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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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hi, maybe you're tired about this kind of convie regarding hange's gender but i really need your opinion. is it that wrong if i consider hange as a she? istg i'm not anythingphobic, i'm just still stuck with female hange in anime. i stan aot since 2013 and felt just fine to open up about my preference in hange's gender but lately, considering hange as a she is like the most sinful thing in the whole planet and even being attacked and i don't know what to feel about it. 😩

Thank you for the ask anon!

Lmao, I am tired of this discourse but I’ve kinda accepted that it’s never gonna end really so I’m still happy to give you my opinion about this again.

I have written about it here.

Before I go into this long ramble again I’d like to clarify some terms which tend to pepper the discourse of gender, sexuality etc etc etc.

Biological Sex: What genitalia where you born with? Either born male, female or with both genitalia.

Gender: What do you identify as? CIS, Trans, Nonbinary etc.

Sexuality: Who are you attracted to? Homosexual, Heterosexual, Bisexual, Asexual, Pansexual etc.

Gender roles: Where do you fall on the gradient? Feminine, Masculine etc.

And the point of this is, the discourse on gender is soooo complicated. Like very complicated because Hange being interpreted as NB to some people only covers the question of gender. Like these do not cover every other facet of the gender sexuality discourse.

Because everything up there is ‘mutually exclusive’ to a degree because everyone is so complex. Like you can take a random option in each of those, fit it together in our heads and you would still come up with a realistic person. Because that is how complex human beings are. I have friends who decided to get a boyfriend, realized they were trans, transitioned to male but had both boyfriends and girlfriends. I have a butch lesbian friend who dated a few guys then decided to date girls then decided to transition. You have me who literally tried everything on the sexuality spectrum, crushed on a few girls in high school, crushed on a few more girls in college, thought I was asexual for a while, fell in love with a guy and realized I love dick.

You can actually have a biological male who identifies as nonbinary but is bisexual but has feminine tendencies.

And that’s why even I find it so confusing to address the issue of non binary Hange vs female Hange. Because they are not even in the same bracket. Like we can have a non binary female feminine bisexual Hange all at the same time if you think about it.

If you have read all my fics and all of my meta about Hange, you would see that I refer to her as a ‘she,’ but at the same time, I do not portray Hange as overly feminine. I headcanon that Hange has tried dating women and I also head canon that Hange has female genitalia (yo, I write preggo Hange fics). She actually falls somewhere in the middle. And what makes the gender part so hard to consider is because usually whether someone decides to identify as CIS, NB or Trans is up to the person.

And there are just so many other hcs I want to tackle as a fanfiction writer and as a Hange stan beyond her gender and that’s why I don’t really headcanon the whole discovery part because even as a kid, I have never been so particular about my gender. I know I’m a biologically a woman, I have feminine and masculine tendencies. I have loved both men and women. but gender just seemed like just a decision which I just didn’t want to think too hard about.

I mean where I live, my first language doesn’t have gender pronouns so I can avoid the whole discourse altogether by just using Tagalog. I’m the type of person who will just have this person think I’m a man all the way until they meet me because I just wanna get things done and I feel no need to correct people. My first crushes were all women, despite my being a woman and the first people I have ever loved were women and I didn’t want to decide whether I was bisexual, heterosexual, homosexual etc. yet because even teenage me just found it way too complex and too final and just went around saying I liked this girl or I liked this guy and generally because I’m that type of person, I don’t spend a lot of my time thinking about gender even in a fandom space unless somebody asks.

And does it make me homophobic/LGBT-phobic etc etc for deciding to use ‘she’ and deciding to tackle questions about Hange beyond her gender? No. Like this conclusion is inherently flawed. I was hella gay for a huge point in my life. 99% of my crushes were women. Then there was this period where I didn’t enjoy romance The only guy irl I have ever crushed on is my current boyfriend. But even when I explored my own gender, sexuality, it was always an ‘in the back of my mind’ thing. I didn’t have huge personal metas about what exactly my gender was or where exactly I fall or what pronouns I prefer.

And nobody is obliged to look so deep into this discourse. The important thing is in real life, we respect people’s pronouns, we respect the names they want to go by and we respect people’s preferences (as long as they aren’t dangerously criminal.)

And the thing is, this isn’t even real life. This is a fandom space. And in a fandom space, everyone is literally interpreting characters however they want. We have people literally pairing off Levi with both men and women and technically we’re assuming Levi’s gender, sexuality etc. Sure it might diverge from canon but does that make our headcanon any less than the others? Like Levi’s sexuality has never been confirmed and technically we’re all just assuming what kind of person Levi would have wanted to fuck right? Like every yaoi pairing, every ship is just fans assuming someones gender, assuming someone’s sexuality.

And sure people could argue, ‘Yams’ didn’t confirm her gender. But Yam’s didn’t confirm anyone’s sexuality either but here we are pairing Mikasa off with Annie then pairing Mikasa off with Eren. Like same energy with ships, are there ships which are inherently superior to others? And technically, I could headcanon Levi as a woman if I wanted to and no one could stop me. I mean sure let’s celebrate that some of our headcanon and preferences have been acknowledged but what battle are we trying to win here really.

To answer your question, it is not wrong. Having any opinion and having whatever headcanon you have about any fandom in this space is not wrong.

Sure, Hange is a comfort character to many people for various reasons. Hange is a comfort character for me but Hange is not any single person’s comfort character. Hange is a gift to us by Yams to interpret and play with however we want. Hell, every other character we’ve ever grown to love was a gift to all of us by the author. And we can choose to hc them however we want. That is the magic of fandoms.

If I wanted to, I could make some eruri and ereri mpreg fics for the kicks, I could interpret Levi as every single gender, sexuality on the spectrum and it would be just as valid. I mean I won’t because I don’t jive with those headcanons or those types of ships but I would respect people who have those types of preferences.

This space is free for everyone. We can choose what we want to consume and we can choose how we want to interpret characters.

The only responsibility we have as fans is to use the right warnings when we post shit and to respect everybody else’s preferences.

What I would consider ‘sinful’ is just dropping some unnecessary hate into a place which is supposed to be our safe space or pushing an agenda or an opinion and being hateful about it in the process. Like sure, spread your agenda, spread your opinions and your headcanons but please be nice about it.

We’re all just sad people trying to survive in this crapsack world.

#levihan #hange zoe

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: Your blog isn’t what I expected for someone who champions conservative values because it is very rich in celebrating culture and strikes a very humane pose. I learn a great deal from your clever and playful posts. Now and again your feminism reveals itself and so I wonder what kind of feminist are you, if at all? It’s a little confusing for a self professing conservative blog.

I must thank you for your kind words about my blog and your praise is undeserved but I do appreciate that you enjoy aspects of high culture that you may not have come across.

My conservatism is not political or ideological per se and - I get this a lot - not taken from the rather inflammatory American discourse of left and right that is currently playing itself out in America. For example my distaste for the likes of Trump is well known and I have not been shy in poking fun at him here on my blog. Partly because he’s not a real conservative in my eyes but a .... < insert as many expletives as you want here > ....but mainly he has no character. My point is my conservatism isn’t defined by what goes on across from the pond.

Rather my conservatism is rooted in deeply British intellectual traditions and draw in inspiration from Edmund Burke, Michael Oakeshott, Roger Scruton, and other British thinkers as well as cultural writers like Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Waugh. So it’s a state of mind or a state of being rather than a rigid ideological set of beliefs.

Of course there is a lot of overlap of shared values and perspectives between the conservatism found elsewhere and what it is has historically been in English history. But my conservative beliefs are not tied to a political party for example. I wash my hands of politicians of all stripes if you must know. I won’t get into that right now but I hope to come back and and address it in a later post.

As for my feminism that is indeed an interesting question. It’s a very loaded and combustible word especially in these volatile times where vitriol and victimhood demonisation rather than civility and honest discussion so often flavour our social discourse on present day culture and politics.

I would be fine to describe myself as an old school feminist if I am allowing myself to be labelled that is. And in that case there is no incompatibility between being that sort of small ‘f’ feminist and someone who holds a conservative temperament. They are mutually compatible.

To understand what I mean let me give you a potted history of feminism. It’s very broad brush and I know I am over simplifying the rich history of each wave of feminism so I’m making this caveat here.

Broadly speaking the feminist movement is usually broken up into three “waves.” The first wave in the late 19th and early 20th centuries pushed for political equality. The second wave, in the 1960s and 1970s, pushed for legal and professional equality. And the third wave, in the past couple decades but especially now, has pushed for social equality as well as social and racial justice. It is the first wave and bits of the second wave that I broadly identify my feminism with.

Why is that?

Again broadly speaking, in the first wave and overlapping with the second wave legal and political equality are clearly defined and measurable, but in the third wave (the current wave) social equality and social justice is murky and complicated.

Indeed the current feminist movement - which now also includes race and trans issues in a big way - is not a protest against unjust laws or sexist institutions as much as it is the protest against people’s unconscious beliefs as well as centuries-worth of cultural norms and heritage that have been biased in some ways against women but also crucially have served women reasonably well in unwritten ways.

Of course women still get screwed over in myriad ways. It’s just that whereas before it was an open and accepted part of society, today nearly all - as they see it - is non-obvious and even unconscious. So we have moved from policing legalised equality opporttunities to policing thought.

I understand the resentment - some of it sincere - against the perceived unjustness of women’s lot in life. But this third wave of feminism is fuelled in raw emotion, dollops of self-victimhood, and selfish avoidance of personal responsibility. Indeed it bloats itself by latching onto every social and racial outrage of the moment.

It becomes incredibly difficult to actually define ‘equality’ not in terms of the goals of the first wave of feminists or even the second because we can objectively measure legal, civil and political goals e.g. It’s easy to measure whether boys and girls are receiving the same funding in schools. It’s easy to see whether a man and woman are being paid appropriately for the same work. But how does one measure equality in terms of social justice? If people have a visceral dislike of Ms X over Mr Y is it because she’s a woman or only because she’s a shitty human being in person?

The problem is that feminism is more than a philosophy or a group of beliefs. It is, now, also a political movement, a social identity, as well as a set of institutions. In other words, it’s become tribal identity politics thanks to the abstract ideological currents of cultural Marxism.

Once a philosophy goes tribal, its beliefs no longer exist to serve some moral principle, but rather they exist to serve the promotion of the group - with all their unconscious biases and preferences for people who pass our ‘purity test’ of what true believers should be i.e. like us, built in.

So we end up in this crazy situation where tribal feminism laid out a specific set of paranoid beliefs - that everywhere you look there is constant oppression from the patriarchy, that masculinity is inherently violent, and that the only differences between men and women are figments of our cultural imagination, not based on biology or science.

Anyone who contradicted or questioned these beliefs soon found themselves kicked out of the tribe. They became one of the oppressors. And the people who pushed these beliefs to their furthest conclusions — that penises were a cultural construction of oppression, that school mascots encourage rape and sexual violence, and that marriage is state sanctioned rape or as is now the current fad that biological sex is not a scientific fact or not recognising preferred pronouns is a form of hate speech etc— were rewarded with greater status within the tribe.

Often those shouting the loudest have been white middle class educated liberals who try to outcompete each other within the tribe with such virtue signalling. Since the expansion of higher education in the 1980s in Britain (and the US too I think), a lot of these misguided young people have been doing useless university degrees - gender studies, performing arts, communication studies, ethnic studies etc - that have no application in the real world of work. I listen to CEOs and other hiring executives and they are shocked at how uneducated graduate students are and how such graduates lack even the basic skills in logic and critical problem solving. And they seem so fragile to criticism.

In a rapidly changing global economy, a society if it wants to progress and prosper is in need of valuing skills, languages, technical knowledge, and general competence (i.e critical thinking) but all too often what our current society has instead are middle class young men and women with a useless piece of toilet paper that passes for a university degree, a mountain of monetary debt, and no job prospects. No wonder they feel it’s someone else’s fault they can’t get on to that first rung of the ladder of life and decide instead that pulling down statues is more cathartic and vague calls to end ‘institutional systemic racism’. Oh I digress....sorry.

My real issue with the current wave of feminists is that they have an attitude problem.

Previous generations of feminists sacrificed a great deal in getting women the right to vote, to go to university, to have an equal education, for protection from domestic violence, and workplace discrimination, and equal pay, and fair divorce laws. All these are good things and none actually undermine the natural order of things such as marriage or family. It is these women I truly admire and I am inspired by in my own life because of their grit and relentless drive and not curl up into a ball of self pity and victimhood.

More importantly they did so NOT at the expense of men. Indeed they sought not to replace men but to seek parity in legal ways to ensure equality of opportunity (not outcomes). This is often forgotten but is important to stress.

Certainly for the first wave of feminists they did not hate men but rather celebrated them. Pioneers such as Amelia Earhart - to give a personal example close to my heart as a former military aviator myself - admired men a great deal. Othern women like another heroine of mine, Gettrude Bell, the first woman to get a First Class honours History degree at Oxford and renowned archaeologist and Middle East trraveller and power breaker never lost her admiration for her male peers.

I love men too as a general observation. I admire many that I am blessed to know in my life. I admire them not because they are necessarily men but primarily because of their character. It’s their character makes me want to emulate them by making me determined and disciplined to achieve my own life goals through grit and effort.

Character for me is how I judge anyone. It matters not to me your colour, creed or sexual orientation. But what matters is your actions.

I find it surreal that we have gone from a world where Christian driven Martin Luther King envisaged a world where a person would be judged from the content of their character and not the colour of their skin (or gender) to one where it’s been reversed 360 degrees. Now we are expected to judge people by the colour of their skin, their gender and sexual orientation. So what one appears on the outside is more important than what’s on the inside. It’s errant nonsense and a betrayal of the sacrifices of those who fought for equality for all by past generations.

Moreover as a Christian, such notions are unbiblical. The bible doesn’t recognise race - despite what slave owners down the ages have believed - nor gender - despite what the narrow minded men in pulpits have spewed out down the centuries - but it does recognise the fact of original sin in the human condition. We are all fallen, we are all broken, and we are all in need of grace.

Even if one isn’t religious inclined there is something else to consider.

For past generations the stakes were so big. By contrast this present generation’s stakes seem petty and small. Indeed the current generation’s struggle comes down to fighting for safe spaces, trigger warnings and micro aggressions. In other words, it’s just about the protection of feelings. No wonder our generation is seen as the snowflake generation.

A lot of this nonsense can be put down to the intellectually fraudulent teachings of critical theory and post colonial studies in the liberal arts departments on university campuses and how such ideas have and continue to seep into the mainstream conversation with such concepts as ‘white privilege’, ‘white fragility’, ‘whites lives don’t matter’, ‘abolish whiteness’ ‘rape culture’ etc which feels satisfying as intellectual masturbation but has no resonance in the real world where people get on with the daily struggle of making something of their lives.

But yet its critical mass is unsustainable because the ideas inherent within it are intellectually unstable and will eventually implode in on itself - witness the current war between feminists (dismissed uncharitably as terfs) who define women by their biological sex and want to protect their sexual identity from those who for example are championing trans rights as sexuality defined primarily as a social construct. So you have third wave feminists taking completely different stances on the same issues. For instance there’s the sex positive feminists and there’s also anti-porn, sex negative feminists. How can the same thing either be empowering or demeaning? There are so many third wave feminists taking completely different stances on the same exact topics that it’s difficult to even place what they want anymore.The rallying cries of third wave feminism have largely been issues that show only one side of the story and leave out a lot of pertinent details.

But the totality of the damage done to the cultural fabric of society is already there to see. Already now we are in this Orwellian scenario where one has to police feelings so that these feminists don’t feel marginalised or oppressed in some undefinable way. This is what current Western culture has been reduced to. I find it ironic in this current politically charged times, that conservatives have become the defenders of liberalism, or at least the defence of the principle of free speech.

To me the Third Wave feminism battle cry seems to be: Once more but with feelings.

With all due respect, fuck feelings. Grow up.

I always ask the same question to friends who are caught up in this current madness be they BLM activists or third wave feminists (yes, I do have friends in these circles because I don’t define my friends by their beliefs but by their character): compared to what?

We live in a systemic racist society! Compared to what?

We live in a patriarchal society where women are subjugated daily! Compared to what?

We live in an authoritarian state! Compared to what?

We live in a corrupt society of privileged elites! Compared to what?

Third-wave? Not so much. By vast majorities, women today are spurning the label of “feminist” - it’s become an antagonising, miserable, culturally Marxian code word for a far-left movement that seeks to confine women into boxes of ‘wokeness’.

For sure, Western societies and culture have its faults - and we should always be aware of that and make meaningful reforms towards that end. Western societies are not perfect but compared to other societies - China? Russia? Saudi Arabia? - in the world today are we really that bad?

Where is this utopian society that you speak of? Has there ever been one in recorded history? As H.L. Mencken memorably put it, “An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup.“

I prefer to live in a broken world that is rather than one imagined. When we are rooted in reality and empirical experience can we actually stop wasting time on ‘hurt feelings’ and grievances construed through abstract ideological constructs and get on with making our society better bit by bit so that we can then hand over for our children and grandchildren to inherit a better world, not a perfect one.

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #feminism #personal #third wave feminism #society #culture

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caden · 4 years

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Analysis of how “Tiger King” represents what it means to be deviant.

I just reblogged a post about how Tiger King ignores one of its character’s identities as a trans man— and the more I think about it, the more unfortunate that seems to me. It was a missed opportunity to further flesh out what I believe is documentary series’ biggest theme: deviance.

Every member of the cast is someone who has been othered by society. They are queer, homeless, impoverished, addicts, victims of abuse, ex-cons, disabled, cult leaders, etc. The show hits you over the head with how starkly out of the ordinary its cast is. The minor characters have a clear through-line: they were made deviant by society, and thusly made vulnerable— the major players have taken advantage of that in order to extract unconditional labor from them. Their bosses and husbands treat them with the same level of dignity they treat the animals. They are deviant, but they don’t have the power to do anything about it. The major players, however, have a different conflict— each of them is attempting to reintegrate their deviance into broader society. They want to be acknowledged, accepted, even celebrated for it.

This is why Joe Exotic slides into the role of protagonist so well-- he has a crystal clear goal, and that is simply to be accepted. This goal obviously springs from Joe’s upbringing as a gay kid living in dangerous, homophobic conditions. We know from episode 1 that Joe attempted suicide at a young age, and that he has never been able to function well within the confines of his society. However, the only path he sees to rejoining society is to play up his deviance, to become acknowledged as an idol of ‘weirdness’. He is always acting, always turning his personality up to 11. He starts fights, opportunistically chases power, manipulates the people around him with money and drugs all in the pursuit of being recognized. Initially, we might think that he wants to exist outside of society’s boundaries… but in the end, we realize that what he really wants is for society to extend its boundaries to him. He thinks, maybe rightly, that the way to accomplish that is to become famous— or notorious, if that’s easier. Once Joe starts pouring time and money into running for president, and then governor, we can see clearly that this pursuit is entirely self-defeating. But he can’t help himself.

This is put in contrast to Carole Baskin, Bhagavan Antle, and Jeff Lowe— all deviants themselves, but deviants who have carved out areas in which they can exist more comfortably than Joe is capable of. Carole is a victim of abuse who probably murdered her second husband, but she is still capable of joining society as a “normal” person, because she is very very good at erasing the parts of herself that most would see as deviant. Bhagavan is a fucking cult leader, but he plays up his personality and business effectively enough that society is interested in extending itself to him. Jeff Lowe, fascinatingly enough, is one of the most evil, self-serving men you’ll ever see— almost definitely a worse person than Joe— but he’s a straight white man who was born into money. He is able to selectively choose deviance in ways that benefit him. He quite literally commodifies his ability to be deviant in a way that Joe can’t: Joe is just too deviant, too outside the norm— he desperately wants the power and influence that Jeff Lowe seems to have, but is unable to grasp it.

What I appreciate so deeply is that this show doesn’t treat deviance the way a children’s movie would. It doesn’t just say “being born different is great!!”. It says “being born different can be deeply damaging— it can force you into situations that you don’t want to be in, and it can force you to become a person that you don’t want to be”. We understand that this isn’t the fault of the people who were born deviant, it is the fault of the systems that made them the ‘other’. There is SO MUCH in this show about masculinity, femininity, queerness, and class— I could write about it forever.

The last thing I want to say, though, is how perfectly this discussion is echoed with the animals that Joe, Jeff, Bhagavan, and Carole own. These animals are the ultimate symbol of deviance. We know, instinctively, from just one look, that they DO NOT BELONG within our society. Tigers should not be kept like cattle in backyard zoos. We shouldn’t pet them, we shouldn’t feed them expired meat from Walmart. The way each of these people treats their animals is a perfect representation of how they relate to deviance. Bhagavan uses these animals to gain money and influence for himself, and he’s savvy enough to do that in a flashy way— one that society is excited by, and willing to accommodate. Carole gives these animals dignity, but does not breed them, or allow them to be touched— she lets them die naturally. She is willing to responsibly manage the deviance that will inevitably crop up, but her goal is not to celebrate it. Jeff sees these animals as nothing more than objects— something to be bred when convenient, killed when inconvenient, organized in the most efficient way to maximize the amount of money and sex they can bring him.

Joe, characteristically enough, can’t fit into any of these boxes. He wants to care for the animals, but he isn’t equipped to handle the responsibility that it would entail. He wants to commodify them, but he isn’t a good enough businessman. Ultimately, he can only view the animals as an extension of himself— and it’s fitting that those extensions must sometimes be bred, and sometimes be shot, and sometimes be shoved into filthy cages and starved.

And we are reminded, ultimately, that none of this would have been a problem if our society had simply held different values— was structured in different ways. If we could have just left these animals the fuck alone, and let them be tigers.

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digitalcomfortspot · 3 years

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"Aziraphale?"

The angel was currently nose deep in a wildly interesting excerpt from a certain Mr. Roald Dahl, flipping the pages with care as his eyes read the whimsical words and gleamed at the cheerful little doodles that accompanied them, when he heard his lover speak. He looks up, seeing the human standing close by, but... seeming... a bit apprehensive.

"Oh...! Magnus, darling!" His whole face lights up, bright and soft as he is, and he stands, placing the book carefully on the coffee table. "You're here early! I thought you needed to work a shift."

"I did, uh... someone else covered for me, actually. Needed the extra hours." Magnus fidgets, eyes darting down to the ground. Nervousness is written all over those soft features, and Aziraphale looks a bit worried.

"Oh... forgive me for saying so, my love, but... you look anxious. Is something the matter?" He doesn't move closer yet, watching carefully for signs from the other of comfort or tension.

Fidgeting again, Magnus looks up, shrugging. "I... I just... need to tell you something."

"Oh! Of course, come, come. Sit with me, my dear." He smiles so gently, and offers a hand. His partner takes it, and soon the two sit side by side on the couch. The more time passes, the less at-ease his partner seems to he.

"... you had something to tell me?" He asks, and Magnus seems to snap out of the sudden silence.

"O-Oh. Yeah. Uh..." There's a struggle for words, a struggle to express. Aziraphale waits patiently, in no rush to hurry any information along that isn't yet ready to he said.

"... I... uh... I... think something has changed with me."

"Oh...? Are you alright? Are you in good health?"

"Oh! Yes, uh... not physical."

"I see. That is good news, certainly!"

"Yes, um... I... Something about me has changed, uh... identity... wise..."

He blinks. Oh, was that all? He still takes it seriously, of course, as identities are fickle beasts who deserve the utmost respect in most all benign cases, but inwardly, he is thankful for no earth shattering disasters like a terminal illness diagnosis, or a sudden pet that they both could never hope to care for. Nothing like that, sure.

"Oh! I see." He can't respond with much yet. There's not enough information.

"... I-I... I think I'm nonbinary." Poor Magnus looks so nervous, so worried. Clearly, there had been negative experiences before. The two had met when Magnus identified as a trans male, but Aziraphale was more than used to playing with gender as the wobbly, rickety concept it's been made to be. Nevertheless, he smiles warmly, looking at his partner with such adoration.

"Oh, that's wonderful-!!!" He beams, eyes showing such adoration. It was important that his beloved got a full scope for how much this was to be celebrated. "I'm so glad you had the courage to tell me, my love... that was brave of you. How would you like to be addressed? A new name, pronouns?"

Magnus blinks, surprised by the sheer, blatant acceptance. It's not like they expected Aziraphale to kick him out, but the enthusiasm shocks them. "I... Uh, I like this name, it's fine. I just... am trying to use they/them pronouns, to see how it feels. I-I might change my mind, I'm not sure."

Aziraphale nods, softly squeezing their hands in his. "Of course. They and them, I've got it. And uh, terms? Shall they be gender neutral?"

"I... I don't mind some masculine terms, like sir or man, or... things like that. I..." They look down, lip quivering. They begin to tear up, looking down to avoid his gaze.

Aziraphale gasps. "Darling? What's wrong?"

"I-I just... it's... I'm..." They look overwhelmed, and they simply lean into his chest. "I-I usually get called indecisive, or... or flighty, or like I'm just faking, o-or..." They whimper, words faltering.

"O-Oh... oh my... oh, Magnus, it's alright!" Aziraphale understands all at once, and he wraps his arms around them. "I'm here... and I need you to know something."

They feel his fingers under their chin, tipping it up so they look at him. "...?"

They're met with loving blue eyes, wild white hair and a soft, sweet voice. The voice he reserves specifically for doting or comforting.

"The Magnus I love is whoever they choose to be. I do not expect anything less than themselves. Anything less that yourself. No matter how much you change, no matter who you end up being... I fell in love with your soul. Not your pronouns, or the way you look. Those are yours, and yours alone, and I will respect them." He presses his forehead to theirs. "It's alright... I promise. I love you."

They smile weakly and lean in, kissing him softly. He can't help but notice they taste like orange tea, honey, and chocolate, as he holds their hand tightly, the other arm wrapped around their shoulders.

As the two part, the human smiles gratefully. "Thank you... I... I really appreciate it, more than you know."

"Of course, my rose!" He tries a new nickname, and grins slightly mischeviously when it makes them go as pink as the flower he named. "Now, I was just reading some of Roald Dahl's finest works.... would you like to keep me company?"

They nod, leaning into him and immediately fitting their body against his, like a puzzle piece in perfect place. He begins to read aloud, stroking their hair, and inwardly, he notes the relief on their face, the love, the soft peace that settled as he reads.

He could never imagine a more perfect sight that day.

#f/os: aziraphale #f/o fanfiction #trying out new things honestly #this helps

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my-darling-boy · 5 years

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SO I’ve been getting people in my inbox asking me if I could explain the struggles of being trans. Obviously I’m willing to educate but there’s a LOT to unpack on understanding that, so to narrow it down, I’ll list things I or some trans people close to me have gone through to give you an idea of the difficulties. I obviously don’t speak for all trans people but as a trans man myself, I have Been Through Some Things

//Rape mention, self harm mention, suicide mention//

•When I came out at 14, I lost all my friends aside from one. I was bullied extensively behind my back. I was dragged to church by my friends who wanted to cleanse me of my “sin”

•I was the only out trans man in my entire school of 2000 students. I knew zero trans people. Everything I had to learn as a kid about being trans was done so entirely by myself. Additionally, the school’s Gay-Straight-Alliance Club kicked me out because I was a masculine trans man

•My parents lied and told me I had certain health concerns which would prohibit me from medically transitioning because they didn’t want me to do it

•I had zero support system. I almost attempted suicide at 14 and self harmed frequently from 13-18 years old

•Many trans people develop eating disorders; for a lot us, we feel we can avoid being misgendered if we look a certain way. It can be caused by depression or from a means of “controlling” something about ourselves when our lives are out of control; I developed anorexia at 16 and struggle every day with it still at 21

•I was constantly told by cis “friends” even cis LGBQ+ “friends” that I would never find anyone to love me because I was trans

•I should point out, I’m not trying to attack other cis LGBQ+ people, I’m trying to point out that injustices and bullying towards trans people happens WITHIN the LGBTQ+ community by cis members. As in, being gay doesn’t mean you’re immune to being a transphobe

•Starting at 14 when I came out, I was constantly asked about how I would have sex since I was trans by both adults and classmates

•I was preyed upon in high school by a guy who had a trans man fetish. The vast majority of trans people will experience a form of sexual abuse/harassment at least once from cis people. Trans people are sometimes seen by cis people as being part of a fetish or like a “sex toy”, thinking we’re just here for their disgusting kinks

•Kids in the hall would pass me at school and make comments like “is that a boy or a girl? *laugh*” or refer to me as an “it”

•There were so little resources for trans people where I lived that I became the trans man every trans person came to for advice meanwhile other cis members of the LGBTQ+ community had many friends to confide in. Trans people are often barred from being accepted into these cis LGBQ+ circles

•A trans man friend of mine, who was a minor at the time, was raped by an adult cis man in a men’s restroom minutes from where I lived. I refuse to use public restrooms due to this fact alone, no matter how cis I look when entering a men’s restroom

•In many places throughout the world, it is illegal to use the restroom of a different gender than you were originally assigned. Even just minding our own business and using the restroom is for some reason an issue among cis people. In one restroom I could be harassed and in the other, I could physically assaulted. Or arrested! Testosterone was the only way I could go into the men’s restroom without being preyed upon by cis men and even then, I have to wait for the place to be empty, even if it’s legal for me to be in there

•When visiting dangerous areas, I have to bind my chest for 12+ hours because I never enter a place where I can take the binder off. In a very conservative area that strictly prides itself in male/female cis people, trans people feel forced to make sure we LOOK either way or else we could be harassed/jumped, as there are places not far from me where non-binary/trans/trans-nb people will not venture to because it’s unsafe. It would be easy to hide I’m gay in a dangerous area, as I just don’t mention being gay, and you can’t inherently “see” as person is gay as it’s a sexual orientation. But in a dangerous area, if I say I’m a man and someone catches on to the fact I’m not a cis man, bad things could happen to me. (I’d like to add that the vast majority of trans hate crimes have been against black trans women and murders in general of trans people have skyrocketed in recent years. A vast majority of these hate crimes are committed by cis white men.)

•A lot of emphasis is put on cis appearances in the trans community, which isn’t always the product of just wanting to express yourself in ways that are traditionally cis. Sometimes we are put in certain situations where we unfortunately MUST look either strictly, stereotypically male/female in order to avoid harassment, and it’s completely anxiety inducing and/or degrading. Some trans people sometimes feel forced to transition to fit in, and a lot trans people are AFRAID to transition or dress without accordance to their original assigned gender because of how we are mistreated by cis people when we do so

•Touching on that, I have encountered people referred to as “transmeds” which are those trans men who think trans men must have gender dysphoria in order to be trans, or that you must want to medically transition to be trans; they commonly place stereotypical, often conservative and toxic, masculine requirements to be a trans man. Many trans men like myself speculate they are the reason why toxic masculinity still thrives like a disease among the trans community. Conservative ideals like this damage the trans community by asserting a trans person DOES look and act a certain way, which is an idea incidentally trans people strive to dismantle among cis people

•Since I’m a trans, gay man, not only can I be bullied by CISHET MEN but also CIS GAY MEN and additionally even other conservative TRANS MEN. If you’re a gay, bi, etc trans person within the LGBTQ+ community, you often face more types of discrimination than cis LGBQ+ people, especially if you are asexual on top of it all, like myself

•Trans people also often encounter terfs, cis “feminists” who believe trans women aren’t real women, and these individuals are found to confidently defend racist, N@zi, white supremacist, and other bigoted attitudes, so just..... gross people

•As a trans person, you’re sometimes made to feel as though you can’t be proud of yourself the same way you can be proud of being gay or lesbian. I’ve witnessed people praising someone for talking about being gay everyday while those SAME PEOPLE complained a trans person talking about being trans ONCE was “annoying” and just “ vying for attention”. Cis people, lgbq+ or not, are sometimes made so uncomfortable by trans people they think calling them annoying will silence them. It’s happened to me almost every single time I’ve tried to come out which is what ultimately led me to be ashamed of myself for many years

•Cis people can often be so unaccepting of our identity that they will intentionally not work on using our correct name/pronouns, withhold using the correct name/pronouns as a form of punishment, or go behind our backs and use the wrong pronouns/name because they don’t think it’s important. Cis people have the luxury of always having their name and pronouns as being a given, and those same people think we are so below them, they think they can choose when we do or do not deserve to be called what we should be called. Deadnaming/intentially misgendering a celebrity you don’t like or person you’re angry with is STILL transphobia

•Just recently, a cis manager outed me to my entire workplace as being trans. Outing someone as trans is VERY DANGEROUS. At the end of the day, you never know who that information could be passed to. Knowing that someone is trans is NEVER your decision to tell people, it’s their private information. If you out someone in a workplace environment, you can and mostly likely will lose your job. However inversely, it is still possible in some places to be fired solely for being trans. If I was in a bad part of my country, her outing me could have cost me my job. Every job I have held thus far has always ended with a cis manager not knowing how to keep their mouth shut about my gender.

Basically, trans people struggle everyday in a vast number of ways and the magnitude of their hardships often go unnoticed due to transphobes or uninformed cishet people trivialising or censoring trans voices. And these are just a FRACTION of things trans people have to deal with regularly. If you aren’t trans, you can’t claim to know what we’re going through. You can only listen to and be there for trans people, read their stories and experiences to be aware of their struggles and how you can make sure you aren’t creating an unsafe space for trans people.

~Terfs and transphobes do not interact~

#I’ll post another answering the people who were asking me what not to ask/say to a trans person #why does this sound so salty I’m sorry #I think it just reminded me of all the times I’ve been harrassed #or seen others get harrassed #lgbtq #transgender #trans #long post

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aroworlds · 5 years

Text

Fiction: The Pride Conspiracy, Part One

December isn't the best time of year for a trans aromantic like Rowan Ross, although—unlike his relatives—his co-workers probably won't give him gift cards to women's clothing shops. How does he explain to cis people that while golf balls don't trigger his dysphoria, he wants to be seen as more than a masculine stereotype? Nonetheless, he thinks he has this teeth-gritted endurance thing figured out: cissexism means he needn't fear his relatives asking him about dating, and he has the perfect idea for Melanie in the office gift exchange. He can survive gifts and kin, right? Isn't playing along with expectation better than enduring unexpected consequences?

Rowan, however, isn't the only aromantic in the office planning to surprise a co-worker.

To survive the onslaught of ribbon and cellophane, Rowan's going to have to get comfortable with embracing the unknown.

Contains: A trans allo-frayro trying to grit his teeth through the holidays, scheming aro co-workers, a whole lot of cross-stitch, another moment of aromantic discovery, and many, many mugs.

Content Advisory: A story that focuses on some of the ways Western gift-giving culture enables cissexism and a rigid gender binary, taking place in the context of commercialised, secular-but-with-very-Christian-underpinnings Christmas. Please expect many references to said holiday in an office where Damien hasn't figured out how to run a gift exchange without subjecting everyone to Santa, along with characters who have work to do in recognising that not everybody celebrates Christmas.

There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual" and a passing reference to allo-aro antagonism, but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with and attitudes towards romance and romantic attraction as a frayromantic. Please also expect casual references to amatonormativity and other shapes of cissexism.

Length: 4, 914 words (part one of two).

Note: You'll need to have read The Vampire Conundrum for many references to make sense.

Rowan should be assumed an Australian character in an Australian city. Our Christmas, therefore, involves hot weather, short sleeves, barbecues and confusion at certain holiday traditions common in the Northern Hemisphere.

They’re aromantic. How isn’t he obligated to help decorate her desk in as many pride-related ways as possible?

“It’s Secret Santa slash December Holiday Gift Exchange!” Damien emerges from the meeting room, shaking a paper-scrap-filled jar with the gleeful attitude of a toddler attacking a pile of presents. In order to give the occasion suitable gravitas, he draped a rope of red tinsel over his shoulders, the fronds glittering in the flicker-prone lighting. “Come gather!”

Rowan looks up from his computer, biting back a groan. This isn’t a surprise, given that Shelby answered his interview questions about “workplace culture” with descriptions of their celebrating capitalist-infused Christian holidays, and the office more than lives up to that promise. A tree sits on the front counter, its branches crammed with baubles. Tinsel hangs on everything from which tinsel can be hung and rests in snake-like coils over the computer towers, screens, desk partitions and the large corkboard. Ribbon-wrapped pencils topped with felt trees, stars and stockings flowered, overnight, from everyone’s pen mugs; Melanie gave Rowan three of them for his frayro mug. Every desk features a red bowl of tree-shaped marshmallows, candy canes or that weird Christmas lolly mix common in dollar shops.

Only the lack of music renders bearable this explosion of festivity. Damien said he drew that line last year after Melanie and Shelby alternated between Michael Bublé and Josh Groban’s Christmas CDs.

Rowan doesn’t want to think about that sublime horror.

Christmas to him means slipping a few TSO tracks into his melodic metal playlists and gritting his teeth until the new year.

“O come all ye faithful,” Melanie sings, spinning her chair around. Every day this week she’s donned a different Christmas-themed T-shirt; today’s features a screen-printed Rudolph head with an apple-sized nose made from red minky fleece. Rowan doesn’t understand the American “ugly Christmas jumper” thing—why?—but Melanie appears to be replicating the trend via short sleeves and jersey knits.

Damien jerks his elbow at the largest whiteboard, half filled with the Banned Holiday Decorations List—items including “music, carols, hymns and singing”, “all types of fake snow” and “Cadbury Crème Eggs”. “Didn’t we talk about carols?”

Rowan doesn’t want to be accused of being a dreadful, fun-loathing millennial about which too many articles have been written on dislike of office gift exchanges … but he doesn’t know how not to be one, either. Why do people like this? Buying presents for people who aren’t strangers but aren’t friends, hoping that his attempt isn’t too generic only to open something tailored to feminine cliché ... followed by the apologetic explanation or justification that Rowan isn’t easy to shop for.

Can’t he save himself fifteen bucks and skip the disaster?

He’s never understood how he presents a difficulty that isn’t cissexism and a lack of imagination: buy him good thread, expensive coffee, dress socks, a nice mug, food storage containers or fancy kitchenware. He’ll even take a cheap box of chocolates, since his housemates will eat anything should they believe it food. Just get him something that isn’t a floral-patterned bath set followed by the hand-wringing apology that the giver just doesn’t know what to get someone as confusing as Rowan!

Why don’t they ask him what he wants?

He’s over spending money and time on gift exchanges only to receive cissexism, dysphoria or stereotype wrapped in paper and tied with a bow.

Rowan draws a breath and slips his fingers under his thighs. He should have sent Damien an email when Melanie started decorating, but Rowan was thinking about pushing their print date back two weeks and not thinking about Mum’s out-of-nowhere request that Rowan attend the family Christmas. “Uh … Damien? Can I … quick word?”

Why did he get himself a new psychologist? One who says terrible words like assertiveness?

“Give us a minute.” Tinsel rustling, Damien crouches beside Rowan’s chair. “Will here do?”

If everyone overhears, Rowan can pretend he’s talking to one person while knowing they all benefit from his explanation. Besides, going into the meeting room makes this a thing. “Yeah. Um. I … I don’t usually get the right presents from people in gift exchanges. By which I mean ... presents that aren’t a reminder that they think me female, and if they give me enough nail polish and heart-shaped jewellery and glittery handbags, I’ll admit it. I don’t want that? Really don’t want that?”

Why do his parents want to play at being a happy family? Does Mum want to show off to Uncle Keith and his new wife? Have they forgotten how badly last Christmas went? Or is this just more cissexist assumption that Rowan will discard his masculinity when needed? If they behave as though Rowan should fit their expectations, will he—eventually—surrender to them?

I’m not being difficult because I want my masculinity and transness respected. I’m not...

Melanie leans over to poke Shelby’s shoulder, her bright red lips forming a ring.

Damien blinks, hesitating as if he doesn’t know how best to respond. “That ... sounds like my niece’s favourite birthday. Although she took the bag, put one of my sister’s dumbbells inside and swung it at the boy over the road who wouldn't stop calling her pretty. And then made an army of neighbourhood girls wielding heavy unicorn bags.” He shakes his head. “I mean that … you obviously aren’t a certain kind of eight-year-old or into glitter, so...”

If only Rowan had the nerve to do that to Aunt Laura! “I bet he never did that again.”

“No. I’ll make sure … that the person who has you gets you something appropriate.”

Inappropriately-feminine gifts aren’t his only difficulty. Rowan doesn’t how to voice something so complex (to cis, gender-conforming people) about gender and gift-giving without sounding like he’s complaining for the sake of complaining—the demanding, difficult trans man of his parents’ accusations. Most often he endures a cis female celebrity’s latest perfume, but well-intended “accepting” people give him an Old Spice gift set—acknowledging his masculinity at the cost of his personality. How do cis people not chafe at gift-giving traditions that assume people can be reduced down to one of two categories with narrow behaviours and interests ascribed to each?

It’s easier to draw the line at gifts that only avoid being the embodiment of the giver’s cissexism and donate everything else, as much as Rowan yearns for one year with a good present he doesn’t buy himself.

Will cis people ever understand that being trans means holding back on responding to cis nonsense?

“Thanks. Yeah, thanks.”

“Secret Santa slash December Holiday Gift Exchange rules!” Damien straightens, shaking the jar; paper rattles against glass. “Twenty-dollar limit, keep it fun, don’t give anything inappropriate for a professional environment. I want to be eating mince pies, not taking people into the meeting room for discussions on adulthood. We exchange on the last day, December 20.” He reaches into the jar, the neck a tight fit for his hands, and tweezers out a folded piece of paper before handing it to Rowan.

Damien shakes the jar again before offering another slip to Melanie and then Shelby.

Don’t people draw names themselves from the bowl or jar? Nobody else seems concerned by this lapse—Melanie starts laughing when she sees her name—so Rowan shrugs and opens his, deciding it must be normal enough.

The Aro Gods must be inclined to a little seasonal kindness, for he sees “Melanie” written in Damien’s handwriting.

No need to struggle through generic alternatives like food or wine; pride pins will make her happy enough. A pen? A mini aro flag? Choosing may be Rowan’s worst problem, but he can get her a few things and give her whatever’s over the limit after the exchange.

They’re aromantic. How isn’t he obligated to help decorate her desk in as many pride-related ways as possible?

“Rowan!” Melanie bustles over; he quickly slides his paper up his sleeve. She makes metallic jangling noises—words like “ringing” or “pealing” don’t apply—as she moves, thanks to a gold chain bracelet decorated with small bells at each link. Matching earrings dangle from her ears, clinking out of tune with the ones at her wrist. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, hoping she’ll let pass unremarked his description of holiday cissexism.

“Where did you buy your flag patches? I want one. Well, maybe more than one, because there’s the aro flag, and the ace flag, and maybe one of the aro-ace flags, but I haven’t decided which one I like best since there’s several that are nice, and...”

Once-in-a-lifetime inspiration hits Rowan with finger-twitching force. “I don’t know,” he lies once Melanie runs out of steam. “Uh … a friend gave them to me and ... I don’t know where they bought them. Online, probably?” He swallows and tries for distraction, gambling his poor ability for falsehood against Melanie’s likely ignorance. “Maybe look on Etsy? I’d look on Etsy.”

“Etsy? What’s that?”

“Handcraft eBay,” he says in relief, thinking through his thread stash. “Where people sell handmade things. I don’t know when I’m seeing my friend next, but I can ask...?”

He’ll need purples, greens, greys, black, white—oh, and blues! A little orange, a little yellow. Has he enough fabric? What about time? Should he do the main ones first and then others as he can squeeze them in?

On the way home tonight, he’ll start by stopping at his local sewing store.

***

Rowan hits “send” on an email to Damien, ignoring Mum’s latest text, as Shelby bounds up to his desk. Like Melanie, she’s added Christmas T-shirts to her daily ensemble; unlike Melanie, Shelby’s T-shirts appear to come from a department store’s children’s section. Today’s shirt shows a cute-but-scientifically-inaccurate dinosaur in a Santa hat holding a red box. Also unlike Melanie, Shelby hasn’t added earrings, pins, necklaces, bangles or socks in honour of the season. “Yeah?”

Damien added “battery and USB-powered light-up objects” to the List after an office vote provoked by a flashing necklace that resembled miniature string lights.

Shelby whispers, meaning that she speaks in a raspier tone with volume enough that her standing on the other side of a crowded football oval needn’t impede one’s hearing. In fairness, Rowan has heard her speak over a hundred gossiping Year 7 students until they surrendered to the stubbornness of an older woman who doesn’t go to bed caring what they think of her. “Can you go through all the … the identities? Can you show them to me and tell me what colours go with them? Do they all have their own colours?”

Rowan can only sit and gape.

“Please? I need someone to go through them all.”

He lunges for his half-filled mug, hoping his perpetual need for coffee conceals his surprise. “You mean pride flags? Queer pride flags?”

“Please.” Shelby nods, grips his arm and gives a meant-as-comforting nutcracker-like squeeze before lowering her hand to fidget with her phone—a device likely dug up with the fossils from the dinosaur on her shirt. It doesn’t have a cover; he guesses she covered the back with multiple layers of washi tape coated in (yellowing) clear nail polish. He doesn’t ask why. “Maybe you can start with the ones you use, and that one Melanie has, and then tell me the other ones? There aren’t that many, are there?”

Rowan, lukewarm coffee in his mouth and heading down his gullet, chokes.

Several moments of spluttering and coughing, aided by Shelby’s enthusiastic back-pounding, pass before he can answer. “Uh … there’s lots, actually. Lots.” He considers explaining about Tumblr before deciding on the appropriate answer: a thousand kinds of nope. “Do you want gender ones, or sexuality ones, or aromantic ones, or...?”

Shelby’s blank, brow-creased expression shows that, if she read Rowan’s leaflet, his emails and the hand-outs provided by Damien’s trainers, the knowledge hasn’t stuck with her.

(They weren’t better than Rowan’s own and only mentioned aromanticism as a way of being asexual.)

“The ones you and Melanie use...?” She lowers her voice to a point where someone may, in theory, be unable to hear her from the other side of the room. “I want to get Melanie a little extra … something, this year. With a flag, maybe?” She jerks her elbow in the direction of Melanie’s mug, currently filled with something smelling of camomile and dish-water. “But I should know more about the other ones, too. Like yours. Can you show them all to me?”

There’s no way in this tinselled hell that Melanie can’t hear Shelby, yet Melanie appears engrossed in deleting emails.

Last week, Rowan said “aromantic” once to their newest volunteer in a conversation about the pride flags on their website. Seconds later, Melanie materialised from the hallway, passed over one of Rowan’s leaflets and introduced herself as aro-ace before giving a five-point rundown on ways to avoid casual amatonormativity—not that she’s yet comfortable saying the word—in the workplace. There’s no way she’s contemplating the mysteries of her trash folder while Rowan talks to Shelby about aromantic pride flags! Breathing “aro” aloud is now akin to summoning a demon—one revelling in the discovery of the identity that makes belated sense of her life.

“You want me to show you aromantic flags?” Rowan asks to clarify, baffled.

Shelby beams at him. “Yes, please.”

Melanie, frowning, deletes an email.

Did Damien have a word with her? Did the volunteer complain?

Rowan can’t say that he wants to play tour guide through the world of queer vexillology, but Shelby has gone five weeks without saying the phrase “you trans people” and two months without reassuring Rowan on the subject of pronoun-correction. He also knows Melanie and Shelby are friends outside of work, bonding over stage shows and music. If Shelby wants to support Melanie in her aromanticism, how can Rowan refuse?

While Rowan sat there planning the politest way to navigate the glaring error in the trainers’ leaflets, Melanie stood up, exclaimed that aromanticism isn’t the same thing as asexuality and demanded that they do some reading before engaging in “obvious aro denial”. He owes her. She scares him a little, but he owes her.

(Should Rowan master the ability to handle conversations and presentations, he may consider becoming a sensitivity trainer. That two-day workshop, while decent enough on gender and sexuality, left him again concluding that most queer alloros have no idea how to reference and include aromanticism in their conversations about queerness.)

Another Mum-authored text flashes up on his phone, displaying the words “Christmas”, “clothing” and “appropriately”.

No, no and hell no.

“Yeah, okay.” He bends down to grab his satchel, tucked against the left-hand side of his desk. A decent collection of patches and badges now covers the front flap, including his cursed-but-memorable “aro” patch. “That’s the trans pride flag, with the blue, pink and white, and beside it is the bisexual flag. The flag with the greens and black is the aromantic flag, and the allo-aro flag has the greens and gold. It’s pretty much the same as the aro flag, except with yellow and gold instead of grey and black.” He points at each patch as he moves through his explanation. “Allo—allosexual—aromantics are aros who experience sexual attraction.”

He’ll stick to simple definitions with Shelby, even if they lack ideal expansiveness.

Shelby nods, smiling.

“For me, it means I’m aromantic and bisexual. Aro-aces, like Melanie, are aromantic and asexual, meaning she doesn’t experience sexual attraction.” He almost asks her if she remembers what “aromanticism” means before realising that he’ll sound like a condescending primary-school teacher. “This flag with the blues, white and grey is the frayromantic flag, which designates the specific way I’m aro. The flag on Melanie’s mug—”

Shelby leans against his desk, her grey braid trailing over one arm. “So you have an aromantic flag and an allosexual aromantic flag? A special aromantic flag?”

Are they heading towards the sort of conversation that involves anger over “making up” identities outside the speaker’s reckoning of acceptable? Or does she mean “distinct”? “Ah … kind of? The green and black flag represents all aros—Melanie and me. The green and gold one’s just for me, and I don’t use her blue and orange one.”

For the first time in living memory, Melanie pays Rowan and Shelby no attention.

“I see! You want to reflect different types of aro.” Shelby almost says the word without unusual stress; Rowan considers applauding her but decides he won’t risk undermining his point on avoiding excessive overreaction to queer terminology. “Do you ever put the flags together? Like if you want to be both things at once?”

When isn’t he the state of multiple identities at once? Rowan decides she means “represent” instead of “be” and nods. “Yeah? Some people put a heart with the stripes of the aro flag in the middle of the trans or bi flags, but I don’t like that because using a heart to represent us all is a bit … eh. You know, heart, love, love hearts? Lots of people don’t care, though. I’ve also seen folks split them in an image, or have the stripes fade into each other. Like trans stripes fading into aro stripes.”

“And you like that better?” Shelby blinks, her blunt nails tracing the edge of the case. “Would Melanie like that? The aromantic flag fading into another one?”

There’s no way Melanie didn’t hear that—and no reason for her to say silent! Last month she told Rowan and Shelby to get mint chocolate cake for her birthday after walking in on them debating sponge versus cheesecake in the meeting room!

(Sponge, in Rowan’s opinion, is the classic cake format.)

“Yeah. It shows my identities together without using symbolism I find awkward.” Rowan lowers his voice, leaning closer to Shelby. “Melanie will probably go for the aromantic flag fading into or combined with the asexual flag, if you’re doing something with two flags. I don’t think she’d be into hearts, but a split image or fading? That’d work.”

Shelby straightens, beaming, and gives Rowan another firm arm-squeeze. “That’s great! Thank you so much for helping, Rowan!”

“Don’t you want to know more about aro-ace flags...?”

“No, that’s great!” Shelby, heading towards her own desk, no longer attempts to speak at anything not normal volume. “Aromantic into asexual! I’ll remember that!”

As Shelby turns, he catches a glimpse of the cracked screen on her phone—or, more specifically, the movement of her hand as she presses stop on her recording app.

Is that legal? It surely isn’t normal? Or is she an auditory learner, meaning she’ll learn best by playing the recording over … but in that case, why not say so? He could have directed her to YouTube videos and podcasts! Perhaps, though, she only shows her ignorance in digital etiquette, in the same way Rowan took Melanie aside to explain that the use of caps lock for the body of a promotional email violates good manners as much as—more than!—she thinks signing a form in red ballpoint? Should he complain about something suggestive of her willingness to understand him?

Rowan stares, shrugs and shakes his head as a third text pops up.

Sometimes it’s easier to just not ask.

Too bad that can’t apply as easily to family.

***

Rowan stands, yawns and stretches. His lunch half-hour beckons: sunshine spent with food, cross-stitch and a flock of pigeons tame enough to perch on the far end of his bench. Since today involved apologetic emails followed by a contrite phone call to his goddess amongst printers, time free of people feels like looming perfection. Just him, the pigeons, a sewing needle and the homemade pasty he hid from Matt inside a bag of frozen peas.

Any day in which he gets to enjoy his own cooking can’t be too terrible.

Perhaps he should do as his psychologist says: put a chest freezer in his bedroom and a lock on his door.

“Rowan!” Damien, his hair tousled enough to make Rowan think of a woolly mammoth in a sharp suit, carries a plate of something smelling like honey and chicken into the office. “While Melanie’s out, can you show me your mug shop? You said there’s a lot of aro-ace flags, right? Or would she want one like yours, the green one? I don’t get her something like your blue and green shield one, though?” He shrugs and sets the plate down on Rowan’s desk. “My wife’s friends with her sister and we got invited out, but there’s another swap. I don’t want to get her the wrong thing. Do you mind?”

At least Damien does the sensible thing of asking while Melanie’s out on lunch. Maybe this won’t take too long: Damien’s a terrible photographer with unreasonable expectations of Photoshop, but he does know how to buy things online.

“Yeah. Hold on.” Rowan opens up his browser just as his phone beeps. Nope, ignoring that. “I’ll show you what mugs I think she’d want.”

He hadn’t realised how many people here are friends with Melanie outside of work. It must be nice to have a regular social life that isn’t “being at work” and “sighing at housemates”, but there’s advantages in possessing the short holiday shopping list of family, a work gift exchange and a couple of friends. Besides, does anyone want one’s co-workers to know what happens at an outside party?

“Don’t ignore your phone because of me.”

“It’s Dad.” Since Rowan can’t find a pithy or amusing way to explain that Dad’s text message will be a guilt-trip ordering Rowan to come to Christmas for the sake of the family’s happiness followed by a second guilt-trip explaining how much his refusal to confirm has upset Mum, he just shakes his head.

You talked about this with the psychologist. Guilt. Trip.

He made an appointment for the second week of January; he should have made one in December as well.

“That bad?”

He can’t remember the specifics of his rant that day atop the desk, but he must have suggested at an interesting relationship with his parents. “Yeah.”

Did they forget telling Rowan that if he doesn’t like how they treat him, he can leave? They told Rowan that he isn’t welcome while he remains intolerant of them—while I expect them to treat me as I deserve. He left. Now they want him back to smile for the family photos?

What’s worse? Enduring a day of misgendering, deadnaming and cissexism, which shouldn’t result in unknown voyages of horror if he bites his tongue? Or avoiding short-term discomfort while gaining the long-term torment of the family’s schooling Rowan in appropriate Ross respect for blood and holidays? What chance is there of avoiding harassment if he doesn’t go?

Maybe he can leave off shaving for a week before Christmas and turn up with his new, albeit patchy, facial hair while wearing an op-shop debutante gown, so he “dresses appropriately” and “doesn’t confuse the relatives” as requested.

How many truckloads of Valium will he need for that?

“Rowan? Are you okay?” Damien, now sitting on an office chair, peers at him as though waiting for Rowan to do anything more than stare at the computer screen.

“Ugh. Sorry. Just thinking.” Rowan sighs and types in the shop’s name, bringing up their website, and then opens a second tab to another archiving different pride flags.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damien asks in that gruffly-gentle voice, one that makes Rowan want to smash his fist through a window.

“Yeah, no.” Rowan draws a breath and points at the screen with a hand a too trembly for his liking. “So you’re going to want to know what flags represent what, because there’s a drop-down menu where you can choose from different flags...”

It’s easier to talk, easier to run through all the different flags in a depth of explanation Damien doesn’t request, easier to think about something that isn’t family—a subject with complexity enough to distract but without provocation enough to distress.

He doesn’t know if Damien asks questions from curiosity or kindness, but Rowan’s pasty becomes pastry crumbs scattered over his desk and keyboard; Damien’s chicken, half-eaten, sits cooling on its plate.

“So cupioromantic is the one where you want the relationship but you don’t feel romance?” Damien frowns and runs both oversized hands through his hair, now resembling a befuddled bear emerging after a long hibernation. “Why have a word for that? I mean, everyone feels like it isn’t one of those movies and dates anyway, so why specify that?”

“Where you don’t feel romantic attraction but desire a romantic relationship,” Rowan says, telling himself that Damien unknowingly regurgitates the tired “demiromanticism is normal” argument. Isn’t this better than looking at the fifth text message? “Some people need it to be a word. Movies aren’t that divorced from reality. They’re … too easy, too glossy, too perfect, too unrealistic, but...”

He sighs. Not dating brings many benefits, but Rowan has to admit that he misses the fun of falling in love, even if trouble always follows. Misses the fun of dreaming, hoping and fantasising; misses the bright, happy glow of being caught up in someone else. At risk of being considered a bad aro, he likes that glorious limerence pushing him to navigate people despite his gibbering anxiety! In some ways, knowing he’s capable of falling in love over and over feels heady and powerful; amatonormativity more than the nature of Rowan’s frayromanticism bestows difficulty on its aftermath.

I want to fall in love with you ... and after getting to know you, do it again with someone else, all the best bits of romance’s beginning on eternal repeat.

Instead, he avoids dating and the inevitable development of his partner’s hurt, surrendering to a world where his shape of attraction isn’t acceptable or reasonable. Albeit with a trace of bitterness that frayromanticism will be easier to navigate should Rowan not be an anxiety-plagued, bisexual trans man!

Of course, discarding romance makes pursuing his shape of sexual attraction unacceptable and unreasonable...

“How are they real? Nobody just sees someone and falls in love like that—”

“Dude, dude, I’ve fallen in love like that.” Rowan shakes his head and launches into the speech that’s the spiritual duty of any card-carrying aromantic: “Do you fall in love after you get to know someone? After they love you back? Do you know what ‘fall in love’ means to you? Because it’s easy to name all sorts of feelings ‘love’ and think they’re romantic when the world says you have to be alloromantic. It’s even easier to not be romantically attracted and not know! Have you thought about it?”

Damien, his eyes so wide that he reminds Rowan of a zebrafish with a brown wig, shakes his head.

“I swear, alloros like romance movies because while they’re a … a simplified, idealistic version of romance, they’re close enough to what people feel—or think they’re supposed to feel—that they … ring, resonate. They wouldn’t do that if it were complete invention. Just like science fiction isn’t real but talks enough about human experiences to have meaning to human audiences. Unreal, in so many ways, but just real enough. So—”

Damien holds up both hands, palms facing Rowan. “Stop. Stop.”

Now the anxious part of Rowan’s brain realises he’s lecturing at his supervisor in a way no need to avoid thinking of his family justifies; he gulps, fingers trembling. While the office code of conduct doesn’t specify things like unwanted speeches questioning another person’s belief in their romantic attraction, he doubts this acceptable behaviour. “I … shit. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I just...”

Will he ever stop causing a mess at work?

“You’re talking so fast,” Damien says, slow and careful in the way of a man talking to a panicked horse, “that I can’t keep up.” He sighs and runs one hand through his hair. “This isn’t something I thought we’d be talking about! I just wanted to check that everything was right...” He shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound annoyed or outraged. Just bewildered. “Okay. Right. What about all those sorts of things that we think are love? What do you mean by that?”

At some point during the resulting afternoon, Rowan sends an email thanking his printer for her willingness to amend the job queue, ignores his brother’s entry in the competition to provoke the most seasonally-appropriate guilt, and scribbles a note to ask the higher-ups if they’ll spring for a basket of expensive coffee and chocolates sent to said printer.

Damien nods several times, takes dot points on a flyer print-out and the back of the report draft for last week’s holiday event, asks more questions and promises that he’ll remind the higher-ups of their involvement in submitting January’s flyers two weeks late. After eating the rest of his re-heated honey chicken at Rowan’s desk and narrating the story of how his future wife followed him from pub to pub during a crawl for his brother’s buck’s night, Damien concludes that he only experiences attraction for someone after they express attraction for him.

Melanie, having rested her arms on the back of Damien’s chair to overhear the last half of the conversation, gives him a smothering hug and welcomes him to “the quiver” before cackling at Damien’s blank look.

Find a recipro mug, Rowan later scribbles on the bottom of his to-do-list.

At least that job doesn’t involve relatives.

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a-woman-apart · 4 years

Text

I am Bisexual

I am a black, bisexual ciswoman dating a white, straight cisman, and the fact that he is male and straight are not the reason I am dating him, nor are they a reason NOT to. Pretending though, that his labels don’t factor into who he is as a person would be completely idiotic.

At the end of the day, though, we are dating because we share similar values, we are compatible in multiple ways, we respect each other, and we love each other and are committed to making this work. It is true, that as a straight man, he wouldn’t be open to dating me if I were a man, but it is also true that if I were a man, certain aspects of my personality would change, due to a complex combination of nature and nurture that scientists still haven’t figured out.

Also, there are people from both our “communities” (said very loosely) that aren’t down with “The Swirl” which is only something you get to celebrate if you are extremely privileged and quite a bit into eugenics. We each have racist people in our families, and we both get dirty looks on the street when we’re together for different reasons, but hatred is always at the core of the discrimination.

Loving vs. Virginia was passed in 1967, and it is important to note that The Lovings wanted to be left alone and to live in peace, even though their marriage wasn’t recognized by law and it was a crime, even for white women, to give birth to interracial children. The Lovings only took their case to court when they faced racialized harassment.

To me, it is absolutely terrible that in roughly 10 years, we went to celebrating “love is love” to now criticizing people for who they choose to date or how they identify. I can’t tell you how many times on this site I’ve seen bisexual women pressured to identify as pansexual to be “less discriminatory” or told in disgusting tones, “Why date men if you can choose to date women?” as if bisexual and/or lesbian were just things you can turn on and off like a light switch.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the rise of radical feminism and AFAB-nonbinary/transmasculine culture has coincided with poorer mental health for women in our community and also with a HUGE uptick in misandry and biphobia. Even gay men aren’t above being “canceled” for so-called “transphobic” caricatures of women, even though men have been playing women in the theatre for centuries, and now, women can play men, too. #Progressive

Honestly, one thing I will say that guys do better than us women (in general, there are always exceptions) is comedy. Yes, men, as a a general rule, are funnier than us. Men are more likely to make fun of themselves, us, and other people, with no mercy, and I honestly think the women/AMAB non-binary in our community-- either the black or the LGBTQ+ one, take your pick-- need to learn to take a fucking joke. It’s not that fucking serious, but the one thing that ISN’T funny is the hideous biphobia, racism, and backbiting I’ve witnessed online and offline this year.

What makes it even more disgusting, is that while I am including AMABs in my roast, I have actually seen MULTIPLE stories of AMABs being excluded from AFAB offline gatherings (DOCUMENTED ON THIS HERE VERY SITE) in the name of “safety” because they are seen than nothing more than a man in a dress.

So, here’s where I lose some subscribers...if a so-called “man in a dress” is unwelcome in your circles, do you REALLY think you have room to fucking talk when a huge portion of you you skirt the line between male and female because you can’t accept your own femininity? So really, are you really “non-binary” or are you just a scared little girls who can’t grow up?

Of course, that isn’t ALL of you, but when the country (as pointed out by J.K Rowling) sees a 4400% in female to male transition (a lot of it with very young girls becoming AFAB/non-binary, many of whom are taking testosterone) while male to female transition rates remain UNCHANGED, suddenly this isn’t a “trans” or a “non-binary” problem, this is a FEMALE problem. Trans people, prior to this huge upswing, made up less than 1% of the population, and that included MtF and FtM transition rates. These rates had remained steady FOR YEARS, so from a purely mathematical perspective this uptick is a huge statistic anomaly.

For years people on the Right have decried the so-called “feminization of boys”, when in reality the “masculinization of girls” is statistically a far more pressing societal issue.

I didn’t want to get this harsh, but this is concerning as a medical health issue, especially because research from the Scientific American reports that lots of young women who report having gender dysphoria end up not being dysphoric about their gender at all, but uncertain about their sexuality [click link]. If I had a quarter for every time a girl who never felt comfortable with her femininity or identified as asexual or aromantic turned out to “just be gay/bisexual” then I would be pretty fucking rich.

I felt the same way. I felt like I was “Not Like Other Girls” and even though I never felt like a man, I often didn’t quite feel like a woman. It turns out that bisexuality, especially in women, corresponds with certain personality traits (aggression, assertiveness, high sex drive) that have been “coded male.” Gender bias in medicine is still responsible for why we don’t have more studies on lesbian and bisexual women, or on women IN GENERAL. As someone who is concerned about women’s rights and the safety of young girls and women, I think it is a HUGE DEAL that modern medicine still sometimes operates on the false assertion that women are just men without dicks and added baby-hosting parts. The effects of testosterone have been heavily studied, but there is SO much we don’t know about estrogen, including why different amounts of it don’t factor into PMDD, PMS, and other reproductive issues, as much as certain women’s brains and bodies responding to it DIFFERENTLY for reasons not fully understood.

To make matters worse, while disparities in treatment based on race are less marked in other areas of medicine, black women still die in childbirth-- especially in the Southern U.S.-- at much higher rates than other demographics. Bisexual and lesbian women are also more likely than straight women to fear childbirth, which can be a huge source of anxiety for us. Even if we choose to undergo it, our anxiety is often downplayed by health care workers. This fear of childbirth can be seen even in bisexual and lesbian women who love children and strongly desire to be mothers. This, as well as the cost of surrogacy/IVF treatments, has been a reason that same-sex female couples often opt for adoption.

Bisexual women, in particular, are also more likely to suffer mental health conditions and be the victims of male-perpetrated domestic violence than straight women and lesbians are. “Straight-passing” doesn’t really seem to provide a shield from that, I hate to tell you.

The very concept of calling someone out for “passing” in an attempt to insult them actually reeks of jealousy and amazing privilege. In the case of bisexual people, it assumes that hiding an entire facet of our identity doesn’t matter and doesn’t take an emotional and psychological toll, because we can “choose” an opposite sex partner. This ignores the fact that falling in love isn’t based on choice, and that the moment we pursue a same-sex partner, we still have to “come out” if we want to maintain a healthy, open relationship with them.

In the case of trans individuals, it assumes that “passing” erasing the fact that you have biological differences (such as typically being unable to parent children) from cis people that might make you undesirable to certain partners. Also, if you are also “stealth” you risk the chance of experiencing discrimination and/or violence if your identity is “discovered.”

As far as being “white/European passing” this also does not erase the genetic and geographical ties you have to your ethnicity and/or country of origin. It doesn’t change the fact that if people start making racist comments about any of your racial demographics, it still hurts, even if you try to hide it.

#i am bisexual #bisexuality is not a choice #love is love #women's rights #end biphobia #tired of apologizing #hate is hate #no more racism #loving vs virgina #exile #cancel me please #gender dysphoria #AFAB #AMAB #no I'm not pan

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demagogue-fr · 4 years

Text

mad abt some shit that isn’t F R specific at all but I see it a lot in lgbt online communities and it makes me increasingly uncomfortable all the time so idk. a vent. read if u want or don’t idc

I feel like there’s no way to say this without sounding like. Not All Men™ which is not my intent but I know that’s how it’ll be taken anyways. but I’m so fucking sick of going into any and all progressive and/or lgbt+ specific online spaces and being unable to escape literally constant “men are all disgusting and incapable of love and masculinity is inherently evil and gross” kinda content. it’s absolutely constant. I can’t count how many posts I’ve seen that literally boil down to “I wish I wasn’t attracted to men”. in spaces meant to celebrate ur sexuality. frequently as a joke. I’ve seen dozens of posts flat out saying if you’re attracted to men you’re just inevitably going to experience multiple shitty and abusive relationships bc apparently 99.999% of all men are incapable of love or basic human decency and if you’re attracted to men you’re just supposed to. accept abuse as normal I guess bc some jackasses on tumblr told you to. constant causal jokes abt how masculinity is inherently repressive/inferior/unfeeling. it’s fucking sickening and it’s honestly come to a point where I’m uncomfortable being in most lgbt spaces within social media and presumably I’m one of the people those spaces exist for

like I get it people have been through trauma and deserve a place to vent but like. I’m gay and trans and frequently the one (1) place where I should feel comfortable and accepted is the one most loudly screaming everything about who you are is awful and you should be ashamed and you will never be happy bc you and the people you love are all toxic and cruel by nature and I think it’s fuckin gross. there’s literally nowhere that I don’t get pissed on for what I am

anyways I’m a man and I love men. I’m fucking tired. fuck off

#not fr #like I want to stress this isn't regarding anything in particular on fr #it's just sth I see/hear constantly from social media and quite frankly from most of the lgbt ppl I know irl #negative

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tf2canons · 5 years

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Parent Mercs reacting to their child telling them they're trans, and want them to use opposite gender pronouns for them? (You can pick if each individual kid of the mercs is ftm or mtf)

Spy - He’s naturally a very observant man so he had his suspicions already, so when his child tells him that she’s a trans girl he isn’t shocked. He makes sure to listen to everything she has to say, and he can tell she’s very nervous. But when she’s done explaining herself, he’ll simply say, “Alright. Let’s go shopping, then.” Buying her an entirely new wardrobe with clothes that she genuinely feels comfortable in is the best way he can think to show his support. He asks her a lot of questions like whether she wants to grow her hair out, if she wants to wear makeup, etc. It’s very important to him that she knows he supports her completely.

Sniper - When his daughter first tells him she’s a girl, he just stares at her. It goes on for a good twenty seconds to the point she’s starting to freak out a little internally, before he finally chuckles and says, “You know, when you were born I thought I was getting off the hook from having to raise a girl, but I guess not, huh?” He gets up and hugs her, something he doesn’t do too often since he’s not a touchy-feely kind of man. He really doesn’t know how to raise a daughter at all, but he’s proud of her for telling him and he says the two of them can figure it out together. He’ll make a good effort to use the correct pronouns, but he’s not much help when it comes down to her transition because he simply doesn’t know a thing about being a girl. He ends up having to go to outside sources for help, asking Spy about women’s fashion and Medic about medical transition (if that’s something she wants to do). He’s a bit nervous about the whole thing because it’s such new territory but he’ll do anything to help his daughter be who she is.

Medic - He’s genuinely caught off guard. He can be a bit oblivious when it comes to things that aren’t science, so up until that point it hadn’t even occurred to him that his child might be trans. He has to sit down just to process it, but he makes sure that his son knows it’s not a bad shock, just a shock. Once he gets over the initial surprise, he’s completely fine with it. It’s clearly very important to his child, so he cares about it, but he doesn’t see it as a big earth-shattering change. It’s just a change that he sees as part of his child growing up, and part of his job as a parent. It’ll take him a while to get used to using he/him for his son just because he has to break the old habit, but he’s completely supportive. If his son wants to get gender reassignment surgery or go on testosterone, Medic will want to be the doctor to do it so that he can make sure his son is getting the best treatment possible.

Scout - Like Medic, he’s very surprised. He just keeps repeating stuff like, “Really? Are you sure? Geez, I didn’t realize... really? That’s cool- I mean, that’s great, ya know? Whatever you want. Not that you just want to be a guy, I just mean- that’s great-” He has no idea what to say, but he really is okay with it. He reassures his kid that he always did want a son, so this worked out pretty sweet. His gut reaction is to go play baseball with him, because he thinks that’s a pretty manly thing to do and will help his son feel supported (even though they’ve been playing baseball together this whole time). He doesn’t really know what to do or what steps to take, so he’ll just let his son tell him what he wants and he’ll go with the flow. He gets very defensive of his son if anybody misgenders him, saying stuff like, “Yo, are you fuckin’ blind? He’s obviously a boy, dumbass, come on. I think I know my son better than you do, pally.”

Pyro - They immediately start crying, and at first their son panics because he thinks they’re upset with him, but they quickly tell him that they’re just so happy for him to be figuring out who he is and that he trusts them enough to share it with them. Pyro has always been a very accepting parent and was never one to push gender roles on their kid, but they know it can still be scary even if you know your parent will be supportive. They’ll give him a huge hug and go bake him his favorite flavor of cake in celebration. They’re super excited to help him transition, and they’re supportive no matter how he wants to go about it.

Soldier - Since Soldier is such a man’s man, his kid is extremely anxious over telling him she’s a girl. But Soldier accepts it pretty much immediately, without a second thought. It makes almost no difference to him what gender she is, as long as she’s still his kid and she can still snap a neck if she needs to. He would have no problem switching to the new pronouns, and he will very loudly correct anyone who uses the wrong ones. He’ll help her with her transition if she asks and he’d happily pay for new clothes, but he won’t go out of his way to treat her differently. They’re still the same kickass family, which is all that matters.

Heavy - He figured out a while ago that his child was a trans boy, but he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to force his son to come out to him before he was ready. So when his son finally tells him, he just goes, “Da. Is good.” He gives him a pat on the head and that’s that. Since he knew it was coming, he doesn’t have any problem using he/him pronouns. He’ll offer to help his son work out more so he can bulk up and pass better. The only trouble he has is that if his kid wants to change his name to something more masculine, Heavy at least wants to help him choose, since he gave him his birth name to start with and he thinks its only fair he gets to help pick his new name.

Demo - He just laughs at himself for not having realized sooner and he says something like, “Well that’s the shock of the century!” He’ll simply ask his daughter what he can do to make her happy and more comfortable, since that’s the most important thing to him. He’s so proud of her for figuring this out, and he sees it as a wonderful thing they should be celebrating. He’s kind of ecstatic about it, and if his daughter is okay with him telling other people, he’ll keep going around like, “Did you hear I have a daughter? Isn’t that great? Can you believe that?” He’ll want to throw her a big ‘coming out’ party when/if she’s ready for that. He doesn’t normally send out formal invitations for parties but he will for this one because he wants to print cheesy “It’s a girl!” cards.

Engineer - He had thought something like this might be the case, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions. When his kid tells him that he’s a trans guy, Engie sits down with him on the porch for a nice long talk about it. He completely accepts him, but he wants to understand it better, so he asks why he feels that way, how he came to that conclusion, and what he wants to do now that he’s figured that out. He’s a good listener and he’s quick to help his kid work through any problems he has with his gender and his transition. He’ll say something along the lines of, “Listen. I’m your father. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe and happy, and if this is how you gotta be happy, I’m all for it.” He knows how hard this is going to be for his son, though, so he makes sure to make it clear that if his son ever needs help and support, he’s going to be right there for him.

#All #LGBT #parent mercs #I got so emotional writing this asdhskjdfsf #Anonymous

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xxmisty · 5 years

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Funny how someone who made fart fetish porn thinks he has a right to badmouth men

Oh boy, anon, you’ve really overpacked this suitcase, haven’t you??

Look, let’s just start by pointing out that there’s a contradiction between you having respect for my pronouns and yet an apparent prejudice against sex workers. I just don’t get that. Thank you for being more respectful than most and actually using male pronouns here, I think the rest of your message is seriously betraying the kind of person you are. Build on the good. You’re already head and shoulders above most people I know in that respect.

I was trying to work out what could have come across as badmouthing men and I found that two posts about Captain Marvel had come out of my queue. So that’s it. Anon, i’m not badmouthing men. But I will call out toxic masculinity where I see it, and there was a whole lot of it around the launch of that movie. Toxic masculinity hurts everyone, no matter who you are. It’s the kind of attitude that makes men feel they have to behave a certain way or they can’t be true men. As a trans guy that went a long way toward being terrified of coming out, and still goes a long way to not being accepted. It is also a master force behind the kind of behaviour that has left women vulnerable, scared and abused throughout history. I’ve been on both sides of that. I’ve had men roll down their car windows and cat-call me from the age of 14 upward. When I was 13 I took a term of piano lessons and quit because the piano tutor kept holding my hands and asking me if I ‘painted my nails red when I went out at weekends’. I’ve had parts of my body groped and touched in public because someone was drunk, being egged on by their mates or just thought it was their right to do it. I’ve had a z-list celebrity slide his hand into my crotch blaming ‘the train’ with a huge grin on his face. I spent twenty years blaming myself for being sexually assaulted by my cousin’s husband because I was wearing a dress the night I met him. No, not all men are like this, but if you’re offended by someone discussing it then perhaps there’s a reason why. Maybe you see a little of that in yourself.

I’ll reblog posts about captain marvel until my fingers are sore because Brie Larson took so much abuse in the run up to its launch, most of it from a subsection of the population. And i’m not blindly backing it as a marvel fan, nor as a perceived ‘man hater’ - I didn’t think it looked that good from the trailers, but boy was I wrong. I still think the trailers were pretty bad and did the movie a huge disservice. The point is, I waited until I watched the movie to make up my own mind. Brie Larson spoke up on the press tour about how she was sick of looking out and seeing nothing but white men, and a whole lot of those white men took that very deliberately in the wrong way. She spoke of wanting diversity. She didn’t want to look out there and see no white, male faces, she just wanted to see a mix of them with POC and female faces too. You’d have to be extremely over sensitive to take that in any sense other than the one she’d intended it.

People flooded Rotten Tomatoes with negative reviews, days before the movie even came out. They hadn’t seen it, they just wanted to try to make sure that they stopped as many potential viewers from seeing it as they could. And that's why it’s so important to people who aren’t of that small subsection of the population to share the movie’s success. I’m so damn proud of Brie, and of everyone involved in the movie, and of everyone who has stood up for Captain Marvel when in doing so they’ve also opened themselves up to abuse.

The truth is, the world has been run by straight, white, cis men for countless years and that’s starting to change. The world is becoming a richer place for that. We need to hear all kinds of voices, especially as the world grows smaller. Anon, the world has changed more in the last twenty years than it had in centuries before it. But that means the truth is going to hurt sometimes.

I’m white, and i’m learning more about what that means from people of colour who share their experiences, their stories and their views. I understand a little better every day that it isn’t enough just to not be an actively racist asshole and that I need to use my privilege to speak up when I see it happening to others. I need to open my ears and listen to people from different countries, of different colours, of different religions, and hear about the struggles they face every day that i’ll never truly understand as someone born into a white family, in an area where there were very few people of colour as I grew up. I want to learn. I want to listen. I hope that the more POC speak out, the more that we can learn as people who haven’t faced the same prejudice. I’ll still never know what it’s like to walk in those shoes but i’ll be a little more mindful every day of what needs to change and how I can help.

It’s a similar thing existing in a predominantly cishet world. Something I realised recently is that, as much as I know it can take years, decades, sometimes a lifetime to really discover who you are, the cold hard fact is that when I was five years old I knew I wanted to marry a woman and call myself John but it’s taken decades to reverse the programming that a predominantly cishet world tried to write into me. We’re getting there, little by little. The world is changing, but a big part of that is from having the courage to find our voices and share our experiences as people of a gender and/or sexuality not defined as cis and heterosexual. I think trans folk have a unique point of view when it comes to gender wars since we’ve seen both sides of the coin to some degree. I’m just as scared of toxic femininity as I am of toxic masculinity. Both are dangerous and destructive, and they hurt everybody. It’s time they began to die and allowed people to be themselves without a gender-approved bar they have to reach to be a ‘real man/woman’.

Lastly, anon, I would really like you to rethink the way you view sex workers because most that i’ve met along the way have been the kindest, most genuine, most open individuals who work harder than you’ll ever know. Making fetish videos put food on the table, a roof over our heads and bought our boat when we were faced with being homeless. My health wouldn’t allow me to work a job outside the home any more and I wanted to make a living as best as I could. I feel like you would be just as critical if I lived by benefits alone. Plus making videos was a very important step in my own life. It helped me to love a part of myself that i’d always resented and felt ashamed of, and gave me confidence to appear in front of the camera which I could never have imagined some years ago. Plus I made a few wonderful friends that way.

Anon, you have a good heart, enough to not misgender me. I can’t and won’t apologise for reblogging posts that talk about subjects that affect me personally. This is, after all, my blog, and it’s important for people to see how many others have been affected by the same issues. It helps when you don’t feel so alone. If there’s something that triggers you about those posts then perhaps there’s something you recognise in it. This is a really good time to identify what that is and to work out why it upsets you so much. We can all learn to be better people, and listening to our discomfort is a good first step.

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ghostlyfacedream · 3 years

Text

um, good morning. or afternoon here, i guess. it's 1:25 pm. i'm going to start a diary. even if it's not official or fancy or well thought out. even if it's short blips here and there when i have a thought to share. i need somewhere to share, and my hands are too fucked up to write physically in a book, and that would just make it worse. i also know that i need to :post: or :upload: whatever i type because i feel the need to have an audience, to be seen and acknowledged. i know that there isn't anyone out there reading this, but typing it into a post that CAN be seen is different from typing into a doc where i am alone in a empty chamber.

ok, so... i'm hungry. i've been hungry since last night. i didn't eat though. tomorrow we are having pizza. i want to save up for that. maybe just two pieces with garlic dip. mm.

my tattoo is healing nicely. i'm 18. i walked into the shop off the street and asked for one a while back. it's still cloudy but it's been gradually clearing up. most people need 30 days to fully heal their tattoos; given my genetic disorders i wouldn't be suprised if it took double that time, or even triple. i like it, even though i keep getting caught off guard and thinking it's a bug on my arm. i guess that happens when you're so disconnected from your own body all of the time. i forget what i look like, i forget i have a tattoo now, etc etc.

i'm making a new friend at work, i think. their name is cecelia. they're very pretty, like their name - they remind me of a deer with their big brown eyes and gentle demure nature. i like joking around with them. i intrusively feel the need to let them know that i am not hitting on them - i'm incredibly aromantic. i'm socially inept though, and i'd like to have friends, but i don't know how to behave, so i sort of fumble over my lines and shuffle around in a costume that's three sizes too big for me. it's like i missed all of the dress rehersals and then boom, suddenly i'm in a play and everyone knows how to act but i'm flying in with my head in my back pocket.

anyways, cecelia invited me to hang out. and they talk to me about all kinds of personal stuff, like mental health issues. and like i said, we joke around. so i feel like we could be really close, if i don't make this weird somehow. i made them a pair of earrings - during our first week (we got hired on the same day) they complimented my green earrings. i make my own earrings out of little trinkets i find and collect, and one of the kitchsy little things i made was a pair of green clothespin earrings. they said they really liked them, asked me where i got them. so i made them a pair. yellow, which is their favourite color. i'll give it to them next time i see them. i plan on putting a little disinfectant wipe - the ones i use for my shots- in there for them to clean the earrings. covid times, and all that. i hope they like them. i hope it's not weird.

um, i tried to make this blog as ... bland as i could. i don't want to project an identity here. i was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder in 2016 and it makes life really hard. when i made this blog, it had yuri's art as the profile picture, and then that made it feel like HER blog instead of the collective MY blog. we are me. anyways. it's really hard. my identity is never the same. i mean, to some extent, it is; i have distingushed parts... but there's no solid me. i have many interests. i seem like someone who can't make up their mind on who they are. but the truth is, i just am... i'm just many people, and they all have their own interests and qualities and ways of thinking, and it makes interacting with me really really hard. it makes living as me really really hard.

i wish i was normal. i think about that a lot actually. maybe too much, lately. i promised when i started this blog that i wouldn't censor myself. my therapist - ex therapist, rather - said i spend too much time choosing what to omit when i speak to people. she used to say that she could see me picking through my thoughts, choosing which ones to share and how best to word them. i focus more on being presentable than what i have to present. so i needed a place to just spit out everything, uncensored, undevoured. the roast chicken, meat stripped off of it's bones and laid out for the guests - they are starving, there is nothing there.

so here's the first uncensored thought: i wish i was a woman. specifically, i wish i was an endosex cisgender woman. it's distasteful, but i find myself watching pornography and wishing for their soft and supple forms - silky skin, round, curvy bodies. beautiful lips, long hair, delicate hands. i've always been fascinated by drawing the naked form - i suppose there's just an alluring siren's call that i feel in my bones when i see the warmth of a lovely lady radiate from her very being. you see, i was born outside of the boxes. a messy smear. they made a choice when i popped out, raised me girl, gave me estrogen when my body wasn't doing what it was being asked to do. i grew girl, lived girl, tried girl. i tried so hard. you have no idea. i wanted it so badly. swirly skirts and long golden hair and painted lips. - now, i don't believe that these things are gendered. i believe that humans of any shape, size, form or spirit can do whatever they please in the means of self expression. but for me, there was always some underlying PRESSURE of NOT BEING GIRL ENOUGH. i was wanted girl. i had a broad chest, and large hands. i was hairy. i had a deep voice. my feet did not fit into girl's shoes. bits of me stuck out in women's clothing where women have no bits TO stick out. it hurt. it still does. i understand that i have some deeply rooted intersexism that leads me to apply the gender norms to myself, but i promise i don't think that way of other people. which leads me to... why them, but not me? why can other people be fat, hairy, wear makeup or no makeup, wear short skirts or cover every inch of their body - why do i praise and support gender nonconformity, women with beards and facial hair, men with long hair and makeup, shaving or no shaving, dyed pubic hair and jewelry - but when it comes to me, it's not okay? i rejoice in the trans community, femmes with voices as dark as tinted glass, or midnight, or the cat's rumbling purr. masculine entities with curves, and high voices, and typically "feminine" traits, because fuck that, traits are traits, and we can mix and match, and there is no restraint here because we are all living, breathing animals with vibrant souls and a taste for love and laughter. i accept everything. but i'm a hypocrite. my shoulders are too big for dresses. my skin is too hairy. my voice is too low for a woman, too high for a man. clothes do not fit me - men's pants cannot cling to my hips, women's tops cannot fit over my shoulders. i wear bags, or blankets, or nothing at all, hiding away in my room. i don't want to be seen. i don't want to know of the world and it's specifics around what shape my body isn't. my hands are big and clumsy. my chest didn't grow, and then when it did, it was incredibly lopsided. my bones don't even fit me, not sure what sex they belong to, pressing at the seams or curling grotesquely to fit inside my body. the only time i see others like me on tv... we are freaks. we are shemales, or wonders of nature, or abominations. we are hermaphodites, fucked up humans who grew the wrong parts or not enough of the right ones. we are misgendered, or prodded at on fictional doctor dramas and made spectacles, fucked up malformities to be gawked at. they want to guess what is in your pants, how you were raised - did they choose to mulitate you to make you more one way or the other? they want to know what's inside you, what is inside you, what's inside you? testes? ovaries? both? nothing? take it out, or put it in, fill you with hormones to make you normal, we joke about celebrities on the news - are they a hermaphodite? you have a girly face mr bieber, are you a hermaphodite? were you born with a penis, lady gaga? we are fetishized, but disgusting. horrific, and captivating, because people love the boygirl with their androgyny. i hate it. i want to rip my body to pieces. i want to sink my nails into flesh and bone and tear away. i want to throw my organs as far as i can, you failed me, you failed me, you failed me. i want to rip away until i am nothing but a floating concience. i hate it here. i always have.

0 notes

lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Final Game” (Rated PG)

After his final hockey game, Kurt gets stopped on the way out of the rink by a boy who came a long way looking for an important interview. (2465 words)

Part 23 of Outside Edge.

Read on AO3.

“Kurt! Kurt Hummel! Can I have a word with you? Please?”

Kurt looks up when he hears his name being called, rather enthusiastically, from the direction of the front door. Straining against exhaustion to drag his enormous gear bag down the carpeted hallway, he sighs. He’s five feet from the corner that leads to the stupid front door himself, with his Navigator parked just a few feet beyond that.

Close. He’s so close.

The last traces of postgame adrenaline quickly circle the drain, threatening to plunge Kurt into oblivion before he has the chance to drive home and take a proper shower. He downright refuses to shower in the locker rooms at the rink for any reason (barring nuclear fallout, of course). He’s seen those suckers backup during the rainy season. The black, goopy sewage that comes bubbling through those pipes is enough to keep him from ever setting foot in those showers.

He’s been told by Coach Beiste that the rink deep cleans the grout and disinfects the tiles every six months, but he’ll never be convinced that any amount of cleaning gets all that garbage out.

Even after wiping down with an entire box of Yuni shower sheets in the relative safety of the coach’s office and switching into a fresh change of clothes, he can feel latent sweat coagulating on his skin. Ugh! Just the thought of the bacteria that must be seeping into his pores makes him want to retch. But grossed out and tired beyond belief, he still manages to find a smile for the young man bounding his way, dressed in head to toe Abercrombie and Fitch, and waving his cell phone over his head like a beacon to ensure Kurt will see him.

“You’re here kind of late,” Kurt points out, gently setting his bag down. “Everyone else is gone.”

The boy slows to a walk, and Kurt can’t help noticing how clean and unwrinkled he appears for having just watched a hockey game – one that was standing room only before it even began. Kurt isn’t one for stereotyping, but in his crisp, clean, button-down shirt and spotless charcoal-grey slacks, he doesn’t strike Kurt as the ‘hockey enthusiast’ type.

He seems more like the ‘watching an Indie band play at the opening of a new fusion restaurant’ type.

“I know,” he says, “but I wanted to catch you before you went out celebrating.”

“Actually, I plan on celebrating at home, alone, with a long, hot shower and a mug of warm milk,” Kurt says, subtly hinting at the fact that he would really like to get going.

The boy catches on quickly, his bright smile slipping at the corners. “Oh. I’m sorry. I understand completely. It’s just … my name’s Colin Quinn, and I was hoping I could interview you for my paper. I came here all the way from Dayton.”

“Wow. That’s far,” Kurt admits, rubbing his sore shoulder.

“Yeah. I---I waited till everyone else left because I … wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Oh?” Kurt raises a cautious eyebrow. This late in the season, it’s not too unusual to see reporters from the local papers and from the high schools in the stands. But they normally descend immediately following the final buzzer, and they mostly want to talk to Sebastian, seeing as he’s team captain. During his short but illustrious tenure as a hockey player, Kurt has had his picture in the paper once or twice before, but he rarely gets approached for an interview, even on the few occasions when the article centers around him. “And which paper is that?”

“It’s kind of a new one,” Colin says, fidgeting nervously with his phone. “It’s my pet project. I run it, I print it, I circulate it. I also take the pictures and write all the articles.”

“That sounds like a lot of wo—aaahhh-rk.” Kurt yawns – a first of many, he knows. Since he‘s stopped moving, he’s losing momentum, minutes away from falling asleep on his feet. He doesn’t want to be rude to this kid. He did drive over an hour to talk to him, after all. But still, Kurt starts thinking of anything he can do to move this interview along.

“It is. It’s mainly aimed at LGBT+ students on my high school campus.” Colin’s voice lowers, probably out of habit, Kurt assumes, seeing as there’s absolutely no one consciously around to overhear them. His eyes drop, and he starts shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “We don’t have much in the way of readership. I think that maybe some of the kids at school don’t want to be associated with my paper? Because they’re scared? But I was hoping, you know, that by featuring people who are part of our community and kind of kick ass, I’ll get more support.”

Kurt starts to wake up after Colin’s explanation. Aside from being flattered, he knows exactly how Colin feels. He had hoped for the longest time that by being a visible out-and-proud gay at McKinley, he might inspire other closeted gay kids to come out. And that having strength in numbers might benefit them all. Together they could change the political landscape of McKinley High. They could start a chapter of PFLAG on campus, have their own LGBT student union. They’d have a support system, one that could stand united against bullies and discrimination.

They would have a voice, one that couldn’t be ignored.

But it backfired. In the end, all it seemed to do was make him more of an outcast, put a bigger bull’s eye on his back.

He can’t turn Colin away now, not when he’s trying to succeed at something Kurt himself failed so royally at.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Sebastian instead?” Kurt asks, certain that, under the superlative of “kickass”, his boyfriend fits the bill a bit more accurately. “To be honest, he’s the star hockey player around here. The team wouldn’t be half as good without him. I’m really just a glorified EBUG*.”

“I know why you’d think that, but I’ve been following your career for a while now ...” Colin begins to blush uncontrollably “… and I think you’re where the real story lies.”

“And why is that?” Kurt asks, hiding a devious grin behind another serendipitous yawn. Colin’s face goes drastically pale, and Kurt feels bad about putting the boy on the spot – but only slightly. If he’s going to keep Kurt from getting home on the ASAP and passing out for the next twenty-seven hours, Kurt’s going to put him in the hot seat.

“Oh God,” Colin mutters, an anxious chuckle cutting in, “there’s no good answer to that one.”

“It’s alright. I promise, whatever you say, I won’t take offense.”

“Okay.” Colin takes a deep breath, his eyes once again falling as he assembles his thoughts into an explanation that he hopes will sound better out loud than it does in his head. “Well … yeah, so … um … when you read about LGBT people in the media, a lot of times they focus on those actors, athletes, and activists who are … passing …” Colin lets the word linger, eyes rising slowly to assess the look on Kurt’s face, wary of what he might see. Kurt, for his part, keeps his expression impassive, waiting patiently for further explanation, but he knows what Colin is getting at. And as much as he could be upset over Colin’s reasoning, or offended on Sebastian’s behalf, Kurt has to admit that Colin has a point. “Gay men are acceptable if they can be hyper-masculine alpha males. Trans people are okay if they can pass 100% for their gender. Lesbian women are fine as long as they’re model gorgeous, that sort of thing …”

“Yeah,” Kurt says sadly. “I know what you mean.”

“With your boyfriend …” Colin’s face pinches. He knows he’s treading into dangerous territory, but there’s nowhere for him to go from here but forward. If he’s going to be a journalist, he can’t shy away from difficult topics, even if that means possibly insulting people he admires “… I see someone that most people wouldn’t peg as gay in particular because they have a preconceived notion of how gay men look and act. And Sebastian doesn’t fit that. But you … a---and me … even if we were straight, people might automatically assume …”

“I understand,” Kurt intervenes, giving poor Colin a pass from having to explain any further, especially since he’s holding his phone so tight in his hands, the screen might crack.

“Sebastian on the cover of my newspaper, dressed in his hockey uniform, might get me more readers, gay and straight - I’ll admit that. But it won’t have the impact that you will. Not to the kids who really need to see a person that represents who they might see when they look at themselves in the mirror.”

“It’s alright,” Kurt says, putting a hand on Colin’s shoulder when he hears the boy’s voice shake. “I get it. You don’t have to say anything else.”

Colin nods, a pained but grateful smile stretching his lips. “I---I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I only have a handful of questions.”

Kurt gives Colin’s shoulder a squeeze before going back to rubbing his own stiff muscles. “Go for it. Lord knows I need a break from lugging all my stuff around.”

“Wonderful!” Colin stops throttling his phone, switches it to the camera setting, and starts recording. “Okay, well, to start, that was an exciting game! You had that goal covered! I mean, shot after shot, you were on it! It must have taken a lot out of you!”

Kurt yawns again - a long one this time - before he answers. “You can say that.” He laughs. “Figure skating is hard, but hockey is hell on a whole other level.”

“Would you say that hockey is harder than figure skating?”

“Yes and no,” Kurt says, massaging his other arm. “There’s so much technique you need to master in figure skating –required elements, posture, edge placement, arm movement ... Remembering it all can get exhausting! You need to have the grace of a ballerina, the strength of a football player, and the balance of a trapeze artist, all the while knowing that one wrong landing can, at least, end your career, and at worst, injure you for life.”

“That sounds terrifying!” Colin says, snapping a quick picture before Kurt can yawn again.

“It is. You have to be a special kind of crazy to want to be a figure skater, especially for those of us who’ve broken a wrist or a leg and still get back on our blades. But you have to be a special kind of crazy to play hockey, too. It requires just as much strength and skill. The finer details may not matter the way they do in figure skating, but power and agility do. Plus, you have to be able to look ninety places at once, anticipate the moves of a dozen different people, and control your blades all while pushing a puck the size of a small avocado around the ice.”

“It seems like hockey would be the safer sport, though, because you get to wear all sorts of padding and a helmet.”

“Believe me, that helps,” Kurt replies, “but it’s still scary to see three or four equally padded players racing at you at Mach 30 with sticks in their hands, who have no problem knocking you to the ice or flipping you in the air. A few of them even keep tallies of how many teeth they knock out in a single season – theirs and other players’!”

“Yikes!” Colin laughs, more at ease than he’d been a few minutes ago. “That final play though, with you throwing yourself in the way of that forward …” Colin shakes his head in disbelief.

“That was all Sebastian’s idea,” Kurt says proudly. “He pinpointed that kid’s weakness right off the bat and came up with that play. Sebastian is an exceptional hockey player, but he’s one helluva captain.”

“But the goalies pull all the weight, right?” Colin says with a wink.

“That’s right.” Kurt gets the feeling that Colin might be flirting with him. But Kurt doesn’t get any negative vibes from Colin, who’s already acknowledged that Kurt has boyfriend, so he doesn’t let it bother him. The way Colin talks, the way he behaves, the way he dresses, reminds Kurt of Blaine. He thinks Colin and Blaine could even hit it off.

Bearing that in mind, Kurt wonders if Colin is single …

“Still, if that play didn’t go the way he planned, that could have put you out for not just the next hockey season, but figure skating as well.”

“True. But I didn’t have to do it. He gives me the option to decide how much risk I want to take. He knows what’s at stake. It was kind of a harebrained and gutsy move, but then again, that describes Sebastian to a T. I think he was trying to make my final game one to remember, you know?”

“It definitely was that. It’s great that you guys have that kind of relationship.”

“We do have a great relationship. But Sebastian cares about his entire team. We’re not mindless pawns to him. He doesn’t force any one of his players to do something they’re uncomfortable with. He always keeps a plan b and c up his sleeve, and they’re equally as brilliant as plan a.”

Colin glances nonchalantly left and right, as if he’s expecting someone else to join them. “So, where is Sebastian? Is he out celebrating with the team?”

Kurt’s shoulders stiffen up again at the mention of his boyfriend. “No,” he grumbles, and thumbs behind him to the gear bag he’s been pulling. Colin peeks over Kurt’s shoulder and snickers. There, lying on top of Kurt’s bag, which is larger than most considering the size of the pads in it, is Sebastian, curled into the fetal position and knocked out cold.

“Does that happen a lot?” Colin asks. He raises his phone to snap a photo of Kurt’s sleeping boyfriend, but waits for Kurt to give him the ok, which Kurt does with a jerk of his head that could be best translated as be my guest.

“It’s about 50/50, to be honest.”

“You’d think he’d help you out, seeing as you were obviously the MVP of this game.”

“Yeah, well, you said it yourself,” Kurt says, bracing himself for the moment when he’s going to half to lift the handle to his gear bag and roll Sebastian’s ass out to his SUV, “goalies pull all the weight.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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cinelikeme · 7 years

Text

Butches are Disappearing

https://youtu.be/ryUktDRu15k

The Argument

I’ve had many people tell me that they’re sad that butches are disappearing and that this is just another way to “convert us into heteronormative boxes.”

00:13 Physical Transition and Bodily Autonomy

I have some fundamental core values which I will not compromise. One of these values is bodily autonomy. As long as you aren’t harming anyone else, you can do what you want with your body, because it’s yours, no one else should tell me what to do with my body. Trans-exclusionary feminists seem to have this idea that transgender people are influencing butches to transition. I have never in my life seen or heard anyone telling anyone else to transition. Ever. You know what I have heard, plenty of trans-exclusionary radical feminists telling people not to transition. When a community tells a group of people what to do with their own bodies, that sends up major red flags for me. Now I know I said “as long as you’re not harming anyone,” and I understand that some people think transitioning is harming oneself, now this is arguably subjective, but at the end of the day, look I’m good and healthy, not in pain right now yay me.

I’m still butch. I’m not “disappearing,” I’m not going anywhere. I will never be heterosexual, I will never be straight, I will sure as hell never be heteronormative. You know what /is/ sad, is that my period almost killed me, twice. Because of the body I was born into, I could have been wiped off the face of the planet far too early, all for a set of organs I will never ever use for anything. And whenever I tried to address this, medical practitioners made it all about future babies and preserving fertility. That’s what’s really fucked up. My diction for top surgery was made partially because of gender reasons, partially because of non-gender medical reasons. Anti-trans feminists seemed horrified that I removed “perfectly healthy body parts,” but mine weren’t perfectly healthy. And also even if they had been, there would be a higher chance that one day they wouldn’t be. Now I don’t have that concern. Additionally this rhetoric doesn’t take into account the wonders that surgery for the right person can do to their mental health. There were a lot of factors that contributed to my choice; no decision is ever made in a void.

02:08 Peer Pressure

I see so many TERFs talk about butches being “pressured” into taking T. I don’t know who these people hang out with, but that isn’t safe, it isn’t nice, and it sure as hell is neither my experience nor does it reflect the ideologies of the community as a whole. I have never seen or heard of anyone being pressured to take hormones. While I have heard many trans people and medical practitioners to caution people and to tell them to take their time and really think about things before making any irrevocable decisions.

Anti-trans people advocating for the “preservation of butches” talk about how the transgender movement “pressures” butches into transitioning. The only pressure I have ever felt from anyone in regards to transitioning, has been the deliberate and consistent pressure from anti-trans people to not transition in any way. I have never felt pressure from any trans person, association, or movement, to transition. In fact I have felt very rigid forms of gender and sexual policing within lesbian spaces (Wear a push up bra or a sports bra, but never a binder. Date femmes, not butches. Be monogamous. Don’t date trans women, only date cis women. Dating someone double your age is unacceptable and frowned upon, even though you’re well into your twenties and a mature adult who can make their own decisions. You have to love your breasts, you have to love your period and bleeding with the moon, even though both these things clearly make you miserable. Even some old-school lesbians have said that using a strap-on means that I want a penis, and that the only “real” lesbian sex is without any toys.) A while ago, before I really identified myself as non-binary, I went out to a lesbian bar, and the lesbians thought I was a man, as though I can be butch, but not /too/ butch. Here’s another example, I am butch, and I am attracted mostly to other butch people, sometimes femmes but less frequently. But after a few times of hitting on butches in lesbian spaces I learned very quickly that that was not ok. Butches would react to me the same way a homophobic straight man might react to a gay man hitting on him, they seemed repulsed, they didn’t just politely reject my advances, they seemed incredibly offended that another butch would find them attractive, as though I was “threatening their masculinity” or something. In my eyes that kind of behaviour reenforces the heteronormative (homonormative) binary way more than taking hormones does.

Ironically- or perhaps not at all so- I have found far more acceptance for alternative modes of being and modes of desire in trans spaces than lesbian spaces. I have always felt and received such unconditional acceptance from the trans community.

04:40 The Trans Cult

I also see a lot of TERFs refer to the trans movement as a cult, yet a defining feature of a cult is cutting off social ties with people outside of the cult, and conforming to the cults standards of being. As I said earlier, I have received far more pressure from lesbians to conform to a certain standard and to be a certain way. All the advice I’ve gotten from trans people is “You do you. Figure out what you want to do with your life. Don’t make decisions to quickly, take your time. Find support people outside of the trans community.” None of this is cult-like behaviour. And it seems to me that to this certain group of anti-trans people, you can’t question your gender, you can’t have that freedom, they seem vehemently against people having trans friends, I’ve seen them actively trying to persuade people not to transition. Their behaviour reminds me of the Christians standing on the side of the street handing out gay conversion therapy leaflets to queers walking by.

05:39 Being Butch and Trans

Much academia supports the idea that Butches have always been trans. That’s not to say trans men, or that butches are interested in what we understand today as ‘transitioning.’ But that the concept of being transgender has often and largely incorporated gender non-conforming people. This also highlights the fact that they aren’t necessarily two distinct categories. See Ivan Coyote, Leslie Feinberg, Jack Halberstam, these people are butch and trans.

06:13 Forgetting Butch Trans Women

The other problem with this argument is that you refuse to acknowledge that butch trans women exist too. (List a few: Ricki Wilchins, Jo-I-Dunno, and I know a few wonderful butch trans women personally who I’m not going to out here). So you may feel like you're loosing some butch women because they come out as trans women, but some other people are trans women who are butch lesbians, and if you refuse to acknowledge that they are women too then you’re transphobic plain and simple. And if you acknowledge that they are women, but that you would never date them and so don’t count them in your pool of eligible butches, then you’re looking at butches as objects for your own sexual gratification, and that’s really fucked up.

As a side note, there’s been this conversation going around about if you’re a lesbian and a trans woman discloses that she has a penis, and you choose not to have sex with her or date her any more for that reason, does that make you transphobic? The answer is no. A lot of TERFs seem to think that trans people are saying they have to fuck women who have penises or else they’re transphobic. No, no one’s saying that, in fact I’ve never ever seen or heard a trans person say or write that. You don’t have to have sex with someone you don’t want to have sex with, plain and simple. Consent is mandatory in all things.

But plenty of trans women have had genital surgery, and saying they’re not women, because of their assigned gender, is a shitty thing to do.

07:43 Attacking the Wrong People

Many studies on young trans kids show that social transitioning results in less feelings of depression. TERFs saying it’s because gender nonconformity is punished, and by transitioning the TERFs assume that the trans person if now being celebrated because they’re adhering to gender norms. While trans activists say that young trans people having access to early care is going to be wonderful for the future mental health of the trans community because, puberty is bad enough, imagine going through the wrong one. It seems to me that regardless of which of these is true, attacking trans people is not the answer, it’s not productive. If you’re worried that gender nonconformity isn’t being celebrated enough, then by god celebrate it! Amplify the gender nonconformity you have in your own life. Also knowing the trans people I know, they’re a lot more likely to buck the gendered expectations of their gender identity once they feel comfortable in the amount they’ve transitioned, because they’ve already had to put up with that bullshit once.

08:42 Detransitioning/Trans Regret

Some people regret transitioning. It happens. Of course it happens. For a variety of reasons. Do some people wish they’d never transitioned, yes. Are those people a large proportion of the people who transition, not at all. Does that mean we shouldn’t talk about it, no. But does that mean that we should stop everyone from transitioning because some people are sad that they did, of course not.

The stories I hear from people who detransitioned were:

They felt they had to make a decision quickly because they weren’t given breathing space to identify as ‘gender questioning’ for a while- hey you know what places don’t let you identify as gender questioning? Anti-trans spaces that’s where.

Trans and depression. Talk about transition as seeming exciting, depression is not looking to end it, it’s looking for change. If gender becomes more fluid and transition becomes normalised I believe it wont appear as an appealing out for people with depression trying to figure out how to fix themselves.

I must stress these two examples are a tiny percentage of an already tiny population. Statistical outliers, whose needs must be addressed, yes, and whose stories should be told, yes, but do not for a moment pretend that they represent a majority of experiences.

10:46 Feminism

Kids asking about gender. “Are you a boy or a girl?” When you let them know there are other options, you expand their world view. I love the idea of embodying a hormonal and surgical middle ground as a visible representation of possibilities outside of a strict gender dichotomy. Surely this can only be good for the deconstruction of harmful gender ideologies, which must be overall a positive thing for feminism.

11:15 I Love Butches

Visibility is important. But the things is, if someone who I thought previously identified as a butch cis woman comes out as trans, I’m not loosing anything in life, I’m not left here with a gaping hole in my heart. There are plenty of other butch role models for me to look to.

11:34 Afterword

It’s interesting too, I feel, that some older trans folks are worried that the increased availability of puberty blockers to young trans people, and the vast resources that allow children access to gender clinics, means that in future trans people are going to be less visibly trans. That more trans people will pass as cis, and visible trans people will start disappearing. This anxiety that the anti-trans lesbians have about butches disappearing is echoed across the LGBT communities. Gay men are worried they’re loosing men to transition, lesbian women are worried they’re loosing butches to transition, visibly trans people are worried they’re loosing young trans people to cis-passing privilege, bisexuals have never been visible so they aint worried about shit, and also many bi and pan people love people of any gender so they don’t seem too invested in this weird sexual and gender puritan ideology. The general theme is is that LGBT people seem to be worried about queer visibility being on the decline, but more people than ever are coming out as LGBT.

I myself am concerned for the future of lesbians, shunning their trans friends and allies and committing in-group fighting within the LGBT community; that is how the real enemy wins. That is how the conservatives get us. They divide and conquer.

Links: http://www.handsomerevolution.com http://www.butchwonders.com/blog/our-25-most-powerful-butches http://www.pinknews.co.uk/2016/10/05/record-numbers-of-young-people-are-coming-out/   Note: Yes this content doesn’t lend itself too well to a video format, it would probably be better as a written article. But this is my forum and mode of delivery. I’ve had enough of anti-trans lesbians attacking me, or trying to “save” me, which is incredibly condescending and erases the years of research and soul-searching (I actually prefer soul-creation) I have done. So I wanted to put all my thoughts down into a (big) “bite sized” chunk here to direct them to when they start to vomit a world salad at me.   There are a couple more arguments that I had had hurled at me that weren’t addressed here:  Equating trans gender people with “transable” people- apparently able bodied people who deliberately become amputees or blind themselves. My transition has not made me reliant long term on ability aids or other people’s help. I am just as physically and mentally capable as before so your argument falls short. It makes no sense.

TERFs arguing that the statistics of the murder rate of trans women is fabricated or exaggerated. Many trans women do get murdered just for being trans women. I personally have never quoted any numbers, fabricated or otherwise. And whether or not that is true, does not invalidate my identity. (I mean, I’d actually be glad if it weren’t true, that would mean less trans people were getting killed and that my life would actually be safer.)

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ouraidengray4 · 7 years

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What It’s Like Being Trans and Pregnant

The author, in the pool with a pretty adorable companion.

Last year, I made an appointment to talk to my priest, Father H., and nervously told him my deal: I’m transmasculine, which means I can’t lay claim to being either a woman or a man; I’m somewhere in-between. But aside from getting an undercut haircut and slimming down, my transition has been mostly spiritual and personal, not physical—hormone treatments and surgery don’t interest me because they wouldn’t affect my ability to embrace and love myself. They wouldn’t make me happier.

For me, coming out helped me to settle into my chromosomally female body. Until then, I’d spent 27 years locked in combat with my body. I wished that being feminine and being happy weren’t at odds with each other, and hoped that wearing my makeup the right way would make me into a Real Woman. But I was trying to shove myself into a woman-suit without success—because I’m simply not a woman.

When coming out to my friends and family, I felt a sense of obligation to reassure them that very little about my transition was going to affect them, but the stakes were somewhat higher with my priest: I was coming out to Father H. in preparation to have my marriage blessed in the Church.