#all the while the cis men in the room are fucking bullying me with all this toxic masculinity bullshit!

[erisolkat]

god i hate everyone

[tigerdrop]

I think we should talk more about breeding kinks here specifically with whatever men you're currently thinking about. I finished read your snippets on your website so that inspired this anonymous question.

god. i have a lot of insane things i could say about it. WRT daniel and jamie. i want to put it under a readmore b/c im embarrassed but i dont want to use one b/c they dont work right on my theme (SO IVE LEARNED) so heres captain sisko cardboard cutout

this is probably going to get weird but daniel is a weird guy. full disclosure

uh. god. i had a whole long thing typed out justifying it but all u really need to know is that daniel is one google search away from being a massive furry. if he had any idea how much anthro knotting porn is out there on the internet he would never leave his fucking room. he has it so bad dude

so like. this poor fucking guy wants to come in something so badly he cant see straight (who doesnt) and the only thing hes got is another dudes mouth on a blue moon. it would be a lot easier if he could just sniff out who wants to fuck on the air like a big stupid dog. a big mean doberman fursona with a spiky collar and a stupid hat. yknow. whatever

i think the idea of being a thrall to instinct and not having to navigate impenetrable social norms in order to have sex appeals to him. hes learned the hard way that he cant wrap his head around the intricate rituals. so its really great for his, uh. self-actualization. that he ends up with a buddy who likes to play along and makes it really, really obvious that he wants to use daniel like a dishrag

the ultimate torture, though: being a guy with a breeding kink dating a guy who gets off on edging you and stringing you out. imagine

daniel: i need to come in you so fucking bad. I need to knock you up jamie: Thats great buddy. If you come before i do im going to fucking kill you

tbh jamies standpoint on it is that he both never wants to have kids and is physically incapable of having them in the first place so daniels whole breeding kink is. like. a little oddity to him. something he feels a little conflicted about, given, you know, the gender . its a thinker

but really in the end its the ideal scenario b/c he gets to indulge daniel and play pretend with no consequences. its the same as if he was a cis dude indulging him. and tbh its worth it to see how fucking strung out it makes him. daniel sweating bullets at the idea of nutting in some big muscular hairy dude..........its neat. to him. and not to me. i dont care

its also neat to have jamie be a big ol bully about it too. all demanding and pushy. treating him like a bit of an animal about it...............whatever. insane animal style sexo while jamie doms the unholy hell out of him. sweet and sour both. Whatever

ultimately tho the goal is to nut in jamie and to do it over and over again and i think thats great for him. i think its even nicer if he accidentally comes too quick. all sweaty and desperate......poor guy.

(as an aside: jamie would never be for-real mean about his dick because - and not to be a huge fucking dyke here for a moment - your dick doesnt need to work like a pornstars b/c you dont even NEED one to have insane screaming bed-shaking sex. his fingers work just fine, right? get in there, buddy. finger your cum deeper into him. Jesus christ man)

alternatively. overstimulation. jamie using his iron thighs to keep daniel right where he is after he comes while jamie gets off. its like a punishment in its own right.....making daniel stay in place, all raw and sensitive and trembling......he would whimper. i think. cant do nothin but feel it. really really cute. stuff. i think

ok. sorry. this went a lot of places. goodbye forever

[velvetvexations]

Lol, people started to write their headcanons about me instead of, like, asking.

I didn't say that it's good to be literally paranoid around cis men and people you perceive as such. And most women, trans or cis, are not like this, except if they have severe trauma. But there is a difference between being paranoid in mundane interactions and being cautious in potentially dangerous situations.

Most women-only spaces that are talked about deal with situations where people are vulnerable. All people, I saw quite a bit of sexual harassment in male locker rooms or bathrooms, and female ones don't guarantee complete safety for women either, because shockingly some girls are bullies and abusers. But as long as patriarchy exists, denying danger of cis men is wishful thinking.

I didn't accuse you of anything bad, sorry if it sounded this way. I will read your fanfic to get your situation better.

As for hatred part - I didn't say that their hatred of transfems stems from them secretly seeing us as women because they don't. It stems from hatred of deviance, rationalised as our malicious intentions or perverted nature, all to feel righteous about hating people who already gave you the ick. All while dating absolutely typical cis men whom they rationalise to be actually not as bad. And this is if we are talking about TERFs, who are a minority among transphobes.

I didn't think you were accusing me of anything. It annoys me that your really absurd combination of positions is WHY I get accused of things, or at least a big part of it, because the people who get pissed at me for disagreeing about their raging bitterness towards other trans people lump me in with you when they see things like me identifying as a male girl or trying to be understanding with cis women not immediately understanding the totality of trans theory.

Your clarified stance isn't better because yes, obviously there's still a difference between how cis women view trans women and cis men, and there's a lot that goes into that difference, but the fact remains that with radfems it rests on a solid bed of "fuck men" that's so extreme many of them hate cis butch lesbians for bringing masculinity into their spaces.

I don't know why you sent this on anon since I didn't block you.

[bumblebeerror]

oh so your levels are actually the same as mine, oh wow. i'm around 400 too. same levels, yet we have such different bodily experiences. that's so interesting.

maybe you have an excess of free testosterone or increased conversion of t into dihydrotestosterone? have you gotten those blood tests done? if you haven't, maybe you should.

also your levels fluctuate a lot. to go from 400 to 600 within the same week is kinda drastic. i've read that only small fluctuations are normal. my levels fluctuate within a much smaller interval (430-450), and i think it's like that for the majority of cis guys.

the reason i know my t levels is because i've been struggling with things like fatigue, joint pain, stiffness, dry skin, cold skin, dry eyes, brittle hair, sleepiness & autoimmune symptoms for a while now so i thought it might be due to low testosterone and went to get tested. but my levels are on the lower end of the normal range... so apparently not.

that's an interesting fact about t injections. you learn something new every day! that's gotta hurt though.

now that you mention it, there was one boy in my class who had bad body odor. but just one. and we only really felt it during gym class. he was very short like a kid and kinda chubby, but boy did he sweat a lot. he was also pretty poor and from a remote village so maybe that had something to do with it. whenever we were changing in the boys locker room for gym, it would smell pretty bad. the gym teacher was very mad at him for that and all the other boys would give him shit for it. fun fact: teenage boys can be very cruel to each other in male-only spaces. i stayed quiet, of course, because i was going through my own problems that i would rather not get into now. and one time we had to learn a traditional dance in pairs (there were more boys than girls so some boys had to be paired with boys) and when i was paired with him and had to touch his hands they were so sweaty and i was kinda grossed out ngl. maybe i should've been nicer to him tbh.

wow, i got off track there. you unlocked a hidden memory.

anyways, maybe you're right. but there's a fine line between treating these teenage boys humanely and actively encouraging lack of hygiene & laziness. teenage boys can be very immature and undisciplined and quite frankly, they don't need any more coddling and babying than they already receive. teenage boys and young men nowadays have a big problem with immaturity and not wanting/knowing how to grow up (i know from experience). they should be encouraged to display maturity for their own good. and knowing how to take care of yourself and practice proper hygiene is a part of maturity.

The amount changes as it’s absorbed, and it’s absorbed over the week, so large fluctuations aren’t unexpected, since I’m not making the excess myself. It just depends, and that’s just the range of results my tests every three months or so have turned out. Like I said, this is unsolicited medical advice and I don’t need it.

The injections don’t hurt any more than any other shot, they’re just done into any large muscle group. For me that’s my thigh.

Anyways.

That’s the thing, though. Maybe you received coddling, idk your life - but for the most part if you stray from the perfect normal you are extremely fucking bullied. The only thing my friends did was be unfortunately extra sweaty.

Boys being immature isn’t my responsibility - what is my responsibility is not bullying them for it? Like the problem you’re describing is A) kid doesn’t know how to control BO bc he wasn’t taught, B) kid’s parents never enforced/assisted with hygiene practices, or C) kid’s family doesn’t have the money to buy hygiene products, which is extremely common and hygiene products aren’t covered by things like food stamps or other welfare programs. None of which are my business as an adult and are things I will gladly completely ignore because that’s a child who doesn’t have complete control of that.

I assume most of the teen boys in my class didn’t want to stink just by the sheer amount of axe body spray that filled my highschool.

I’ve never really met anyone who wanted to stink. Just people who can’t afford, never learned, or were never taught.

Not to mention that, in general, kids learn from parents about the kind of shit they relentlessly bully each other about.

You aren’t wrong, hygiene is important to someone’s health. But the thing there is that making someone feel bad about being smelly doesn’t make them cleaner. It doesn’t give disabled folks or folks with mental health issues the ability to have good and consistent hygiene habits. Like, as someone who’s disabled… yea part of that is sometimes you do not have the ability to be clean. Or you’re at the mercy of someone else to be clean. Or you struggle with the process. There’s a million reasons and none of them deserve to be hassled over it.

Like what I’m saying here is other people’s hygiene habits aren’t your personal business besides idk, reminding someone to wash their hands if they forgot, I guess.

This conversation just comes back to idk how to explain to you that you should be nice to people. Sometimes people stink. Use your manners anyways.

[pansyboybloom]

I remember when some ppl on here got so mad at an innocuous post (that i think didnt even had to do with this) that they started posting "masculine men positivity" of just... cis men with beards and all that, and a bunch of people started making think pieces that if you read them you would have thought that men get beat up on the streets for NOT wearing skirts or pink eyeshadow... I can't belive that there's QUEER people that think that for some reason masculinity, specially on men, is under attack when men being masculine is what society expects and NOT being masculine is what a lot of people not just men get punished for, like if you didn't know these people were queer you would look at the way they talk about how masculine men are being oppressed and immediately think "this was written by a right wing bigot", like guys on here writting about how masculine men are oppressed... what separates their argument from homophobes commenting "make men masculine again" on posts of a man wearing a skirt, I think it's specially obvious when they get super mad at joke posts that are like "all men need to wear skirts or they aren't worth it" and take it as a personal offense and a real instance of the world??? Do they think men are getting jumped outside because they don't have their nails painted? I think it's specially horrible when they bring up butches, and black men to defend their argument of masculinity being "oppressed"

like, i absolutely wont pretend to know what life is like for all masc queer men in all parts of the world, but as someone who has grown up in Ye Ol' South, even in a safer area than most, the expectation here is 100000% that a queer man who is hard masc is inherently more deserving of humanity than a fem queer one, including trans men. 'make men masculine again' is written on real life bumper stickers that you can see in high school parking lots. while mike the jock is obviously still in danger of being queerbashed, if he presents as hard masc and plays his cards right, he is less likely to be than the 'dirty sissy' fem man. and it's the same for trans men-- being extremely masc won't make your gender respected, but you are slightly less likely to be beaten up than a guy like me who wears a skirt.

heavy irl example of a queer-bashing hate crime description below heads up:

when i was in middle school, there was one very, very fem gay boy who had his head bashed into a mirror in the boys' locker room hard enough to break the mirror and send him to the hospital. would the boys in my school likely attack a masc gay classmate as well? yes. but everyone, cishet and queer, knew that that was less likely to happen because the masc queer men were the 'good ones' who 'didn't shove it down your throat' and 'kept it in the bedroom' unlike the 'sissy fags' (GROSS stuff to say about a fucking middle schooler but ya know, homophobia!)

like i said, can't speak for everyone and everywhere! but my life experience? a lot of guys forced themselves to be masc for safety. i know guys who faced so much horrible rhetoric that they would google speech therapy to 'talk more masc' or join in on the queerbashing and bullying, bc even if they couldn't be 100% masc, beating up the other, more fem guys would earn them some basis of safety.

are queer women threatened for being gnc? for being butch or masc? yes. absolutely. but at least in my neck of the woods, it ain't the same for queer men. but like i said. just my experiences

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—�� used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[asteroiideae]

okay, so I don’t make these kinds of posts often because tbh I’m a little lazy and very tired like 24/7 lmao but I’ve been seeing a lot of Pride reading lists hit my dash (and they’re excellent, and I save them all!) buuuut reading books is still a roadblock I’m struggling to mentally overcome -- and audiobooks are great, but they take 84 years (sometimes literally???) to get through. so! I thought I’d share a (very tiny) list of the queer manga I’ve read this year that you might enjoy for Pride, with some descriptions/trigger warnings/thoughts to go with them. so here we go in no particular order other than where they sit on my bookshelf:

What Did You Eat Yesterday? by Fumi Yoshinaga

okay so I know I go on about this manga at literally every presented opportunity, but I honestly just can’t help myself??? as a thirty-something queer adult, I really love the quiet maturity of this relationship between Shiro and Kenji; especially when it’s highlighted by references to shenanigans of their youth, and the ways in which they are still growing as both individuals and a couple. I’ve only read the first six volumes but I’m OBSESSED.

Status: Ongoing (17 volumes; 15 translated) Summary: Shiro and Kenji are an established adult couple with separate careers and interests, whose relationship is depicted over the meals cooked for them by Shiro. This doesn’t have an overarching plot, which might be off-putting for some readers; each chapter can be compared to a fanfic one-shot, usually containing it’s own tiny storyline or theme. It’s literally just domestic moments and meals shared between these men. Warnings: While I didn’t personally have a problem with this, younger readers might find some of the dated terms offensive. If you’ve spent any time with older queer folks (older as in 45-50+) this won’t be anything you aren’t used to, but if your experience of queer folx skews younger or online, you might get taken by surprise. There’s also some internalized homophobia; and by some I mean quite a bit. Shiro’s personal arc (at least in the first six volumes) heavily revolves around how much he closets himself and tries desperately to pass as “normal” in Japanese business culture.

Boys Run The Riot by Keito Gaku

holy shit holy shit holy SHIT. this story is so good??? so VERY good??? I was a little cautious, and a little bit uninterested in a story about teens (only because I’m in my thirties and crave more adult representation,) but I was VERY WRONG to be. Boys Run The Riot is beautifully drawn, beautifully written, and probably my favorite work on this list. the mangaka is also trans so the inherent understanding and nuance of our protagonist’s experience is really lovely. Also featuring a fantastic brotp between a trans boy and his new himbo bestie; no seriously if you want a story about a trans boy getting to have good broships with other boys his own age I CANNOT stress this enough. Volume two is releasing next month; I have it preordered. I’m laying on my floor wishing for time to hurry the fuck up. I need more of this smol angry trans boy and his big soft himbo bff. PLS. Status: Ongoing (4 volumes published; 2 translated) Summary: Ryo Watari is a second year high school student who is trans and struggling to feel comfortable with his very rigidly structured life at school, at home, and among his friends (to whom he is not out.) By chance he meets Jin Sato, a cis boy who also feels outcast (often judged for his appearance without any deeper thought.) When Ryo comes out to Jin in a state of frustration, Jin accepts who Ryo is and makes an offer -- why not start a fashion line that subverts all the expectations that have been put on them both; why not express themselves even when they’ve been told they shouldn’t. Warnings: Ryo is struggling with gender dysphoria, and it is written by someone who has probably experienced it, so it might be a little real for any trans folks who deal with that. Also, while neither the narrative nor Jin misgender Ryo (at least, not once he expresses to Jin that he is a man), Ryo is not out to anyone else and so he frequently is misgendered at school and we see how badly that impacts him and the way he views himself and processes his emotions. Ryo spends a lot of time being angry and trying to swallow it down, and that can be very raw to witness at times. There is also a depiction of unsafe binding (though the mangaka has an immediate note about binding safety, and goes further in-depth at the back of the manga.)

Our Dining Table by Mita Ori

okay, so I was a bit on the fence about whether or not I wanted to include this as a rec, but I decided that it might actually been what someone wants or needs, so here it is! while I really enjoyed this concept, and I’m always a sucker for found family stories (let me tell you I’m queer without telling you I’m queer, much?) it feels like this story is a bit rushed at times, and the romantic relationship between our protagonists is very blink and you’ll miss it. I don’t even want to call it subtle so much as it is just not remotely the focus of the story so it’s a little startling when it happens. but! if you’re looking for a story about adults processing grief and trauma together, and learning how to care for another person (and as a result, learning how to care for themselves,) this is a nice read that isn’t too heavy!  Status: Complete (one volume) Summary: Yutaka is a salaryman whose past experiences prevent him from reaching out to others, even through something so simple as sharing a meal. Despite this is REALLY loves to cook, and wishes he had a reason to do it more often. Then he meets Minoru, and his muuuuuch younger brother Tane (it’s like a 17 year age gap between the brothers?) and finds himself teaching them how to cook, and overcoming his fear of eating in front of others. Warnings: Good news, there’s no overt homophobia in this story! Bad news, the other trauma makes up for it! We have a lot of trauma surrounding parental death, childhood bullying, and adoption; in addition to an actual fear of eating in front of others.

Our Dreams at Dusk / Shimanami Tasogare by Yuhki Kamatani

this is the first manga series I collected, and I’m still very pleased about that. the art is ABSOLUTELY stunning? the use of visual imagery and surreal analogies to explain queerness is fucking on POINT. I cried so hard during a couple of these volumes I developed a migraine. I only have one piece of critique on the whole thing (addressed in the warnings,) and I intend to do another re-read when I’m ready for the catharsis of sobbing into my pillow again. Like Boys Run The Riot, Our Dreams at Dusk is drawn and written by a member of the queer community (a non-binary mangaka, this time,) and as a result it hits pretty fucking close to home in a lot of ways. while I really love this series it’s super not for the faint of heart, you WILL come out of this reading experience with some things to unpack. Status: Completed (4 volumes; 4 translated) Summary: We mostly follow Tasuku Kaname, as he is outted at school by a classmate as being homosexual, and his initial despair and subsequent journey of acceptance. In this process, Tasuku finds himself at a drop-in center, which seems to primarily function as a safe space for queer people; we meet several lesbians, an elderly gay man, a trans character, and a young character who isn’t ready for any kind of label because they are still ??? about themselves and their identity. Each of these “secondary” characters is given room to breathe and to work through difficulties of their own while Tasuku watches and learns that even though life is hard sometimes, there’s beauty to be found in one’s own strength. Warnings: hoooo boy; well there’s all kinds of homophobia and transphobia; a character is outted against their will (multiple times), there’s some really insidious transphobia covered by “concern”, there’s internalized homophobia everywhere, and a very complicated asexual character whose presentation left me (as an ace) with super mixed feelings and a lot of frustration (though I wouldn’t call it bad necessarily; just wanted to put that out there for my fellow asexual folks.) If you have read (or go on to read!) any of these, please let me know! I’d love to chat about the stories, and hear your thoughts on them -- because we’re a broad/diverse community and our own experiences shape us differently and give us different insights. <3 ANYWAY, for those of you who read this monstrous self-indulgent post, thank you! Feel free to add any queer manga you’ve been reading below - I’m always on the hunt for more recs!

[bi-dazai]

honestly i think i have a weird anger or cultural confusion where other gay and trans ppl are like much happier and comfortable to come out and shit and be open, but I've always had an extremely complicated relationship with it because it's always made me feel so isolated and lonely, even with other gay ppl around. and younger ppl especially will like go around coming out so frequently and meanwhile if I'm going to even tell you that I'm attracted to women I have to trust you 110% and that isn't something that comes easy.

I'm terrified of like. Wearing even rainbow goddamn socks because I'm scared shitless of getting bullied, or harassed, or even assaulted. Which is ironic considering I try to be quite fashionable in public but with being openly bi (let alone being openly TRANS) it's a complete no-no.

Like I think as much as I love being bi and nb at the same time I still despise it, I still think it's ruined my life. I have gender dysphoria about my chest whereas if I was cis I would be so happy with how feminine my body is. My first ever relationship with another girl at the moment being cut short by abusive homophobia fucked me up in innumerous ways, leading me to like...severe issues with the way i feel about sex and emotional attachment and touch.

And ofc there's the homophobia, like at this moment I'm probably leaning towards getting a fuckbuddy or smth over tinder but like a romantic relationship with another person is terrifying, like I'm insanely private w relationships even w men, I won't let us hold hands if I think too many people might see bc i have this stupid complex

There's more and more but my relationship with being Out is one where it's something that I simultaneously desire and despise, being Out is one of the most terrifying concepts I can think of and to me having someone refer to me as "they" and not as a woman is simply not as important as being safe, as not living in even more fear of assault.

And then all around me ppl my age (although usually younger) are all coming out to anyone and everyone like it's just casual, saying their pronouns like it's nothing. And first it's disbelief and shock because holy fuck, has everyone gone fucking mad?? Are we all so fucking stupid that we just forget the everloving fear homophobia strikes into you?? And then it's the jealousy, that these people have this comfortable relationship with their own gay/transness and enough trust to actually open up and tell a room full of strangers "please call me they not she". It's disappointment and anger in myself that almost 7 years after forcing myself to whisper "I'm bisexual" to the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night and then cry my eyes out because it felt like I'd been cursed, and probably over a decade since I'd started having sexual feelings about all genders, and an entire lifetime of having feelings for men women and others, after so long I'm still just a coward who sits and hates it all, who fears it all.

But then recently I've come to the realisation that the way I realised I was gay was a way that's kind of...dying out. That being the mostly offline way.

Don't take this the wrong way but I've found a lot of people go online and find this overwhelming amount of support and representation for gay and trans identity. You can argue validly this statement, but the context I use this in is comparing it to like. 2013. People were way less online. Being an online celebrity was a novelty.

At school there were dyke, faggot, tranny, etc, thrown around as if they were confetti. Jokes about "lesbos" and "lesbihonest" humiliated any girl who was too close to another girl. I grew up not just in Brisbane Queensland but in a town that was connected to the mainland only by two bridges - a landbridge and a humanmade bridge. The school was overwhelmingly anglo. Overwhelmingly right wing.

I realised I was bi with minimal help from Tumblr. I realised I was bi because I fell, hard, for my best friend. And then she liked me back, and our relationship was amazing. But the school found out. We held hands under the table, we found a quiet moment to kiss and everyone pointed and stared. We made out in the shadow of a building and turned to find twenty people watching gawkeyed, pointing, fascinated.

The entire time her mum was abusive, and massively homophobic. She blamed me for turning her daughter gay. She forced us multiple times to break up at the threat of violence. Eventually we did. We never talked about it. Our friendship never returned like it used to. It was awkward, tinged with sadness, regret, yearning and young love cut short.

It was traumatic, to say the least.

Tumblr in 2014, despite the cringe screenshots, wasn't actually mostly about LGBT positivity or whatever. I first saw the term bisexual on, if you can believe me, a quotev story in 2011 about a cheerleader and an emo girl who get together in a secret relationship. You were either gay or straight, or you had an exception. Bisexual felt right, though, for me, felt accurate, was accurate.

It was years of confusion and secrecy and guilt, peeks at other girls in the changing room that I couldn't help and I didn't understand why. Then it was months and months of anger and frustration at myself that I was feeling this way and confused about myself, and then when I said those words it felt like I was being torn apart. It felt like my life had fallen apart. I cried every goddamn night, I felt awful all the time.

At school the kids noticed. They noticed before I started dating my friend, they noticed the way I looked at her and they interrogated me about it. I'd claim up and down I had a crush on another boy - true perhaps, but it was a passing interest - and then they said they told him and analysed how I reacted. And then the interrogations continued for months because the gay girl was entertainment for them. Around me, as I walked between classes, had lunch, walked home, dyke dyke dyke faggot hahaha.

And then the relationship happened and then leelah alcorn happened and I learned what a trans person is. And sometime when I was fifteen I saw nonbinary begin to pop up, terms like genderfluid and nonbinary and they rang true like bisexual did, but the last time I went down a rabbit hole like that it ended in trauma, and another person got hurt. I didn't throw homophobia at her, but I felt and still feel responsible for it. I didn't turn her gay, but I made it obvious. I don't quite know how to say it.

I knew I was nonbinary, deep down. One day I decided to add that to my tumblr bio. Nobody gave a shit, just like nobody gave a shit when I said I was bi. But that was because I wasn't open about it even online. I couldn't talk about that stuff or I'd curse myself.

Time went on, I got more comfortable, collected fresh new traumas. My brother came out as trans. Around me, friends came out as gay and trans. But they kept coming out. They didn't stop at close friends and trusted family, they told teachers, their entire class. I didn't understand. Why the fuck would you put yourself at risk like that?? And I still don't. I said it was jealousy and anger at myself before, and maybe it is still a little bit, but now, it's just concern.

As I said, the way I realised I was gay is the rather old fashioned way - offline, through trauma, and almost entirely unenjoyable and traumatic. A lot of kids still go through that for sure. But the ones I see telling everyone over that they're gay or trans are, in my experience, not those ones. As the internet began to become more of a general use thing and less of a "only recluse weirdos" space, the online LGBT safe space began to expand into an audience bigger than before. Online, you were safe. Nobody knew your name, you were behind a screen. Homophobia was veiled, you could just delete a hateful anon, could just log off. You could put up your pronouns and people would use them because, well, ppl didn't really have any other identifier someone might use for your gender. So this positive uplifting atmosphere spawned for the most part. And instead of learning through confusion and rare chance encounters with random words and crying into the sink every night that you're gay, you much easier come across this content that tells you indepth what this is and that it's okay. And you think, well wow, that's me, and then...you know, I guess. Not denying there's some of the classic self hatred etc but...you have this safe space online to fall back on, and I cannot emphasise how much that has pushed the acceptance and widespread knowledge of lgbt people in the past 5 years. I didn't exactly have that space, and my realisation was through mostly real life channels, which were swamped at all sides by homophobia, at worst, abusive, at kindest, it would treat you like a sideshow attraction.

Being someone who arguably isn't old enough to brush this difference away with being an "older gay" but still having had a gay experience quite different to the majority in my generation (applying this to area as well) I have to say I'm confronted with this comfortableness other days have a lot and it's always jarring. I think also that while it's important and I'm happy that "younger" gays and transes have at least one good support network/space to fall back onto online, I do think it creates this kind of...dangerous other side, especially for those who go to schools that are LGBT positive and have families who are also friendly to that sort of stuff. I find that young gay teens are totally unprepared and unhardened for the fact that most people you run into in real life despise your guts for existing as who you are. And while we can make as many soppy gay narratives as possible about being honest about who you are and losing shame, we need to face the fact and teach young lgbt kids that being Out isn't just something you do as a ritual in being gay or trans, it's a brave thing and it's completely optional. And furthermore, most importantly, it's insanely dangerous.

I don't think that teenage, raw fear of the consequences of even the very concept of being Out has ever left me. Perhaps I have to thank the homophobic 14 yr olds who swamped me in slurs and trauma, because it's given me a survival sense that's kept me closeted so far you'd never get in.

But occasionally I'm tempted, particularly with my transness which I am only out to perhaps 3 people about, to venture into the world of telling people about yourself. I started a new uni semester and in a tutorial, the teacher handed out cards. We were to use it as a placard to write our names on it so the teacher would learn our names over the next few classes. And, if we chose...our pronouns.

I stared at that card for what felt like a million years. This has always been an ordeal. People don't know how to pronounce my name, even though it's a rather simple one. But pronouns? I'd never really told anyone those. Online, yes, and once when I was asked by a friend i was brave enough to say "any will do" but this - this wasn't the curated safe online space, this wasn't a one-time phrase to a friend. This was an open, permanent thing that would sit below me every class, declaring me to 18 other people. I wrote down "NATALYA", then beneath "she/". And then I stared some more. I felt like I was going to die. I felt like I was the biggest fool, because before I could stop myself I wrote "she/they". No "he", not yet. But...it was there.

At the end of the class the teacher collected the placards. I wanted to run back screaming, wanted to ask her for a new card so I could be safe again. But I didn't because I would look like a freak and a coward.

I still think it's stupid. I still think I've put some petty gesture that no one will ever respect (if they can call you she they won't ever call you they) above my own safety. The thing that really struck me was that it didn't feel good. The reason I wrote it like that, I believe in hindsight, is that I was curious what those other kids feel like, because it must feel good to declare that you're a tr*nny d*ke in front of the entire class, good enough to beat the stomach-lurching dread that precedes such an action. But it didn't. It just felt like an unnecessary risk. And it made me feel worse, like there was a target on the back of my head.

I think I could talk about this forever, about how so many kids believe coming out is this thing you're required to do to be a good gay, but it's not. It's stupid stupid reckless, and in my case it ends with you getting fucked over.

But Ive written for ages and gotten prosaic halfway through so I'm gonna shut up. Basically why the fuck do you guys come out to everyone like please stay safe instead of this it isn't worth it.

[ftgage]

*stumbles into the room w shades on & a margarita in one hand* beezus again...fair warning i just got back from chili’s & i’m tipsy cause my roommate spent like $100 on alcohol for me...a fcking king ! 

「 herman tommerass. cis male. 」have you seen gage rowland around yet? i hear he decided to be in AUDAX for their SOPHOMORE year as a CRIMINAL JUSTICE major. the 21 year old SHEEP is known to be kindhearted, resourceful, dull witted and irresponsible. ➨ the muse is written by beezus. she is 21+, in est.

(this intro might be a mess but gage is an old muse of mine so i know him like the back of my hand i swear....& i haven’t fixed my theme yet so forgive me eep i’ll do that when i’m sober later)

trigger warning mentions of neglect, alcoholism, drugs, violence, homophobia 

stats: 

full name: gage michael rowland 

nicknames: none (someone give him one)

date of birth: march 16th, 1999 

age: 21 

sexuality: homosexual 

religion: agnostic 

occupation: student/escort 

likes: black eyeliner, socks w slides 

dislikes: watching movies 

tattoos: none 

piercings: ears, nose, cartilage

backstory: 

gage was born & raised in new york by a single mother. they didn’t really stay in one place they kinda lived everywhere in the area. hopping from home to home for a majority of his life. his mother has never had a stable career. she can go from being a waitress to a babysitter in like three days because she’s so quick to give up. she’s an irresponsible, lazy, struggling alcoholic and that’s all gage has ever known her as. he never met his dad but the man wasn’t any better. the two of them just weren’t fit to be parent’s and his mom unfortunately never stepped up after his dad walked out

before going to college he never had his own bedroom. they could only ever afford shitty, run down, one bedroom apartments and his mom would shove him onto the couch so she could have men over whenever she wanted. he didn’t mind much because he had a really old xbox that he’d play until he was so exhausted he just passed out. that was his nightly routine throughout middle & high school  

his mom wasn’t abusive...she’s a very loving women & cares about gage when she really needs to but for the most part he was on his own growing up. sometimes when they were in between homes he’d have to hunt down friends & sleep on their couches. he was only nine the first time they were homeless. she hardly spent money on him so he had the same wardrobe all through out elementary school despite growing out of it. they also never had food in the house so he’d work for free at local deli’s...like sweeping their floors & stuff & they would throw him some food ! if it weren’t for kind neighbors he wouldn’t have eaten 

when he was a kid he got bullied pretty harshly for being poor. like...these kids would steal the shirt off his back & laugh because they knew he didn’t have another one. he grew up in a pretty bad neighborhood :/ when he got a little older...probably around thirteen he started to come to terms with his sexuality & he didn’t feel the need to hide it at all ? he was a happy, bubbly kid that was comfortable in his skin. but there was a lot of homophobia in his neighborhood & they didn’t take too kindly to him. he got beat up pretty severely & it happened often. partly because he had a big mouth but mostly because they didn’t like how flamboyant he was. 

flash forward to when he was fifteen & he started experimenting with sex. he met this older guy in his neighborhood that took a liking to him (this guy was like forty-five ew) & they started hanging out a lot. after knowing each other for a few months the guy asked gage if he would meet up with one of his friends & gage being the innocent babe he was just said ok ! so he meets up w this guy & long story short this guy got him into being an escort...at only fifteen :/ 

he’s been working as an escort ever since & it’s done a lot of good for him ! he was v v popular & was getting paid like 10k for dates back in new york. he saved up money for a few years while he was in high school & eventually made enough to buy his mom a house (not that she deserved it). even though his childhood was shitty he’ll always love her...he’s away at school now but still sends her as much money as he can so that she doesn’t have to work. he’s such a giver & takes care of the people he loves...even when they don’t take care of him *cries*. business is slower while he’s at school but he still makes enough money to pay his tuition & support his mom. he doesn’t spend much money on himself because he already feels like he’s kinda selfish just for going to school

he’s a criminal justice major because he wants to be a probation officer one day ! he wants to be the nicest most lenient probation officer he can be...& he wants to be able to get his homies off the hook that’s his mentality w it. he’s a sheep as well because....he’s not smart enough for that app 

personality:

such a sweet fucking boy i swear. not only does he take care of his not so great mother but he’s also big on taking care of his friends. the type of guy to give a drunk girl his shoes, pay for everyone’s hangover meals, pay for all the ubers....he really milks himself dry for other people honestly 

he’s really gullible & kinda dumb. will say yes to just about anything, doesn’t know how to use a microwave without burning something, can’t follow instructions for shit either 

i’m sure he has to go through A LOT of tutoring to keep his grades up to par but he really does try his best *gives him a gold star* 

he has a really bad habit of letting people use & abuse him. like there’s been plenty of times where he’s gone to meetup with someone that was suppose to pay him but instead they just...had their way with him & hauled ass & yea it makes him feel like shit but he tries not to let it get to him :/

when he was six yrs old he told his mom that one day he would own all the legos in the world & she called it stupid so now he has a collection of legos ! i’m proud of him :) he has a lego house that he built when he was twelve & he keeps a couple grand stashed in it for a rainy day...& if someone were to steal it he wouldn’t care about the money he’d just be sad that they broke his lego house :( 

appearance wise he always looks pretty disheveled, might smell a little bad because he’ll buy a shirt from the thrift store & not wash it, he never spends a lot of money on stuff for himself. the nicest clothing items he owns are things that sugar daddies have bought him & he only wears them on dates 

he does a lot of expensive drugs & drinks a lot of expensive alcohol because it’s given to him & he doesn’t know how to say no 

he looks tired & worn out all the time because he 100% is but tries to keep a smile on his face anyway...if you ask him how he’s doing he’ll always say he’s doing well because tbh compared to how his life was as a child he kinda is ? he’s not hungry anymore, not struggling financially, putting himself through school...i love him 

he’s gay but doesn’t exclusively sleep w men. he has just as many sugar mamas as he does daddies. older women really love him ! he’s young, pretty & dumb...again he’s a giver so he’ll give head to just about anyone  

he does an unhealthy amount of cocaine which explains why he’s so awake & talkative all the time. it’s offered to him so he takes it ? someone stop him. he see’s a lot of men that will pump him w drugs just to take advantage of him & he knows it the back of his mind that it’s happening but the money & the buzz is too good 

ending this like an essay because i’m drunk at this point omfg so in conclusion gage is a sweet boy w a big heart that get’s kicked around for no good reason love him  

[roidespd-blog]

Chapter Three : THE DESOLATION OF THE GRINDR USER

« Grindr is a sociopath nest », Anonymous 

Grindr was launched on March 25, 2009. About a month or so earlier, I lost my virginity to the sweetest guy you could imagine. I met him on what we could consider one of Grindr’s ancestors, Gaypax— I still have that account, out of nostalgia. The design is so ugly I wonder now how I did spend so much time on it (we weren’t picky back then…) So Grindr was born at the exact time my sexual and romantic life was unfolding. It means that, except for the few years I’ve spent frenetically masturbating to La Redoute’s underwear catalogues and downloading dirty pictures of Brad Pitt naked with a very slow wifi, I’ve always been accustomed to gay apps.

Recently, the new and improved french magazine Tétu published an article called « Faut-il brûler Grindr?». Though not as detailed as I was hoping it would be, it did not changed my general opinion about the dating app paradigm. 

FLASHBACK France, 1971. A young gay man living in a beautiful city called Paris. Mike Brant just released his first major hit, Rock’N’Roll is slowly dying and Les Bidasses en Folie is this year’s biggest success at the box office. Unfortunately for him, the Gay Rights Movement is just at its infancy, homosexuality is still considered a mental illness and sodomy is punishable by law. So he shut his mouth and do his dirty business privately. he spends time around Place de Clichy and finds very discreet bars that can welcome him without too much judgement. He takes long walks toward the Tuileries bushes and sucks a stranger’s dong without any verbal exchange. He ends up marrying that fine young Marie, daughter of a friend of his dad, makes a couple of kids and from time to time, goes back to those places, shameful of himself.

That was the life of a gay man in France. If he didn’t get killed along the way. CUT TO 2009. Grindr is the first official gay dating app launched around the world. In France, the ban on sodomy disappeared in 1981 and since 1992, you are no longer considered a crazy person for being attracted to a person of the same sex (well, not from an official medical point, anyway). The app came to fruition through a simple question asked by its creator, Joel Simkhai : « WHO ELSE IS GAY AROUND HERE? ».

By 2012, 4 million people were using the App. 27 million as of 2017. Tinder followed in 2012 — you are welcome, straight people. Then SCRUFF, GAYROMEO, HORNET, BLUED, … What is wrong, then ? You damn well know something is wrong.

SMARTPHONE, 21st CENTURY’S NEW BACKROOM

If you go to a bar, you have to talk to the bartender, exchange a least a fews words with strangers, even dance as your look around and are being seen by others in the flesh. If you go to a gaybar, the same thing happens. If you go to a gaybar then the gaybar’s backroomn, rules change.

As the dating apps was closing in on worldwide domination, it became clear that the natural human kindness and respect would ultimately have no effect on the way people would communicate with one another on Grindr. I’ve been working in a bookstore for the past four years, you see. I expect a “hello”, “goodbye” and a smile during any interactions with clients — from them and myself. So there’s nothing more annoying that someone coming up to you, barking what they want to and leaving without any civility whatsoever. The Grindr equivalent would be Step 1 : A DICK PICK (or ass pick. I once had a fisting commemorative photo sent to me) straight up. Step 2 : A terribly convenient “cc sava tu ch?” or a “cho?” Step 3A : If you are polite enough to answer something, a conclusive “tu reçoi” or “tu bouge” Step 3B : you did not answer a singe word and the guy either sends you a “????” or insults the shit out of you. I sometimes do not answer impolite clients at work. Guess what ? Bitches say hello if you stare down at them long enough. On the internet, never gonna happen.

I remember the first couple of times I went on Grindr. I tried to answer everyone, even a “no, thank you”. There was always some “Hello”s, “How are you?”s, a few “My name is”s. But as the years went by, gay men (as I mostly talk to gay or bisexual cis men on these apps, I can only give my opinion on that category of people) adopted a series of unofficial rules to talk to each other.

1. If we are on this app, we are ready to fuck. 2. We do not have time for small talk. 3. We do not need your name, but dick size and multiple nudes are welcome. A picture is worth a thousand blablablahs. 4. We need to be very precise about what we want, so as not to waste our precious time. 5. Seriously, give us a full diagnosis of your body shape through pics, boy. 6. Chems ? 9. There are no rule 7 & 8, because 6 & 9. Now, turn around.

There are also lots of personal rules users seem keen on sharing them publicly as to implement unofficial rule number 4.

NO FEMS, NO BLACKS, NO ASIANS

“Pretty chill guy here. Very open minded and friendly. I love men from different cultures. Just no Asians. Asians leave me alone. I’m not racist” “Don’t message me. I’ll message you :). No Blacks Asians or fems. Love it when fats call themselves masc. hahahaha.” “Tell me if top/btm. Don’t really believe in “vers”. […] Attracted to Latin & White (trying to sound PC)” “Chill masc sane… just described nobody on here… Over 35, Asian or fem = block.. haha” “99% of you are losers. I’m the top 1%. So prove yourself first” The last one was written by a white male, by the way. They all were.

In our modern society, we’re not fools enough to believe that racism disappeared and everyone is accepting of others. Just look at the whole series of events called “while Black” where white people called cops on black folks for getting out of their airbnbs, talking in a Starbucks without ordering or falling asleep in a communal room at college. Nevertheless, you don’t see parades of racists proudly marching with “NO BLACKS” signs on the streets — you see another type of marches, yes. Free speech and stuff, sure. So why has it become acceptable in people’s minds to shade light on their racism in their profiles, barely hiding behind the “sexual preference” bullshit excuse ?

In an article dated September 2018 called “Why is it OK for online dates to block whole ethnic groups?” (2), the Observer related the appalling anecdote of an elderly white man who responded to a Grindr user of asian descent : “Asian, ew gross”.

I myself was told that I was too fat, too small, too twinkish, then not enough of those, or too white (but so we’re clear : RESERVE RACISM IS NOT A THING. STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT A THING!).

Racism also works with the beliefs that if you look or act a certain way, you obviously are what someone’s fantasy is. You are a black man so I assume that my hole will expand by ten once you’re inside me. You a blond light weight with feminine traits. You’re a submissive bottom and a real whore.

The world works on assumptions (ex : the myth of the BIG BLACK DICK or the for-sure global instinct that Tom Hanks would never have to face any #MeToo accusations) and apps follow that same path but without any policing. The absence of ramifications from someone’s actions further implement a feeling of unapologetic mindfulness — the same way being in a dark backroom with strangers you can’t see does not seem to add any consequences to what you’ll do next.

Recently, Grindr tried to course correct its past errors by creating “Kindr” (3). Was it a new app that would prevent people from actively using hate speech ? WELL WHY DON’T YOU PREVENT IT ON GRINDR THEN ? Was it a new platform to exchange ideas and experiences so that we can find another way to communicate together ?

Here’s how they introduce Kindr on their official site : At Grindr, we’re into diversity (MONEY), inclusion, and users who treat each other with respect. We’re not into racism, bullying, or other forms of toxic behavior (YOU ARE THE TOXIC BEHAVIOR). These are our preferences, and we’ve updated our Community Guidelines to better reflect them. Same app. New rules (DID YOU THOUGH?) Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Their type. Their tastes. But nobody is entitled to tear someone else down because of their race, size, gender, HIV status, age, or — quite simply — being who they are. (AS LONG AS IT DOES NOT PUT YOUR BUSINESS IN A RISKY POSITION) Join us in building a kinder Grindr. (DO YOUR OWN DAMN WORK). Express yourself, but not at the expense of someone else (OR US). Report discrimination when you see it (LIKE WITH THE JEWS BACK THEN. ALSO, WE THE USERS, ALREADY DID THAT). Use your voice and share your story to call out prejudice and spark change. Together, we can amplify the conversation and take steps towards a kinder, more respectful community (SEE, WE AT GRINDR ARE WOKE).

There you have it. A marketing scam to ease the pain of millions of users whose relationships and self esteem were affected by Grindr’s lack of interest in their consumers. How many years did it take for a simple statement from the CEO ? What’s actually concrete about these actions ?

in the community guide lines, it is stated that they “will remove any discriminatory statements displayed on profiles. […] Profile language that is used to openly discriminate against other users’ traits and characteristics will not be tolerated and will be subject to review by our moderation team”. FINE. So, if someone says “no short fat asians”, theoretically it would be removed from the profile. But if it says “more into vanilla and spice than chocolate and rice. So hit me up if this is you” (an actual Grindr profile, by the way), what can a Grindr moderator do about it ? The racism is still there. Are we to believe that EVERY single profile is being reviewed in detail ?

#deletegrindr was a popular hashtag over a year ago. I’m not on twitter and I still heard about it. Was it a cultural shift in the way gay people wanted to treat other gay people ? Were we on the verge of a revolution ? Nop. Grindr released data informations of thousands and thousands of profiles about HIV status (something that you can put on your Grindr profile) to third party companies. Since then, Grindr released the Kindr initiative and rewrote its policies.

I’m not against dating apps. I think it was a wonderful tool back in the day to extend one’s horizon, explore and experiment with love, sex and adventures. It no longer works that way. I didn’t even talk about the spreading of drug using through profile description and the real danger of stimulants in someone’s sex life.

#deletegrindr should come back and this time, it has to work. Silicon Valley, go make an app from scratch. One that would implement actual kindness to the machine, not based on popularity. Think of what people need, not what they want. People are shitheads. I’m a shithead. What I want is never good for me.

And YOU. You, little queer boy reading this. Don’t go on Grindr before going to bed to check the hotties in your area. Forget about that 6'2 monster cock Swedish god that lives nearby and offered you a quick hump for the ride. Ask him for a drink, put down your phone, get to know him a little and then fuck his brains out. You’re still gonna fuck but you’ll find humanity where there was once none.

That’s my preaching for the night. I gave up long ago on apps. I delete them all and stay away for months. Then, I feel lonely and get back to one or two. I met this new guy that way (4).The nice thing about it was that we did not talk dick sizes, favorite positions or any sexual desires until way after we actually met (and we’re talking two full weeks of messages). I’m not on any dating apps now.

(1) https://tetu.com (2) https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2018/sep/29/wltm-colour-blind-dating-app-racial-discrimination-grindr-tinder-algorithm-racism (3) https://www.kindr.grindr.com (4) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezra_Miller

[thecinephale]

Magic Mike XXL: Masculinity Worth Appreciating

I saw the first Magic Mike with my sister the summer before I left for college. I remember this day the way I remember just about everyday I’ve spent alone with my sister. I remember the day we spent visiting her favorite “spots” right before I started high school. I remember when we got into a hip NYC club because she looked like her even though I looked like me. I remember the difficult lunch we had my first visit back after coming out as trans. I spent most of my life with my sister, usually our parents were there or nearby. But once she learned to drive, the days alone, I remember all of those. This day, in June, in 2012, we were seeing Magic Mike.

There were two men in the theatre, sheepish looking boyfriends whose body language and facial expressions tried to make clear that they were just being good sports. Otherwise it was all women, ages ranging, ready to express their sexuality in public, an experience rarely allowed. My sister commented several times how weird it was to be seeing this with her little brother. I deflected with discussion about Steven Soderbergh and his varied filmography, abuzz with the comfort and confusion I’d always feel when in majority-women spaces.

The movie was fine. Soderbergh knows how to shoot and edit, Channing Tatum knows how to dance, and Matthew McConaughey knows how to chew scenery. But in making two films about the sex industry, Soderbergh failed to understand the difference between what men and women audiences are regularly given. It’s subversive to send a bunch of horny guys into The Girlfriend Experience wanting to see Sasha Grey fuck and then giving them a cold film about economics. But doing the same to a bunch of horny women wanting to see Channing and the gang is just… disappointing. 

Still there were enough abs to keep the audience relatively happy, and I left the theatre with the excited feeling that I’d gotten away with something. The same feeling I always had when I’d hang out with my sister and her friends, the same feeling I’d have any time I managed to be around groups of girls, conversations, car rides, karaoke rooms. While I never felt fully relaxed, I did feel more comfortable. It was as much about being near women as it was about being away from men.

***

We talk a lot about trans women’s relationship towards femininity. Every corny movie with a trans femme youth has her trying on makeup, heels, painting her nails. My experience was certainly filled with a lifelong admiration towards girls and women that fluctuated between envy and lust, admiration and resentment. I obsessively loved women and then turned on them when I felt dissatisfied. I convinced myself that relationships needed to be romantic, because I confused the deep desire to consume their bodies, their fashion, their entire being as a sexual impulse rather than one of imitation. I ruined so many friendships this way.

But what we talk about less is how much of my life was spent with masculinity, immersed in it, confused by it, desperate to understand how to embody it. I know some trans women have clarity from a young age that they are girls and it’s just a matter of others accepting it. But that was not my experience. My discomfort with boyhood and attraction to girlhood never seemed like something I could embrace. Instead I felt a pressure and desire to adjust those attractions, to be a boy and then a man to the best of my ability.

I’m fortunate to have a father who is sensitive and kind. I’m also fortunate to have a father who coached my baseball and soccer teams throughout most of my childhood. Sports became something that was undeniably masculine but that I also loved. I may have watched my sister’s dance classes with envy, but I also found genuine pleasure in being on the field, being physical and focused and competitive. It helped that my dad always prioritized sportsmanship, team spirit, and fun over winning. The league recognized this and rewarded him with the absolute worst players they could find. Our team of misfits may have frustrated me at times, but it also allowed me to think of sports as an exercise in empathy rather than a terrifying world of standards and punishments. I wonder now how many other boys on those teams were queer. I know at least one.

My positive experience with sports allowed me to navigate my early childhood fairly unscathed. I was bullied incessantly by other boys (and even some other girls) probably picking up on something about me. And my “crushes” (as I’d wrongly call them) on girls were intense to the point of all-consuming obsession. But my immense discomfort towards masculinity didn’t really start until middle school, until puberty.

I couldn’t figure out what masculinity even was. I knew certain expectations placed on me and felt like they were all terrible. I was supposed to objectify women. That was the most obvious. The grosser I could get when talking about the girls I “liked” the more I’d be accepted. I was also supposed to be aggressive. Physically. I was not supposed to cry. Or show any emotion. It wasn’t enough that I liked sports. I was supposed to only like sports. If someone was my friend that meant they made fun of me in front of our other friends and the proper response was to make fun of them back. Or hit them. 

Some of this is just middle school. But a lot of it carried over into high school and beyond. My new friends cared more about theatre than sports, but if you’ve ever watched two 17-year-old boys fight over who gets what part in Julius Caesar you’d realize it’s all the same. *** The summer before I came out, the greatest sequel of all time graced our movie screens: Magic Mike XXL. 

This masterpiece of masculinity is a modern-day Old Hollywood musical. Blah blah La La Land blah blah. Go watch On the Town and it becomes clear those musicals are about 1) hot guys, 2) tight pants, 3) great dancing. XXL is pure, sex-positive joy from beginning to end. It abandons the thematic and narrative overwroughtness of the original and makes a new statement: Celebrating female sexuality and non-toxic masculinity is what’s truly radical.

As a lesbian, I’ll leave discussions of the former to others (now that The Toast is gone I’m not sure where Roxane Gay’s review went, it’s really worth hunting down). But as a trans woman, who spent my whole life trying to understand masculinity, this movie was a goddamn revelation. The way the men celebrate women is lovely and sexy and new, but the way they celebrate each other is what really stood out to me.

The men in Magic Mike XXL are masculine. They embody so many of those basic, oversimplified middle school traits I listed above. And yet. It looks good on them. They’re physical, they rag on each other, they trade crude remarks about women. But they also support each other. They discuss their goals and varied interests. They talk out conflicts. Their discussion of women is crude but not objectifying. And they’re comfortable enough in their sexuality and gender to participate in a drag show. Watching XXL, I didn’t feel any closer to masculinity, but for the first time I found it something worth aspiring to. Social pressure was no longer the only thing pushing me towards it, and, as a result, it soon became clear I was never meant to achieve it.

Since coming out, I’ve had the good fortune of befriending some trans men and non-binary individuals who align with certain elements of masculinity and manhood. In these people I tend to see this same sort of Magic Mike XXL version of masculinity. I see it in my dad. I see it in a few cis male friends. I spent my life hating masculinity, but now I see its potential.

***

Last week I went to Thirst Aid Kit’s screening of Magic Mike XXL at the Alamo Drafthouse. Thirst Aid Kit is a podcast hosted by Bim Adewunmi and Nichole Perkins and is really a must-listen if you’re a person who enjoys lusting after men (and if you aren’t it’s still a good time). They provided fake money to throw at the screen and bingo cards with squares like “Mike grabs his crotch.” Cocktails were served throughout and we were encouraged to hoot, wallop, and moan as we saw fit. 

It’s been about six years since I sat in that regular movie theatre with my sister cherishing what felt like girl time. And here I was, again in a majority-women space, watching Channing Tatum grind. This time I felt comfortable, and also, finally, relaxed.

As a trans person, I’ve been forced to examine my gender, to wrestle with masculinity and femininity and ultimately decide what elements of both appeal to me and who I personally am. In a time when cis men are feeling increasingly confused about their place in the world, I wonder what might happen if they also had to ponder their identity. I wonder what might happen if they had to reconsider their own definitions of masculinity. I wonder what an all cis straight male screening of Magic Mike XXL might look like and what it might achieve.

Some need to thirst. Others need to learn. This movie does it all. <3

[hadarlaskey]

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider was an escape for queer teens like me

Celebrating its 25th anniversary this year, the Tomb Raider franchise was reinvented in 2013 and 2018 when it went all serious and explored heroine Lara Croft’s bleak origins in both video game and film prequels. Today, Tomb Raider has a new legion of fans and seems – dare I say it – cool all over again.

What’s still not regarded as cool, however, is the game’s first Hollywood outing. Upon its initial release in 2001, Lara Croft: Tomb Raider was slated by critics and fans alike for its apparent lack of thrills. But for a queer 14-year-old living in the north of England, it was the most thrilling, empowering spectacle I had ever seen.

While the film didn’t coincide with my personal coming out, it is very much a part of my formative queer years – on a par with seeing Ryan Phillipe’s rippling physique in 1999’s Cruel Intentions and wanting to be a bad ass bitch like Sarah Michelle Gellar. When you experience a daily ritual of mental and physical abuse, as many young LGBTQ+ people do, watching powerful women like Lara Croft taking zero crap, opposing the patriarchy, and running around with a big clock in her hand, makes it more bearable.

There’s a ‘Digging into Tomb Raider’ featurette on the original DVD release that’s lodged in my memory. It sees Angelina Jolie, without a hint of irony, telling viewers that she didn’t wanted to make something “cartoony, stupid or camp”. This struck me as an odd thing to say because that’s precisely what the finished product – and particularly her performance – is. What’s even more strange about this comment is that, in hindsight, Lara Croft: Tomb Raider seems to know exactly how ridiculous it is. The knowing looks, the cutting banter – the sheer camp audacity of it all – are what made the film resonate with me.

Jolie’s Lara is unrelenting in her sarcastic remarks, particularly to her skivvy Bryce (Noah Taylor), and her sense of humour never wavers, not even in the face of mortal danger. This is how I wanted to be when faced with bullies at school who saw my queerness as a weakness to exploit. I wanted to devastate them with witty comebacks, rather than the eerie muteness of a silent movie star.

In 2001, the UK education system was still reeling from Thatcher’s Section 28, so trying to understand my attraction to men while having no precedent for it was confusing. In a scene where Lara surprises a naked Alex (Daniel Craig), she looks at his groin with facetious delight before walking away, leaving him needing a cold shower. Although this scene presents a cis-heteronormative relationship, I saw myself as Lara then; a superhero, yes, but also a person with relatable desires.

Lara’s frustration with butler Hillary (Chris Barrie) as he attempts to put her in both a dress (“I’m only trying to make you into a lady”) and a gender-specific box is crucial in cementing the film in the queer canon. Dress aside, Lara’s complete individuality and refusal to be neither feminine nor masculine is essential queer viewing. She doesn’t do it out of spite, but out of need to exist and flourish as herself.

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider is far from perfect. Jolie is frequently objectified (that shower scene?!), but for those of us who have long felt victimised it provides just the right blend of humour, warmth and escapism. There are other, equally relatable moments in the film, such as when Lara, wearing black sunglasses, defiantly puts her feet on a chair in an auction room full of stuffy, privileged old white men. She simply doesn’t give a shit.

Queer people are sometimes made to feel like our existence doesn’t matter, but like Lara, we try and rise above it with a cheeky smile and ‘fuck you’ attitude.

The post Lara Croft: Tomb Raider was an escape for queer teens like me appeared first on Little White Lies.

source https://lwlies.com/articles/lara-croft-tomb-raider-was-an-escape-for-queer-teens-like-me/

[ollyarchive]

Olly Alexander on harnessing the power of sexual fantasy in pop

The Years & Years frontman talks about owning his queer sexuality in the mainstream and writing a twisted disco album about ‘holy wood’

Owen Myers

9 March 2018

“It’s like my Rihanna Loud era,” declares Olly Alexander, before breaking into a laugh. The Years & Yearsfrontman is referring to his cropped curly hair, which is freshly coloured to the hue of a nice Merlot. It’s a cold February evening, and he’s puffing on a roll-up while huddled in the fire exit doorway of a Camden venue. His new dye job has to be kept under wraps, he explains, until its official unveiling in the band’s new video. “It’s so stupid,” Olly says with an eye roll. He then flashes me a grin, suggesting that this moment of starry subterfuge is not entirely unwelcome.

Olly Alexander really likes being a pop star. He says that it’s full of “fairytale” moments, like when his Years & Years earnings enabled him to buy his mum a house, or when he and his ex-boyfriend, Neil Milan (formerly of Clean Bandit), became embraced as British pop’s new golden couple. After winning the BBC Sound poll in 2015, Years & Years’ earworm synth pop was everywhere. They had an inescapable number one single, “King”, and their album Communion was the fastest selling debut that year from a signed British band. Olly says that there are downsides to the tabloid headlines and Twitter trolls that come along with being “a public gay man” – a phrase that he puts in self-deprecating air quotes. But right now, those pressures feel far away, as he prepares to change into a bright pink boiler suit and play to a boozed-up Saturday night crowd, at an Annie Mac-curated showcase. Or, as he put it on Twitter earlier today: bring his “gay agenda” to The Roundhouse.

Years & Years’ great new single, “Sanctify”, contrasts lurking vocals with an ecstatic synth-fuelled chorus, and is as unapologetic as any of Olly’s pithy social media posts. He was newly single when he wrote the song, and reading Andrew Holleran’s 1978 chronologue of gay desire, Dancer From the Dance, had got him thinking about a couple of hookups he’d had with straight-identifying men. “It would always be under darkness,” he says. “It had this added layer of eroticism because it was somewhat forbidden. But (being with me) was a window where they could be themselves, and I felt responsible not to fuck them up.” Those conflicting feelings come through in evocative lyrics about obscuring masks and sinful confessions, with a climax that’s about as on-the-nose as chart pop gets. “I sanctify my sins when I pray,” says Olly, quoting the chorus’s payoff. “What do you do what you pray? You get on your knees. So is it a sexual baptism?” He laughs. “I was just like, ‘There’s a lot to work with here.’”

Years & Years are a three-piece, but the other two members, Mikey Goldsworthy and Emre Türkmen, tend to hunker down behind synths and let Olly take centre stage. His soul-searching lyrics give the band’s maximalist pop its heart, with a singing voice that pierces through a constellation of synths. Their videos bring acts which are often shrouded in darkness into the light, showing the singer cruising in a dank car park, or at a pansexual orgy. The new “Sanctify” visual riffs on dom/sub culture, with an elaborate sci-fi plot that is a device for Olly to perform “Slave 4 U”-inspired dance moves to an audience of androids. When he was commissioned to write a song for the Bridget Jones franchise, he made it about bottoming. “I have sex, I enjoy sex,” he says flatly. He’s sitting in his cosy dressing room the Roundhouse, which rumbles with bass as Disclosure and Mabel soundcheck next door. “In the past, I think gay men (in pop) have often shied away from being overtly sexual, or being commanding of their sexuality. But I believe that our sexual fantasies are a big drive for us all. Exploring that side of yourself is super empowering.”

In the past year or so, many well-known LGBTQ artists have begun to bring queerness into their music in sex-positive ways. Pop’s boy-next-door Troye Sivan strapped on Tom Of Finland leathers for a back alley moment with well-fluffed trade, Janelle Monáe caressed women’s bare thighs, Fever Ray returned with a concept album about queer kink. For better or worse, Sam Smith is now calling himself a “dick monster”on primetime telly. “Sometimes seeing a man express themselves in an overtly sexual way, especially a gay man, makes certain conservative people feel a bit uncomfortable,” Olly says. “I always wanna keep people a little uncomfortable.”

“I believe that our sexual fantasies are a big drive for us all. Exploring that side of yourself is super empowering” – Olly Alexander

Years & Years are far from the first mainstream British pop act to proudly put gay sexuality at the centre of their music – that’s a lineage that runs from Will Young to George Michael, Pet Shop Boys to Bronski Beat, and beyond. But Olly’s performances are a reminder that mainstream pop can be open to explicit queerness (at least, when it’s embodied in a handsome white cis man). Olly has faith that you don’t have to be “generic to be palatable,” and that “straight guys can hear a song that I’ve written about being fucked by another guy, but still relate.” LGBTQ+ people like me grew up seeing straight culture pretty much everywhere; seeing more of our community thrive is crucial.

Growing up in the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Olly was a flamboyant kid. That got him bullied at school, called a “batty boy” before he was even aware that he was gay, and meant that he retreated into drama lessons. While acting, he felt it was okay – a good thing, even – to be expressive. He always nurtured a passion for music, too; he taught himself how to play Joni Mitchell songs on piano, and obsessed over “Dirrty”-era Christina Aguilera. An early performance at a year six assembly blended intimate songwriting and outré entertainment: Olly played piano and sang lyrics about lost love, while two of his friends did a dance routine.

In his late teens and early 20s, Olly cropped up in whimsical micro-budget indie films like 2011’s The Dish And The Spoon, alongside Greta Gerwig, as well as Gaspar Noé’s Enter The Void, and Skins. But his early experiences at school stayed with him. “Your first encounter with your sexuality is often from people bullying you and calling you the thing that you just pray to god that you won’t be – but deep down suspect you might be,” Olly says. “Well, no wonder we have an incredibly conflicting relationship with our bodies and our sexualities, because we’ve had to experience all of that.”

Reflecting on these difficult early years in his dressing room, Olly speaks openly about his own decade-long experience with depression, and the inadequate NHS provisions for those who are struggling with mental health. LGBTQ+ folks disproportionately struggle with depression and substance abuse, he recognises, and there’s only one UK organisation, London Friend, that caters directly to the specific needs of the queer community. “I’ve been there,” says Olly. “They’re amazing, but they are over-subscribed, with a tiny office, old chairs, and not a lot of money. When you’re seeing that people aren’t getting the help they should be, there’s an issue there.” That’s something he knows from first-hand experience. Last year, Olly fronted a BBC documentary, Growing Up Gay, about young LGBTQ+ people struggling with their mental health. His openness around the subject made him a kind of ambassador for those struggles, and he’s trying to work out how to deal with the “almost daily” DMs he gets from people at their lowest moments. “I feel very privileged that someone is wanting to share that with me, but it’s frightening,” he says. “We’re all in fucking pain, and I don’t know if we’re communicating with each other that well.”

“What do we expect a male pop star to do? As a society, how do we want them to behave or present themselves?” – Olly Alexander

Years & Years’ second album, out later this year, mixes gliding pop melodies with churning bass and twisted disco. The new songs feel more varied and exploratory than Communion, thanks in part to new collaborators like current pop’s minimalist masterminds Julia Michaels and Justin Tranter, as well as Greg Kurstin, who co-wrote “Shine”, Years & Years’ best song to date. The album’s centred around a motif of Palo Santo, a healing incense-like wood that you burn and waft around a room. (Olly dramatises this with hand motions as if he’s conducting an invisible orchestra.) Perhaps Palo Santo, with its power to expel evil spirits, could be a metaphor for the songwriting process? Maybe, Olly says. “But (when writing the album) I was angry about loads of things, particularly men. Palo Santo literally means ‘holy wood’ and I was like, ‘This is fucking perfect.’ Like, thinking that your dick is holy? I’ve known guys like that.”

Years & Years’ renewed vision also extends to creating a futuristic universe for their new music to exist in. That’s an idea that Olly’s idols – “Bowie, Prince, and Gaga” – have embraced, and “Sanctify” is the first part of an interconnected series of “weird, wonderful” videos. It marks the next step for a band aiming to join British pop’s pantheon, at a time when Olly, too, has been reflecting on his place in music. “What do we expect a male pop star to do?” he questions. “As a society, how do we want them to behave or present themselves? If I was asking myself, it would be like, ‘Well actually, I’ve always loved this kind of popstar. Maybe I should just be the pop star I want to see in the world.”

[ievani-e]

I’m Genderqueer, I Guess!?

(AKA, My Experiences Accepting  — and Then Rejecting  — Womanhood)

Over three weeks ago now, on February 4th, I started out wanting to write a random little opinion piece about Disney’s Mulan. I had experienced a personal epiphany, and I wanted to revisit some of the ideas I had had about Mulan in the past, and contrast that with how I felt about it now. But, I realised, there was something else I had to write before I could. I had to write this random thing first, because this post informs that one.

So what this post is going to be about is this: I am genderqueer.

This is not a recent thing. I have not suddenly changed as a person. On the contrary, I’m exactly the same person I have always been. The only thing that has changed is the label itself: a label which, for reasons explained below, I have decided to don.

In order to properly tell you about where I am now, I have to tell you a bit about my past and give you an overview about my experiences growing up. I have to tell you how I first got to this place for my decision to come out as genderqueer/gender non-binary to make sense.

Some backstory, then: While I never directly suffered as a result of my gender identity the same way some others have, I did still struggle with gender dysphoria. I recognise that many trans and queer people have (or have had) it way worse than me, and that I am extremely fortunate to have avoided being bullied or ostracised due to my gender identity, having firmed up and sussed out what it even was only now. But, nevertheless, it was there the whole time.

Growing up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was medically wrong with me: that the doctors must have made some kind of a mistake, and everyone around me treating me as a girl ever since was simply the result of carrying the error forward. I must have had a higher dosage of androgens in my system, or maybe an extra chromosome or something. I must have secretly been intersex and just hadn’t been diagnosed. Surely, something had to have been wrong. I couldn’t have been a girl, because any definition of or expectation for a “girl” I ever heard was something so different from what I was.

As a child, I grew up with a very narrow definition of what it meant to be a girl and what girls could and couldn’t be, because that was what had been spoon-fed to me by the media and the social norms I saw around me. These norms were perpetuated at school, by members of my family, and on TV — with TV standing in as a representative for the world at large. What I saw around me was: girls liked shopping and jewellery. Girls liked fashion and beauty. Girls liked horse-riding and ballet. Girls were vain. Girls were stupid. Girls only cared about wearing pretty pink dresses and chatting about boys. Girls were… <insert other extremely limited, restrictive, two-dimensional female stereotype here>. Those were the conclusions I had come to, based on what the world was showing me and teaching me.

And I wasn’t like that. I wasn’t like those girls. I was nuanced, I was complicated; I was intelligent and smart and not at all interested in love and romance, and I much preferred to hang out with boys like I was one of them than try to date any of them. I liked video games and horror films and reading thrillers and action adventures. I was no girly-girl: I was a tomboy, and proud of it.

Nothing I had heard about girls applied to me or appealed to me in any way. (I mean no offense if you are more feminine than I was and you do like that sort of stuff: it’s totally okay to be that way, too! It’s just that I, in particular, wasn’t).

I, the little weirdo that I felt like at the time, had never fit into the picture of the archetypal girl. So, I reasoned, the only logical conclusion was that I must not have been a girl. I must have been a boy. At least, I fit much more comfortably into the definition of a “boy” than I did the definition of a “girl”.

The problem there is, it’s easy to decide that certain characteristics associated with a certain group aren’t compatible with you when the characteristics given to you are so limited in the first place. There was a very specific mental image I had in my head of what a girl should be like, and there didn’t seem to be very much room for discussion. For boys, on the other hand, it seemed like they could be anything except that. That has a whole host of issues all its own — ones I won’t be getting into in depth now — where boys are discouraged from displaying feminine characteristics or emotionality, and this is just as harmful to boys as it is to discourage girls from displaying masculine characteristics. Double-standards do exist, and they are not okay.

But, putting aside that can of worms for now, boys generally had a lot more options than girls did. Of course I would be able to see more similarities between myself and boys when there was a wider range of options to choose from from the start.

Please permit me to be an optimist for a moment and say that I believe that, in an ideal world, all positive characteristics would be embraced and encouraged in children, regardless of whether they were typically “feminine” or “masculine”. We would love unconditionally, and judge each person for their own individual merits and demerits, rather than holding them up to some perceived notion of being “girl” enough or “boy” enough. Doing so is incredibly detrimental to us all because, when we start holding personhood up to some arbitrary standard, it becomes very easy to fall short. And that does not feel good for the many of us who don’t measure up.

But the real world and the ideal world are worlds apart, and social norms did, and do, exist. In any case, I certainly didn’t fit the cookie-cutter mould of what it “meant” to be a “girl”. And that felt like a failure on my part. I felt like I wasn’t enough; like I wasn’t good enough, just the way I was.

I grew up empathising and relating to men in a variety of ways, because in our culture and in our media it is predominantly male characters and male role models that we see. Female role models… Not so much. Female characters in books, video games and TV were few and far between to begin with, and those that did exist tended to be depicted as homemakers, love interests, sex objects and… nope, that’s about it. As a result, I didn’t know that there were more ways to be than just those.

That’s not to say that shows featuring more positive role models didn’t exist — it’s not even to say I didn’t happen across a few of them myself. Rather, it is that those positive influences weren’t numerous enough or prevalent enough for me, as a child, to notice; or to start to change my mind about women as a whole because of them. There weren’t enough positive portrayals of women for those portrayals of women to form part of a larger pattern; certainly not enough to challenge the already-existing patterns of behaviour that were being perpetuated far more prominently and pervasively. There were exceptions, but that’s just it: complex, interesting, autonomous female characters — women such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena: Warrior Princess — were exceptions; not the rule. (And I’ve never actually even seen Xena: Warrior Princess myself, so…)

One such example that comes to my own mind is that of Elizabeth Bennet, from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice; which isn’t actually about pride and prejudice anywhere near as much as you might think. That, I read when I was 13? 14? 15? as part of my high school’s English Literature course, and Elizabeth Bennet was probably the closest thing I had to a positive female role model in literature at that time. Even then, Elizabeth, too, was posited as the exception, not the rule: even within the book’s own canon. You see, Elizabeth was exceptionally skilled, witty and intelligent; she was particularly sensible, reasonable (even if not open-minded…) and capable of critical thought. Unfortunately, the logical continuation of such a premise leads to the (incorrect) implication that other girls… usually… weren’t. So in the book, we see that Elizabeth wasn’t like other girls. Elizabeth was different.

So while I saw myself, to a certain extent, in Elizabeth, I also saw the same demonization of —  and the desire to distance oneself from — other women which I experienced first-hand, along with the desperation to distinguish oneself from the gender norms as if they were true; not as if they weren’t. The mistake Elizabeth and I both made was that, by thinking of ourselves as “special little snowflakes” and elevating our own status to that of the exception, not the rule, it came at the cost of failing to appreciate the basic humanity and the complexity of other women: women who may, in actuality, have had a lot more in common with us than we first gave them credit for.

Meanwhile, it seemed that (cis) men were allowed to be human, and experience (almost) the full range of thoughts and feelings and ways of life attached to that, in a way that women just weren’t. But, the issue of gender and representation in media is in fact another beast entirely. What is relevant to me throughout all of this is that this all culminated in the fact that I was someone who accepted men exactly the way they were, and could relate to men in a multitude of ways; but, before discovering feminism, despised anything even remotely “female” or “feminine” and discriminated against it, dismissing it or distancing myself from it for one reason or another, despite being female myself. What. The. Fuck.

Now I’m an adult and I know better, I know that the majority of my discomfort with “the feminine” stemmed primarily from good old-fashioned sexism, both internalised and otherwise. I know now that those beliefs — both the ones I had impressed upon me, and the ones I in turn applied to others — are inherently inaccurate and deeply flawed.

Problem solved, then: it’s not that my gender identity or expression was wrong. It’s not that I wasn’t woman enough, despite not feeling like I fit in all my life. It’s that sexism exists, and sexism is the cause for all of my dysphoria, hurray(!)

Or so I thought.

Sexism does still play a part, however, and that’s what has made coming to grips with my gender identity all the more difficult for me. Before I could discern what was really true about myself, first I had to disentangle what was really true about “what it means to be a female/ a woman/ feminine” from all the fallacies, generalisations and mistruths. When I came across feminism several years ago as a young tween and learnt about what it was, it opened a lot of doors for me in terms of coming to a greater understanding of myself and the world around me. Feminism has been a very positive influence in and on my life, and is responsible for a lot of personal growth. But also, in this particular instance, confused me even further. And that’s because, I started to think that… maybe the reason why I didn’t associate myself with the concept of “girlhood” or “womanhood” when I was younger was only because the concept I had in my head had been so completely wrong all along.

Before feminism, all that internalised sexism really did go a long way towards meaning I related more to men than I did to women; or at least, thought I did, because really, I never gave women much of a chance. I had to unlearn a lot of the preconceived notions I had grown up with, and learn everything all over again from the ground up.

The more I learned, the more I came to understand; but even so, the feeling of me being different or not quite fitting in anywhere didn’t go away. It’s just that I started to think that maybe it wasn’t me who was wrong: maybe it was the gender norms themselves that were wrong. It was the idea that “women are like X and men are like Y” — and that this is universally true for all women and all men — that was wrong.

What I had to learn was that women could be anything. And I mean; I already knew that about men — but women, too?! So women can think and act for themselves, and be incredibly intelligent and have their own thoughts and opinions and expertise on a subject, and have a vast array of interests?! It sounds stupid now, especially if you already know it to be true; but it was a much-needed life lesson for the twenty-year-old me. I was already fully accepting of a wide range of personalities and occupations for men, because I saw such a wide range of men and male characters/personalities in the media. It was already a given to me that men could be anything. And yes, there is that whole “…except be feminine” thing I mentioned before, and it is an issue; but I never personally bought into that. I had my fair share of male role models with a sensitive side or more typically feminine character traits as well. What was shocking to me is that I had to learn that the same thing I had always believed to be true of men was true of women, too.

What I had to learn, absurdly for the first time as an adult, was that not every woman had to like the same thing or have the same hobbies or interests. Not all women had to look or dress or behave the same way, or any way in particular at all. Not every woman had the same likes and interests as me: but — and here was the key difference — they could have done. There was, in reality, no logical reason why they couldn’t. I realised that girls can be tomboys and gamers and total nerds and still be girls.

If that was the case, then maybe my own experience and my own expression of self — despite being so far removed from that limited childhood notion of “girl” = “pretty, vain and vapid” — was nevertheless still valid within the wider, broader and more inclusive interpretation of “womanhood”. Maybe, even with my own complete and total lack of femininity and associating myself with more typically-masculine traits and behaviours, maybe I still was a woman: just that the category for womanhood was far broader than I had been led to believe. Perhaps I wasn’t a woman who had fit into those narrow definitions I had held as true in the past; but a woman nonetheless, who could still meet the definition of a woman if only I broadened those definitions up.

No two women are the same; and as such, it makes no sense to think that there is such thing as a universal expression of that womanhood. Every single woman is a unique individual, with her own skills and experiences and her own story to tell. Just because my own experience didn’t have much in common with the experiences of those around me, that didn’t necessarily mean that I wasn’t a woman, or couldn’t have been a woman, or that I was some abhorrent anomaly. I might have been three standard deviations away from the mean; but that doesn’t mean that I was not, nevertheless, a valid data point.

So I got confused.

The feminist within me wanted me to think of myself as, and identify as, a woman. After all, I had just truly come to understand and to appreciate that being a woman was okay. I had just come to understand that “femininity” existed on a wide spectrum, and even oddballs like me could be included within that. Besides, if I was a feminist and believed in women’s rights (as a targeted approach to believing in equal rights in general), then wasn’t I supposed to be proud to be a woman? Wasn’t I meant to further the cause and #represent? If being a woman was no inferior to being a man, and if women came in all shapes and shades and were allowed to claim and celebrate their own individuality as they saw fit, regardless of the norms, then why would I need to be anything else? Was “woman” not sufficient? How could I be a feminist and yet still feel a reluctance and general disdain towards identifying as a woman?

That was one side of the confusion.

The other side of it was: well, if I wasn’t a woman, what else would I be? As a child, I had felt I fit in more with boys; but I had no all-consuming desire to be a boy or to be thought of as one myself. What I wanted was simply to be myself. I didn’t think of myself as a boy, hanging out with other boys. I thought of myself as myself, hanging out with other boys. As an adult, I feel no more and no less an affinity for one gender than the other. There is no affinity for either; and likewise, no antipathy for either. I feel empathy for everyone; a general relation towards all individuals, regardless of their gender. I don’t come down on one side or the other.

It was around the same time that I started batting around the idea of being genderfluid; but ultimately decided against exploring it any further or even acknowledging it in any real way, because it “didn’t matter, really”. I don’t know why nothing came of that back then. I guess I didn’t have the courage to pursue it, nor was there the same motivation to do so as now. I thought private thoughts: I often joked/ seriously heartfully felt that I was a gay man trapped in a woman’s body; but I also felt like a gay woman trapped in a woman’s body. And, because I felt like both a gay man and a gay woman, I reasoned that, maybe, if I looked at it a certain way, that was almost like having elements of both a straight man and a straight woman instead. Either way, I was bisexual! (Which I am, by the way.)

I tried to use my own sexuality against me; I tried to twist it around, and pressured myself to act more like a “straight woman”, or how I thought a straight woman should be. And, no, there does not seem to be much logic to that train of thought: it was just me oppressing myself, trying to knock myself back down into a more “acceptable” way of being, even if that meant flattening myself in the process. It’s weird to see how, in this way, I was still equating “straight” with “normal”, even though I was bisexual myself. This is why queer representation is so important!!

That particular mental interpretation was lacking, for many reasons. And something I didn’t think about at the time was that either way, I wasn’t cis. Either way, there was that overlap of masculinity and femininity in me: I had elements of both, but neither were quite the way convention might have you expect. I felt like I approached femininity from a male perspective: I was “feminine”, but in the same way that (some, not all) gay men are “feminine” without being women. Likewise, I approached masculinity from a female perspective: I was “masculine”, but in the same way (some, not all) lesbians are “masculine” without being men. I had traits of both within me, but even then, they were crossed over; associating my inner “male self” with the “feminine” and my inner “female self” with the “masculine”.

So maybe now, as I write this, it’s more obvious why I didn’t fit in. Everyone else around me associated “male” with “macho” and “female” with “femme”. Such extreme interpretations were at direct odds with mine, and left no room for the many variants of gender identity and gender expression in between. It was, society said, one or the other. And I wasn’t either.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t something I came to understand until much more recently, or else I might have been able to place myself sooner.

But even those past times I did question my gender, those thoughts stayed only thoughts. And in any case, because I didn’t feel like I most definitely, most assuredly wanted to be/become a man, I thought that meant that I had to be a woman by default.

So, I thought, if I can’t commit to not being a woman, I guess I will just remain a “woman”. I guess I will just stand and be counted as one of the many women who do not fit the cookie-cutter mould dictated to us by gender norms, as many women don’t. I will be just one of the many examples of why the mould is rubbish: of why putting men and women in boxes does not work, because we do not all fit in neatly. I will hold my head up as a woman and say, “I do not follow the rules, but I am not the exception. It’s the rules themselves that are jank.”

And the feminist in me was appeased. After all, this way, simply by being myself I could prove patriarchy was wrong, or something to that effect. I was proof the norms were not catch-all, be-all and end-all. I could live with being a woman; just one that defies typical social norms. And those norms ought to be questioned and defied, anyway — so I comforted myself into thinking I was doing someone some good, maybe, somehow, by acknowledging the expectations for my gender but then subverting them; and that, in so doing, it might contribute towards shattering the preconceptions themselves.

I still didn’t feel comfortable in and of myself, but I shrugged it off. I was like, “okay, maybe this is fine.” In the wise, wise words of Lindsay Ellis: “This is fine. This is fine. This is fine, guys. This is fine.”

Of course, there were still times when I felt the incongruence more keenly than at others; my wedding and the times when I get compared to my sisters were particularly triggering experiences for me. But when it was just my husband and me, together and alone, there was no incongruence. There was no discomfort. We accepted each other, and loved each other, exactly the way we were. When it was just the two of us, we could just be the two of us. When we knew each other as well as we did, on that close and personal basis, then there was no need for labels.

And so, I had privately settled the dispute of my own gender. I had mentally filed it away under “agree not to agree; it doesn’t really matter, anyway. Putting a name to it doesn’t actively change who I am.” I had told myself that that was good enough; and I had kept on living my life, continuing with things just the way they were.

I had accepted womanhood, and resigned myself to it.

And that was that.

 Cue hbomberguy’s “Donkey Kong Nightmare Stream”.

 For those who missed it and the surrounding controversy involving TV writer Graham Linehan (#thanksgraham), hbomberguy (real name Harry Brewis) is a YouTuber who makes sensible — okay, maybe not “sensible” —, well-thought out videos addressing a variety of topics in modern media: usually video games, film or television series, but he also commentates on social trends and ideologies, as well.

Link to hbomberguy’s channel here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClt01z1wHHT7c5lKcU8pxRQ

My husband first knew him from his LetsPlays, and I became a fan too because of his game, film and television analyses. (Someone who overthinks and overanalyses works of fiction for all possible meanings and real-life takeaways?? Here’s a man after my own heart!)

So when he announced he was going to do a livestream of the classic Nintendo 64 game Donkey Kong 64 in order to raise money for the organisation Mermaids — a charity offering support groups, education, and crisis hotlines for transgender individuals and their families, as well as training for corporations to raise trans awareness — we were very interested in watching it.

Link to Mermaids’ website here: https://www.mermaidsuk.org.uk/

Unfortunately, my husband and I weren’t able to watch the stream as it went up live; but we did watch through the archived footage after the fact. And boy, did it hit hard. So many feels were had. So many feels.

My husband isn’t as informed on social justice issues as I am, so a lot of the overarching context that was old-hat to me was brand-new to him. But bless him, he is learning. I, on the other hand, thought going in that I was just going to be watching a stream of a dude we liked from YouTube playing a game, and raising some money for a good cause while he was at it. What I wasn’t expecting was that some of what I heard would hit me so hard in the heart.

To pick out just a few key moments from what was truly an epic event the whole way through, Susie Green, the CEO of Mermaids herself, appeared in the stream — and, let me just say, she is so effing awesome. I have an aunt called Susie Green, too, who is also one of the most kick-ass ladies I know, so awesomeness must come with the territory or something.

Anyway, among other things, Susie Green (the CEO, not my aunt) was saying (and I paraphrase) that one of the best ways to support trans people is just to let them know that they can be safe around you.

And that broke my fucking heart, because fuck. Because LGBTQ+ people could be safe around me: but if I myself wasn’t out and proud — if I myself wasn’t visible, or open about my own situation — how the fuck would they know that?

That idea (built upon by CaseyExplosion when she said just to be a friend to trans people you know) deeply resonated with me because of past personal conversations I have had with some members of the gaming group I’m a part of. In private messages, there were people I spoke to at length about gender and about sexuality. The thing is, I was never the one initiating these conversations. Due to my own experiences and empathy, whenever they brought up that they were struggling, I would listen and I would relate and I would tell them a bit about my own experiences, too. And something that came up in one of those conversations was how difficult it was to know who you can talk to about gender and sexuality stuff, because you don’t know how people will respond or who you can trust.

One of my dear friends talked to me about his struggle with sexuality and being gay, and I could understand and empathise and listen to him without judgment because, although it isn’t exactly the same, I am bi and have my own experiences with making the personal journey of coming to understand and accept your own sexual identity, and the struggles along the way. Another friend confided in me she was having confusing feelings for another woman, and she didn’t know what to do. Again, I shared with her that I could understand because I was bi, and we talked for a long time about how she was feeling. She said later I was one of the few people she could trust to talk to about this, because she knew I wouldn’t judge her.

I know people who struggle with their own experiences, and I also know people who are so far removed from those struggles in their own personal lives that they can come across a little insensitive and non-inclusive in their speech or actions; not due to malice, but sincere lack of experience, lack of information, and lack of awareness. One such friend of mine gets very confused over what is “sex” and what is “gender” and frequently conflates the two, and tends to be very dismissive of the social issues going on around him or the community’s attempts to address those issues. And again, this is not because he is an uncaring or unkind person, because he is usually exceptionally caring and kind. But in these particular instances, because he is young and uninformed and he is not part of those circles himself (nor knows others who are immediately affected), there is no reason why he would know more about it. There is no reason why he would understand.

Still, he recognises that he doesn’t understand, and he does try to learn more and keep himself open to learning more. Thus, I unofficially took it upon myself to educate him, to try and foster that understanding; and I talked to him a lot about my own gender identity, too, to kind of serve as my own example for him of what the gender spectrum was. I told him a lot about my own experiences, eventually summarising my situation as, “I don’t agree with the gender norms and I don’t fit into them myself, but I don’t really know what I what I would fit into. I’m not comfortable being a woman, but I don’t know what I would consider myself as instead, so… … …”

On each of these occasions, and many more besides, I was fortunate enough to have these incredibly deep and meaningful conversations with real people all over the world; some of whom were struggling to find understanding and acceptance at a time when they really didn’t know who they could turn to. I’m so incredibly lucky to have them in my life, and that I could learn from all of them and know their unwavering love and support. Our friendship has enriched my life, and I have been exposed to so much love and positivity and really grown as a person because of it. I’m so grateful and glad that they found me, and that I could likewise be a positive figure for them in their time of need.

But that’s just it: they found me. They took a leap of faith, not knowing the outcome, because they needed someone to talk to and they didn’t know for sure if I would be accepting or understanding: it was just that, based on our group conversations, I seemed like the kind of person who might be. They demonstrated an incredible amount of trust and faith in me, and I am extremely grateful for that. But it’s something that they should not have had to do. They should have known that they were safe from the get-go; I should have made them feel safe. I should have been more open, more inclusive; more forthcoming with my own experiences and beliefs, so that they knew they would find a kindred spirit in me, without needing to take that risk. And that is a failing on my part.

Remember how I said about how it even came up in one of those conversations that it’s difficult to know who you can talk to about gender and sexuality, because you don’t know how people will respond or who you can trust? Well, back then, my response to that was something along the lines of: “I would hate it if someone was struggling with this stuff and they felt like they couldn’t talk to me about it, just because they didn’t know that I was queer too.”

And yet…

To my shame and my dismay, although I did share my own experiences with others one-on-one once they had already started talking about it with me, I was never the first to say, “hey, I’m LGBTQ+, and if you’re LGBTQ+ too, that’s A-okay!” I was never the first to bring it up; and in so doing, I’m worried that I might have inadvertently created an atmosphere within our gaming group where LGBTQ+ members feel like they might not have been welcomed or represented.

Because our gaming group is online, everyone is totally anonymous, and no-one has to reveal more about themselves than they want to: including their appearance, their sexuality, or their gender. Still, I wonder if maybe there are some members, new or old, who are LGBTQ+ or who are internally struggling with their own self-identity, who look around and do not seem to see anyone like them. The atmosphere in our group, as is the case with society as a whole, is one where it’s assumed cis/hetero-normative by default. Topics of gender and sexuality rarely come up in the group chat; the more in-depth ones take place in private messaging instead, where they are invisible to the others.

So, by all appearances, straight and cis is the norm… even when it isn’t.

(Update: I am very happy to announce that, since I began writing this, this has now changed! Although it was my intention to come out to my gaming group after posting this, I ended up outing myself to the group early, which initiated exactly the kind of conversations about gender, sexuality, and inclusivity we should have been having all along. Our gaming group has now officially adopted “other” as a third gender option when we are asking members to introduce themselves, along with asking for preferred pronouns! I hope this change, minor though it may seem, goes a long way to helping every member feel more comfortable when disclosing their gender and their pronouns, should they choose to disclose at all.)

Getting back to the point, Susie Green saying that something you can do is to simply help trans people feel safe… That really struck a chord with me. If even people like me who do struggle with their gender and sexuality don’t say that they do, how would anybody else know? What chance do we have of finding each other? What choice is there but to feel different and alone, even if you actually aren’t?

And in my case especially, it is very, very easy to assume I am cis and straight, even though I’m not. I’m very obviously female (thanks, big boobs), and I’m married to my husband — so that makes us a straight couple, man and wife. Luckily, my sexuality was much easier (relatively) to come to terms with for me, and I have been proud to say that I am bi the few times it does come up, as I have known that about myself in that particular regard since I was 13. Even so, because it is so easy for everyone else to assume that, because I married a man, I therefore must be straight, it doesn’t come up that often.

(Even my husband sometimes forgets. We often joke around with each other about the things we say, deliberately taking innocuous things out of context and saying, “That’s racist!” or “That’s homophobic!” One time, we were joking about something — I can’t even remember what — and I teased him about something he had said by exclaiming in mock-indignation, “Hey! That’s homophobic!” His response? “Well, can you really be homophobic against someone who’s heterosexual?” And I’m just like “…”)

It’s easy to assume a woman who is married to a man is straight. It’s easy to assume everyone is cis by default, because most people are. But that shouldn’t be the default. It shouldn’t be the norm to think, “Well, I’m just going to assume everyone is cis unless they specifically say otherwise.” All that does is create the idea that everyone really is cis, because after all, not many people (dare to) say otherwise; which in turn stunts efforts to spread awareness as many people who might have identified as trans if they had had the resources to know more about it don’t have those resources in the first place. And sticking to that as the norm creates the expectation to conform. It creates the idea that people, even those who aren’t cis, need to be cis, or at least pretend to be; because that is the norm and such thinking inherently comes with pressure to adhere to it.

Assuming cis by default makes it that much harder for trans people to say anything to the contrary, because they don’t see very many people who have the same experiences they do and may not necessarily know if it is safe to talk about it. If everyone assumes that everyone else is cis unless they make a big fuss about it, trans people may very understandably not want to make a big fuss. Maybe they’ll feel, like I did, that the only thing they can do is quietly fade into the background; to try and hide, and try not to draw too much attention to themselves, or out themselves as anything other than “the norm”.

What we all need to do is be more welcoming and inclusive, right off the bat; not because we know for certain that there are LGBTQ+ individuals in our midst, but because we recognise the possibility that there could be. Because we, as a society, recognise that there are many different expressions of gender and sexuality, and all are legitimate and valid.

I don’t want to fade quietly into the background. I don’t want to not be seen, not even by other LGBTQ+ people — those who should be my fellows. That sounds incredibly egotistical, but what I really mean is that I don’t want other LGBTQ+ people to look out at the world and not see themselves reflected in it and think that they are alone; the way I did before the charity stream began.

You are not alone. We are here. We are queer. And we should be proud of it.

For me, Susie Green’s line about simply letting trans people know that they are safe around you resonated with me deeply. For me, it was a call to action. I couldn’t hide any longer, privately satisfied with my own answer that I guess I just won’t bother defining who I am. That approach didn’t sit right with me after that. I want to be known; not for my own sake, because I’m an asocial fuck who couldn’t care less what other people think of me. But hopefully to be recognised; for someone else to see themselves in me and think, “Hey, maybe that person could relate to me. Maybe they know a thing or two about gender dysphoria and would be willing to listen to me. Maybe that’s a person I could talk to.”

That was what motivated me to come out. But I’m writing about my decision to come out as if it was a very simple process. It wasn’t. I make it sound as if I was just getting on with my life; then I happened to see the charity stream; and that inspired me to come out, and so, I did. In reality, gender issues have been interwoven with my psyche my whole life. Videos and discussions on social justice, representation and important issues within marginalised communities are something I actively seek out. And even when I felt like I really wanted to come out — to show others that they would be safe with me, and that I would welcome them and refrain from judgment — there were still things getting in the way there, too. And it was difficult.

The first time I heard Susie Green’s story on the stream, about her and her daughter and how things could be made better for today’s youth, I cried a lot. I thought about it a lot. I watched nothing but Donkey Kong for days on end, and dreamt about it too: not necessarily about the game itself (but also about the game itself), but the people, and their voices and their thoughts and their stories. I was trying to make sense of it all. For over a whole month now — ever since my husband and I started watching the stream — my head has been filled with thoughts on gender. It has overtaken my entire life ever since, and that’s because I want to do more, be more — and even this first step of simply coming out of the closet myself has taken a lot of preparation. Far more than I thought it would, actually.

For over a month, I have lived, breathed and dreamed gender non-stop. And thinking non-stop about such emotionally heavy, difficult issues does take its toll; especially when you include the multiple conversations I had about coming out with multiple people, multiple times.

But those difficulties I experienced with coming out weren’t what was getting in the way of coming out. The real difficulty there was giving myself permission to be anything but “woman” in the first place.

Remember feminism? Remember that feeling I had that, if I were truly a feminist, I would be proud to be a woman — not actively wishing womanhood away. I had unlearnt and relearnt a great many things about what it truly meant to be a woman; and ultimately, what it meant was to be human, just the same way as men were human. But even so, I did not know where matters of discrimination based on sex ended, and matters of individuality began. When it came to how I felt about myself, how much of it was to do with my sex? How much of that, in turn, was due to sexism? How exactly did I feel about myself, on the individual level, if, hypothetically, sex and sexism had (and had had) no part to play in it?

I didn’t exactly know.

Fortunately, my subconscious had the answer, even when my conscious mind did not. Some of the dreams I had about the Donkey Kong stream were mindless, repetitive, and nonsensical; just as the Donkey Kong 64 game itself is mindless, repetitive, and nonsensical. I dreamt only of hbomberguy getting endlessly stuck on puzzles and wandering around in circles — not so different from the real stream, then(!) When he cleared one level, he was faced with another, and another, and another; the game stretching endlessly on, in the way that dreams do. But the final dream I had about the stream was far more emotionally significant.

In that dream, I dreamt not about the game, but the stream itself. I dreamt about the chat, and the Discord channel for other YouTubers and allies that had been set up there. In my dream, for whatever reason, I had been accepted to join the mic call. I was able to talk directly to Harry himself and the guest stars; I was able to be a part of the stream as it went out live over the internet. I was able to talk to them all first-hand. I wept at the opportunity, and I thanked them all so much for doing this; I wanted them to know how much it meant, for them to be so open and so brave and for standing up for what was right. I told them how wonderful it was to hear them talk about their own experiences and their identities, because I was still struggling with mine. I told them about my dysphoria and my disillusionment with being “a woman”; but how I lacked the certainty and the conviction to do anything about it. I also told them about the guilt I felt as a feminist; that pursuing an identity as anything other than “woman” felt like it would be very un-feminist of me.

At that, I could very clearly imagine Harry’s face and hear his voice as he gave a bewildered, “What?!” And, to be honest, it’s probably the same reaction I would have had as well, if someone else had told me the same thing. And that’s because, as Dream Harry went on to say, that’s not what feminism is about. Feminism is not about forcing yourself to be a certain way, or about trying to be what you think someone else wants you to be regardless of the personal cost to yourself — so much so that you end up disempowering yourself in the process. Feminism, rather, is about empowerment. It’s about giving a voice to the marginalised and, in the case of trans rights and gay rights, telling them that who they are is real, and that they are worthy, too.

The stream itself is proof of that. It’s an example of the community coming together to support trans rights and recognising that transgender identities are valid identities too. No-one should be forced into a box that does not fit them, but allowed to define themselves for themselves. That included me, too.

And it was weird when I imagined the YouTubers telling me this in the dream, because it made me think about how I would respond if it was somebody else telling me they were trans. And if someone else came to me saying they were trans, I would accept them straight away, exactly as they were. I’d encourage them to be true to themselves and do what feels right for them, whatever form that may take. My own personal beliefs are that trans women are real women; trans men are real men; non-binary people are real people (even though I didn’t know that non-binary identities even existed until recently); and that feminism is about raising everyone up and empowering them, and accepting and embracing everyone as they really are. I would never tell anyone else they were being un-feminist just for being themselves; indeed, I would fight for their right to be themselves. I would regard them with unconditional love, and respect what they were telling me about themselves; accepting it as true without question. I would never tell them that their identity was wrong.

But it took hbomberguy telling me the same thing in a dream for me to actually apply those principles to myself, too.

Until experiencing the stream and hearing the personal accounts of other trans people first-hand, I had still been tied down into thinking that being for women’s rights meant that I was locked into being a woman myself; or that I was doing some kind of disservice to the cause if I were to acknowledge myself as anything else. But, for everyone to be free to be themselves and to be accepted without hate and without prejudice is the cause.

That was a conclusion that maybe I should have been able to come to on my own; but either I couldn’t, or just didn’t. It took hearing all of the wonderful people participating in the Donkey Kong stream talking about their experiences for me to realise that, maybe I was okay the way I was, too.

Discovering feminism and learning that I could be exactly the way I was and still be a woman had been an important step for me. But it was not the end of my journey. I had to go a step beyond that. Knowing that I could identify as a woman, with no degradation to myself, was one thing; but learning that I could also not identify as a woman if I so chose was also an important milestone. There are more options in life than the arbitrary one we get assigned to us at birth; and for me, being so uncomfortable with mine, I saw no reason to try and force it upon myself any longer.

I hadn’t been at all sure at first where the line was between respecting women and recognising that I myself was not a woman. But now, with the help of feminism, the Nightmare Stream and the dream that it inspired, all the amazing people who participated, and even just the knowledge that an amazing charity like Mermaids even exists and is doing great work in the world… I think I’ve disentangled myself and disavowed myself from enough sexist notions that I know that it’s not that I don’t believe in being a woman. It’s that I do believe in being an individual. And as an individual, speaking on the personal level, not only do I not follow the stereotypes and/or the mandated patterns of behaviour prescribed for my sex; I don’t want to, either. There is still something to be said for how maybe those stereotypes ought not to exist in the first place, and maybe then I wouldn’t mind so much what my sex was or what my gender was. But they do, and so I do, and I know the path that has been laid out for me is not the one I want to walk down.

And I also know that, if I hadn’t’ve been motivated to come out now, even after hearing all those brave and courageous voices; even after hearing all those incredible stories of personal tragedy, triumph, and strength; even after experiencing something which, even though I was only an onlooker, nevertheless felt made me feel like there was a space for me after all, and made me feel like I was home… then I was probably never going to come out. Ever. If even that experience, which moved me so much, could not bring me to accept myself, then it would probably have never happened.

What Mermaids and the Donkey Kong Nightmare Stream gave me was something invaluable: they gave me permission to give myself permission to be who I was all along. It taught me that I was allowed to be who I was; and that who I was was okay. That’s why the work Mermaids does is so valuable: so that no child has to go through this all alone, navigating complex topics without the words to properly explain it. Mermaids gives love and support and important information and resources, so that each child can come to terms with themselves and accept themselves the way they are. And that’s much more preferable than being a grown-ass adult trying to get your shit together when you have no clue what you’re doing; scrambling to put the broken pieces back together when really, you were never broken at all.

 So, that leads me to writing this declaration:

 I know what it’s like to feel uncomfortable with the gender norms thrust upon you because of your sex.

I know what it’s like when your internal experiences of yourself are incongruent with said norms and other external expectations.

I know what it’s like to feel like you are wrong just for being yourself, and like an outsider in your own skin.

I know what it’s like when you are forced to acknowledge your assigned gender and a piece of you dies because that’s not who you are, and it starts to feel like you never can be who you really are as long as the world keeps reminding you otherwise.

I know what it’s like when even simple things, such as which box to tick on a form, can be a deeply divisive topic rife with internal conflict and strife. And I know and I loathe how, in my case, I have to opt for “woman” anyway, on account of my being female and there being no better option.

And I also know how I have struggled to come up with a satisfying answer about what a better option would have been, though I have found my answer now. (Although, going back to speaking more generally, simply including the simple and unassuming option “other” would be a start!)

 I don’t know what the fuck I am. But I know I’m not a cis woman.

Thankfully, there’s a catch-all term for that, and that’s genderqueer. That’s why I wanted to write this post: to come to terms with myself as my new identity, and re-introduce myself as genderqueer.

 And actually, the above line about not knowing what I am is no longer true, and that’s because I can get more specific than that now. Unlike when I first started writing this, I can now say that I do know what I am. Three weeks down the line, I can now say that recognising myself as genderqueer was the start of something beautiful. Through the process of writing this post — and having many, many private conversations and coming out many, many different times to many different people — I have been learning more and more about genderqueerness all the time; and, in doing so, myself.

Through those conversations and through watching and listening to the YouTube channels of other trans and non-binary individuals, I’m becoming more and more sure of myself. I’ve realised that I am very happy to identify as non-binary; and that non-binary suits me and my own situation very well. So now, it’s not that I don’t know what I am other than “not cis” and am relying on a catch-all umbrella term to cover me anyway; it’s that I know myself to be non-binary. It’s a far more accurate of a term for how I feel myself to be than “woman” ever was.

So, while I may at first have picked up the genderqueer umbrella due solely to its all-encompassing nature, only knowing at that time that I was “not cis”, it has nevertheless led to a journey of self-discovery where I’ve realised that, hey, I actually really fucking love this umbrella. And it’s a much more comfortable umbrella for me to fit under than the “woman” umbrella had been for me. It’s so much roomier under here!!

 So anyway, that’s what I wanted to say. I am bi; I am genderqueer/gender non-binary; and I am still questioning. I am B and T and Q; and LGBTQ+ folks, you are safe with me.

 fin

 P.S. Thank you, everyone who read it this far. Thank you for tolerating my self-indulgent trite as I waffle on about my own life when, all things considered, I have enjoyed an immense amount of “comfort” — or rather, the avoidance of misfortune — because of being able to pass. I have enjoyed a lot of love and support from the people closest to me and the ones I love the most, and that is why sitting down and definitively defining my gender — when really, it is something so personal to the individual — didn’t seem to make much difference to me as an individual before now. But it might just make all the difference to someone. I’m planning on expanding my thoughts on this (namely, gender identities vs individual identities) in a future piece of writing.

That said, if you are a LGBTQ+ person reading this (or someone who is unsure, or questioning) and you are not currently out, then despite my encouragement to make ourselves seen and our voices heard, please, please, please don’t come out if you feel it is not safe for you to do so. I am only coming out now myself because it is safe for me to do so; it was just inconvenient for me before, and that’s why I didn’t do it until now. Your safety and your well-being is the number one priority, so please, do not do anything you feel uncomfortable with or which you feel might put you at risk.

 P.P.S. To serve as something of a glossary: “Genderqueer” is just an umbrella term meaning “not exclusively masculine or feminine”; which falls within the umbrella term “transgender” meaning “anyone whose gender is different from that of their assigned sex”; which itself falls within the umbrella term “queer” meaning “anyone who is not exclusively heterosexual and cisgender”. There are several layers deep to this, and getting further down is just a matter of specificity.

For example, someone who is gender non-binary is genderqueer, who is trans, who is queer. Someone who is a “trans woman” or a “trans man” (as opposed to “trans” on its own) is someone who identifies as the binary identity woman or man, but were born male or female respectively. Thus, trans women and trans men obviously come under the umbrella of “trans”, but are not “genderqueer”, though they are “queer”. The Q in LGBTQ+ can thus be seen as a kind of tautology, because all LGBT individuals are by definition not heterosexual and/or cisgender, and therefore are all queer. But while all LGBT individuals are queer, not all Q+ individuals are LGBT, as they might identify as something else entirely not covered by its own letter. The Q can also stand for “questioning”. In this way, the Q catches all individuals who are unsure of where they fit in but who do not identify specifically as LGBT, and the + denotes the inclusion of all communities and identities not covered by their own letter (of which intersex, pansexual and aromantic/asexual, to name only a few, are examples).

The website OK2BME has a great page on this. Link here: https://ok2bme.ca/resources/kids-teens/what-does-lgbtq-mean/

 P.P.P.S. Interested in supporting trans rights yourself? To once again paraphrase Susie Green, Mermaids CEO, a good way to support trans rights is to support trans people themselves. Look up your local trans charities, donate or volunteer if you can, call out casual transphobia when you see it, and just generally be a friend. A number of trans individuals have crowdfunding campaigns active to try and help them cover the cost of transitioning, so that is an option as well.

YouTuber and Twitter user Mama Math (link here: https://twitter.com/hellomamamath) made a spreadsheet with links to some of the guests on the Donkey Kong Nightmare Stream who consented to be listed with the details of their websites or where to follow them. The spreadsheet also includes whether or not that person is trans. If you are interested in learning more about trans rights and what it means to be trans, simply listening to the stories of those who are trans and supporting the content they make is a great place to start. Link to the spreadsheet here: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1sdavyrGPnsrNdTxWBILoulCKxvIvzMkMaJoXPjNQcOI/edit#gid=0

 If you are interested in watching the Donkey Kong Nightmare Steam yourself, here are the links to the parts:

Part 1: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/365966431

Part 2: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/366901309

Part 3: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/367450055

Part 4: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/369226467

 P.P.P.P.S. (Okay, this is getting ridiculous now. This is the last post script, I swear!) In case you’re wondering, as I haven’t actually addressed it at all above, my preferred pronouns are “they/them”, as I consider “they/them” the most neutral and free of assumption. While I am not agender, I nevertheless prefer gender-neutral nouns and pronouns. I consider my own gender to be more fluid, and sometimes, “she/her” or “he/him” will feel right to me; but sometimes, they won’t. For example, if someone refers to me as “he/him” online, I won’t feel compelled to correct them and actually enjoy being referred to as such. I do not have the same euphoric reaction to “she/her”, though I understand that many people will fall into old habits and believe that it is the more “correct” term to use, even though actually it’s my least favoured out of the three. My point is that, sometimes, using “she/her” or “he/him” to refer to me may be acceptable; but using “they/them” is preferable and will always be applicable, so that is what I ask for you to use.

However, I do still have a feminine side to me, and as such, I will still relate with some feminine terminologies; but I am not “a woman”, nor do I relate exclusively to women. In this specific instance, I do ask for you to avoid calling me “a woman” and refer to me as “a person” instead.

I’m considered as something of the “mum” within the online gaming group, with others teasingly and lovingly calling me “mother”, and I love that. A very important person to me calls me “sis” or “sissy”, short for “sister”, and I wouldn’t want to change that, either. To my husband, I am still his “wife”. (I recently discovered I have a major aversion to “princess”, though, so that one’s definitely out…)

I am not truly gender-neutral, which is why I do not identify as agender; but rather, I encompass both masculine and feminine traits, and therefore I will adopt both feminine and masculine terms where they seem applicable. Some days I’ll feel more in touch with my feminine side, and some days I’ll feel more in touch with my masculine side. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want to reject all gendered terms completely, and certainly not all of the time. But I do want to introduce some gender-neutral ones into the mix, so that gender-neutrality is recognised as an option. Again, I am stating a preference, with my preference being for the gender-neutral.

As for my preferred name… well, I go by my online handle “Evani” within most game-related things, and I’m perfectly happy with that. In my mind, I know that the name “Evani” is short for “Evan-Evani”: an original character of mine who has both male and female selves (better known as the Animus and the Anima, à la Jungian psychology). Those selves are named Evan and Evani respectively, and thus they are collectively referred to as both names, even when they present as one whole and not as the two halves. I’m comfortable with my online name and don’t feel the need to change things there.

My “real” name, however… After a lot of thinking about it and batting around about a million different names and variations, I finally settled on one I was happy with: “Ievan”. (Pronounced just the same as “Evan”.)

I had been looking at all kinds of different names; starting with those which were variations on my birth name, to names which looked similar or shared the same letters, to ones which had the same semantic meaning. I couldn’t find any I liked, until a friend asked me what it was that spoke to my soul. At that point, I realised I had been trying to find a name “in keeping” with my birth name, “Stacey”; not for myself but to make the perceived adjustment easier on others around me.

But to be honest, I had never, ever liked the name “Stacey”; and changing how I spelled it to “Stacie” may have made it more tolerable, but even then, I still did not like it. I had been trying to find a new name I liked, based on an old one I didn’t. No wonder I had been having such difficulty!

Recognising that, it made no sense to base my new name for my new identity on my old one. The point of coming out as non-binary was to feel more comfortable with myself and my own identity; and adhering to my past name ran counter to that.

So, with my friend to bounce ideas off of, I took the search away from “Stacey” — the name I had never liked — and back to “Evani” — the name I had already adopted for myself some years prior and had used for myself ever since, albeit only in online settings.

I choose “Ievan” instead of “Evan”, which is perhaps the more obvious choice, because it’s an anagram of “Evani”. It also meant that, by slightly changing my online name from “Evani” to “Ievani”, I could create an amalgamation of both names. “Ievani” included both the names “Ievan” and “Evani” within it, symbolising the dual nature of the masculine and the feminine and the great deal of overlap between the two; just as I experience an overlap and a merging of the masculine and the feminine within myself. I appreciated the symbolism, as well as the fact that “Ievani” captured the same meaning to it as “Evan-Evani” did; only much more elegantly, representing “Ievan-Evani” but with much fewer letters. Having taken to “Ievani” as I did, my choice of name for “Ievan”, as opposed to “Evan”, became an easy one to make.

Plus, by spelling the name as “Ievan” with the extra “i” and not as “Evan” (even though they are both pronounced the same) meant I could have the best of both worlds: I could have a name which sounded masculine, but looked feminine. It was a blend of both, and gave me a lot of versatility and adaptability to play around with as well, owing to the fact that you can draw a lot of different nicknames and short-forms out of it. Some examples: Ieva, Eva, Ev, Evi, Evie, Eve, Iev, Ieve…Now I can basically be called whatever I feel like being called, and friends and those around me can pick out their own personally-preferred nickname for me! It grants a lot of freedom and customisation, which I love. Now, when people call me by my name, I smile instead of cringe.

(As a side-note: yes, this does make me “Ievan Evans”, and you are right, it is repetitive! But I love the peculiarity. It’s been a running gag of mine to have characters in my stories whose surname is a repeat of their first name; the first one being “Evan Evans” — the aforementioned Animus — and another one called “Luca Lucas”, though the latter is technically an assumed identity deliberately made to parallel “Evan Evans”. Now I can be a part of the joke myself, too!)

Realistically speaking, I don’t expect everyone to switch over to “Ievan” straight away. Not everyone is going to read this post, and I’m not going to choose to tell everyone who doesn’t. It’s fairly common within the queer community to not come out to everyone, and not all at once. So I accept that, to certain people, I will still be “Stacie”. And that is fine. As long as I am happy with my own identity and the way I live my own life, I can make my peace with it if I will still be “Stacie” to them.

So, if you still want to call me “Stacie”, that’s fine. I won’t fight you over it. I just might not be fine with it; but even then, it’s fine.

In regards to my writing and my self-published works: my past works were published under the name “Stacie Evans” and, in that particular regard, I think I will keep it that way going forward as well. “Stacie Evans” can be my pseudonym as an author! (Which is ironic, because usually it’s the pen name that’s supposed to be the fictitious one…) While I could legally change my name, it would be a hassle; and right now, I’m happy just adopting it for myself and testing it out.

In short, I’ll be using: Ievan for real life (including Facebook, which is more personal); Evani for games; Ievani for other social media (which I consider a mix of both); and Stacie Evans for works of poetry or fiction, as well as with those who are uncomfortable calling me Ievan.

Feeling confused? Don’t worry. You can always ask to make sure! (Which is a good idea in general, about anything; and you can apply it with pronouns, too! I personally love it when people ask my pronouns, as it confers a sense of understanding, compassion and respect.) All questions are welcome, because I believe there is no such thing as a stupid question. All questions are a chance to learn more. (But please, keep it considerate.)

 Useful resources:

(not an exhaustive list; these are the things I have come across and have found helpful myself, so I am sharing them here too)

 Mermaids, a UK-based charity providing support for transgender children/ young adults and their families, as well as crisis hotlines, online forums and interventions: https://www.mermaidsuk.org.uk/

 The January Donkey Kong Nightmare Stream to raise money for Memaids:

Part 1: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/365966431

Part 2: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/366901309

Part 3: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/367450055

Part 4: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/369226467

 Spreadsheet of the participants in the Donkey Kong Nightmare Steam, with links to their Twitter and YouTube accounts: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1sdavyrGPnsrNdTxWBILoulCKxvIvzMkMaJoXPjNQcOI/edit#gid=0

 Let’s Queer Things Up!, a blog about all things queer: https://letsqueerthingsup.com/

 More from LQTU! content creator: https://samdylanfinch.contently.com/

 Specific article linked to on the above about what it means to be genderqueer: https://www.healthline.com/health/transgender/genderqueer

 Specific article linked to on the above about what it means to be gender non-binary: https://www.healthline.com/health/transgender/nonbinary

 Genderqueer Me, a website with featured voices from transgender individuals and their families, as well as online talks about trans issues and information regarding transition: https://genderqueer.me/

 OK2BME, supportive services for the LGBTQ+ community: https://ok2bme.ca/

 Private YouTube playlist I made of videos I have watched, discussing transgender and non-binary experiences and identities, which are of personal relevance to me in some way or which discuss things which are particularly useful or important when it comes to developing an understanding of the transgender spectrum (also not an exhaustive list; I plan to keep adding videos as I find them): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTv7NUhc6gDOr1AW13CmlZujWAEo2Msyh

[granvarones]

Louie: So where did you grow up?

Freddy: I was born in West Covina, California and was raised by both my parents in La Puente, California but when my parents divorced my mom moved to Phoenix, Arizona, which is where I spend most of my time now. We moved to a somewhat rural town that has primarily Black and Latinx populations where the white people live in the nice neighborhoods and the people of color lived in the "other neighborhoods." I almost never interacted with white people. My classmates were always people of color with a sprinkle of white people every now and then. However, growing up here was a living hell.

Louie: How so?

Freddy: The first time I was ever bullied was in 5th grade when someone wrote "FAG" in one of my notebooks and it just got worse from there. At that point in my life I knew I was gay but just tried not to think about it and I was also pretty religious so I tried to "pray the gay away.” It didn’t work (lol). 7th grade was the worst year of my life because I was physically, emotionally, and psychologically bullied every single day that resulted in me switching schools. There was not one day where someone wouldn't call me a “fag” or try to fight me because I was "looking at their dick". They would also call me a cocksucker which I never really understood why they called me that because they were just stating a fact. My mom got worried when I came home crying one day from basically being assaulted and we went to the principal and he did absolutely nothing. It was a really dark time for me because even my friends at the time would tell me, "Just come out already" and at that point I just was not ready.

Louie: How did you sustain yourself during that time?

Freddy: I've always used humor to deflect my feelings and emotions so I would just laugh because it was all I could do. In high school it got better but people still would call me a fag and other annoying ass terms. I also dated girls, which blows my mind now but it was the easiest way to deflect rumors. I came out to my friends as bisexual my junior year and my senior year of high school but when I got my first boyfriend and I came out as gay. My friends weren’t surprised but were happy I was living my truth. I came out to my mom October of 2015, which is pretty recent, and while it didn't damage our relationship she doesn’t acknowledge my queerness but it'll take time and I know she'll get there.

Louie: Who was the first person you told actually told?

Freddy: My senior year of high school when I had my first boyfriend. I was so in love with him and because of him I realized that I was gay. I had dated girls before but being with a boy was just so different. I loved this boy, truly, and because of that I wanted to come out and tell everyone I was with him because for once in my life I was happy. One of the most important people in my life is my Grandma on my dad’s side and I decided to tell her first. She did not react the way I expected her to. She told me I was a disappointment to the family and that my family had high hopes for me and now they were gone. She also told me to keep it a secret forever and to never ever tell anyone else. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I cried for a while and told myself I was not going to tell anyone else until I graduated college and had a career. I didn’t talk to my grandma for a while and talked to her for the first time a couple months ago. I do want to have a relationship with her again but every time I see her, her words echo in the back of my head, so it’s a work in progress.

A couple months later I came out to my little brother because one: He is one of the most important people in my life and two: I wanted him to know so I could hookup with guys easier in my room. I told him in the car when I picked him up from school and I remember being so nervous and feeling my heart beat so fast. So I tell him “I’m gay" and he just looked at me and said "Yeah, that’s cool, can we go eat?" I was in shock because it was big secret and he just like curved it completely. Later on he told me he loved me and I lowkey cried because it was the first time a family member had said that. I always look back at that moment because I feel like that’s what coming out should be, not a big deal because I would've reacted the same way if my brother came out to me as straight.

Louie: Did you have any Latino gay men to look up to when you were growing up?

Freddy: I had absolutely zero gay Latino men to look up to. No one is gay in my family except for yours truly. It wasn't until a couple years ago that I found out that I did have a gay cousin but he was kicked out of the family for being gay so he moved to Spain. He reached out to me in 2013 and we talked for a bit but at that time I didn't know he was gay. Unfortunately, he died of AIDS complications a couple months after. I still wish I could have gotten to know him better.

Oddly enough even though my mom is a cis-heterosexual woman, she took a part in developing my queer identity because I felt like she always knew and lowkey supported it. My mom is a very religious woman from El Salvador who fled her home country because it was going through a violent civil war. She came to the States and married my dad but they divorced after 7 years and she raised me as a single mother. Growing up, she always took me shopping and I always helped her pick her outfits and she would always ask me for my opinion. She would always sit me down after her long work shifts and gossiped about her coworkers which I lived for because Latinx chisme is the absolute best. I also remember she would always tell me "Los hombres no sirven para nada" which basically is "men ain’t shit" and would warn me to be watchful of men. Which is why I now have IMPECCABLE fashion (not really), a big ol chismoso, and have always been watchful of the men that try to enter my life.

Louie: What did you think we as a community need to do to survive the next four years?

Freddy: There is so much we need to do as a community to survive the next four years. First we need to talk about anti-blackness in the Latinx community and start by talking to our racist ass family members who are contributing to the problem. The fact that we stay silent when our Tia'sbe saying racist shit is a problem. Also acknowledging our privilege for those of us who are citizens of the United States and stand up for the rights of undocumented immigrants. The easiest thing to do is to stop referring to immigrants as illegal because it paints them as criminals which contributes to this rhetoric that immigrants are dangerous when they're just trying to escape from their home countries that in most cases the US has fucked up. I'm also going to need gay men to stop with this obsession with performing masculinity and femme shaming because its toxic as fuck. I fucking hate it when guys ask me if I'm masc or femme and I’m just like “the fuck???” What does that even mean? Also destigmatize HIV and stop othering those who are HIV+ because it’s dehumanizing as fuck. I’ve heard some pretty ignorant shit about HIV and it’s something that we need to work on. We need to stand up for Trans women of color because the LGB+ community be forgetting that T especially when they are out here dying with a presidential administration who doesn't give a fuck about people of color and even less about the LGBT+ community and even less about our trans siblings. I mention all these problems in our community because in order to survive an oppressive, fascist, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic government, we have to be able to dismantle these in our own communities so we can come together to resist combat and survive the Trump Administration. We literally cannot afford to be silent any longer. This country hates my existence but my existence is also resisting and I am absolutely proud of being a Queer Ecuadorian/Salvadoran man living in a country that despises me. To survive these next four years, we just need to keep living, keep resisting, keep protesting, keep dismantling systems of oppression, keep holding our government accountable, keep being unapologetically Latinx and of course keep being unapologetically queer as fuck.

Freddy Christian Bernardino, Phoenix, AZ

Interviewed and photographed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca

[grannygremlinaudio]

So there has been the expected dismissal of Dr Ford’s accusations against Kavanaugh based on the old boys will be boys/he was a kid then and didn’t know better tropes.  This sort of thing needs to stop. I certainly hope nobody is really buying it (I mean, even the people who say it know what a crock it is and only do so to save their political strategy, right?) but worry that too many are.

I will admit, that when I first heard of Ford’s, then anonymous, accusation I did think to myself ‘ this was a long time ago and he was a minor at the time; yeah it’s horrible but is it enough to disqualify him? He could have grown as a human being since then’ - I mean, it’s not as if I support his candidacy, but looking at it from a strategic perspective, anticipating the responses. I certainly did things back then that I am not proud of (nothing like this mind you) and would never do today; haven’t we all? But since then we have a second accuser, with an incident that took place later at Yale, when he was a legal adult; this shows a pattern of behavior stretching at least into early adulthood and is undoubtedly, and now beyond any argument, of great concern. 

Or even ignore that (because the Senate committee is not full of people who tend to believe accusers or even take them seriously at all), and look at the footage we’ve seen of Kavanaugh speaking to various groups, reminiscing fondly and jokingly about his time at the high school in question, alluding to the general debauchery we have heard about.

But to get back to my main point, it is dangerous, unfair (in that it has historically not been applied equally to all people) and false to use the dismissive arguments Kavanaugh’s supporters have in the article above.

Firstly, as we all know, he was 17 at the time.  Poor black boys (as an easy example, not an exclusive list; generally anyone non cis/het-white-male and at least middle class) do not get the same benefit of the doubt when it comes to crimes committed as minors.  Even nonviolent crimes such as theft and drug possession.  They get charged as adults and sent to adult jail, where they tend to be taken advantage of by the older, actual adult, inmates.  Contrast this with that privileged white university jock (an actual adult, whose name I will not bother to look up because he doesn’t deserve it) who raped an unconscious girl and then only got, what, 3 months? 

Secondly, and not to diminish the first point above which is very important and a horrible travesty but others are speaking to that better than I can, the bigger issue may be the complete fallacy of the argument in any demographic case.  I’ve been a minor in a culture of escapist inebriation.  I’ve been wasted at parties.  No such thing as this ever happened; it would not have happened.  It is NOT normal in a categorical sense, not in gendered Catholic schools, nor coed public ones (I have attended both).  Every 17 year old boy I knew, would have known it was wrong and also known that the rest of us would put a quick end to it should we notice any such activity (yes, I can think back and identify certain individuals who may have, had the culture been more tolerable, tried it; but the point is, even they knew it was wrong).  Sure, the macho patriarchal entitlement-to-the-use-of-a-woman culture was there, boys still tried to pick up chicks, and there were the ones I knew of who girls would warn each other about, but they were (not to diminish the seriousness of the behaviour, but comparatively)  just manipulative jerks, not rapists (e.g.  the pity fuck master male-slut kiss and teller).  This situation with Kavanaugh, as described by Ford, is inarguably rape.  Gang rape at that; he had help.  There is no way a 17 year old boy, especially one ostensibly educated on the subject of Christian ethics, would not know this is wrong.  That’s the appeal; to top, to dominate, to impose one’s will, to do the wrong thing and get away scott free. It is a tool to generate respect from other boys within that same culture (leveraging faux sexual prowess, without actually being about the sex at all; like it doesn’t seem to matter who the victim is very much; it’s a matter of picking off the perceived weak ones in the herd). It is practice or training, for being a leader in America.

I have also previously extolled the fallacy of drunkenness as an excuse.  Lowering inhibitions does not equal turning a good boy into a rapist; that’s not how it works and for heaven’s sake we all (with the exception of dry individuals perhaps) know this.  Yes, there are mean drunks.  Abusive drunks even.  But what’s happening there is that the usual rationality that keeps these behaviours in check when sober (and this can often just be fear of consequence; never actual moral objection) are lowered. In fact it feels as if alcohol is purposely used in order to have an excuse to be able to do the things one knows one shouldn’t - or would like to but it too scared. Alcohol cannot be such an excuse when a) there is no remorse, in fact it is bragged about afterwards, b) it is repeated behaviour, and c) it is premeditated - the repeat nature and group participation shows that much rather clearly. These people are still assholes sober, they just have more self-restraint and more skillfully applied cosmetic  smiley face for the camera.  There is no level of drunkenness, that a true  respecter of women as fellow humans could achieve to make him into a rapist. Trust me; I’ve been pretty fucked up, and not just once.  I’ve said stupid things, even pathetically hit on girls, but never lost sight of consent. Never forced myself on anyone or taken advantage of the many inebriated girls that were around. I could have - there was that one girl, from a grade or 2 down (HS as well so very good comparison) at one party I recall who apparently had a crush on me (I was unaware) and who got so drunk (first time perhaps) that she was literally fawning/falling all over me.  I could have taken advantage - I mean she literally started it and she would not have resisted; I would not have had to hold her down or cover her mouth, or require any help to do so, but I did not - because I knew it would be wrong despite my own consumption of booze.  I found a friend of hers and transferred care.  I was a wasted horny teenager, as  eager to lose his virginity as any other, and somehow perfectly able to keep it in my pants. This should not be a point of pride for me; this should be normal, and I know that in many circles it is, the problem is that it is not universal.  There are numerous other examples I could give, and no, this isn’t about being the great white hope/knight in shining armour. There are also examples of when I failed to do act, or did not act enough.  What this is about is about being a human being, because you done know that girls do it for each other (even boys do it for each other) and in fact were there for us boys at times as well; it is our duty to be there for them as well.  It’s not exemplary, it’s the basic standard.  Or at least it should be.

What this (above in the article) is, is an exposure of the prevalence of the aforementioned macho culture within the ranks of the American conservative elite.  To be fair this is not exclusive to the conservative (Republican) elite, I would just argue that it is worse there - at least there is a movement against this sort of thing in liberal (e.g. Democratic) circles, but as we know there is still work to be done there as well.  It is an indictment of the old boys club, one hand washes the other, team colors are thicker than morality and justice.  An exposure of the farce of the Republican claim to have the religious moral higher ground. This also ties in with other areas in which so-called moral authority sees it fit and right to bend other rules (such as the right to rule and therefore subvert democracy to realise that right/take it back from the unworthy, as recently written about by Anne Applebaum in The Atlantic - that was about Europe, but it applies just as well to North America, especially the USA).

The fact of the matter is, that someone, like Kavanaugh, who has demonstrated a pattern of not acknowledging womens’ humanity, much less their equal status and rights under the law (the hallowed Constitution), cannot be fit to serve as a justice, especially in these times when we expect womens’ rights issues to appear before the supreme court.  Someone who has demonstrated a commitment to protecting himself as well as his old boys as being above his sense of justice and morality, cannot be fit in these times when we expect criminal investigations against the President and other public servants to occur.  Someone with such a warped and backwards view of normality, is just not fit to set de facto policy in the country’s highest court for the next few decades.

I am tired of the excuses and dismissals for these behaviours; all the while the same people trying to preach to me about my life and choices - how I am raising my kids wrong.  I do not accept your moral authority, and you are kidding yourselves if you think anyone except your small community of Kool Aid drinkers do. I am tired of these bullies and dinosaurs making me, my entire demographic, look bad.  The jig is almost up, the writing is on the wall and there is no putting the genie back inside the bottle.  No matter how many female kapos you find (such as those who wrote/signed letters in Kavanaugh’s defense), willing or coerced; your fellow men are now turning against you.  We will not tolerate or dismiss ‘locker room talk’ - we will react by shaming you in front of our peers, as your member hangs there retreating into your abdomen for safety.  We will pull your drunken (or not, as the case may be) ass off a girl if we need to.  We will not be your alibi or character reference. We will call bullshit on the usual defensive talking points we all know to be invalid excuses. We will do what should have always been done.  You will have no refuge.  You will not continue to shame us.  We will teach our boys, and they in turn will teach yours if you so fail, that the best sex, the only sex worth having, is with a person who really wants to give themselves to you (and where you in turn, really want to give yourself to them; that person specifically, not just because they are the easy prey orifice at hand) - anything else is just kidding yourself.  If she’s not into it, you can tell.