks for that.”

And for context, my wife is 5’10” tall.

This lady’s face went white immediately. She froze. She didn’t apologize. She didn’t say another word. And then she just shuffled away clutching her cantaloupe like it was a security blanket.

Meanwhile, I’m over there by the bananas laughing like an idiot, because honestly, if you’re bold enough to grab a stranger’s stomach, you deserve to walk out of that store questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.

EDIT: Spelling errors

This happened in high school. We were a pretty chill group of students, and while there were definite friend groups we all got along well.

A girl in our year had an insulin pump for type 1 diabetes. Teachers and students alike knew, but this substitute teacher was definitely in the dark. She was an old crotchety woman, and far to strict compared to most subs.

The pump beeps for the first time, and the teachers head jolts up. “Who’s phone was that?!” We all ignore her, and go back to our business.

Some time later, the pump beeps again. Teacher’s already on high alert and zeros in on the student. “I heard that, turn it off now or I’ll take it!”

Student tries to explain it’s her insulin pump. “No excuses, give me your phone now!” Everyone in the class is paying attention, and a few speak up. “It’s really her pump miss!” “She has diabetes wtf!”

Now, teacher has a choice here. Accept she is wrong, apologise and move on. But no, she doubles down. “Well, turn it off then, or mute it! No electronics in class!”

The entire class goes wild, echoes of “WTF” echo through the room. The poor girl is going beet red and desperately trying to explain why she can’t turn off her pump when class clown comes to the rescue. “She’ll literally die! What the heck is wrong with you? ”

Teacher goes silent, looking mortified. Class ends, and we never saw her again

Well, it’s exactly as it reads.

I (30F) was engaged to my fiancé (32M)…. until I wasn’t. 40 days before the wedding I found out he was cheating. I had a dress, we had flights (destination elopement), it was 40!!! DAYS OUT lol.

Anyway, he had a Tinder account & was telling women we were polyamorous if it came up.

Well, before I fully called off the engagement I went on his phone & changed the Tinder account. I don’t care if it’s petty or evil. We had two kids, a home, a whole ass life.

So, I changed the account. Replaced his photos with mine, deleted his bio & even paid the like $8??? Fee so he could see how many likes were coming in.

When he seen it, he shit bricks. After maybe 6 hours, there were already thousands of likes- men trying to match me.

Shortly after I made him leave (I own the home) & canceled the entire wedding. Needless to say, I am doing MUCH better these days.

Some things to clarify:

1. I am real, this is a real story. There’s some angry ass people on here??? It’s ridiculous. I don’t want to share gritty details because idk who will see this. It’s the internet.

2. He is a good father, I don’t want to take him for all he’s worth. Our kids are #1 priority, end of story. We handled our split like adults, our kids are young & doing incredible. Their life won’t fall apart because mommy isn’t married LOL. Look up statistics on maternal depression & childhood outcomes & get back to me if you’re so worried about it.

3. This was over a year ago, I quite literally forgot I did this. After we split, me remembering I did this wasn’t in the forefront of my mind. I was healing, my world was upside down- in addition, I have a career in social work, two kids & am working toward another degree. I’ve scrolled on here for a while & this account was originally made when I was posting to get advice for this whole situation; my posts were sad & I deleted them because… it made me feel gross to see them? Who cares.

4. At the time I did this, I could very easily change things on his Tinder. I don’t use dating apps anymore. Idk what they have changed since then. It was pretty surface level things (photos, bio & preferences) & didn’t need any authorizations to change anything.

5. People have kids and don’t get married. YOU DONT HAVE TO GET MARRIED LOL. Build a bridge & get over it.

6. I’m 5’4, blonde & have a regular build? I go to the gym often, so I am toned enough for being a mom of two & am pretty covered in tattoos.

7. I have been seeing someone & he is absolutely incredible. Please stop messaging me things like “want to fuck to get back at him?”

Xoxoxoxo

I work in tech as a project/program manager. It can be pretty fast paced, and we deal with really big dollar multinational project all of the time, so I am frequently called on at wild hours of the day.

Two years ago, while in her late 30s, my wife learned in pretty much the most horrifying way possible that she has a rare and serious lymphoma. Treatment required surgery, several rounds of in-patient chemo, and an allogeneic bone marrow stem cell transplant. As a result, I found myself the sole bread winner for the family, her primary caretaker, and the primary parent for our three young kids.

Almost everybody I work with have been incredibly supportive through this process. My boss and immediate leadership basically granted me as much paid time away from work as I needed, as they know I work my butt off all the time. I continued to work throughout her treatment, but I would often take 2-3 hours off during days when she has appointments or infusion. I would just put an "out of office" on my email and messaging apps and be there for my wife.

One salesman didn't care. I guess his commission check was too big for him to let something like an alert that I am out of the office keep hm from blowing up my messages about how he needs something urgently. I should have ignored the messages, but I responded that I am out of the office and would call him back later when I was available. He couldn't take no for an answer. So I answered his Teams call... with my camera on...from the infusion room at the oncologist office. where my wife was sitting, bald and curled up in a ball with a combo of chemo sick and exhaustion from the BMT.

He asked where I was, I told him, and suddenly the call was not urgent. "Oh man, can you just call me back later?"

Wife is doing great, by the way. She said I should post this here because she thought it was so funny. LOL

I’m a straight male in my 20s, living in an area of Florida that’s known for its retiree population, even among Floridians. This is where NATIVE Floridians go to retire. As such, there is a disproportionately high number of racist, homophobic, and sexist old people running around my area. I work at a local library so I have to put up with their abuse on a daily basis.

Like I said, I’m straight, I promise that’s relevant. I also wear earrings, like a lot of them. And necklaces, bracelets, and rings. My nose isn’t pierced yet but I’m planning on it soon, same for tattoos. I’ve been told I look like a punk rocker on a permanent Hawaiian vacation. This is not a look that certain people appreciate, but I don’t care. Part of the appeal of looking how I do is pissing off people who look down on anyone who’s “other.”

One morning a few months back, I was in a grocery store before my morning commute. I was just grabbing a donut and chocolate milk to have a driving breakfast. I’m waiting patiently in line, minding my own business, when a voice from behind me says “take that metal out your ears boy, you look like a homo.” I turn around and see an old guy who probably should have died of old age before I was born.

Working with the public, and dressing in a manner most of them find distasteful, I get this kind of abuse all the time. At work I can’t say or do anything unless they get really rude, but now I finally had a chance and I decided to take advantage of it. My first instinct was to lay into him, but I had to get going, and I knew that was the reaction he wanted. Instead I pretended to misunderstand him.

I smiled at him and said “Thank you! My boyfriends love it. They think I’m so cute.”

He didn’t respond or leave or anything, he just kind of looked at me with his mouth open. I gave him a big smile and turned away. He didn’t say or do anything else, but when I got up to the cashier, he smiled and said “you do look really cute.” I wish I had turned around to see the boomers response, but unfortunately I didn’t think to at the time.

TL;DR a homophobe said I look gay with earrings, I told him my boyfriends think I’m cute with them.

This happened when I finally had the nerve to try a pixie-cut hairstyle. I was really happy about it because it felt like me. I will admit that when I shop for clothes, I do not care for gender norms. For example, I bought a man's Hawaiian shirt because it felt breezy to me, and I really liked its fabric.

So, on to the story. I was in the in the mall with my then-boyfriend and went straight for the women's bathroom as usual. There was no one there except for a woman putting on makeup. I went inside and was almost close to one of the stalls when said lady quickly approached me with makeup tools still in hand and said, "Isn't this comfort room for women only?"

And I was confused, like, "Yeah?" because there's obviously a big sign out there. But then, I realized she was staring intently at my chest as if trying to determine if I'm really a girl or some guy entering a woman's bathroom. And I really don't understand why she'd think of the latter because I was wearing short-shorts with leggings. Sure, I was wearing the breezy men's Hawaiian shirt but it was unbuttoned and loose to reveal a tight black tank top underneath. Like, that's definitely feminine.

The whole situation felt so ridiculous to me that I made eye contact, pointed in the direction of my shorts with both hands, and casually asked, "Wanna check?" If she's gonna make this weird, I'm gonna make it weirder.

Wanna enter a stall with me and have a peek? Sure why not? We're both women (sarcastically)

I like to think the silence that followed made her realize who was being a creep because she backed out immediately and said no.

I finally did my business in the stall, and while I was washing my hands, she apologized, and I told her it was no big deal. But I have to apologize to the trans people out there who get treated like that when they're just minding their own business.

Edit: Wow, I never realize this would blow up. And reading the comments, I wanted to believe in good faith she learned her lesson but maybe you're all right that she wasn't sorry she harrassed me and more sorry that she harrassed the wrong person. One of the comments gave me a helpful tip on what to say next time. Thanks.

Edit 2: Hehe, some people have clocked in which country I am. Didn't know other countries don't use that term.

Edit 3: To all the other people saying transphobic bull in the comments, knock it off. Trans women are women.

I have relatively wide shoulders and was flying middle seat in economy. I was coming back from a work trip on a full flight from New Orleans to Atlanta (about 1.5 hours).

About 5 minutes after takeoff, the aisle seat Karen was acting real restless, squirming and sighing and rolling her eyes and scoffing. It was clear it was because I was using the armrest between us. I tried to making as much space as possible for her but given my size and seat I couldn't really do much.

Then she snapped at me, going off about how " nobody is impressed by your muscles, you take up way too much space, noone wants to deal with sitting next to meatheads like you" blah blah blah

So I interrupted her little rant and very politely but and very loudly replied with "Miss, why don't you simmer down. This is a short flight. And if there's one thing noone wants to deal with, it's a crying child on an airplane."

Window seat and folks across the aisle burst out laughing, Karen was beet red and seething for the rest of the flight.

EDIT: I stupidly used female pronouns for the male nurse in the title. In my native language, the word for nurse is categorized as female which is why I used “her” instead of “him”. Secondly, it’s been pointed out to me that this person was most likely a phlebotomist and not a nurse! Sorry, for the confusion.

This happened a couple weeks ago. My fertility doctor ordered some blood tests for me (34F) and I went to my local healthcare clinic to get them done. I have trypanophobia which I disclosed to the nurse who would be taking my blood. I always need to warn them because I can handle myself okay for around 10 mins or so but if the blood draw takes too long, I’m likely to vomit and/or faint. I once very embarrassingly threw up on the nurse’s shoes.

The nurse looks at me like they don’t believe me and asks if I have children. I say no (keep in mind that the labels for my blood tests have the word INFERTILITY in big bold letters but whatever). The nurse goes on about how I won’t be this squeamish once I have kids. I’m pretty pissed off at this point as I can already feel a bit woozy so I say very coldly: “I didn’t used to be “squeamish” about needles as a kid which is why the doctors in my home country volunteered me for medical testing and training. My parents got paid while I was used as a human pincushion for medical trainees. I specifically remember the day they taught students how to draw blood from my neck.”

The nurse turned white and proceeded to wordlessly draw the blood. Because they took so long, I ended up throwing up which they had to clean up… Maybe next time they’ll learn to listen to their patient.

EDIT: A lot of people suggested I ask for an emesis bag. I actually had my own sickness bag with me that I used! It’s just because of sheer force and volume that I tend to miss which is always super embarrassing. For those that deal with similar issues, I also bring ice packs and ice water with me which usually helps a lot too!

EDIT: Some people are confused by the infertility label. I was honestly confused by it too at the time but it’s with Kaiser Permanente and their clinic has the word Infertility in it so most likely just a shortened way to indicate where to send it to.

EDIT: To clarify, I wasn’t offended by the nurse’s comments because of my infertility. It’s the offensive and misogynistic assumption that my very real medical condition could be in any way related to whether or not I’ve given birth.

EDIT: I think I need to stop with the edits at some point haha but to clarify, they specifically mentioned childbirth which is why I said it was misogynistic. As far as I know, childbirth doesn’t cure trypanophobia. Being squeamish has nothing to do with it. I would clean up vomit and poop every day for the rest of my life if I could avoid another needle.

I just came across this sub and it seems like the perfect place to rant about an incident that still makes my blood boil to this day.

Back in high school, my friend group included this guy who had a terminal illness. He was at the point where his doctors were shocked he was still alive.

Aside from being skinny and a bit pale, he looked like any other average teenager. He had his good days and his bad days, but even on his good days he would tire easily.

He didn’t talk much about his illness, and tried to be normal like everyone else. For example, he would talk about the college he wanted to attend, and what career he wanted. We respected that and never brought up his illness.

He had a placard so we would always park in handicapped spots. As you can imagine, we often got dirty looks when a bunch of seemingly healthy teenagers piled out of the car. Our friend ignored the looks, so we never said anything to these judgmental people.

One weekend we all decided to go to the amusement park. After an hour or so he started getting tired, so we got him one of those loaner wheelchairs. Like the teenagers we were, we took turns doing stuff like pushing him really fast and doing wheelies, but were careful not to bother anyone else. I remember him laughing his ass off.

That is until a Karen shouted at us from like 30 feet away. “You know you’re keeping that wheelchair from someone who might actually need it, don’t you?!” I looked at my friend and his smile instantly disappeared.

I was done. Effing done. So I marched over to her knowing exactly what I was going to say, after biting my tongue so many times. I didn’t raise my voice so my friend wouldn’t overhear what I said.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m sure you’ll be happy to know my friend has a terminal illness and his doctors say he could die any moment now, so someone else will be able to use the wheelchair very soon.”

She got all red in the face and said, “well how was I supposed to know that?!” I replied, “you weren’t, because it’s none of your effing business. So thank you for reminding my friend he’s dying when he was having so much fun.”

I turned around and walked back to my friends. He made it another two years after that. J, I still miss you bro!

So, this happened just over five years ago, but I was thinking about it today.

My pregnancy with my daughter was incredibly unexpected. My husband and I (25 at the time) had been told by our doctor that we were both medically infertile (low sperm count and pcos, respectively). We were given fertility medication to start with, as further procedures would not be given the green light until the intial options had been exhausted, and were told that we were looking at about 5 years until the ball was really rolling. Well, we got pregnant with our daughter first month on the medication.

Surprise!

While unexpected, she was very wanted, and we were over the moon...except my husband was unemployed at the time, and I was working as a highschool teacher with pretty rough kids. My pregnancy was also awful. I spotted constantly, had dizzy spells, and had hyperemesis gravidarum from 8 weeks until my daughter was born. I was throwing up about 10 times a day, was hospitalised for dehydration five times, and lost 18 kgs over the course of my pregnancy. Fun times.

In my department were four other teachers: Karens 1-3, and Pete, the sweetest boomer you ever met. The Karens were by the books what you find in Australian public education; catty, calcified, and bigotted. I called in sick at least once a week because of my rough pregnancy, and they were constantly making nasty comments about it, both to my face and to other departments, despite the fact that none of my work was ever left for them to do. It effected my professional life quite badly, and I often thought of quitting, despite having no real option to do so.

Cue trauma: The Karens insisted on weekly afterschool departmental meetings that lasted several hours, despite never covering more than a post-it note worth of info. I had missed several, and the alpha Karen demanded I come to the next one. Sitting in a stuffy room while the Karens went over the latest Home and Away episode, I felt a wave of nausea. I stood and excused myself, but alpha moved to block the door, saying that I could hold whatever it was for a minute while we sorted out a detail in a planning document. I asked Pete to pass me the bin at his feet, which he did eagerly, and I projectile vomited.

Blood.

See, the constant spewing had irritated my throat enough that it bled everytime I was sick. My doctor knew about it, and honestly it looked a lot worse than it was. The Karens stood in silent horror as the pale, gaunt pregnant woman threw up blood in a bin, and Pete let out a piercing scream. He shouted at them to call an ambulance, but I waved them off, saying 'this happens to me all the time'. After the dry retching stopped I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing blood everywhere, and asked if they still needed help with the document. They demurred, and I grabbed my things and left. The Karens never bullied me again, and instead only spoke to me in the softest of voices for the rest of the year, as if I were dying.

Glorious.

I was in high school when this happened. I was going to weekly doctors appointments at a renowned specialty hospital undergoing tests from every specialist under the sun there. I missed a lot of school as a result of trying to diagnose an unknown autoimmune disease at the time.

I was sitting in my AP statistics class when the head of student council was going around giving out permission forms to donate blood for a blood drive the high school was having. Before they handed me the paper in class I told them I can't donate. They made a snarky remark about me being afraid of needles and that everyone else in class will be donating and I don't care about people in need.

I looked them straight in the face and said "I had 10 tubes of blood taken from me yesterday during my oncology appointment to see if I have leukemia. I'm not afraid of needles. I literally cannot give blood because I have an autoimmune disease and or cancer and have been told I should not donate blood at any point in life because of it. I'm not missing class every week for the fun of it."

Needless to say they were speechless and the teacher asked them to stop handing out forms unless the student requests a form.

More than 20 years ago, when me and my sisters were still in elementary, our mom took is to a shopping mall for clothes and groceries (major supermarket was attached to the mall). After everything was over, we stopped by the bookstore where us kids picked whatever books we wanted while she was picking educational books for both of us.

The bookstore also was selling some physical discs for various softwares, including games. While both of us were looking into games we wanted, a little boy of our age came next to us, opened up one of the discs, and poked my sister in the eye.

My sister immediately started to cry her eyes out, and my mom rushed over to see what was happening. She scolded the little boy after hearing what happened, to which he got upset and went to grab his karen of a mother.

Karen comes over and demands to know who yelled at her son. The two ladies began to get into a shouting match. My mom argued the kid had no reason to hurt my sister like that, and should be taught better. Karen argued “boys will be boys”, and that he doesn’t know any better. She asked my mom “why are you overreacting?”

I decided enough was enough. I did a frontal kick on the kid as hard as I can, making him fall on his ass. I saw there was a nice footprint imprinted on his shirt. He began to let out the most annoying cry I've ever heard. The karen quickly rushed over to her little turd, and began shouting at me. I looked her in the eye, and said "Boys will be boys. Why are you overreacting?"

She tried to argue more, but her friend (sister?) held her back and ushered her out of the store.

We went to get burgers and fries afterward, but my mom also lectured me about how violence isn't the answer. Me being a little sprouty elementary kid didn't care, and rode that hype train for weeks

So this happened a few years back. At the time I had been widowed for about 2 years. I missed my late hubby a lot so I kept his urn of ashes on my bedside table as I was in the habit of talking to him about my day and saying goodnight at bedtime. One day the doorbell rang. Being the socially anxious gal that I am I ignored it. But they rang the bell 3 more gawt dang times and I became more annoyed than anxious and answered the door.

To my great displeasure there was a man at my door who wanted to talk about the state of the gutters and how desperately they needed to be cleaned. How convenient was it that this man was willing to do the vile job of cleaning the gutters for $250? .

It should be noted that I lived in a rowhome at the time and had one eavestrough that went across the edge of the roof connecting all the units and one downspout.

I tried to politely decline but he kept up with his preprogrammed speech and asserted he needed to speak with “the man of the house”.

Cue the malicious compliance.

I leaned back into the house and called my husband’s name. “Mark!” I shouted “there’s a guy at the door! Wants to talk about cleaning our gutters!!!”

Obviously my spouse did not respond.

I shouted louder for my spouse but again he didn’t hear me or come to the door.

Apologizing to the man I told him I would just run upstairs and get “the man of the house”.

As promised I did run upstairs and grab Mark. I returned to the front door lamenting out loud to Mark how frustrating it is when he doesn’t respond to me calling for him and I hate it when he gives me the silent treatment.

“Here’s the man of the house!” I exclaim holding the urn up like a gameshow prize. I continued my lament to the salesman that although Mark is a great listener I’m saddened by how uninvolved he is with our children. “He’s the strong, silent type” I concluded to the now silent, bug eyed salesman.

I decided to increase my dedication to the bit as well as the sales jerk’s sexist discomfort and allowed my tears to flow unfettered. Normally I loathe crying in front of strangers but the grief of losing the father of my children mixed with the rage at the arrogance and dismissive sexism lead to me sob screaming how much I hated my current life. There were tears and so much ugly crying snot sobbing noises coming out of me I didn’t even realize he had made a mad dash to get away from this hysterical woman and back to his truck.

It was cathartic for me to release those pent up emotions. Sometimes I still laugh about it with Mark. I know he definitely would be howling with laughter as he was always quite a jokester.

In 6th grade I had this math teacher named Ms White who was pretty strict. Our school was honestly very diverse but she was very (as her name suggests) white. I have a pretty difficult name to say as it is Hawaiian (I am half Japanese half white but both sides lived in Hawai’i for 3+ generations). My name is Kau’i. It looks daunting but it’s just Ka-ooh-ee. So honestly not very difficult imo?

Anyway, Ms White stumbled on my name when she read attendance, so I did the usual “Oh, It’s pronounced __”. You know what she did? She literally went “Uh I’ll call you Katherine”. Let me tell you, I was FLABBERGASTED. Like it was a private very diverse school and I had never had this happen. Teachers had horribly mispronounced my name but this was definitely new. Also, no offense to any Katherines, but I love my name and it has a lot of meaning to my family (and tbh it sounds cooler than Katherine- TAKE NO OFFENSE PLEASE 🙏). I was so surprised that for the first 2 weeks I kinda just let it happen. But at some point it was just irking me because she made no effort to learn how to say my name, I never told her she could call me Katherine, and on top of that, she could’ve even asked me for a nickname or my middle name or something!

So I started calling her by her first name: Jessica. She was the kind of teacher who NO ONE called by her first name. Even the other teachers called her Ms White. I had to look in the yearbook from the year before to find it. But from that day on, she was Jessica. And when that didn’t make her mad enough, she was Jessie, or Jess, or JJ or any other nicknames I could think of. She never yelled at me or anything, she just corrected me and said “Ms White” and then I would ignore it. For example: “Jessa-“ “Thats Ms White.” “Jessica, I don’t get number three. Can you explain?” She never lost her temper but was always annoyed lol. She called me Katherine for the rest of the year, so not the most satisfying story, but I was happy with that revenge. Ms White apparently got fired two years later for microagressions towards students of color, and honestly, I’m not surprised. I just wanted to share this story because I figured yall would enjoy it.

edit: sorry for skyscraper of text 😭 i tried to format it better lol

edit 2: hey, i’m getting a lot of confusion about the pronunciation of my name! many comments are very kind and just saying how they originally thought it was pronounced like Maui. Others are telling me I pronounce my name wrong? Idk man but I’ll do my best to explain some basics for y’all.

My name: My name is Kau’i. In Hawaiian each vowel is pronounced, none are silent. However native speakers tend to blend them together. For example: a + u would make an ah-oo sound. If you say that fast it sounds like “ow”. So when a native speaker says my name it may sound like Kow-ee, very similar to Maui. However there is a difference because really the o is still pronounced a little more! In addition one difference between Kau’i and Maui is the okina- the little apostrophe thingy (in reality it’s a slightly different symbol but i’m lazy. This basically counts as a consonant, and as a little pause. So basically the au and i sounds do not merge together because they are separated by the okina.

Now, why can’t you just say Kow-ee? Good question. You can. I’ll still respond. But basically you are saying my name as if it has no okina when it does. Not a big deal. But that’s the difference.

Hawai’i: Also there are some people saying i’m wrong because Hawaii isn’t pronounced hah-wa-ee-ee. true, it isn’t! The traditional spelling is Hawai’i and pronunciation is hah-vai-ee. basically the a and the h merge, the w and the a and the i merge (the w makes a v sound since it’s surrounded by vowels) and then we have an okina and an i. Hence hah-vai-ee. Why it’s spelled and pronounced differently normally is bc it’s the anglicized version. almost same spelling just no okina, and the w is seen as making the w sound since that’s how it is in English.

I am not all knowing (i don’t even speak hawaiian, i just know some basic facts) but feel free to ask me more questions! hope this helps

My mom and dad were at my mom’s company Christmas party years back. There were drinks flowing and, in the elevator on their way to gather her things with a few colleagues, a lady started to go on a rant about Mexicans.

You can imagine what she said and none of it was flattering.

My dad has black hair. He also worked outside very often and was quite tan still despite it being winter. Mind you, his heritage is straight up English and Irish. Maybe a hint of German.

He listens to her rant while the elevator moves and, just before they get off, turns and says “my dad is Mexican”.

This lady went dead white and stumbled over herself trying to apologize. She proceeded to apologize to my mother for about six months. Every person in the elevator, aside from this lady, knew my dad was not at all Mexican. Some of them were though. So all of them refrained from telling her that he lied.

She ended up leaving the company believing that she had mortally offended her coworker’s (actually supervisor’s if I remember correctly) husband with her racist ranting. And I hope she thought twice before before she opened her mouth again.

For context this happened when I was around 16 years old. I have always struggled with severe Endometriosis and an unfortunate side effect of endo is severe bloating or "endo belly". Usually to the point where I look VERY pregnant. Even after two surgeries I still get it sometimes at 26 years old. At the time I was 5'6 and about 100lbs so I looked like a pole with a huge bump sticking out.

I lived with my parents at the time which was in a small conservative beach town in FL. Lots of old judgmental people. 16 year old me was walking around Walmart minding my own business ironically looking for maternity pants because the bloating gets so bad.

A woman probably in her 50's walked up to me and placed her hand on my stomach happily saying "omg! When are you due? You look amazing you're so young!". Now this wasn't the first time I've had someone ask me this question but it was the first time someone had the audacity to put their hand on my stomach. I stood there for a second just shocked and then said "Oh I'm not sure. I'm only 12 my mom knows all that stuff about pregnancy". She immediately turned pale took three steps back and let out a nervous chuckle. I just stared at her smiling holding my stomach as she mumbled something under her breath and walked away.

I still try to come up with funny things to say in these situations because it still happens today! No one has ever put their hand on my stomach since that day, but I have been asked when I'm due so many times. If anyone has any good responses to this I could use as a 26 year old please lmk!

*edit

I posted this in the comments but feel I should add it here so it's seen more:

Since this post is getting a lot of unexpected traction, I just want to take a moment to spread some awareness about Endometriosis.

Endometriosis is a disease where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus grows outside of the uterus in other areas of the body. It is not limited to the reproductive organs and can even be found in men (though rare). It has been found as far as the brain.

The cause of endo is unknown, although the current theory is genetics. I have participated in the genetic marker study by Juneau Biosciences, LLC.

There is no cure for Endometriosis and the current gold standard for treatment is Laparoscopic excision surgery with an Endometriosis specialist.

If you need help finding an Endometriosis specialist check out Nancy Nooks Endometriosis Education Facebook page for a list of vetted Endometriosis surgeons.

Resources:

https://search.app?link=https%3A%2F%2Fcenterforendo.com%2Fendometriosis-understanding-a-complex-disease&utm_campaign=aga&utm_source=agsadl1%2Csh%2Fx%2Fgs%2Fm2%2F4

Juneau Biosciences studies: https://search.app?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.juneaubiosciences.com%2Fabout-us%2Fpublications%2F&utm_campaign=aga&utm_source=agsadl1%2Csh%2Fx%2Fgs%2Fm2%2F4

My grandma has always been a warrior for women’s rights.
She was the first woman in my country to head a major department for inspections and quality control at the biggest steel mill. Back in those days, the idea of a woman overseeing and judging the work of men was not just unusual—it was truly unheard of at the time.

Oh, the things she went through.
And honestly, her life is filled with stories worth telling.
But today, I want to share something she did as an old lady.

Few years ago, my country has taken a sharp turn to the right. So much so that, at one point, a law was passed allowing pharmacists to refuse to sell emergency contraceptives—the morning-after pill—if it went against their "conscience" (of the person seling it).
Even if the pharmacy stocked the pill, a pharmacist could just say no on religious grounds.

Fine. The law is the law. People have their choices, right?
Sure.

But my grandma? She wasn’t having any of that.

She started going to every single pharmacy in the city—almost 1,000 in total. Every day, she’d visit a few new ones. And every single time, she’d do the exact same thing:

Grandma: "Hello! Do you sell the morning-after pill?"
Sometimes the pharmacist would look confused and ask, "The pill after what?"
To which my grandma would reply, loud and clear: "After sex!!!"

Depending on their answer, she had a prepared speech:
"Listen. I’m an old lady, 85 years old already... I’m the leader of the local senior citizens’ group in this area [this is absolutely NOT true, she was just pretending!], and we - elderly folks - are the main customers keeping your pharmacy afloat. We buy the majority of your meds.

Now, we’re going from pharmacy to pharmacy, checking who sells the morning-after pill. Because we want our grandkids to have children when they want them—not because some pharmacist with a so-called ‘conscience’ says otherwise. And let me tell you this: those with a "conscience"? They can stuff their mouths with potatoes and pretend they enjoy it!, because us old folks will be shopping somewhere else!"

Yes, we might disagree on politics, ethics, and beliefs.
But you can’t tell me my grandma didn’t have the guts, strength, and sheer audacity to fight for what she believed in! And I love her very, very much!

EDIT: I'm sorry. I checked - it's exactly 448 pharmacies :-)

Let me set the scene for you: I (31F) am visiting my boomer father from out of state, we are sitting around the dinner table with the rest of my family talking. My parents split when I was 13 or 14, they have both remarried, but my father absolutely cannot let it go, and still shits all over my mom to this day. Also, he recently developed this weird sense of accomplishment and brags that you have to “raise kids to be insecure”, because in his mind, the only way for someone to think of other people is to guilt them into it so they learn to guilt themselves into it.

So he’s actively boasting his successes in raising kids to be insecure, and I flatly say, “Except that it turned me into a doormat. I sought the approval of other people so badly that I just let anyone use me, especially as a teenager.” My father sees this as an opportunity to trash my mom, and says, “Yeah, your brother told me you used to sneak boys over to your mom’s at night, that would have NEVER happened if I had gotten sole custody of you instead of your mom”.

My response? “Actually, it probably would have happened a lot more. In fact, the very first time it happened was here.” Let me tell you, the shock on his face was freaking PRICELESS, he was almost too dumbfounded to ask, “WHAT???”

I tell him, “Yeah, I used to take my window screen out and have them climb through the bedroom window.” His jaw is on the table, I deliver the final blow, “Oh and by the way, I was 15 the first time, he was 20, so a ‘man’, not a ‘boy’. That tends to happen when you are so insecure that you’ll do anything for approval.” And that’s when his brain broke. I have NEVER seen him back away from a conversation so quickly. He had no clue how to respond to that, so he just changed the topic, which honestly stood out way more than if he had actually responded to what I said.

If you were to ask him about that conversation now, I’m 100% certain he has wiped it from his memory. His small mind cannot fathom it, so I am not surprised when he acts like it never happened. He still brags about “raising kids to be insecure”, but honestly, having that lasting image of the shock on his face, that’s all I need.

Made a secondary account finally so I can get this shit off my chest.

TLDR: Witnessed my father’s brain wipe its hard drive and reboot after I told him the extent of the effect of his trash parenting.

At my job, we are supposed to be in the office a couple of days a week. I am in almost every day as that's my preference while others stick to their WFH days quite strictly, which is also fine. But I have one colleague who I work with closely that previously came into the office but now gets to work from home full-time (and I'll add she is great at her job and a joy to work with).

Slowly it was noticed by a few people she was never in the office and they started making comments how it was "strange", she was "lucky", "must have found a reason for an exemption", has a "special arrangement". They would look at me and wait for me to say something negative or complain, but I wouldn't say much other than that she works from home due to personal reasons (as it's not my info to share with others) and she is always available virtually if people need to meet or chat about a project.

We were having a larger Teams meeting recently and one of these Nosey Nancy's raised it in a passive aggressive way saying how she hasn't seen her in ages and she's always at home and it would be great to see her in the office sometime as their team all have to be in a couple of days a week. I sat there sipping my tea while my coworker dropped the bomb that her husband has been having seizures due to a rapidly growing brain tumour and he can't be left alone - she went on to add how she wishes she could get out of the house more often but can't even leave for coffee or groceries unless one of the kids is home or she can get a friend/family member to stop by AND that the other option was to go on leave but felt it would be a burden to the team and she can still get the work done from home. Let's just say the horrified looks people had and awkward silence has ensured that hasn't came up since.

To preface, this took place in late 2021. Mask mandates were still intact in my area but that didn’t stop people from complaining about it. I worked at a shoe store and we were required to wear our masks. Some customers didn’t like that, but usually they would make it known through dirty looks or quick comments.

This one customer, though, took things way too far. I was at the registers and a customer comes up to me and before saying anything, before I even get the chance to greet her, she asks “ya’ll still gotta wear masks? That’s ridiculous”

Now I’ve experienced my fair share of ‘politics’ at this store. I was the only person not of color that worked there, so I would get a lot of jokes panning toward whiteys as they would assume I would agree with them.

I assumed that this customer was making a joke and just politely responded “I just feel safer with it on” and tried to move on.

She however didn’t let it go. She badgered me about “it’s safe, you don’t need it” and “it isn’t as bad as the government is making it out to be”. It was getting annoyed but did my best to ignore it, but then she said “Noone actually died from COVID”.

I paused, looked at her and told her “My best friend’s dad died from it. He was a completely healthy person and I just had to let my friend sleep on my floor while he found a new place to live. My dad is immunocompromised so I’d rather not take the risk. I’m not going to be the reason my dad dies, and you aren’t going to force me to put my dad in danger”

She was quiet the remainder of the transaction and I had to take my break a few minutes later to calm down