#Cooper smuggles

[wine-cooper]

OPEN STARTER

WARNING:GORE MENTIONED(It’s cooper guys come on)

This is a darker part of Cooper if you’ve read her lore (it’s very badly worded i need to fix it ) then you know she’s had one of these before or if you’ve been watching Reblogs it’s hinted at in a lot of my rps

You walked into the forest. You had sworn you had seen one go into the forest just hours earlier, but then again, the forest had a tendency to eat those who walked too far. The farther you walked, the darker it got. It felt like the trees were staring at you on the ground, waiting to swallow you.

Soon you spotted a girl with long, curly red hair and tanned skin. She stood over what appeared to be a body, of whom you had no idea she held a bloody knife serrated at its edges.

TAGS

@hotrussianserialkiller @itsprobablydean @ravensonofdionysus @thegroovydaughterofhestia

[wine-cooper]

Cooper paused and looked at him, slowly nodding her head. She looked ashamed.

Open Roleplay Starter!

There is a flyer at Camp Half-blood. It reads:

CALLING ALL TRAUMATIZED DEMIGODS!

GOT ANY HEARTBREAK YOU NEED TO WORK THROUGH?

WE GOT THE SOLUTION; MACEDON!

HEAD ON TO THE BIG HOUSE AND ASK FOR HIM FOR A FREE FIFTEEN MINUTE SESSION!

Meanwhile, Macedon waits upon the porch of the Big House. He leans back into his chair with a sigh. He knew that he agreed to work on his heartbreak side more, but gods... he was not looking forward to this.

He puts on a smile when he sees you approaching.

"Hello there! Are you here because of the flyer?"

What do you do?

[wine-cooper]

You’ve always felt different, haven’t you? The blood of gods runs in your veins, yet the world doesn’t see you for what you truly are. They call you half-bloods, but we know better.

There’s a place where you’ll never be alone, where your power is not only understood but revered. Join us, and you’ll find the answers the gods refuse to give. With us, your true destiny awaits.

The Hunters of the Underdark are calling. Will you answer?

Cooper looked at the speaker, her braids down, a cruel smile on her face. A red substance made itself known on her cheeks, splattered like stars. “If I were to answer, what would I receive?” She asked with a toothy smile.

[wine-cooper]

Boop :0

- @ravensonofdionysus

:0 HOW DARE YOU

BOOP

[wine-cooper]

Pick my friends

@bleep-bloop-boo @itsprobablydean

@krowiathemythologynerd @ravensonofdionysus @rayof-damnsunshine @owlscanread25

I think you guys might be interested in this poll

[wine-cooper]

Cooper knocked on the door to cabin 10 and opened it, skipping it. She placed her hands on Brook's shoulders and laid her head on Brook's head. “What are you looking at, frills?”

AU open starter

Brook was freaking out.

Not only could she taste fruity pebbles when she hadn't eaten them in years, but she had made the mistake of researching.

Someone (Brook had zero clue who) had joked to some new campers about Brook being a goddess.

Why her of all people? Who knows but the campers believed it.

The thing that scared her was the fact that she hadn't eaten or slept and she felt better than normal.

So, here she was, sat in front of her laptop, trying to talk herself down from losing her damn mind.

Holy shit, I might be becoming a goddess

@that-asian-child-of-aphrodite @arisdaughter @childofthewargod @damiedantediane @glee-of-ares-wrath-of-aphrodite

@apollos-weirdest-child @delilah-isnt-dead-yett @athenas-weirdo-daughter @daonedaonlyskh @lovely-liilies-and-lillacs

@aria-pane @poseidons-hyperactive-kid @wine-cooper @i-am-persephones-daughter @unhinged-as-hell

ooc: This is going to be fun!

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, or if I've forgotten to tag you, let me know :)

[wine-cooper]

Intro

Smuggling info

Lore information

Kill count: 18(The system has Miss counted retry later)

(BASIC INFO)

Name- Cooper frank Nicknames- Cherry pop , (please give ideas) Age- 18 birthday is October 19 Gender- Female Nationality- America Home state- Tennessee Occupation- Camp smuggler Sexuality- Asexual, Poly,Panromantic

(LOOKS)

Hair Color- Dark wine red Eye Color- Brown Height- 5’7 Weight- 139 pounds Generally Wears- Hoodies/ tank tops with shorts Is Less Likely To Wear- Crop top, sweater , jeans , Clothes with a lot of white on them

(RELATIONS)

Mother-Unknown (Adoptive @aripxllo) Father- Dionysus

Brother(s)- @likeapriceless-wine (Name copy ? Or am I the copy?)

@the-wine-twins (Strawberry and ghosty )

@hotrussianserialkiller (Snowy :3 )

@im-always-highhhh ( Claws :3 I am so funny )

@ravensonofdionysus (RAVE lol :3

(and any others i don’t know the url of )

Sister(s)-

@winekid-halfblood (I don’t know a lot about you why do I not know a lot about my sisters??)

@clio-daughter-of-dionysus (We have similar hair colors ❤️ and she has so much more relationship drama then me )

@elphie-daugter-of-dionysus (I don’t know a lot about you :( )

@cabin-12-resident-daddy-issues (YAY :3 MORE SISTERS WE WILL WIN THE WAR )

(and any others I don’t know the url of )

Sibling(s)-

@muscalfoxes (I barely interact with you but here you ❤️❤️)

(and anyone else I don’t know the URLs of )

Partners: I have two lovely girlfriends Alex rushman daughter of hebe and Symphony hollow

@silent-sightless-war

Favorite TV Shows- F.R.I.E.N.D.S Favorite Foods- Corn and Bagels Favorite Music-Alternative, pop and hard rock Favorite Possessions Owned- A plush jaguar Other Favorite Things- Cats, Lollipops Things Disliked-

Cooper’s Cats

(Vinum-Vinny-Vin)

(Coca-Colly-Cols)

(This is a work in progress lol I am trying my best to get this fixed up nice and tidy)

Other people? Green-My creator speaking

Red- My girlfriend Symphony speaking

Pink- My other girlfriend Alex speaking

\\TAGS// Cooper smuggles : Rp

Mod drinks: Me the mod speaking

Coopers questions: asks

Cooper polls: any polls I host on this account

(Wonderful moodboard made by @daonedaonlyskh )

(This wonderful mood board is made by @love-lightning-forethought ❤️ )

[wine-cooper]

“Aye, you there! Yer a child of that wine guy aren’t ya?”

@captainof-thewickedwench

She turned her head and nodded “What can I do for you?”

[tearsofrefugees]

Yvette Cooper: Migrant boats are more crammed and dangerous because of greed

Britain is to host an international summit on smashing the people-smuggling gangs as they take ever greater risks with migrants’ lives.

[wine-cooper]

Cooper walked over to him. She looked at the baby and stepped back. She crouched to be eye level with the baby and pointed at it. “What’s that?”

Open Starter:

Dean has been walking around camp all morning, holding some mysterious child in their arms. The baby is young, extremely young, and sporting dark brown hair almost the same color as their own. The two of them seem to be going on some kind of camp tour, which Dean is the tour guide for.

Would you like to say hello?

[headspace-hotel]

Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

[wine-cooper]

Day 1 lore week ( I remember giggles, but they never lasted long.)

Hanna Smith (Age 10) Ryder Williams (age 5)

Cooper Frank (Age 8)

Cooper ran, giggling and outrunning her foster siblings. 

The ground felt natural under her feet. feet. 

Hanna was quickly gaining ground. Cooper's black hair was tied up in a ponytail as she ran; it looked red in the light. light.  It got blown in her face, and she stumbled and fell. The older girl quickly caught up to her. 

She could easily outrun

She was born to dance, after all. all. 

"Hey,” she giggled, offering a hand to Cooper. Once Cooper took it, her little foster brother came barreling in, giggling after his sisters. 

"Run,"Run, Hanna!” She yelled, quickly darting away from her sister. Hanna soon followed. 

She would always lead, wouldn’t she?

“DONT LEAVE ME TO THE DEVIL, COOPER. COOPER.

Coopers giggled loudly and ran towards the back door of the house. The grass under her feet crunched as she ran. 

Will she always run?

She heard a sharp yelp but didn’t dare turn back until she was safely inside. 

She had a feeling she would be thinking about that a lot.

She reached the door knob and slipped inside. Turning back, she saw Ryder had caught Hanna, and both were tumbling on the ground. 

She hoped they stayed like that.

She heard talking from the kitchen and slowly crept forward. 

The closer she got, the clearer the voices were. “Donald, we can’t keep three kids with this much money in our bank account.” She heard her foster mom say.

Her husband responded, ��Let’s just keep cooperating for 5 more months; she hasn’t had a stay-home for years, Darla. ” 

Why did they always leave her?

She peeked out from behind the wall, and her foster dad spotted her. "Hi Cooper, sweetheart, sweetheart, why are you in so early?" He asked. She looked him up and down. "I'm hungy,""she said. Her foster mother cringed at her accent. 

She had only been with them for six months, the longest she had ever stayed. He smiled at her. "Let me get you some apples and a juice box; is that good?" She nodded frantically. She She heard stumbling from the back door and turned. Both Hanna and Ryder were fighting their way in, "US TOO, US TOO!".

Ooc: IF YOU SAW A TYPO NO YOU DIDN’T ☺️SO EXCITED TO ACTUALLY RELEASE IT :3 you get cooper lore in teaspoons

@bleep-bloop-boo

(if you wanna be tagged in the rest tell me )

[lessi-lover]

new found habits II c.foord x k.mccabe

summary: katie spends her afternoon seeing your new found habits ★ new found habbits II k.mccabe x c.foord

caitlin knew that for a normally well behaved kid like yourself, you were picking up an awful bad amount of scrappy habits from both your parents and their teammates.

it started of simple, with you resulting to repeating some not so child friendly words that you had heard mam say whilst she was trying to put together your new big girl bed, since your old one had grown to small for a newly three year old you and caitlin had been begging katie to put it together for months now.

then came the sneakiness that you had likely picked up off your mums teammates, as teyah and vic always counted on you to steal them extra gummies from the lolly jar, until kim had seen you climbing up on the counter and put them a little too high up for you to reach.

still you made the older scot promise she would keep it a secret from you mum, even offering her a gummy as a way of hushing the arsenal captain. and although she took it regardless warning you she shouldn't see you climbing up again without an adult.

even katie wasn't quite sure how in the six months since she brought you a pre - season training for the first time that you'd decided that not only were you allowed to repeat every little thing she said, but you also apparently had the right to take as much chocolate from the kitchen at home as you wanted.

it had gotten a few weeks into you smuggling chocolate that was only as a special treat into your bedroom, when katie found you lifting your small body up onto the kitchen counter and hoisting yourself up to open the top shelf.

if only you hadn't been singing to yourself whilst doing it, you may have noticed the way your mam crept up behind you and tugged you into her arms. "what are you doing ya little cheek?" she giggled, tickling your stomach, laughing at your attempt to escape her arms and call for help from the cat who only purred and snuck away.

"nofin," you replied instantly. a poker face on that you were maybe too young to have mastered, but still catching your breath, you wheezed and pushed her prodding fingers away.

katie shook her head at your accent, your voice a complete and utter mess of the australian and irish accents of your parents which you seemed to have adopted into a mush of different words and phrases you had picked up from the pair.

she had noticed that you had integrated a few australian words that she hadn't heard even caitlin say before, but she blamed it on the fact that they kept letting kyra babysit when they needed a night off.

"sure about that cheeky? cause the chocolate all over your face says differently." she questioned and you give her a fowl look in return, shocked at why she would think you would take chocolate, even if the incriminating evidence was smeared all over your cheeks.

"not chocolate!" you try to convince your mam, who you think slightly believes you before she leans her face down and kisses all over your face. "hmm. maybe it's not chocolate." she says sarcastically, lowering your body to the ground and chuckling as you immediately run off in search of your cat.

katie thinks it's kind of funny that you think you got away with it and she's sure caitlin would have had something to say about you taking the chocolate you're only meant to have on special occasions. but she let it go because she really did think you looked cute with the chocolate melting on your small face, even if it was her favourite kind.

you're still smiling when you return to the kitchen with cooper in your grasp, the grey cat seeming to be licking the evidence of your face as you fed him cat biscuits and showed him to his water bowl next to the counter.

"who taught you how to get onto the counter cheeky?" she questions finally, amused by the game you seem to be playing with the cat, waving a feather toy around in your hand as his eyes follow you eagerly.

"viccy." you answered, completely distracted by the way cooper seems to try and swat the toy out of your hands, which you lifted above your head to make him jump higher.

katie sighs, she knew of course it had to be either kyra or vic who had taught you how to get up on the counter, and it only proved her point further that she had walked in on the three of you whispering away the other day during break time.

katie checks the time on the stove, caitlin should be home soon, she had been in town with the aussie girls and had left the two of you to make dinner at home for when she got back.

katie lifted you off the floor and back onto the kitchen counter. "got up myself mam!" you complained, trying to lift yourself back down as katie kept you stable on the marble top.

"i know cheeky. you going to help me make dinner for mummy?" and you were immediately distracted, completely forgetting that you wanted to get down and instead interested in what was for dinner.

"what food mam?" you asked, waving your hands in her face as she read through the recipe caitlin had sent her, raising a brow when she realised half the recipe was most definitely not in the fridge or pantry.

looking puzzled for a minute, katie weighed the possible dinner she could make in her head, and leaning more towards takeaway she turned to meet you with a matching grin.

"you know what cheeky, i reckon we order in some nandos." she chuckled, pulling out her phone to look at the menu. "yay nandos!" you shrieked in excitement, you had been there enough times after games that you loved the resturant.

it was just as your mam was about to call, that you heard your mummy's key twist in the doorknob, sliding of the counter next to a distracted katie and running towards the door.

"mummy!" you smiled, the australian lifting you up into her arms and kissing your cheek. "hey lovie." caitlin sighed, resting your body on her hip as she put her bags down by the door and hung her keys on the rack.

"did you have fun with mam?" she asked you, listening as you described the movie you had watched that afternoon. caitlin couldn't count how many times you had watched frozen, it seemed to be your favourite movie and you always convinced them to let you watch it again some way or another.

"and then elsa saved the forest people!" you exclaimed, using your free hand to show your mummy how she freed the elements from the forest. "missed you." you grinned, kissing your mummy's cheek just as she you had seen your mam do this morning before you got ready for preschool.

"honey i'm home!" caitlin laughed, walking into the kitchen to a katie on the phone as she kissed her lips softly, walking past with you still in her arms to grab a glass of water.

"mummy can we pretty please bake brownies!" you asked hopefully, having quickly seen them on the menu katie was looking at when caitlin carried you past and now that was exactly what you wanted.

"maybe cheeky, ask your mam." caitlin responded, a usual for the couple as they always passed on the permission to the other when they didn't know what to say to you.

"mam pretty please can we make brownies!" you whined, putting on your most best angel eyes like lessi had taught you when you wanted to get something from someone.

sure enough, katie couldn't say no to your face when your lip gently jutted over the other and you looked almost to tears if she hadn't allowed you sooner.

"yes cheeky. we can make brownies whilst we wait for the food." she gave in, her hand tickling under your chin as your frown converted into a bright smile just as she knew it would. your mummy doesn't like when katie just allows you to reign terror, but she doesn't think she could stop you herself either.

delivering you back into your mam's arms, you resulted to playing another game you had made in which you would put your hand on the counter and katie would place her own over your smaller hand and so on until she would grab you and tickle you until you were in a fit of giggles.

"katie why is there no chocolate in the pantry?"

[wine-cooper]

OH MY GOODNESS HELLO :3 NEW SIBLING

hi I am cooper your sister I say new siblings because I have yet to find and introduce myself to everyone so hi :3

OC PJO roleplay blog

Hello. I’m iris I love to party and I just got claimed by Mr. D.

TW: There is a lot of talk of alcohol and some of abuse on this blog.

Age:15

Pronouns:They/Them

Godly parent: Dionysus

I love to party and stuff. @alex-child-of-dionysus @superbstarlightsheep (ooc:I don’t know any other cabin 12 kids)

[campgender]

from In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado (2019)

In Dorothy Allison’s short story “Violence Against Women Begins at Home,” a group of lesbian friends gathers for a drink and they discuss a bit of community gossip: a pair of women recently broke into another woman’s house and trashed it, smashing glass and dishes and destroying her art, which they deemed pornographic. They spray-painted the story’s eponymous phrase on her wall. The friends debate police involvement and intragroup conflict mediation; but toward the end of the story, as they are parting ways, the problem crystallizes into a single, telling exchange:

“Look, do you think maybe we could hold a rent party for Jackie, get her some money to fix her place back up?”

Paula looks impatient and starts gathering up her stuff. “Oh, I don’t think we should do that. Not while they’re still in arbitration. And anyway, we have so many important things we have to raise money for this spring—community things.”

“Jackie’s a part of the community,” I hear myself say.

“Well, of course.” Paula stands up. “We all are.” The look she gives me makes me wonder if she really believes that, but she’s gone before I can say anything else.

Queer folks fail each other too. This seems like an obvious thing to say; it is not, for example, a surprise to nonwhite queers or trans queers that intracommunity loyalty goes only so far, especially when it must confront the hegemony of the state. But even within ostensibly parallel power dynamics, the desire to save face, to present a narrative of uniform morality, can defeat every other interest.

The queer community has long used the rhetoric of gender roles as a way of absolving queer women from responsibility for domestic abuse. Which is not to say that activists and academics didn’t try. When the conversation about queer domestic abuse took hold in the early 1980s, activists gave out fact sheets at conferences and festivals to dispel myths about queer abuse. [see footnote 45] Scholars distributed questionnaires to get a sense of the scope of the problem. [see footnote 46] Fierce debates were waged in the pages of queer periodicals.

But some lesbians tried to restrict the definition of abuse to men’s actions. Butches might abuse their femmes, but only because of their adopted masculinity. Abusers were using “male privilege.” (To borrow lesbian critic Andrea Long Chu’s phrase, they were guilty of “[smuggling patriarchy] into lesbian utopia.”) Some argued that consensual S&M was part of the problem. Women who were women did not abuse their girlfriends; proper lesbians would never do such a thing. [see footnote 47] There was also the narrative that it was, simply, complicated. The burden of the pressure of straight society! Lesbians abuse each other!

Many people argued that the issue needed to be handled within their own communities. Ink was spilled in the service of decentering victims, and abusers often operated with impunity. In an early lesbian domestic abuse trial, a lawyer noted the odd and unsettling detail that most of the time the jury spent behind closed doors was—contrary to what she’d been worried about—the straight jurors attempting to convince the jury’s sole lesbian member of the defendant’s guilt. When she was later questioned, the lesbian juror told the lawyer that she hadn’t “wanted to convict a [queer] sister,” as though the abused girlfriend was not herself a fellow queer woman.

Around and around they went, circling essential truths that no one wanted to look at directly, as if they were the sun: Women could abuse other women. Women have abused other women. And queers needed to take this issue seriously, because no one else would.

footnote 45: Among the myths tackled by the Santa Cruz Women’s Self Defense Teaching Cooperative: “Myth: It’s only emotional/psychological, so that doesn’t count.” “Myth: I can handle it—unlike her last three lovers.” “Myth: Staying together and working it out is most important.” “Myth: We’re in therapy, so it’ll get fixed now.”

footnote 46: Actual questionnaire language by researcher Alice J. McKinzie: “Is your abuser present at this festival? If your abuser is at this festival, is she present while you are filling this out? If your abuser is not present while you are filling this out, is she aware that you are filling out this questionnaire? If you answered NO to the question above … do you plan to tell her later?”

footnote 47: This No True Scotsman fallacy could bend these narratives in every direction conceivable; create a kind of moving goalpost that permitted an endless warping of accountability. In a firsthand account of her abuse in Gay Community News in 1988, a survivor wrote: “I had been around lesbians since I was a teenager, and although some of them had troubled relationships, I was unaware of any battering. I attached myself to the comforting myth that lesbians don’t batter. Much later, when I was ‘out’ enough to go to gay bars in a town that was liberal enough to tolerate them, I saw that some lesbians did indeed batter. However, I thought they were all of a type—drunks, sexist butches or apolitical lesbians—so I decided that feminist lesbians don’t batter.” Activist Ann Russo put it more succinctly in her book Taking Back Our Lives: “I had found it hard to name abuse in lesbian relationships as a political issue with structural roots.”