Structural Violence

The heart reaches out, the conscience recoils. The result is the quiet gaze of the onlooker, the bystander’s posture. Seeing harm, feeling its weight, but remaining still. It is not lack of care that stops them, but fear of the moral work that true empathy would require.

Proportionality is why we instinctively feel it’s wrong to, say, banish someone from society just because they failed to pay a parking ticket or because they relapsed into addiction. There’s a deep human intuition that responses to wrongdoing or hardship should not destroy a person’s basic dignity and prospects. The law isn’t always so compassionate, but the ideal persists as a guiding light.

Demanding optimism from someone in crisis is like demanding a patient recover by attitude while we hold back the medicine, backwards and, even when well-meant, cruel in effect.

Borderline Personality Disorder functions as an administrative alias for trauma-shaped behaviour. Systems discount testimony; that credibility deficit breeds isolation; isolation matures into a moral exile that feels like volatility because human beings escalate when unheard. Philosophers call the first move epistemic injustice and the aftermath ethical loneliness—the abandonment that follows harm when institutions refuse uptake

Dick Gariepy | Big Thinky Ouchey I aim to highlight that the presence of accessibility services and emergency funds from the registrar's...

Yes, I am fragile. I have been forced to survive things that should have broke me, but didn't. It would be concerning if I were not worse for wear after surviving what I have. My fragility is not a result of weakness, but rather evidence of my resolve to survive that which I had no right surviving.

What I asked was simple: If you believe in justice, start here. If you believe in access, help carry my case. If you believe in truth, stand beside my account. If you believe in care, risk being changed by what you hear. But Joe Ceci didn’t.

When the pain is intense enough, you cease to be someone in the world. You become a body against the world. The bench beneath you becomes strange. The air seems distant. Language cracks under the pressure. Even your name starts to feel like someone else’s.

Ever wonder how someone “snaps”? This isn’t about madness—it’s about process. Bureaucracy doesn’t just fail people; it sometimes creates the very dangers it claims to prevent. Here’s a breakdown of how dangerous people are manufactured—not by ideology, but by institutional silence and moral collapse.

“Safe” is supposed to be a sanctuary word, something that tells one ‘you can relax’ ‘no harm will come if you let your guard down’. But in practice, it has been stripped down to a forensic utility: are you still breathing? Yes? Then you are safe.

My home is not tasteful. It’s not neutral. It’s not designed for approval. It’s loud. It’s strange. It’s unrepentantly mine. And it was never meant to be seen by anyone but me.

When power crosses your threshold without consent, it isn't just the door that breaks — it's the illusion that you were ever meant to be safe inside

Imagine wielding institutional power like a hammer, only to show up later pretending you’ve never seen a nail in your life.

It allows everyone involved to feel like they’re doing something—while ensuring that no one is responsible for doing anything.