#EltyFanClub Monologue: “effeminate mental health”

Two weeks ago, there was a death in the housing facility in which I live; he was someone with whom I smoked pot often, and let him vent his pains and feel a little pride and joy whilst we would. I’ve never been one to react immediately to death, which often makes me seem a little psychopathic, but it does affect me, and I feel like it can be seen how it has affected me in the last two weeks; more difficult, though, has been watching how the staff in this building have responded to his death. His name was Shane; he was a loving father and deeply soulful, even faithful, man.

For those unfamiliar, I was homeless for all of 2014, and was only provided housing by Seattle Housing Authority when my oncologist said they could not treat me if I were living in a shelter or sleeping rough. Most of 2015 was spent in chemotherapy and other treatments, and I finally started feeling a resurgence of strength this year, which I have invested into Men’s Rights Activism, Homeless Activism, and the occasional anti-social-justice efforts (including but not limited to #TitsOutForIslam, but that’s for another time.)

Those in this housing facility with me, a building of 75 single-occupancy studio units, fall under the more extreme cases of physical and mental health problems — those who are terminal, or have been disenfranchised through their severe mental disorders. There is a 10% death rate in this building each year, of which most are suicide or drug-related, and 100% of the deaths, most years, being male, with 0% female. Those who have known me as long as I’ve been on YouTube (not that long, admittedly) will be aware that there are often times in which I cannot get any peaceful quiet in my room, because the staff and police are trying to prevent suicides so frequently in my building, and even right next door. And while, in a housing facility that runs so similarly to an asylum, there are no shortage of reasons for things to go wrong, I have stated and continue to state that they could reduce a lot of their problems considerably if they were to acknowledge the feminized nature of their mental health training, and the isolation the men feel in this building, having only women with whom to speak, and having their masculine traits punished through passive-aggression and soft denial of services, because they do not behave as effeminately as the case managers and social workers here are trained to expect them to behave.

This leads to very aggressive and escalating responses with the more disturbed among us, who see little difference from this housing facility and, say, the mental ward at Harborview, like the one I saw this morning. I had just returned from walking my dear Elty, when I was captivated by the sheer cruel aggression that a young man was expressing at a closed service window, with the people behind it avoiding eye-contact and pretending to not notice. Unfortunately, with such an effeminate staff, they don’t pretend very well; I could see the young gay man who works directly with people growing increasingly uncomfortable, and the black woman behind the desk growing tenser, so I put my dog to lay down by the exit and walked up behind the ranting madman.

With a tap on his shoulder, I looked him in his crazy eyes but he couldn’t keep eye-contact. He slammed me into the window with his chest, as I don’t really weigh that much, but I didn’t mind. I just continually interrupted him, saying, “You don’t get to aggressively muscle and get your way around here. This is my house.” Elty couldn’t stand hearing me get slammed and ran up behind him, letting out her warning barks and jumping to push him off me. I maintained my level-headed alpha dog strength and the second he wasn’t focused on me, I pushed him back with my chest, away from the staff and other tenants of the building, and left him focused on me until the ambulance came to take him to the aforementioned mental health ward. A case manager, a social worker, and the project manager all chastised me for injecting myself into the situation, but I was disgusted at the entire situation — and at the end, I had completely controlled the situation and prevented property damage or damage to anyone in the building.

But why did this happen, you might ask? Well, it takes a little more context to truly understand that — as living in this building is not like living in a normal apartment. I use the word “asylum” because it applies so well; standard procedure is to close the service windows and make no communication should the tenant prove aggressive or even just combative — which you might be able to guess is commonly the case for men around here, who can’t always control their mental state, especially around 10am, when the line for medications fills the lobby and everyone is off-kilter waiting for their next doses to kick in. Conflicts between tenants in line and outside in the smoking area stick with them, being damaged as they are, and as it climbs to a boil, these men aren’t able to get the help they absolutely need in that moment, because they can’t ask right. They are psychologically incapable, vomiting words because they cannot control their emotions or adrenaline.

And so, the staff here watches perfect storms develop every week and react in frustration and shock, never changing their technique enough to make a difference because this is how they were trained. This is in the rules they must follow, as a staff member of the DESC — or so they think. They continue to ignore the value of sticking out one’s chest and saying, “No. You don’t treat people like that.” They continue to push me aside as I show them, time and time again, how effective being the alpha can be.

That said, I do need your help. Going over people’s heads has not been nearly as successful as I would like, in #ProjectMayhem, and I need the social and donated support to show them I’m not fucking around. Like and retweet this video. Send it to the e-mail addresses in the description. Send articles about the feminization of mental health or Honey Badger videos to them. Donate to the link in the description below, with the dedication filled out with ‘sevvie Rose’. Give them no quarter; please be sure that they are picking us out of their inboxes for the next month.

Thank you. Thank you.

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