"PUNK NO MORE!"
Here I have drawn DANIEL BRYAN!
If you don’t know, tonight is Wrestlemania 30 and it is his night to shine and show the world why he’s the best!
#YES #YES #YES
Warmup speed painting: THE CHAMP IS HERE.
Nocturne No. 1 in B Flat Minor, Op. 9, Frédéric Chopin, Adam Harasiewicz
We need to move, and soon. We aren’t safe here anymore. Our resources are being pulled out from under us after we’ve been repeatedly promised that this would never happen. We need help. We need a new, safer home.
Things have gotten increasingly dire; my pay is being cut down to nothing, and years of attempts and applications and interviews have shown that it’s impossible for me or my husband to get consistent ‘traditional’ employment in this city due to our financial, employment and education histories. On top of that, one of my current employers/housemates has been completely insensitive about the fact that I was raped recently, and has been lashing out at me. This has made me scared to leave my bedroom for fear of being yelled at and triggered. My depression and anxiety have reached a point where I’m self-harming again and seriously considering suicide because I feel so helpless and afraid of what’s going to happen to us.
I’m 26 and my husband Ben is 25; we’re both queer nonbinary people with excellent housekeeping and cooking skills. We’re creative, usually quiet people and we respect others’ boundaries. I have chronic pain and several other physical difficulties which have prevented me from securing outside employment (but I’ve been told I’m not ‘disabled enough’ to get disability benefits), otherwise I would be devoting my time to landing whatever job could possibly take me. I would take anything at this point—but that wouldn’t change the fact that we wouldn’t be able to afford housing, so we’d still be stuck in an unsafe situation. Ben hasn’t been consistently employed since 2008 and is rarely even asked back for interviews because of that; he’s been fired and had to leave several positions before due to being of trans* experience. We run an Etsy shop and take sewing commissions, but don’t get much business. Soon this will be our only income. We have a very friendly, fixed Maine Coon whom we will not leave behind for any reason. He has been my lifeline for years and I cannot give him up, so anywhere we go, he goes.
We’ve been homeless and/or relying on the support of friends for most of our adult lives, though not for lack of striving for independence. I’ve lived out of a car before, and on the street for a short time dumpster-diving for food, but we don’t have a car anymore and living on the streets of NYC as DFAB queer people would probably get us killed. Being on the street really fucked me up before, and I don’t want to have to subject my husband to that kind of stifling depression and hopelessness. I don’t want to have to go through it again, either, but mostly I’m worried about him.
We’ve been on food stamps before, but as the head of household on our account I was subjected to constant personal remarks, transphobia and homophobia from the government workers with whom I had to consult on a regular basis. Sure, it’s a couple hundred dollars a month for food, but at the cost of my emotional well-being. I would come home sick and in tears any time I had to go to the food stamps office to bargain with and beg them to not cancel our account, all while being insulted, called an idiot, and told directly that I was a worthless layabout for seeking aid. I am not willing to go through that again when I’m already feeling so hopeless and scared—especially if I’m going in there without having any employment whatsoever.
Ben and I don’t require a lot of space. We’ve lived in one small room for years, and we keep to ourselves. We sleep on camping cots that fold away into bags. The bulkiest things we own (other than furniture that we can of course leave behind) are my guitar, a bike, our winter coats, and the fabric/supplies for our Etsy shop. We’ve lived in a tent numerous times before (but no longer own it), a cardboard shack smaller than a dining room table, and have slept on people’s couches and in spare rooms. Can we build a tiny fort in your yard? Great. Got space in your garage? Fantastic. We’re not picky, we just need somewhere where we can sleep safely, keep our cat, be respected, and have a little privacy.
We have plenty of food right now, but it won’t last more than a couple of weeks. We have about $150 in the bank. We can use some of that to buy plastic tote boxes or cardboard shipping boxes to pack our stuff, maybe a cheap suitcase and a cat carrier. We can’t afford plane tickets (and wouldn’t be able to transport our cat, since we don’t have his vaccination records), and I don’t have a driver’s license anymore so even if we could afford it a moving van wouldn’t be an option.
We’ve always known that we couldn’t survive in NYC, but we’ve been limping through life for long enough to feel like it was a decent situation for the time being. Now it is no longer, and we need to get out. Please, if you or anyone you know could help get us out over the next month or so, please contact me.
I know it helps to put a face on these things, so this is me (Jack)
this is Ben
and here’s our critter
If you reblog this to signal boost, please do so as text rather than a link so that more people will end up seeing it. We need as much exposure as we can get.
Hail to the king,
Hail to the one,
Kneel to the crown,
Stand in the sun,
Hail to the king.
number one dad
Never getting over it