#i have More gender affirming surgery today and have a few days off so i am ready to aggravate my rsi in the name of my Renewed obsession

[iressails]

To my followers I'm not sorry for the descent to frankentim / hlots hell over the last day. Long dormant it has surfaced full throated and full blooded and I'm going to attempt the frankly stupid to borderline futile effort to gif 300mb episodes this weekend

[jenny-in-a-jar]

🌈 2 Days Until my Surgery 🌈

(Picture taken June 8th, 2024)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I'm obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ I finished up most of the story yesterday so today I'll queerness bc it's pride month under the cut! 🌈🌈🌈

But you can read through my journey starting here

First, let's talk about this outfit. Yes, I bought the shorts and top at Spencer's and honestly you can easily find someone who matches it at a large enough pride event. But, it's hard for me to not be sentimental about it. Especially since I wore it at least once the last three years.

(Pictures taken June 11, 2022 and June 10, 2023)

And you can see how it and I have subtly changed these last three years of my transition. (Too bad I didn't have for my first year of transition but such is life 🤷‍♀️). And every year I get excited to wear it again!

Because being queer means a lot to me. I wasn't one of those people who always knew they were queer. But, I never felt connected to my cishet peers either. It's odd looking back and thinking about how my normal group of friends were cishet but at things like summer camp and then college I would quickly make friends with queer people. I really wanted to be like them but couldn't know why because I felt like I didn't deserve to be as cool and free as them.

But, when I let myself dive head into queerness I finally realized that I queer people are mostly awkward nerds and all of them just want to live their lives as fully honestly themselves. And that I could relate to. And that's what made it easy for me "to rip off the band-aid" and transition. It's what let me walk out into a world where I knew I would get hateful stares because I knew I wasn't alone. And seeing how other queer people's eyes light up when they see me showed me I made the right decision because I made them feel less alone too.

And making friends in the queer community is so much easier than in the cishet community. Because there's a lot more likelihood that they'll understand your awkwardness and admire your weirdness. I said earlier that I had gone to a few house parties and actually enjoyed myself for the first time. I think the best way to show why is this anecdote. I remember being in this circle of people standing around awkwardly silent and then someone said "I'm autistic and house parties make me uncomfortable can someone start talking?" and someone replied with how they felt the same way and how they felt the same way and then a conversation started about how hard parties are and social interactions in general but we were glad to be here and to try to connect with people.

And I love studying queer history a lot. Mostly because I'm curious how I would fit in to a time/culture in history. But also I love seeing how we don't fit in existed and how society understood our non-conformity. We have always existed. Queerness is part of the human condition.

The queer community is far from perfect. We all come from very different backgrounds and often have biases we need to work on. But, it's worth it to carve out your place in the community and to find people who understand and support you and to reciprocate for them. Because the alternative is being alone.

And we all deserve to feel loved, in whatever form you need. And because I'm feeling sentimental so here's a picture of me and my love 🥲

(Picture taken June 8th, 2024)

I have one last update before my surgery tomorrow where I'll look towards the future ✨

Next part

[pteroducktyll]

FtM Hysto Recovery + Tips (Plus general tips for dealing with low/no spoons or recovering from any surgery)

I haven't been on Tumblr for years, but recently re-joined to check out art, as I start to work on getting my idea for a graphic novel off the ground (as well as getting serious about improving my art again). However, I'm hoping these first few posts get found by an entirely different audience. This is being written in 2023.

I'm going in for a laparoscopic hysterectomy on Thursday (today is Monday) and want to share my experience, as much as spoons will allow, so that other people can hopefully benefit in the future. I, personally, have struggled to find things online that fit my situation as a trans man with a history of pre-cancerous pap smears, abnormal bleeding, PID and ovarian cysts (but not PCOS). Although hysterectomies for "GRS" or gender affirming surgery purposes are easy to get where I live, mine in particular is primarily being done to avoid cancer and to stop the abnormal bleeding and random debilitating pain that comes out of nowhere every few years and upends my life for weeks/months. So if you're someone facing the prospect of a laparoscopic hysterectomy, regardless of your gender identity, and have a history of medical issues (but not PCOS or endometriosis) in your reproductive region, this blog may help you! Or, alternatively, if you're a trans man looking to get a laparoscopic hysterectomy, whether or not you've had issues in that region, this might help you, too!

It should be noted that this is written from the perspective of someone in their 30s with a complicated medical history, including Type 2 Diabetes and a very rare kidney disease (which has an average life expectancy of 29 years for men, but we aren't sure how it affects trans men), so the pre-surgery process I've been through is not the typical one. I also have chronic pain and know from my past experiences with very severe pain that a) I have a low tolerance for any pain beyond what I deal with day-to-day and b) I have a high tolerance for opiate pain medication, which means it takes a higher dose for me to address the level of pain that a lower dose would address in someone else. These both affect the length of time that I'll likely need to be on painkillers, and how functional I'll be while I'm on them. This, in turn, affects how quickly I'll be able to do things like return to work and driving.

I should also note that although it's common in some places for this surgery to be completed as day surgery, my jurisdiction almost always keeps people in overnight; this is because it takes almost 24 hours for the anesthetic to work its way out of your system, and until it does they won't have a true indication of your pain levels and, therefore, won't be able to make sure it's adequately controlled before sending you home. It's much easier (in my experience, and according to the doctors!) to stop you from having pain in the first place than to get it under control once you do.

Also, I live with my partner and a roommate, and my retired parents are about 90 minutes away and have a guest room. My support network isn't huge, but it's high quality. My partner managed to get 3 days off work for my surgery and the 2 days following, and after that is on a light workload for about a week in case she needs to take care of me. She also has a lot of flexibility with her job, and her boss really likes me, so if there are complications or she needs to spend more time at home to look after me, I don't think it's completely out of the question. All of this is to say that I'm going into this surgery from a very privileged place, in terms of not having to do much to look after myself in the aftermath. My surgeon did advise me, however, to take 1 week (for sure) off work if I could, and that I may need a second week. My work consists of two research jobs that draw heavily on my brain power, but don't require me to move around at all, especially as I work from home, so the issue is the painkillers, rather than actual healing time. Other jobs will require different amounts of time off work.

Because I'm neurodivergent and like to have as many details as possible about ... literally everything, I'm going to make this as detailed as I can. Essentially, I'm hoping to share everything I know and experience without leaving anything out. If it's too much detail for you, I'm going to be doing my best to include useful headers.

Notification of Surgery & Lead-up

I received notice about my surgery just over a month before my surgery date; it was around June 26th that I was emailed and told my surgery would be on August 3rd. I had previously met my surgeon in January, and was told it would be a 6-8 month wait until surgery. Between that appointment and being given my surgery date, I'd had bloodwork done, as well as an internal ultrasound. I've had several internal ultrasounds before and while they are far from pleasant, they are not as dysphoria-inducing for me as they are for other trans men, I'm sure. I am more physically uncomfortable during them than mentally/spiritually uncomfortable.

In the notification email, my surgeon sent additional attachments; about 200 pages of information from a) their office specifically and b) the health authority [one document about hysterectomies, one document about recovering from surgery in general]. These documents answered most of my questions, and also had instructions about fasting, pre-surgery instructions (there's a special sponge I have to buy and use the night before surgery and the morning of surgery) and recovery information. The documents were very generic, and because they came from different sources, the information was sometimes contradictory. I, personally, took the information on board in this order of trustworthiness:

Things my surgeon had said in-person during my consultation appointment in January

Things included in the information from my surgeon's office directly

Things included in the documents from the health authority

If there were contradictions that seemed extremely important (e.g. one document said to wash everything my face with the special sponges, while another said, in all caps, to absolutely NOT wash my head or face with the sponges), I followed-up with the surgeon's office or the most appropriate person (e.g. pharmacist).

Pre-surgery Appointments

Because of my medical history (diabetes and Alport's Syndrome), I had an extra step in here. My surgeon required me to have a consultation with my internal medicine doctor's clinic (but not with my specialist) to get the all-clear and make sure my risk level wasn't too high. This doctor made some assumptions about the medications I'm taking, which led him to think I had both diabetes and a heart condition, which would have put me in a much higher risk category. Because of that, he ordered extra bloodwork, and an ECG, and booked a follow-up with me for a few days later. That initial appointment with him ended on the assumption that the surgery likely would be postponed. However, the bloodwork and ECG all came back fine, and at the follow-up he gave me the all-clear and said my risk wasn't very high at all.

I had a few other pre-surgery appointments.

One was with the surgeon. In my case, the doctor actually doing my surgery is a resident colleague of the surgeon I initially consulted with. Now that I had a specific date for the surgery, and my life situation had changed a bit since the consultation (e.g. work), I asked to meet with the surgeon to ask questions that had come up since the initial consultation, and so that I could meet the person who would be cutting into me and make sure I was comfortable with her. She answered all my questions really well, and it turned out I was more comfortable with her than the original surgeon. This was a quick 5-10 minute talk, but I highly recommend asking for it, even if your surgeon hasn't changed. You'll have another chance to talk to your surgery just before being wheeled into the OR, but you'll be nervous and may be medicated by then, and it's just nice to have this conversation ahead of time and in an environment where you can look at a list of questions you've written down, and actually pay attention to the answers.

The hospital required another two appointments before surgery:

The pharmacist

About a week before my surgery, the pharmacist called for 5-10 minutes to discuss my current medications, supplements, vitamins and holistic medicines (if I were taking any) and to find out what time of day I take them at. Easy peasy.

2. The anesthetist

Exactly a week before my surgery, the anesthetist called to discuss the operation itself and the anesthetic. I'm not sure if the doctor I talked to will be the anesthetist who is actually in the room with me, or if it was just her job that particular day to call and get the information that will get passed onto the one who will be in the room. She was very nice, and explained the method of anesthesia, as well as how I'll likely feel when I wake up, etc. She also saw on my chart that I have a history of chronic pain, and zeroed in on my back and shoulder. She asked if there are any positions that make me more comfortable, and then explained the position I'd be in for my surgery -- tipped back toward my head -- and that this sometimes gives people back and shoulder pain even if they don't have any to begin with. She said my arms would be alongside my body, fairly tight to it, and I said that would be fine. I practiced laying them beside my body later that day and promptly discovered that's actually pretty painful for one arm, but I'll mention that when I get there and hope for the best! If I was having the conversation again, I'd answer by saying I wasn't sure how that would feel but that I'd practice it before the surgery day to see, and then ask who I could talk to if it turned out there's a better position or if that one wouldn't work. Ultimately though, the surgery should be 1.5 hours to 4 hours at most, so I'm not overly concerned. What you should take away from this if you're having this surgery and don't already have back/shoulder pain is that you might wake up with some, but that it should go away in a day or maybe a little less. This type of surgery also requires the surgeon to inflate your belly with gas in order to make room for the scopes and so that they can see what they're doing. That gas can stick around for a day, sometimes two, according to the anesthetist and can be a little bit painful or uncomfortable. I can't remember anything else that came out of this conversation.

In terms of pre-surgery appointments, that was it.

Tips and Tricks for Being Prepared

The next little bit is information I acquired through talking to my therapist (who's had several laparoscopic surgeries!) and many hours of research online, as well as living as a person who often has few spoons.

Get your first 1-2 weeks of meals planned and ready in advance. For me, this means I've picked up a large number of cans of Alphaghetti-type foods, and I'll be buying as many frozen meals as I can but have VERY little freezer room because my partner and I share with our tenant. Other options include things like HelloFresh, identifying nights when it will be easier for your partner if you order food in (if you can afford to), making big batches of food leading up to surgery while you're well and then freezing them, creating a list of meals you'd appreciate friends bringing over [remind them to bring them in disposable containers, so you don't have to feel guilty when it takes you weeks to get the containers back to them!], etc

Buy some Depends/adult diapers. I bought store brand (Life brand, specifically, which is Canadian) ones. The only ones I could get were maximum absorbency unless I wanted to pay twice the price for name brand ones, but I suspect I could do with a minimum absorbency one. I bought the underwear-style ones. In the store brand, they don't look very underwear-like at all, but if you have more money to spend, some of the name brand ones look convincingly like underwear! I also bought 'Unisex' ones, but would have bought womens if the unisex ones weren't an option; I suspect the mens' might have a built-in bulge area that would be awkward for me. The point of the adult diapers is that their 'waistband' is not a traditional waistband -- it's about 8" tall, very thin, and crinkle-cut so that it doesn't put pressure on your skin. This will stop you from having clothing pushing on your incision sites. BONUS is that they ARE absorbent, so you won't have to also wear pads to deal with discharge (which can, apparently, last for 6 weeks). Try the Depends on for a day a few days before surgery. Yes, it will be awkward and you'll feel silly. I am literally sitting in bed, with nothing wrong with me, wearing nothing but an adult diaper and a tee shirt while my partner's at work. But this has 2 purposes: 1) chances are you haven't worn these before, and you want to make sure you've got the most comfortable ones you can in terms of fit and style; 2) if you've worn them once already, it'll be familiar when you go to put it on when you're ready to leave the hospital; you'll know which side is the back and which side is the front, and the 'weirdness' of wearing them will be less unsettling. You're going to have other weird stuff going on, this doesn't have to be yet another weird thing happening!

If you live alone or your partner doesn't (or can't) change the sheets, layer sheets on the bed. That's right, layer your mattress with bottom sheets. That way, you can peel the top one off and have a cleaner sheet beneath it. It won't be the same as being able to sleep on a fresh, clean sheet straight out of the cupboard or dryer, but it's going to be better than the one you've slept, sweat or, universe forbid, bled on.

Get a LEAKPROOF (truly) travel mug with a handle. After surgery you'll have maybe one comfortable position to lay in. You're not going to want to get out of that position to retrieve your water, but you're also going to need to be drinking a lot of water (it helps you recover, and also helps get your bowels moving again). Being able to lose your water in the bed is a luxury, but a necessary one. I got mine at Winners for pretty cheap.

Get a nightie or onesie. I usually sleep naked. I don't really own pyjamas -- when I need to cover up to sleep (like when I visit friends or travel), I throw on a pair of joggers, or boxer briefs. But those both have waistbands and, remember, we're trying to avoid waistbands. I ordered a sleep shirt from Oodie, which was on sale, but still expensive (I paid around $60, including 1-2 business day shipping because I didn't think of it until the last minute), as well as a halloween one-sie from Old Navy that's apparently leftover from last year's halloween stock. I'm expecting the onesie to be way too hot, but I need something I can wear out in public in case I have to get groceries, or pick something up at the pharmacy, or stand outside because the building's burning, without exposing myself. I also borrowed a robe to go over the sleep shirt when I leave the hospital.

Have whoever's picking you up bring 2 pillows. One goes between your abdomen and the seatbelt, and you sit on the other one.

Have whoever's picking you up bring fast food. When you leave the hospital you're going to either be ravenously hungry or feel like you never want to eat again. Either way, fast food is going to be the one thing you didn't realize you needed so badly in your life until that moment. Your body's going to be craving carbs and fat, and fat is also what's going to help your pain pills kick in.

Have ice cream, chips or other junk food on hand. This is mostly so that you have something to eat when you take your pain pills. Fatty foods help opiates work faster; as someone who takes them several times a month for chronic pain, I've sometimes noticed a difference of -hours- between taking them with fatty foods and taking them on their own.

Get a walking aid. We use our abdomens for everything. If you don't already have something like a cane, pick one up. Keep the receipt though; if you don't end up using it, you can usually take them back. With that said, my therapist said it's at about the 2 week mark when you feel like you actually need one. If you don't have a cane but you have walking/hiking sticks, dig them out and keep them handy.

Grab some baby wipes. You can get laparoscopic incisions wet, but that doesn't mean you're going to feel like you have the energy or endurance to shower right away. You're still going to want to keep your pits and bits clean.

If you take daily medications, organize them in a pill organizer. Things can get confusing when you're on painkillers, or when a partner is dishing out your meds. You know exactly how many you take, and how often, so the best way to approach this is to get a pill organizer and get all your doses for a week ready before your surgery. Monday AM, Monday PM, Tuesday AM, Tuesday PM, that kind of thing. There's nothing worse than being on painkillers and trying to remember if you've already taken That Very Important Medication You Can't Miss or not. Or, worse, not even realizing you've missed something that can give you withdrawal symptoms, and suddenly waking up a few days after surgery feeling worse than you've ever felt in your life and wondering if you need to go to the ER, only to have it turn out that you missed your meds.

Buy something for yourself that you can look forward to. I bought a video game that I've wanted for a couple of years that was finally on sale. I haven't touched it, and won't until sometime after surgery when I feel up to it. Giving yourself a little reward when you're going through something hard is always nice.

If you're diabetic...take a minute before your surgery to remind your partner/anyone you live with/anyone who's going to be looking after you about how and when to check your blood sugars, what numbers are abnormal for you, and what to do about them. Being ill or recovering from a surgery can really throw your diabetes out of whack, even if it's well-controlled beforehand, and recovering from surgery might make you feel a lot of the same symptoms you'd feel from a hypo/hyper or DKA, so make sure you (or someone else) test your sugars regularly and have things on hand to deal with abnormal or worrying results.

Take your phone everywhere. Painkillers (and pain) can make us unsteady. As someone who's taken a fall and had to wait hours for my partner to wake up and find me and help me back to my feet (and then bed), I don't recommend it.

These are the things I know about pre-surgery, but I'll try to update...eventually if I learn anything new post-surgery.

[daily-ish-syndicate-headcanons]

Hi yall!! kind of a personal post but I feel like I should say this: I just had surgery, today, actually, and I will be doing a LOT of sleeping for the next week or so. So if I’m unable to post, that’s why. I should have enough posts queued, but on the off chance I don’t, that’s why I wouldn’t be posting.

I’m getting even more personal here, the surgery was a breast reduction, which I have been wanting for years. Both for back pain reasons and for gender affirming reasons. I’m very excited but also very sore, and still very sleepy because the anesthesia is still kinda in me. Anyway, that’s why I might not post for a few days. Bye!

[5typesoftrash]

SPNPrideWeek Day 2: MLM / Pride

REUPLOAD because I posted this to the wrong blog. This got a little more pride-centric than mlm-centric but I hope it still counts! (Slight content warning for the t slur) @spnprideweek

~~~~

Cas wakes up at 4:00 on the morning of June 27th, and he can’t get back to sleep. He doesn’t mind; he’ll spend the time making coffee and pancakes. He pushes himself out of the bed he shares with Dean and makes his way into the kitchen.

Sam wakes up at 4:45 for his run and Cas smiles and invites him to sit for breakfast. They eat together, their companionship warming them in the cool hours of the morning. Cas saves a plate of pancakes and three strips of bacon for Dean later.

Sam’s back from his run before Dean wakes, but once he does he goes in search of Cas immediately. He finds him calmly reading a newspaper at the kitchen table and wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Good morning,” he murmurs happily, pressing his lips into Cas’s hair.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies, setting down his newspaper. “Would you like breakfast?”

“Breakfast sounds great,” Dean replies, walking around to sit next to Cas. Cas watches him, messy and sloppy but still beautiful. (Still Dean Winchester.) He resists the urge to reach over with a napkin and wipe the syrup off the corner of Dean’s lips – Dean licks it away before he can. Castiel’s lips turn up in a fond smile and he leans back in his chair.

“Don’t have to be so creepy,” Dean mutters when he finishes, but his eyes twinkle with amusement. Cas laughs.

“I apologize, my love,” he says easily.

Dean shakes his head and reaches for Cas’ hand. “Come on. We have a parade to get to.”

Cas grins. “Indeed we do.” He calls for Sam, who appears a moment later.

“We leaving?”

“Yep!” Dean tells him. “Get some shoes on and let’s go.”

Sam disappears and reappears, and they head down the steps to the Impala.

Their house is beautiful; a large four-bedroom two-story with bay windows overlooking the lake. Jack and Claire live there with Dean and Cas, and Sam and Eileen stay over on occasion.

Eileen teaches sign language at a local middle school now, and Sam teaches criminal psychology at the university. Dean found a job at a dealer doing what he loves, restoring old cars and fixing up new ones, and Castiel is a photographer for a magazine.

It’s peaceful. It’s perfect. Surprisingly little has changed after the end of the world. Castiel enjoys his family and his house and his few prized possessions, including his camera.

He’s bringing the camera today.

He settles into the front seat – Sam isn’t allowed in the front anymore, not since Dean and Castiel got married. Sam likes to argue that Dean is playing favorites and Dean argues that Cas was barred from the front seat for thirteen years.

The three of them travel a few miles into town for the festival. This has become a yearly tradition for them; they meet up with Eileen, who takes Claire to pick up Kaia from Jody and Donna, at the entrance. Jack stays home, but always ends up there somehow. The rest of them get their faces painted, wave their flags around, eat cotton candy, and have an excellent time.

Today there’s a protest. A new anti-trans bill has been passed that prevents anyone under the age of 18 from having access to life-saving medical procedures, such as hormone therapy and gender affirmation surgeries. The six of them hold up the trans flags, their voices loud and angry. They chant with the crowd, yell, and sing.

A man stands off to the side with a sign reading ‘God hates trannies’. Jack walks over to him.

“Why do you have that?”

“Cause I want them to know they’re going to hell.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Jack tells him. “Why does god hate them?”

“Cause they’re freaks of nature.”

Jack tilts his head. “They’re people. People are people. Why do you hate people just on principal?”

The man opens his mouth as if to retort, then pauses. “Cause… that’s what I was taught when I was a kid.”

“What if they taught you wrong?”

The man looks subdued. “How do I fix it?”

Jack smiles. “Do you have a marker?”

The man produces a Sharpie from his jacket and holds it out. Jack takes it and changes the words on the sign.

God hates loves trannies people!

The man looks at it, then picks up his sign and joins the crowd as Jack walks back to his family. They hear him shouting “God loves trans people!”

Cas pulls Jack close to him. “I’m proud of you, Jack,” he whispers. “You have done so well.” Jack looks up at him with happiness in his eyes.

“He was hating people. I wanted him not to hate them.”

Cas kisses his hair. “I know you did, bee.”

Dean leans over. “I’m proud of you too,” he promises. “You’re such a good kid. I’m glad you picked us.”

Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s waist and Dean puts an arm across Jack’s shoulders, and the three walk back to the Impala together.

“Dean,” Cas whispers. “I love you. I love you more than the sea loves the stars. I love you more than the sand loves footprints. I love you more than anything in the world, and you need to know that.”

“I know,” Dean whispers. “I know, and I love you too.”

Two years ago, he’d never have been able to say that, but today he can and does easily. Just for that, Cas kisses him deeply once he’s done securing his five-year-old into the car.

And as they drive home, Dean’s hand rests on Cas’ thigh.

[solastia]

Break My Stride | 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook

Word Count: 2,102

Summary: Yoongi is an Omega that has managed to escape the annual mating run without an Alpha for seven years in a row. He has no plans for that to change, but he's unaware of his latest opponent: the newly presented Alpha Jeon Jungkook, his very determined childhood friend.

Genre & Warnings: A bit of everything. Smut won’t happen until a later chapter and I will, of course, post warnings for that. 

Notes: Don’t worry, I’m still working on the stuff you actually want to read, like Tuqburni. I just had this fic floating around in my head and wanted to get some of it out so I could move on. Enjoy! 

The thing about small towns is that there are usually only one or two good hangout spots. This makes it really easy for people to track down their friends after work without the bother of calling or texting them all because chances are high that they’re already going to be there. This is why Min Yoongi finds himself walking into the same pizza joint he’s been going to for twenty-something years, tired from work and looking to share a few pitchers with his friends.

The owner, Mike, greets him from his usual spot behind the counter, a quick nod towards the back signaling they were already here. Yoongi doesn’t have the energy to force a smile, so a simple nod back does the job before he heads straight to their usual table.

There used to be a couple sets of booths in the back corner when they were growing up, and those were fine for a while. By middle school, however, their little group had grown too big and they’d tried to steal tables from other parts of the restaurant to be more comfortable. Mike had not liked that. Around the time eighth grade had rolled around, the owner had finally had enough and put the booths in other parts of the place and now the entire back section housed a huge round table. It was perfect for them, and except for the two months that Seokjin had worn a plastic crown and declared himself King of the round table, they were content with their own little chunk of the town.

As Yoongi neared the table and heard the familiar sounds of his friend’s laughter and general noisiness, he could feel the stress of the day lifting from his shoulders. He loved his job working for the only Veterinarian in town. However, between everyone’s expectation that he’d be taking over the practice someday and his own tendency to be a bit of a perfectionist, it could be difficult. After the day he’d had, he was probably going to need a pitcher to himself first thing.

The boys cheer and shuffle around a bit when they see him, allowing him to sit in his usual spot. Namjoon and Hoseok were already being ridiculously gross and feeding each other because nothing says romance like greasy pizza. Jimin and Taehyung were being equally gross, being entirely too handsy in public. Thank God for Seokjin, who mostly kept his hands to himself, although his heart eyes towards Namjoon and Hoseok were not as subtle as he thought it was. The table was already well into two pitchers (no doubt one being devoured by Jimin alone) and an extra large pizza, but he knew Mike would come along with some more now that he was here too. He had a feeling like something was missing, but he was so exhausted that he couldn’t figure out what.

“You look really wiped out, Yoongi. Hard day?” Seokjin asked as he passed him a plate with a couple of pizza slices. He accepted it with a nod and took a bite, groaning as the hunger of skipping lunch caught up with him.

“Today was mostly just really busy, but Mrs. Moon let that mutt of hers go running free again and he was nearly stomped to death by a horse. Luckily he made it out with only a broken leg. Doc had me take lead for the surgery,” he explained tiredly, pausing to let Mike slip a new pan of pizza on the table and fill his first cup of beer. He sips loudly, sighing in contentment as the cold brew hits his throat.

“Congratulations! That’s a big deal, right?” Jimin exclaims, smiling widely.

Yoongi nods, “Yeah, I guess it’s a big deal. Means he trusts me. I did well too, it’s just really tiring and stressful. There’s no room for error with that kind of thing.”

“So the dog is still alive then?” Seokjin asked with a mouth full of breadsticks.

Yoongi glared, insulted. “Of course he’s alive.”

Seokjin shrugged, taking another bite. “Just wanted to be sure. Didn’t want to congratulate you for killing a dog.”

Yoongi shook his head and started picking the olives off his slice of pizza. When he turns to his right to give the olives away, he realizes why he’d felt something was wrong.

He turns to Seokjin with a worried frown. “Where’s your brother?”

Seokjin’s grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Jungkook presented.”

The table goes wild, everyone trying to ask questions at once. At twenty-one, Jungkook was really late. The average age for presenting was eighteen, although quite a few presented even earlier. Everyone had assumed that Jungkook was a beta at this point, even Jungkook.

“What is he?” Yoongi asks when the noise died down enough for him to be heard.

“He told me not to say anything. He wants it to be a surprise.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and goes back to eating, depositing the olives he’d normally pawn off on Jungkook into a napkin to be thrown away instead.

“It went well though? He’s okay?”

Seokjin nodded, grimacing a little. “He’s okay now. It was a little difficult at first, as I’ve heard it usually is with late presenters. Horrible fever, lots of pain. But he’s strong, our Jungkookie. Made it through fine and was eating us out of house and home within a few hours.”

“Oh, this means he can go on the run next week!” Jimin exclaims excitedly, “He’ll be good at it too. If he’s an Omega, no one could catch him unless he wanted them too. If he’s an Alpha, no one would get away. It’s a win-win situation for him.”

The annual mating run was pretty much the only thing their town was really known for. It used to be optional to attend. However, as secondary genders were slowly becoming unbalanced with betas being the most common, the government had declared runs mandatory. Well, for everyone except betas, the lucky bastards. Their preserve was one of the largest in the country and left largely untouched except during the run. Their small town of maybe five thousand would be bustling with life as people traveled from all over the country to attend. Alphas and Omegas all desperate to finally be claimed.

Yoongi himself had been through the run seven times, and this upcoming run was going to be his eighth. He was happy with his life the way it was, and he had no plans to become some Alpha’s bitch. He didn’t care that the pitying looks increased in number every year when he showed up to the starting line. He wouldn’t even go if he wasn’t forced to. Luckily, he only had a few more years left, since the law allowed anyone thirty and over to be exempt from the run if they wished.  

At least this year he’d have a little something extra to keep him occupied. Instead of camping out in his usual cave, he’d try to keep an eye out for Jungkook. He doubted that the muscled monster would need much of his help, however. He was smart and agile, and there was pretty much zero chance he’d leave the run unmated. The thought of Jungkook going on a mating run makes Yoongi uncomfortable for some reason. Maybe it just made him feel old thinking about the kid who used to follow him around like a duckling being of age for finding a mate. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the image of Jungkook finding someone during the run made him feel...itchy.

“Has he said anything about his plans for the run? Like if he has anyone in mind? He’s never shown any interest in dating someone in town, so maybe he’s planning on seeing what the city has to offer,” Taehyung asked with a disgustingly full mouth. Yoongi really needed friends with better manners.

“No, he hasn’t really said anything. Although...I suppose I could give you a hint,” Seokjin grinned mischievously, his eyes traveling around the table. They stayed on Yoongi a little longer than was comfortable, in his opinion.

“Jungkook was yelling a name during his...episode.”

“Oh! That means it’s someone we would know! He doesn’t know anyone from the city, right?” Namjoon asks, to which Seokjin nods in the affirmative.

“Right. It was someone that we all know. Very well, actually. But I won’t say, because I promised Jungkookie. He’s really excited and wants to do everything the traditional way.”

“So cute. Yoongi, you’re going to run again, right? You and Seokjin have to be our eyes and watch out for Jungkook. Our babies first run, how exciting,” Jimin giggles.

Yoongi grunts, which Jimin thankfully takes as a legitimate answer and moves on to another topic, leaving him to brood in peace. He was already tired from his long day, and now he was irritated thinking about having to go through the fucking run again, hiding from stupid Alphas that didn’t know he wanted nothing to do with them chasing him all over the damned place. He was annoyed that Jungkook wasn’t sitting in his usual spot next to him eating his god damn olives…

Yoongi sighed, recognizing that he was now just getting annoyed at everything and his exhaustion was getting the better of him. He quickly finished the slice he was working on and downed the rest of his beer before pushing away from the table and standing up.

“I’m gonna head home. I’m tired as hell.”

“Okay, hyung. You need a ride?” Namjoon peeled himself away from Hoseok long enough to ask.

“Nah. Just gonna walk since I’m not far. Probably won’t see you guys tomorrow, just a heads up. I have the day off and I’m going to just rest and start planning for next week.”

“Good idea, you’re going to need all the rest you can get,” Seokjin says with an ominous smirk.

Yoongi just shakes his head and takes off with a little wave, striding into the night.

He was about halfway home when he pulls out his phone, deciding he should probably send Jungkook a text if he wasn’t going to be able to see him for a week.

Yoongi: Hey, just heard the news. Congrats.

Jungkook: Thanks hyung! I bet you were pretty surprised, huh?

Yoongi: Probably not as surprised as you. You good now, though? I’m near the convenience store if you need anything.

Jungkook: I’m okay. It’s mostly over and now I’m just really tired.

Yoongi: You sure? Hyung can get you pads if you need them. Maybe some nice fluffy blankets?

Jungkook: I see what you’re trying to do! Nope. You’ll find out my presentation next week like everyone else.

Yoongi: I’m shocked and hurt. I thought I was your favorite hyung.

Jungkook: You are ;) You’ll find out soon enough. I know you’re almost home, so goodnight!

Yoongi: Fine. But let me know if you need anything. Night Kook.

Yoongi sighed as he unlocked the door to his apartment, tucking his phone into his pocket. He went straight for his couch and practically collapsed into it. After a few moments of letting his body relax, he let his eyes wander around the place, taking in the minimal amount of decor and general emptiness of the place.

The truth was that he felt lonely at times. Certainly during moments like this when he came home to a barren apartment. During times like these, he was almost tempted to let someone finally catch him during a run. However, he figured it was better to be miserable and alone than to be taken by some asshole who would try to control him and treat him like he was useless simply for being an Omega. He’d seen it happen way too often and there was no way he’d let it happen to himself.

He was fine with being alone, and now it was time to plan yet another run that would ensure he stayed that way.

[clowngremlin]

it’s only 8:20, but im in a positive mood so its time for my good things list!!!! i will be combining saturday, sunday and today’s because i havent written one since friday!! under the cut because its very long!!!

saturday:

-a very obvious good thing is my top surgery assessment!! i have already made a post about it but it went very well and i am excited for the future!!! it was also nice to see my gender therapist!!! he’s a really nice and cool dude!!!

-going to the mall after gender therapy!!! i went to a mall i dont normally go to because its in a different city than the big city and the city i live in, it’s in more of a city/suburb sort of thing, but it’s a nice mall!!! they have a great food court with a sick arcade but i didnt go to the arcade, i just walked around the mall!!

-i got some really fun keychains for my backpack and phone!! i got a waluigi one for my phone, a jack-o-lantern one for my phone, a popplio one for my back pack as well as a gengar in a pumpkin for my backpack!!! they were all really reasonably priced, because im pretty sure they’re imported from japan!!! i also wanted to buy some love live merch for hope and i, but they didnt have any of hope’d favorite girl, and the love live stuff as a bit expensive and i really wanted the other ones more but its good to know they have them there!!!

-got some delightful bootleg garfs at the mall too!! and for only $2!!!! it was so excellent!!! they also had a big garf car sticker, but i didnt have enough to buy it because i wanted to save some money for going into the city to go to my favorite vintage stores and the flea market!! also i dont have a car, but i thought it might be a fun sticker for my skateboard or sketchbook!!!

-went to my favorite vintage stores and got some nice things!! i got a cowboy shirt, and a cool cardigan that matches one of my new shirts i got for my birthday!!

-the girl working at my favorite vintage store complimented my outfit again and we had a lovely conversation!! we also talked to this dude who was buying a really cool shirt that i wish i could have bought, but im glad he got it because i have too many shirts anyways and also he was wearing a shirt i had tried on a few weeks ago, but didnt buy because i wasnt super into it so im glad it got a nice home and his outfit was so good!!! it made me feel better about being a masc presenting person who wears funky clothing!!!

-talked to one of my best pals on video chat because i was having a panic attack about work and it helped me calm down and it was so nice to talk to him :>

-in the morning before gender therapy, i got some quality puppy time and eli was very good and did excellent on his walk and made many new friends and was very snuggly!!!

-i wore an excellent outfit that consisted of a rainbow checkered button down @delusionaljellyfish gave me for my birthday, my favorite jeans, a pair of cool dinosaur socks that went really well with the button down, my favorite jacket and my favorite vans!!

-it was nice and sunny and warm!!!

sunday:

sunday was a bad all for the most part and i cried at work like twice and once on the bus going to my friends house from work but there were some positives so we will focus on that!!!

-worked with one of my friends at work!! i actually worked with many friends, but this friend is like an actual friend outside of work too so it was nice to work with her 

-did a good job sampling at work even though i wanted to not be at work and felt upset the whole time, i tried to not let it show and did my best and people really liked the samples

-heard a weird cover of the jeepers creepers song at work

-after i got off work which was early because of shift was cut which isnt good and i got upset and got in trouble for being upset about it, i went to one of my best friend’s house and we watched the umbrella academy and had some tasty drinks!! we also snuggled with her cat and she listened to be vent about work

-this gets its own point, my best friend bought me a creme egg mcflurry!!!! this is a double whammy, because it one, means its creme egg mcflurry season again and that’s one of my favorite treats, and two, my best friend bought me ice cream, which is always nice!!!

-the umbrella academy gets another mention because its so fun and i love it

-had a discord call with @delusionaljellyfish !!! i always love talking to amanda and she was working on a really cool drawing while we were talking and i love seeing her art, she’s so talented and im not saying that because i’ve tagged her in the post, im saying that because i genuinely feel it and its the truth and she deserves recognition for all the hard work she puts into her art and she is one of the most talented people i know!!!!!!!!!!

-also had a video call with one of my other really good friends!!!! we talked until like 1:00 am and he listened to me vent about work as well and we also talked about other really interesting topics!!

-got gendered correctly at work and had multiple people call me sir, and one guy called me buddy in that way that older men call young men buddy, which was nice and gender affirming

monday (today):

-got to sleep in!!

-got to spend lots of quality time with baby boy eli!!!! and i got payed to do so!!!!! i would have done it for free, because i had nothing better to do today anyways, but extra money is always a bonus

-it was nice out when i took eli for his walks, and he made new friends as well!! he makes new friends where he goes and everyone is so delighted to see him!!

-got gendered correctly by the people in my building for once because i dont think my dad has told them im a guy, and often misgenders me to our neighbors, but i think these people are new and so they dont know im trans!

-worked on my comic for a bit and listened to some reel big fish and had such a nostalgic throwback to being in elementary school because i used to listen to a lot of ska dfghjhgjdfgj

-had a phone interview that im hoping went well!!

-realized that i need to stop stressing out about work and all this shit that in the grand scheme of things, isnt a big deal!!! i have been through worse things, and those things were only temporary, much like how these things are only temporary!! things will get better and be ok!!!

-talked to many friends today!!! im in a fun discord sever with some new pals and i talked to some of them about being transmasc, i also talked to one of my friends from work after she tagged me in a post about not stressing about things which was actually really solid advice and i needed to hear it, and she said some really nice things to me!!!! it made me feel really nice on the inside!!! someone im online friends with also sent me a really funny mgs video on discord!!! i also talked to @bruisedratboy today and i always love talking to josh, he’s one of my really close friends and he’s great!!! and im also not just saying that because i tagged him in this, i genuinely love josh and think he’s a great dude!!!

-had a nice conversation with my dad when he got home from work and we hung out with eli and ate dinner!! he also made bacon sandwiches is which si tasty.....

-my dad bought me my favorite pop, which is the blue mountain dew!!!

-my brother and i had a nice conversation before he left the house in the early afternoon, and i helped him pick out a jacket to go with his extremely good outfit!! he also made me coffee which was really nice of him!!

-i got that extremely wonderful anonymous ask today!!! anon, if ur reading this, i just want u to know how much that ask meant to me, like i genuinely mean that. it made me so happy, especially since i’ve had some really fucky days lately and have been feeling really upset and not very positive, but im trying and so im glad my positivity is being appreciated and that u like my posts!!! i hope ur having a good day, and u continue to have good times and such things because u must be a wonderful and kind individual to send someone such a delightful thing and u deserve good things and i appreciate u so much, whoever u are!!!! this is what the anon feature is for, babey!!! sending people delightful messages and leaving good feelings!!!!

-i got followed by someone on instagram who makes really cool pins and if i can save some extra money, i will see if i can buy one some day!!

-eli was extremely cute today!!!

[iwannawritelots]

I had to look at Lance’s example first dhskdbd but here we go. I skipped most gender dysphoria related stuff Barbatos would have from season one, because by season four Cinna has both gender affirming surgeries. I tried to write it kinda like Barbatos’ notes to himself (like he’s inspecting Cinna under a microscope). I’m sure I forgot plenty lol. Mentions of trauma, self-destructive behavior, and Harm OCD symptoms, but it is sectioned at the end to be easily skippable.

Cinna is very quiet with new people. They will sometimes forget to speak when they are anxious. It is best to not leave them without a familiar being in social situations to keep them comfortable.

Cinna will let their toes go inwards. It is best to remind them they are doing it, because sometimes they don’t realize it.

It is best to ask before assisting Cinna with a task they have been given. Although they figure most mean well in providing help, it makes them irritated and they will be a bit passive agressive for a few minutes. Unless it is a situation where asking first would be counterintuitive, one should not help without asking.

While in a relaxed setting, Cinna will often take off their glasses. It is best to show them things up close if they have their glasses off, because things are quite blurry without them.

If Cinna is already angry, it is best to keep Lucifer out of their sights. They will, as they stated, “fucking implode if they even see Lucifer right now”.

While angry or frustrated, Cinna will often state they are “going to commit arson”. This is an empty threat.

Cinna more often say “oh my goodness” or “oh my glob”, but will sometimes say “oh my god”. This does not mean they are actually calling upon the Celestial Realm’s ruler.

When Cinna is playing on their switch, it is best to ensure they are not playing Little Nightmares before looking at the screen. If they are, I may see a r-word and I do not wish to subject myself to such.

Cinna will steal clothes if they are close with the person said clothes belong to. They do not intend to give them back sooner than a day or two, so it is best to not leave clothes I want to wear unattended.

It is best to not subject Cinna to any cooked land animals, as they will be sad. They will eat fish, but anything else from the water they will not eat. They think crabs and land animals are “so cute”.

When Cinna unexpectedly sees a bird or bunny, they will gasp and say the animal’s name, whether or not they have age regressed.

Cinna very much likes plant-based foods.

Cinna has trouble sleeping more than five hours at once most nights. It is best to let them sleep as long as they can.

Cinna does not like their hips and waist being touched without permission.

Cinna will often make noises that serve no communication purposes.

Cinna will sometimes shake their hands/arms for no particular reason.

Cinna has bitten my hands quite a few times now. They claim it is affectionate.

Cinna is very affectionate with everyone they like. I have been hugged at least twelve times today.

Trauma

Certain television shows, songs, and names will trigger a trauma response if they are exposed to them. It is best to avoid such things.

They often freeze up or forget to speak when triggered. Sometimes if they are especially upset, they will punch themself in the head and cry. They will not retaliate if one attempts to stop them, and accept physical reassurance/comfort from all except Lucifer, Diavolo, or Luke.

Harm OCD

Sometimes Cinna will pick at their cuticles or bite the inside of their mouth while they are anxious or concentrating. They will appreciate being reminded to stop, but will feel inclined to continue until they are satisfied anyway.

Cinna desires to keep their nails short to avoid violent intrusions/impulses related to their fingernails, although many of their other violent impulses are associated with their nails. It is best to keep a nail file on oneself in case Cinna has been neglecting their needs and is having trouble keeping intrusive thoughts in check. However, if they are having teeth related impulses/intrusions, it is best to supervise them to assure them that they aren’t going to do anything to themself. Nail clippers are a no go, as sometimes it can bend the nail or knick the skin underneath the nail, which will make the impulses worse. They tend to scratch tables or other surfaces to assure themself their nails haven’t been tampered with, which is a good time to ask if they need a file. (If their nails are painted, remind them they would be redoing them later anyway and encourage them to file them down until they can repaint them.)

If Cinna is having ear or eye related violent impulses/intrusions, it is best to ensure their nails are taken care of. They often rub their fingertips against their palm directly next to their ears to be assured they haven’t done anything to themself and their eardrums are still present.

Ensuring they have access to a hoodie along with any sleepwear helps Cinna avoid violent impulses to do with their veins. While they are usually very good about this, there may be a situation where they do not have one.

While they usually insist they don’t need to confide in someone about their violent intrusive thoughts towards others, it is best to ask if they need someone to speak with when they are doing any of the above. They may want a distraction or physical reassurance, but they will rarely speak of their violent thoughts because they are afraid to. Reminding them that they aren’t evil for having their unwanted intrusive thoughts will help them ground themself. However, if they are reminded of trauma alongside a bout of intrusive violent thoughts, it will be much more difficult to calm them.

MC Monday Prompt #11

MC! Monday Masterlist

Barbatos has a guide written out for every guest and individual he regularly sees to ensure they receive the best care. What does Barbatos’s guide say about your MC?

[ejohnl]

Life Updates galore! 12/18/17

Wow, what a month it has been! I can’t believe where I’m at right now. I just finished up my last semester of my undergraduate career with a 3.75 GPA which is the highest it has ever been. I worked my absolute ass off to get these grades and I’m so hella proud of myself for it. I really enjoyed all of my classes this year, even research methods which was almost the death of me. I got to know my professors really well and I felt like my voice was being heard by them and my classmates. 

I finished up my fellowship at the University of Virgina a few weeks back and it was an incredibly rewarding experience. I was able to connect with 10 other transgender and gender non-conforming individuals to develop research topics relating to transgender healthcare issues which is so fucking rad. I have the amazing opportunity to work with some of these people in the spring writing grants and planning actual research out. HOW FUCKN RAD?? 

I got recommended by a professor of mine for this LGBT University program sponsored through the Freedom NH campaign so I will be working alongside 16 other LGBTQ+ people learning about queer activism and campaigning for the House Bior anti-discrimination of transgender people in public spaces. This will take place January-March and I’m really looking forward to developing a stronger sense of activism within my community. 

I had a consultation for top surgery and will be HAVING TOP SURGERY January 17th!!!! Everything surrounding this is so incredibly surreal, I’m so thankful for the opportunity that I have to receive a procedure that will help further affirm my male gender identity. I’ve been taking a bunch of supplements to prepare me for the healing process and stopped smoking weed over two weeks ago because it can lead to complications. I’m actually feeling really good about it even though my anxiety has been increasing a bit since doing so. I know that it will all be worth it in the end. I opted-out of opioids because my mother has a previous addiction to narcotics so I will be consuming a lot of edibles post-surgery. I’m really glad that I have the ability to do so safely and legally (thank you Massachusetts you rock). 

On December 28th, 2016 I had my yearly physical with my PCP. I weighed in at 252 lbs and was at risk of developing diabetes, high cholesterol, and nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. This is essentially when your triglycerides are too high and fat deposits form on and inside of your liver. Today I had an appointment and I weighed in at 186 lbs (with no clothes at home I’m about 183.6). I am no longer at risk for diabetes or high cholesterol and nonalcoholic fatty liver disease is not on my doctor’s radar whatsoever. I can’t even begin to believe how different I not only look but how I feel as well. I used to be winded even just going up a flight of stairs or up a small incline on my way to class and now I can run a mile easy. Progress is not linear and my weight ebbs and flows, but I am constantly changing and always on the rise to a healthier lifestyle and I’m very grateful for it. 

I had a minor procedure performed today which involved the insertion of 10 testosterone pellets into the subQ tissue of my glute max. These pellets will last roughly 3-4 months before another procedure will be performed to start another round. I made the decision because testosterone injections were getting expensive. Mass changed their regulation regarding T and will only allow pharmacies to fill one vial at a time. This meant I had to go back to Mass every two weeks to get a refill, which then cost me another copay. The pellet insertion is covered by insurance and only needs to be done every 3-4 months. Less money and less worry = awesome in my book. My doctor says that many of her patients prefer the pellets because it helps to assist with mood stabilizing and reducing ebbs and flows in T levels. I’ll make an update post each month on how this is going :)

I have a full-time job and I absolutely love the individuals I work with. I have learned more from my 6 months working with people with developmental and intellectual disabilities than I ever have any other job. They teach me patience and a deeper level of caring than I thought possible. These guys value the smallest of gestures and are thankful for things that I often take for granted every single day. Without even knowing it, they are helping make me a more thoughtful and loving human being. 

Things are not perfect. I am at home and I do not have access to healthy food or a clean and safe environment to live in. I no longer have a counselor that I meet with once a week which is challenging for me as it has been a major aspect of my support system. However, I am utilizing resources as much as I can. I am on the waitlist for a counselor and am looking at different resources regarding healthy food access for low-income families. I’m finding ways to keep myself regulated using mindfulness and the various support structures I have in my life. I’m in a really good place considering how much I have going on and I am very thankful for everything. 

2017 was a really difficult year for me at first. I struggled immensely with my depression and anxiety. Things got continuously worse throughout last semester and it felt like I wasn’t going to get through it all in one piece. But here I am, thriving in so many aspects of my life and I can’t wait to see what’s to come.

[otisoverturf]

Parklife Festival 2019 – live review

Parklife Festival Manchester 8-9 June 2019

David Edwards reports back on a soggy, occasionally baffling but ultimately life-affirming Parklife Festival. Even if that life is one significantly older than the attendees he shares the experience with…

I turn 38 this summer. I attended my first music festival a full two decades ago; therefore, as I find myself walking into Heaton Park in the steady but determined rain, I am in no doubt that I am way too old for Parklife Festival. And not just slightly too old. No, I am so far out of the demographic that it might as well be on a different time zone. Everyone around me looks fresher than me, trimmer than me. Better dressed than me (not difficult) and filled with a sense of unbridled confidence and optimism that belies the tumultuous and potentially terminal state of our nation at this particular time.

And yet, by the end of the weekend, I’m seeing things through their eyes and understanding. From the initial bout of Fear And Loathing In Heaton Park – doubtful of my own kin and my own skin – I come to realise that to blindly scoff at the festival is to expose oneself as the sneering and snooty person we despised in our teenage years; mocking our music and trends. There is much that can be constructively criticised about Parklife but it is also important to acknowledge for many people, this weekend is a highlight of their year. And despite the rain, the drop-outs and the incessant sound bleed it just about manages to pull it off.

Saturday

First up on the main stage is Col3trane who does a decent line in floaty, jazzy hip-hop. He’s a charismatic sort and does his best to get everyone excited and involved as the rain continues to lash down. However, George Fitzgerald’s Sounds From The Near Future set is the weekend’s first standout moment – beautiful, delicate and floating electronica with hypnotic visuals and a powerful female vocalist over the top. It is a gorgeous thing to behold and the first reminder that this festival has some truly superb acts bubbling just underneath the main bill.

Little Simz struggles with a field only half-full: most of the crowd have decided to head into the cavernous Hangar tent to escape the incessant pummelling from the heavens above. Nonetheless, her set is taut, sharp and on point; trying to encourage the bedraggled crowd with a series of eclectically-inflected tracks, with recent single Selfish and a stunning Boss being particular highlights. Recent record Grey Area is one of 2019’s strongest releases to date.

Slowthai, in the Sounds Of The Near Future tent, is absolutely spellbinding. Following up on the release of his tremendous Nothing Great About Britain record released just the other week, he is a furious tornado of energy, anger and sheer kinetic force. Spitting as much as speaking, ranting as much as rapping, yet eloquent and brilliantly capturing the fissures running through British society, it is the work of a genuine breath of fresh air on the scene. Raps about poverty, Grenfell, Brexit and crime (as well as a savage expletive-filled broadside against Theresa May) are met with a mixture of cheers, applause and sheer amazement from the crowd – yet much of his message is also greeted with nods of the head and murmurs of “yep”. Tyron Frampton is genuinely one of the finest new talents of 2019 and on the back of this, the sky is his limit. This is punk in 2019. Stupendously good.

Earl Sweatshirt seems to be here for the party. Clad in a black rain jacket, he seems thrilled at the long catwalk set up for Christine and the Queens later – persistently roaming up and down and insisting that “you’ve gotta try this sometime”. As he reminds us on several occasions he is a veteran of Parklife, yet he genuinely looks delighted to be here. Many of Earl’s performances can be defined in terms of whether he can be bothered, yet today his mumbles are intense and well-refined and the beam on his face tells its own story.

We come out and it is STILL raining. So we dash inside the faux-greenhouse that is The Palm Stage to hear Ben UFO b2b with Call Super. It’s a flow of deep, floaty house cuts that may be better suited to the early hours of a dazed morning than 5pm on a Saturday afternoon, but it is endlessly enjoyable and a chance to recharge for Loyle Carner back at Sounds From The Near Future (we mostly camped out there all day). There is an element of familiarity to Loyle Carner’s music in that his format is somewhat tried and tested from song-to-song, but there is a genuine joy and warmth to him and you cannot help but get swept along in his charisma. Ain’t Nothing Changed could come straight out of a smoky jazz club and No CD is an absolute riot, with a cheeky reference to “Some Cardi Bs…” being thrown in to acknowledge the bizarre and farcical absence of today’s original headliner after having cosmetic surgery (I’ll say no more, but SERIOUSLY?). It’s a familiar journey, but a profoundly enjoyable one.

There is however, nothing familiar about Christine and the Queens‘ live set, which as ever is an utter revelation in every way. Heartbreakingly, the enormous tent is 70% empty by the time she and the band arrive – the majority of attendees having drifted off to see Mark Ronson or Disclosure. Those who do stay however, have their minds and souls suitably rearranged. I’ve written recently about the ability of Héloïse Adelaide Letissier and her songs to gloriously invert sexuality, sensuality, gender and love into the origami-form of perfect electronic pop songs, but in a live setting this truly comes to life. “This is a safe place for you all to be what you want to be” she implores to the adoring crowd who remain – tied to every word and every note. To do this at your own gig is one thing but to do it to a festival crowd who are hardly the demographic for such strange, obtuse music is something close to alchemy. The cheer that greets Tilted makes you think for a second that the crowd has suddenly packed the tent behind you (they haven’t) and a stunning cover of David Bowie’s Heroes brings tears around me. By the end, there are a new set of converts to this glorious modern pop star. A girl next to me – muddied, bruised and somewhere over Saturn – turns to her friend on the way out and says “that’s the best f**king thing I’ve ever seen”. As a way to round off the day, it’s pretty hard to think of anything more perfect.

Sunday

There are still frequent outbursts of rain around the site but patches of sun are fighting their way through and although the site is boggy, organisers have clearly been working hard overnight to put down woodchip and make the site walkable. First up on the Sounds From The Near Future tent (sorry, I know it’s repetitive but the line-up was just so damn good!) is Pusha T, which is going off in all directions. There is a palpable excitement in the tent as the DJ primes everybody up for the set with much hype and hyperbole, which then proceeds much in the same way. It’s an excellent set with Pusha’s tight flow and panning drawl dragging everyone forward over a series of swirling samples and incessant skittering beats. The tracks from last year’s excellent Daytona are greeted with rapturous acclaim and the whole thing skips past in the fervent blink of an eye. One thing notable from this year’s Parklife is how much live rap has cleaned its act up in recent years – from half-baked and shambolic sets only a few years ago, this year’s crop of live sets are on-point and so much more thrilling for it.

As we walk past the main stage, Blossoms have a huge crowd – telling the crowd how delighted they are to play a “home festival”. That’s cool, and the fact that the crowd are enjoying it so much is a fine thing to behold, but their music is absolutely nothing to write home about so I’ll skip on. Much more impressive is Todd Terje in The Bunker – a man who can seemingly do no wrong. His sets always bring a wicked sense of humour and a total lack of any pretentiousness meaning that a party is almost guaranteed. Highlights include a huge singalong when he drops John Paul Young’s Love is in the Air and of course, everyone goes bonkers for Inspector Norse. Fantastic fun, communal joy and a reminder that there are few who do this kind of set as well as Todd Terje.

The last time I saw The Streets was 2011. It was off the back of that year’s desperately disappointing final album Computers And Blues and the “farewell tour” was stilted, pallid and lacking in any of the energy and enthusiasm that made Mike Skinner and his crew’s early shows so life-affirming. As someone who holds that band dear in his heart, it was such a sad way to bow out. I am therefore highly unsure about whether today’s set will alleviate the miserable memories of that time.

I shouldn’t have worried.

Tonight, The Streets are ours. And bloody hell, they are magnificent. Mike Skinner genuinely seems a man reborn – trim, full of his old geezer enthusiasm and yelling at the crowd like there’s no tomorrow. “I brought the f**king sun out for you” he yells, as indeed he does (he paid God apparently), before leading us through a short but highly potent greatest hits set. They open with four tracks from 2001’s Original Pirate Material (Turn the Page, Let’s Push Things Forward, Don’t Mug Yourself and Has it Come to This) that still sound timeless and peerless, before everyone sings along tearily to Dry Your Eyes as if it is an old friend. A stunning and throbbing Blinded By The Lights sends a chemical ripple through the crowd before we get not just one, but TWO pogoing renditions of Fit But You Know It. Skinner swigs champagne throughout and looks genuinely delighted at the reception he gets, though his influence is felt so clearly through the festival and everyone clearly knows this. It’s a rebirth and a reformation that doesn’t feel tacked on or cynical, but actually necessary for resurrecting the legacy of what made The Streets seem so vital in the early 00s. An absolute joy, a triumph. Welcome back Mike.

It is therefore left to Solange to bring us home. Backed with a full band and brass section, she emerges onto the stage with a broad hat on. Initially she struggles somewhat with the sound drowning her out, but once this is resolved it is a captivating set of dark and light – rumbling and rolling bass lines balanced out with gossamer layers of vocals, synths and melting brass. It is dynamic, thrilling and emotionally healing – messages of solidarity, self-love and empowerment ringing all around. In a similar way to Christine and the Queens last night, you feel that for many unaccustomed to the glorious live show she puts on, tonight is a revelation. And to those who have seen before, it is still uncompromisingly brilliant. Her sister may get the headlines, but there is no doubt that Solange Knowles is currently making some of the finest, most fascinating pop music on the planet.

So as I walk back through the crowds to the already bulging Metrolink queues, what have I learned? Parklife is one of these divisive lines within the older and younger generation of the Manchester party scene. And it’s certainly true that I fall on the older side of that line, by a long way. But you know what? Strip away the cynicism, delve into the setlist and there are some utter gems to be found. And that is what Parklife does so well. For those who just want the mainstream, it delivers. But for those who want to seek out electronic and hip-hop nuggets within the smaller stages, there is much to admire. And more than that, why would you laugh and sneer at people who are clearly enjoying themselves. The cynical and jaded side of me does hope that one day, the kids will go and explore other festivals to make them aware of what else a music festival can provide (it’s certainly true that aside from the music and a single Ferris wheel, there is little else here to entertain) but the carefree side of me looks at everyone having a great time and thinks that isn’t my place to judge – they are here, they are happy, they are living their damn life the way they want to. Parklife is what it is, and it will never be to many people’s taste. And I did spend the entire weekend wishing that I didn’t look so conspicuously older than pretty much everyone else there. But as I walk away, I ask myself one simple question: did I have fun? And the honest truth is, yes I did. And aside from some tremendous sets, there is an important lesson in not pre-judging. People have always, and still do sneer at me for going to festivals in my holidays rather than finding time on a beach somewhere, and I think they’re absolute snobs for doing thinking that. We shouldn’t make the same mistake with those who go to Parklife. Each to their own in this world. It may not be for us, but for a generation of kids this is what they look forward to all year. And frankly, good for them.

Photo credits courtesy of and copyright to Joshua Atkins, Richard Johnson Justine Trickett, Steve Turvey, Giles Smith and Andrew Whitton from Fanatic Creative 2019 https://fanaticcreative.com/

 ~

You can read more of David’s writing for Louder Than War in his archive

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Source: https://socialjuicebox.com/ Parklife Festival 2019 – live review published first on https://socialjuicebox.com/

[the-martian-chronicles]

Surgery Update

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while. If you are interested in reading about my recent hysterectomy experience, check it out behind the cut. 

I had a Total Laparoscopic Hysterectomy and Bilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy with Dr. Jessica Vaught at Winnie Palmer Hospital in Orlando on June 9th, 2017. Dr. Vaught was referred to me by my Gynecologist, Dr. Brenda Barry who also practices in Orlando. I’ve had wonderful experiences with both doctor’s as they are both familiar with transgender medical issues and have several transgender patients (FTM and MTF). 

I had been wanting to get a hysterectomy for a while to deal with some cramping and breakthrough bleeding issues (I’ve been on Testosterone off and on for close to 12 years), but the procedure wasn’t covered by my insurance until April 1st of this year. In the mean time, I met with Dr. Barry to get all of my medical records lined up supporting the necessity of the procedure and then had a consultation with Dr. Vaught at her Orlando Health office. She was very polite, informed me of the different techniques available, and gave her recommendation for the surgery type she thought would work best for my situation. After wrapping up my meetings, the next step was to wait for my insurance company to authorize the procedure. This was by far the most annoying and time consuming aspect of the whole thing. 

My insurance company claimed they were waiting for information from my doctor to start the authorization process, the surgeon wouldn’t schedule the procedure until they received approval from the insurance company, etc. It took a little extra leg work on my part to figure out what order the different players involved in this needed to get the hysterectomy authorized and scheduled, but I made it happen after several phone calls and emails. 

Right after the authorization was granted in May, I scheduled my pre-surgical screening at the hospital for the end of the month. The day of the authorization was hectic since it was actually an entirely different procedure than I was expecting. I had another consultation with Dr. Vaught to go over the procedure specifics (time in the OR, what to expect post-surgery, what to look for if I thought there was a problem, post-surgical restrictions, etc). I filled out surgical paperwork and then had to go to a separate facility for the remaining portion of the pre-surgical screening. While I was there, I filled out more paperwork, had to pay my insurance deductible, had my blood drawn, and was sent on my way. All in all, I think the surgical pre-screen took roughly 2 - 2.5 hours. 

I was instructed to clean my body and navel with Hibiclens soap the evening before surgery and the morning of surgery, and had to sleep in clean clothes on freshly laundered sheets. No problem. I got up early the morning of the 9th to take my second special shower and then we drove to the hospital. Winnie Palmer is an amazing facility for the procedure I had done, but there was one thing that turned me off. After going through security to check in, all patients and visitors are given sticky badges to wear on the shirt. This wouldn’t have been a big deal, but Winnie Palmer’s full name is “Winnie Palmer Hospital for Women and Babies”. As far as I know, the only patients having surgery in this hospital are considered “women”, so the patient tag they slapped on me was white and matched every other female patient in the place. I wasn’t feeling too anxious until Ashley and I took the elevator to get upstairs and we were stopped by a security guard. He said something to the effect of “Wait, this doesn’t look right. You must be playing with me. Which one of you is having surgery today?” My anxiety spiked and I mumbled that I was having surgery, but then he became more insistent. Ashley spoke up and clarified that I was the one having surgery and there was no mistake with my patient tag. The guard was clearly flustered and looked over to the patient liaison to confirm that I was indeed the patient. They said everything was fine and that we could go up. The guard apologized profusely and I could tell he felt genuinely sorry for the incident, but my anxiety spiked and I suddenly felt very dysphoric. 

Once we got to the 4th floor for my procedure, The waiting room was filled with a couple families who were surrounding the patient they were with. Ashley and I swapped name tags after check in just so I could relax a little and then I went to the bathroom to collect myself. About 10 minutes later, my name was called and a tech got me and told me what I needed to do to go back with her to the bathroom. First, I had to brush my teeth with a sponge brush in a special solution and then I had to rub Iodine around the inside of my nostrils, all as part of an attempt to reduce surgical infection. 

After I finished that, I went into a pre-surgical area where I was further instructed to wipe down my body with surgical wipes in a certain order, had to put on my surgical gown, and those surgical socks with the sticky tread. Then I laid down in the bed. That’s when they put on those weird leg cuffs that massage the legs to prevent blood clots and I was given IVs in both hands. I spoke with a couple of anesthesiologists about the procedure and what I could expect pain wise, and was given pain medication and a mild sedative. After that kicked in, I was finally wheeled back to the OR. 

After I woke up, I noticed that my entire stomach from the just below my chest down had been trimmed with clippers, but I wasn’t feeling pain. I was pretty out of it still, but was able to ask my nurse how long the procedure took, which was only about 45 minutes. I promptly fell back asleep after this. It turns out that whatever anesthesia they gave me knocked my ass out and I struggled to keep my oxygen levels up to move into phase 2 of recovery. Instead, I was in Phase 1 doing my best to wake up, but it just wasn’t happening. The worst part was that I have sleep apnea, so I have a CPAP machine that helps me with my oxygen levels when I sleep, but they wouldn’t let me use it. They wanted me to breath on my own. I get it, but if I have trouble breathing on my own when I’m not sedated, how was I supposed to do it when I was super drugged? The whole time Ashley and I were asking to see each other and they finally let her come back briefly, which made it a lot easier for me. 

Anyway, after my oxygen levels were high enough, I was finally moved to phase 2 recovery and could be with Ashley again. That was uneventful and filled with release paperwork, having my IVs literally ripped out because my nurse was in a hurry, and taking a couple pee breaks. Ashley drove me back to her parent’s house where I planned on recovering for a few days and that was basically it. I slept a lot the first few days and had to pee a lot from the IVs, but my pain was minimal in comparison to top surgery. 

I did have an infection spring up a few days after surgery that I’ve written about, and I would say that was hands down the worst part of my surgical experience in addition to constipation. 

I am now 3 weeks post op and no longer spot and the infection has cleared, which is also awesome because I can work and do a little around the house. I do have a weight limit restriction of 10 pounds for what I can lift, push, pull, etc and can’t have sex for another 3 weeks (for a 6 week total). Also, holy fucking hot flashes. I went through that the first time around with Testosterone, but those were baby hot flashes compared to what I’m experiencing post-surgery. Terrible infection aside, I couldn’t be happier with my results and am so stoked that I’ve been fortunate enough to put two gender affirming surgeries behind me! 

[weather-witch]

by Inga Berenson It was a hot summer morning. I was nine or ten, riding my pony from our farmhouse toward the barn where my father was working. This was the first time I had gone riding since a string of bad falls had caused me to lose my nerve, but I loved riding, and was determined to be back in the saddle. So far, things were going well. The gravel road between our house and the barn was about a mile long, and I was halfway there. My usually cantankerous little mare was being perfectly docile, but I was approaching the house of a quirky neighbor who kept a menagerie of animals – donkeys, zebras, buffalo, and a gaggle of dogs that barked at every passing car. I was mostly worried about the dogs and how my pony would handle the barking – it sometimes made her nervous, but there was no dog in sight as I rode past the house. I was thinking I was home-free until I heard a commotion from the paddock across from the neighbor’s house. I looked around and saw a giant draft horse push through a dilapidated wire fence and come galloping toward me, neighing and grunting in what I later understood to be equine lust. In an instant he was beside us, rearing and pawing his great, hairy hooves in the air near my face. I thought that was the end of me and my pony. Then all of a sudden I heard my mother’s voice. I looked around and found her running toward us, yelling and hurling gravel at the big horse. She distracted him just long enough for me to hop off. My pony raced off into the safety of some low-hanging trees, and the neighbor came running out of his house to capture his oversized horse. As I stood there, weak-kneed from my near-death experience, I saw my mother’s car parked a few yards down the road, the driver’s-side door still open, and I knew what had happened. She had been worried about me, so she had followed from a distance, just to be sure I made it okay. I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately. It was about four years ago that my daughter first told me she thought she might be trans. I believe her story is a classic example of social contagion, since she had never expressed any discomfort with her sexed body until she got Tumblr and DeviantArt accounts and began spending all her time on her phone. Since then, I have felt a bit like my mother, standing in the middle of the road, hurling gravel, trying to protect my daughter from an ideology that has sought to convince her that she was born in the wrong body. I am fortunate. Unlike some of my friends with kids who became convinced they were trans, I feel reasonably confident that my daughter will not medically transition. She desisted from a social transition more than a year ago, and she told me recently that she no longer identifies as trans. However, she still has many friends in the gender-queer community, and I know we’re not out of the woods. When she turns 18 in a few months, she may exercise her right as a legal adult to start medical transition, and there won’t be anything I can do to dissuade her. This worries me greatly. So, as a matter of self-preservation as much as anything, I’ve been asking myself, what if she does transition? How will I cope? The short answer is I don’t know, but I certainly won’t disown her or ask her to leave my home. In fact, of all the many gender-critical parents I know who have trans-identified children, I know absolutely no one who has disowned their child or kicked them out of the house. I’m sure it must happen, but I don’t know any. Of course, all parents say things they regret – especially during the highly charged arguments with teens who are demanding immediate medical interventions. In one such argument, one of my best friends even told her then-trans-identified daughter to get out, but she immediately regretted it, took it back, apologized, and asked her daughter to stay (which she did). I also know at least three mothers who have lost contact with their trans-identified children, but in those cases, the kids themselves severed the relationship, not the parents. In fact, the mothers continue to try to reconnect with their children, despite being repeatedly rebuffed. Although I know I won’t disown or reject my daughter, I also know that I won’t affirm her decision to transition. It’s not really that I’m deciding not to; I simply cannot bring myself to do it. It would be dishonest for me to call her my son when I don’t believe she’s male. Plus, I don’t think it’s helpful for me to allow my daughter to dictate how I define words like “male” and “female.” Does this mean I love my child less than the mothers who affirm their children? Since I cannot occupy the mind of any of these other mothers, I guess I’ll never know. But I do know that my love for my child is so deep and strong that the idea that she has been misled to believe that her body is wrong depresses me to no end. I am angry — bitterly, bitterly angry that this ideology has taken up almost four years of her life so far and god only know how many more years it may take. Maybe the reason some parents affirm their children’s transgender claims and some parents question them lies in the parents’ own experiences of puberty. When my daughter felt embarrassed about shopping for bras at 13, I was not surprised because I remembered that feeling vividly. I hated it. I hated knowing that people could see my developing breasts and the outline of the bra straps under my shirt. I especially hated the very feminine bras – the ones with lots of lace and little pink bows where the cups joined in the middle. They made me feel vulnerable and exposed and miserable.  I also know I got over it – for the most part, anyway. Trans activists claim that the number of trans-identifying people has increased so rapidly not because there are more trans people today than in the past but because society has become more accepting and they are no longer afraid to come out. But if this were the case, why are the greatest increases occurring in the population of female teens? Why aren’t middle-aged women like me queuing up for hormones now that we can come out? To me, the answer is clear. Women like me had a chance to come to terms with our bodies and accept ourselves as we are. My daughter didn’t have that chance because an insidious ideology was waiting in the wings to convince her that her feelings about her body meant that it was wrong. But maybe the mothers who readily affirm their children’s trans self-diagnoses didn’t have this experience at puberty. Maybe they were lucky enough to sail smoothly and happily from childhood through puberty, unambiguously pleased to watch their bodies go from child to woman – so, when their children expressed unhappiness about their developing bodies, they were genuinely puzzled and could only agree their kids must have been born in the wrong body. Whatever the reason for the difference between those parents and me, I resent the fact that the mainstream media will tell their stories, but they won’t tell mine. I resent the fact that my daughter looks at those parents and wishes I could be like them — because I never can be. If my daughter does eventually decide to take hormones or undergo surgery to medically transition, the only way I could fully support it is if I had clear scientific evidence that she had a condition requiring such an invasive treatment. If there were a definitive medical test – a brain scan, for example – that proved my child’s distress arose from an incongruence between her brain and the rest of her body that could only be alleviated by transition, I think I could go along with it. But there is no such test because individual brains don’t break down neatly into pink and blue categories. Sexually dimorphic brain features are subject to averages just like other physical characteristics. In general, men are taller than women, but if you plot their height on a bell curve, you will see lots of overlap between the sexes. You’ll also see outliers on the “tails” of the bell curve—6’4’ women, and 5’1” men. This is true with psychological and neurological traits, too. Also, trans activists justify their born-in-the-wrong-body claims by pointing to a few studies which indicate that the brains of trans-identified people are more similar in some respects to the opposite sex than their natal sex. But these studies do not control for many factors, including sexual orientation, and we know already that people who are same-sex-attracted have some brain features more similar to the opposite sex. Without tools to reliably predict who will benefit from transition, I simply cannot support medical interventions for young people whose brains have not fully matured (generally understood to be around age 25). I want desperately for my daughter to accept her body and to avoid the irreversible changes and the many health risks that are inherent in medical transition. But she will soon be 18 years old, and she will have the power to transition no matter what I want – even though she is still at least seven years away from brain maturity. There’s a real chance that she could. Would that be the end of the world? No, I know that it wouldn’t. As worried as I am about this outcome and as fixated as I’ve been on preventing it for four years, I do have to remind myself that her transitioning would not be the worst thing that could happen. Plus, I will still be able to hold onto the hope that she will detransition before the hormones can cause too much damage to her long-term health. Every day it seems that I read about a new detransitioner. More and more young people are saying enough is enough. They are reclaiming their bodies and their lives, and I find their stories inspiring. A few days ago I watched a video in which four young women, who formerly identified as trans, answer questions about their experience and share their insights. Their video gave me hope for a couple of reasons. First, they acknowledge the role that social contagion plays in driving the huge increase in kids (especially girls) who are identifying as trans today. It takes real courage to speak up and share stories that contradict the popular understanding of why people transition. These stories not only challenge the narrative of why people transition; they also show that, for many young people, transition does not make their lives better. But another reason that video gave me hope is that I can see these girls are all okay. In fact, they’re better than okay. They are strong and smart, and they are living with purpose and a sense of future. They reminded me that transition – even medical transition — is not the end of the world. Three of the girls were on hormones for more than a year. Their voices are changed, but they are healthy and well, and that’s a beautiful thing. Detransitioners have been giving hope to me and other parents for many years, but the relationship between the groups has been difficult at times. Some detransitioners have understandably resented how parents sometimes try to use their stories as cautionary tales to warn their kids about the dangers of medical transition. A big part of the problem is the language people sometimes use when talking about medical transition. For example, referring to the bodies of detransitioners as “mutilated,” their voices as “broken,” or their stories as “heart-breaking” has not been helpful. One of the most powerful and positive messages of the gender-critical movement is that no one is born in the wrong body. Gender-critical parents like me are constantly trying to encourage our kids to accept their bodies just as they are. Yet I believe we need to extend that same acceptance to all bodies – even bodies post transition. To feel good about themselves and their lives, all people need to be able to accept themselves physically and mentally, and words like “mutilated” don’t help them do that. Online, the interactions between detransitioners and parents has also been a little rocky at times because parents sometimes overstep boundaries that detransitioners need to be healthy. Parents often reach out to detransitioners for help with their personal situations – to seek parenting advice and guidance. But most detransitioners who speak out publicly are quite young; they don’t have children and they aren’t parenting experts, nor is it fair to saddle them with the responsibility of helping us. They’re dealing with their own issues, are often most focused on helping each other, and they don’t (and can’t be expected to) understand the situation and struggles of parents. What’s more, many have written or vlogged about their own, often fraught, relationships with their own parents, so when other parents reach out to them, they can feel “triggered” by being reminded of their own family relationships. These young people are still maturing and processing what their transition and detransition mean to them. They need time and space to be able to do that, and desperate appeals from parents they’ve never met, for help with kids they don’t know, could interfere with that process. Also, detransitioners are not a monolithic group. Not everyone who detransitions regrets transitioning. Deciding that transition is not right for you and regretting transition are not necessarily the same thing. Detransitioners who do not regret their transition naturally resent it when people use their stories to make a case against medical transition. At the same time, those detransitioners who are willing to speak out about the harms of transitioning and the power of reidentifying with your birth sex can be powerful allies in the fight to raise awareness about the regressiveness of gender ideology and potential harms to other young people – whether we’re trying to raise this awareness in the culture at large or just in our own homes. I hope my daughter will listen to the stories of some of these detransitioners and decide to first try some other strategies for becoming comfortable in her natural body. If, however, she does eventually transition, I hope she can be honest with herself about it and accept that she can never be male – however much she may be able to look like one. I follow several gender-critical trans women on Twitter. Although they have sought medical intervention for palliative reasons, they acknowledge they are male and support sex-based protections for women. They don’t demand that the world repeat the mantra that trans women are women. They have a healthier outlook on the world and a healthier sense of self because they aren’t trying to change anyone’s perception of material reality (like male and female).  I appreciate the courage they are showing. Their stance as gender critical has cut them off from the support of the larger trans community, which regards them as heretics and traitors. And it must be noted that they’re not universally accepted among women who are gender critical, some of whom regard them with suspicion. Of course, my daughter may never come to recognize the bill of goods she’s been sold. She may transition, remain transitioned, and remain committed to an ideology I find regressive. If that’s the case, it will be my life’s task to love her and support her in spite of these things. But that doesn’t mean I will ever abandon my own sense of reality, because doing so would be inauthentic, and parents should not have to subordinate their own authenticity to their children’s quest for it. What I can do is look after her, help her financially to achieve non-transition-related goals, cook her favorite foods, hold her hand when she’s feeling down. I can even go out of my way to avoid gendered language so as not to provoke or upset her, but I simply cannot utter beliefs I don’t hold. Our relationship needs to be based on mutual respect. I must respect her autonomy, but she must also respect mine. Also, I want my daughter to understand that it’s ok for other people (even her parents!) to disagree with her and hold different views; that doesn’t mean we don’t love her. Far from it. I want my daughter to be strong and resilient enough to face the reality that life will be full of other people who disagree with her for any number of reasons. I’d rather she learn resilience than fragility that is triggered whenever she encounters disagreement or disapproval from others. I feel such a sense of solidarity with the other gender-critical moms I’ve met here on 4thWaveNow, on Twitter, and in real life because they’ve seen what I have seen – that this ideology has made our children less resilient, it has alienated them from their families, their former friends, and, worst of all, their own bodies. Most of us have watched as our children went from well-adjusted kids to teens preoccupied with online worlds, feeling oppressed and seeking medical transition. For our efforts to call attention to the regressive nature of the ideology, we have been called “bigots,” “transphobes,” even “Nazis.” So-called gender therapists gaslight us and pretend to know our children better than we do. And some journalists, blind to their sexism, have dismissed us (in one case, as merely a “bunch of mothers”), despite the advanced degrees and professional careers many of us hold, not to mention the voluminous research we have done to educate ourselves about this particular subject. And, yes, we have made mistakes. We are certainly not perfect. There are so many things I have said to my daughter that I wish I could unsay or at least say differently. There are so many times when my strong emotional reaction to things she was telling me created a barrier and shut down communication between us. Of course, she has said things that hurt me too, but as her mother and the adult in the relationship, I rightfully bear a larger share of the burden to try to make things right between us. I can’t change the past, of course. What’s done is done. But I do know this: My mother has been dead for more than 20 years, but I think about her every day. She was far from a perfect parent, but she loved me fiercely. The love she gave me in the first 30 years of my life still sustains me today. I know that now, in a way I didn’t fully understand when I was younger. I don’t know what the future holds for my daughter. My fervent hope is that she will reject the idea that she needs to change who she is, but whether or not she does, I hope one day she will look back on my resistance to her transition as the act of love that it is. I hope that her knowledge and memory of the fierceness of my love will sustain her, as my mother’s sustains me.

[revlatte]

Sanctuary: Pre-Launch Thoughts

It’s Sunday morning here in the Land of the Sky. I sit in front of a computer screen, alone down a very long drive way. There’s tea brewing in the kitchen. Jill Scott is playing on my Spotify. The track is currently “He Loves Me.” I’m in winter socks, plaid boxers, and a University of Tennessee Center for Leadership & Service long-sleeve shirt I received as a gift for participating on an alumni panel. My plaid pants are laying on the bed next to me with a pair of long johns inside. The heater is set to “4″. I have no clue what temperature that is but it’s warm enough. The curtains are still drawn because I’m a Pisces and love lurking in the dark, even in the day light. I am about to light 3 candles to be obedient to my partner’s ancestors. 

Admittedly, my brain is not firing as strongly as it used too. This gives me great pause and reason for concern. It’s almost as if my brain reached it’s peak a decade ago when I was working, involved in ministry as a youth pastor, and in graduate school at Wesley Theological Seminary. I’ve spent the last decade searching for my people, my family, my home, my faith community, myself. Perhaps with the Sanctuary Movement, I’m a bit closer. 

3 Thoughts for Today: Hidden Figures, #wearenotinvisible & brewing, Black Star Line Brewing. 

Hidden Figures

One of my good friends here in Asheville and I went to the pre-release to see Hidden Figures on Thursday. I was so proud of Taraji P. Henderson. She is a true come up! From Hustle & Flow to Hidden Figures with Kevin Costner. As a Black American, I understand the significance of this and how Taraji is maturing as an actress who is commanding respect in Hollywood circles. I may not respect all of her choices in movies but I see her value as an actress and role model. Heck, she inspired me. 

Throughout the movie, there is a common narrative that we as Black women are familiar with. The asshole bosses who lack any emotional intelligence and create hostile work environments and don’t give two shits about how their egoism, patriarchy, heteronormativity, cis-gendered male privilege, misogyny impacts everyone one else. There’s the narrative of having to work harder than everyone else though you’re more qualified and have more experience. The experience of being paid less because of what’s between your legs and the color of your skin. The narrative of others knowing the discrimination you are facing is real but THEY DO NOTHING! They want to protect their safety, their freedom, their privilege. They watch as you face oppression, hatred, bigotry and become ostracized. And, there’s the one person who can see through this shit and validate and affirm our experiences. We, as Black women, so often, play critical roles in the development of institutions, organizations, companies and receive no accreditation. We are written out of history and convinced that we can be nothing more than subservient slaves to capitalism and white supremacy. Hidden Figures broke that narrative. 

I left that movie theater inspired and proud. I left with a fire in my belly that we, the Sistahs of Sanctuary, could do anything. We already are. 

#wearenotinvisible & brewing

When I first came to Asheville and arrived at my home on Lamar Avenue, I declared my new home as sanctuary and a place to land. I told my girlfriend at the time that I wanted to fly under the radar, keep my nose down, not get involved with organizing, and take some space to process and heal. I needed a low-key, “normal” life. That was my desire. 

Within just a few short months, all of that had turned on its head. I was working at the progressive UCC in town. It was a great experience and also really damn difficult. I had the same degree as the co-pastors, comparable experience in many ways, and was in a position of assistant. My options for employment were limited so $14 an hour for 14 hours a week (as it started) was stable and kept the lights on. Additionally, I had some outside contracting work and residuals, so it was all good. While there, I realized my brain was working the same and was too afraid to say anything to anyone. I imagine the pastors could tell something was off. Perhaps none of us wanted to say anything. I was a shell of a person. Through it all, I waited for the moment when they would ask me to preach on a Sunday. Or help with the Eucharist (which I believe is the most sacred and holy of acts in faith communities.) Or do a reading. I waited for an invitation to be a part of the community. Rarely, if ever, did that come. My engagement with the community was structured around ways I was showing up as a staff. This was sad in many ways and I received a sense of home, place, community through it all. Until...

The week before Valentine’s Day 2016. My partner was certain she was going to loose the baby. I was not surprised. Stress, shitty ass nutrition, and a diet of many beers, mixed with older age. This was sad and devastating for me, as their partner. We had dreamed of the baby, names, colors for the walls. The plan was that I would be transitioning to her house to live. All of us, as a family. 

I received a call from the doctor that whatever was growing on and inside of my uterus was growing. Surgery had to be scheduled immediately for that upcoming Tuesday, the 11th. 

Long story short - an emergency hysterectomy for me while simultaneously, my girlfriend was having a miscarriage. Devastation. 

I was out of work from the church and my girlfriend did not want any support or visits. I couldn’t understand but wanted to respect our relationship boundaries. Less than a week later, a white, older, lesbian, wealthy Board member came in to my home and unleashed her white rage on to me and broke a really dear item to me, at my dining room table. In the weeks that followed, the #wearenotinvisible movement was launched to address anti-Black bias in the workplace, primarily in gay/queer organizations. The fall out was shitty. As per usual, folks took the side of the oppressed, did everything in their power to discredit me, and engaged in a long and multi-tiered level of victim-blaming. It was humiliating and devastating. In fact, to this day, the organization has comments on their website about the #wearenotinvisble movement. As SHE said, it’s painful and it hurts. 

Through that advocacy and raising issues around transparency, I was blackballed. Eventually, I had to leave my job at the church. My relationship with my partner was falling apart. And I was in this new damn town, isolated, alone, afraid, unemployed and not employable. I sought Sanctuary. I had to go inward. Once inside, I couldn’t make my way through the mountains, rivers, valleys, and streams of consciousness and trauma. I was alone. 

Over the next year, I would watch friends come and go. Hot and cold. Close and far. It was as if I was walking around town with the Mark of the Beast. In each conversation, I had to give a disclaimer of who I was and what I was about. It fucking sucked. I just wanted to live.... until I didn’t because I couldn’t take it anymore. 

So what does this have to do with brewing? The #wearenotinvisible movement got hijacked and all around town I saw people wearing the shirts that I paid for (for half of them at least), and not knowing the history. It was clear that they knew this one person and bought a shirt to be a part of a movement. 

To be a part of something bigger than yourself. That’s what the Sanctuary Movement is all about. That’s what we are striving to achieve. Collective working, unity, healing, and liberation. To embody the principles of Kwanzaa. 

Well, as I think about the craft brewing industry, to be blunt: it’s fully of really privileged, white, cis-gendered males with a lot of access to cash. If they have enough cash, they can work hard enough (or make others work for them at a fraction of their worth), and amass a great living, if not millions, in just a matter of years. There’s no one in the industry that looks like me. A thick, Black, masculine of center, queer, woman. I know we exist and are excited and interested in beer. We are the under-served, un-tapped market. I know the secret to our success and healing. #wearenotinvisible and yes I can see the Hidden Figures. 

Black Star Line Brewing

Again, you are probably reading this wondering what the hell I’m talking about and how it all comes together and if it’s remotely related to the Sanctuary Movement. The answer is YES!

Sanctuary will initially house 4 Black, queer womyn and their children in the month of January 2016. We will host rituals. Healing circles. Visioning sessions. And begin to create the world we have envisioned. Challenging supremacy, capitalism, and individualism. We are welcoming each other home. To Sanctuary. 

AND, that comes at a cost. Rent is $1200. Utilities will probably average about $200. Water about $100. Internet is $60. Food for all of us around $400. Other items (such as toilet paper, paper towels, etc.), are estimated around $150 a month. If we have a shared car, estimated payment around $350/month. Insurance estimated at $200/month. Total baseline for the household: $1620. Add food and miscellaneous items: That’s $2170. Then, if we’re able to secure a car and insurance for such, we’re looking at $2,720. For the sake of round numbers, let’s say it cost $2800 per month to support 4 Black women and 3 children. That’s it. 

However, we are all coming to the space because we need, desire, and crave Sanctuary and community. Our collective and individual capacities to “work” in the system, to make someone else richer, and to have our worth evaluated at $10/hour at best, is not an option. There needs to be soul-affirming work with dignity, pride, and honor. 

To that end, we’ve asked folks who can see the Hidden Figure and those that know are lives matter, that #wearenotinvisible, to donate to the Sanctuary Movement. To donate in recurring donations, single donations, donate food, cars, whatever and however they are able. We are not a non-profit (because we do not believe in that hierarchy and oppressive structure). We are Sistahs of Sanctuary who are doing the work of healing and starting where it matters the most, with ourselves. 

We have most of the brewing equipment we need to get started. But not the funds for the rest of the materials or equipment. If we are able to brew and partner with our friends at breweries around town, we can make beer, mead, cider, etc. as a viable stream of income to support the community. We can break through the color and gender barrier in the industry and really show strength in self-sufficiency. This could be a model we could replicate and break free from the chains of traditional employment that is exploitative. It is a pathway to our liberation. 

We have the land and space to grow hops and really distinguish ourselves.

As we heal, we will see the launch of Black Star Line Brewing as a testimony to our individual and collective healing and liberation. As a form of resistance and renewal. As a form of Sanctuary in a bottle. 

Alone. Down the long driveway. Over a mason jar of tea. I dream of the tomorrow that is almost here. I dream of Sanctuary. Of our collective brilliance. Of being at the precipice of healing - individual and collective. I dream of the story that our children and grand children will tell about us being bad-ass, radical women who blazed the trail in the craft brewing industry, in commercial cleaning, healing, at life. 

I think of my Sistahs and give thanks. Because of them, I have the will to live. The fight in my belly. Because of them, I can come home. Because of them I am home and have finally found Sanctuary.