Even though it’s not my job to educate about anything (especially my own position), I’ve decided to explain the concept of Microaggressions to you all.
According to that oppressive encyclopedia (who encyclopedias to tell me what’s true?), a Microaggression is the idea that small acts like saying something, even when not intentional, are acts of aggression. Something like questioning the belief that a TV show needs to fill racial quotas is considered such an aggression. Of course, those status-quo-huggers say that these are only performed by racial or gender majorities against minorities, but I was recently the victim of one such aggression.
My roommate moved his bike into our apartment because they ran out of space on the bike rack. That hurt just typing it but I’ve got to be strong. He moved the bike inside, forcing me to have to look at it when I want to leave my apartment. I’ve checked local laws and unfortunately I’m still not allowed to destroy the bike. There’s simply no justice in the world.
This image deeply upset me. Why on Earth would this woman try to increase the oppression of people like this? Giving Fish bicycles would multiply the number of oppressors by literally 28 million (remember that fact-checking a social justice blogger is oppression). Some people just don’t get it.
Few actually know that this is the true origin of the bicycle. Spread the word, Sheeple.
I was just released from prison today. They locked me up for “Murdering” a bicyclist. However, I was able to argue my way to freedom by explaining to the warden that Murder = Killing + Social Power. Since the bicyclist had all the social power over a pedestrian-American like myself, no action on my part can ever be considered murder. This is because murder isn’t an individual action anymore, it’s an institutional form of oppression.
Bicyclist privilege is being able to organize bike races that go right by my apartment. This morning hordes of bicycles flew by my window. I was so terrified that I literally hid under my bed for a good twenty minutes. Then I called the police only to be informed that there was a bike race scheduled for today and that “this is not an emergency”. Way to take the feelings of people seriously, 911.
How the hell can anyone say there isn’t institutionalized privilege of bicyclists when they’re allowed to gather in large numbers outside the place I live. Their very presence IS oppression.
A friend of mine is enrolled in a social justice class at our university and I just learned that the topics branch far beyond women’s rights (as the class’ title claims). Apparently it covers what it considers to be all social justice issues, including race, weight, gender identity, and mental health.
But of course transportation orientation discrimination is suspiciously absent. I plan to fight this injustice by bursting into the class in the near future and causing a scene of justice. I need your help to do this. Give me ideas on what to do and I’ll post the results.
The plight of pedestrian-Americans will not be ignored.
Bicyclist privilege is not having to see your sideWALKS abused by bicyclists riding on them. They’re called sideWALKS for a reason, not sidebikes.
The following is a bit of a long, but very important read. Be sure to spread this story of heroism with all who believe in justice.
This is a true story of something that happened just a few days ago at the gym I go to.
There was a cycling class instructor there who was a deeply committed bicyclist. His primary goal for one required class (the gym was weird and made you take classes) was to spend the entire class attempting to prove that bicycling was superior to walking.
His students were always afraid to argue with him because of his impeccable quads. For twenty years, he had taught this class and no one had ever had the courage to go against him.
Sure, some had fought back in class at times, but no one had ever really gone against him because of his reputation. At the end of every semester on the last day, he would say to his class of 300 students (it’s a big gym), “If there is anyone here who still believes in walking, stand up!”
In twenty years, no one had ever stood up. They knew what he was going to do next. He would say, “Because anyone who believes in walking is a fool.
If walking worked, you would be able to walk over here and stop me from breaking this walking stick. But you can’t, because bicycles are superior”
And every year, he would drop the walking stick onto the tile floor of the gym and it would snap in half. All of the students would do nothing but stop and stare. Most of the students thought that walking couldn’t be an acceptable lifestyle. Certainly, a number of Pedestrian-Americans had slipped through, but for 20 years, they had been too afraid to stand up.
Well, a few days ago I enrolled in the class. I’m a proud Pedestrian-American, and had heard the stories about his instructor. I wasn’t required to take the class; I didn’t even belong to the gym. But I had run out of material for this blog, and realized I needed to stir up controversy and create offensiveness in order to keep posting, so I took the class.
Nothing the instructor says could convince me bicycling is healthy…I hoped. I attended class daily and lost 15 pounds, but I refused to be swayed by the “virtues” of bicycling. Finally, the day came. The instructor said, “If there is anyone here who still believes in walking, stand up!” The professor and the class of 300 people looked at him, shocked, as I stood up at the back of the room.
The professor shouted, “You FOOL!!! If walking worked, you’d be able to stop me from breaking this walking stick!”
He attempted to snap the stick, but as he did, I stood up, walked over to him and punched him square upside his head. This made him drop the stick, causing it to hit the ground, and simply roll away unbroken. The professor’s jaw dropped as my fist followed through with the punch (good form is important). He looked up at me, then tried to bicycle out of the room. However, the bikes are all mounted to floor there and he got nowhere, showing the futility of bicycling.
The class laughed at him mercilessly, while I stood at the front of the class, teaching the virtues of walking and how the importance of social justice justifies my punch because as an oppressed class, I can only be the victim by oppressors such as the instructor.
And that instructor’s name was Mitt Romney.