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flightlessnightingale · 3 years

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On Lesbianism

I’ll state it at the top here, because many have not understood my stance. The purpose of this essay is not to say that Lesbian cannot mean “Female homosexual.” Rather, my objective is to show that Lesbian means more than that single definition suggests. Female Homosexuals are lesbians, unless they personally do not want to use that label. Now, on with the show: Lesbianism is not about gatekeeping, and I don’t want to have to keep convincing people that the movement popularized by someone who wrote a book full of lies and hate speech then immediately worked with Ronald Reagan is a bad movement. In the early ’70s, groups of what would now be called “gender critical” feminists threatened violence against many trans women who dared exist in women’s and lesbian spaces. For example, trans woman Beth Elliott, who was at the 1973 West Coast Lesbian Feminist Conference to perform with her lesbian band, was ridiculed onstage and had her existence protested. In 1979, radical feminist Janice Raymond, a professor at the University of Massachusetts, wrote the defining work of the TERF movement, “Transsexual Empire: The Making of the Shemale,” in which she argued that “transsexualism” should be “morally mandating it out of existence”—mainly by restricting access to transition care (a political position shared by the Trump administration). Soon after she wrote another paper, published for the government-funded, National Center for Healthcare Technology — and the Reagan administration cut off Medicare and private health insurance coverage for transition-related care.

Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism is a fundamentally unsustainable ideology. Lesbianism is a fundamentally sustainable existence.

There used to be a lesbian bar or queer bar or gay bar in practically every small town — sometimes one of each. After surviving constant police raids, these queer spaces began closing even Before the AIDS epidemic. Because TERFs would take them over, kick out transfems and their friends. Suddenly, there weren’t enough local patrons to keep the bars open, because the majority had been kicked out. With America’s lack of public transportation, not enough people were coming from out of town either.

TERFs, even beyond that, were a fundamental part of the state apparatus that let AIDS kill millions.

For those who don’t know, Lesbian, from the time of Sappho of Lesbos to the about 1970′s, referred to someone who rejects the patriarchal hierarchy. It was not only a sexuality, but almost akin to a gender spectrum.

That changed in the 1970′s when TERFs co-opted 2nd Wave feminism, working with Ronald fucking Reagan to ban insurance for trans healthcare.

TERFs took over the narrative, the bars, the movement, and changed Lesbian from the most revolutionary and integral queer communal identity of 2 fucking THOUSAND years, from “Someone who rejects the patriarchal hierarchy” to “A woman with a vagina who’s sexually attracted to other women with vaginas”

How does this fit into the bi lesbian debate? As I said, Lesbian is more of a Gender Spectrum than anything else, it was used much in the same way that we use queer or genderqueer today.

And it’s intersectional too.

See, if you were to try to ascribe a rigid, biological, or localized model of an identity across multiple cultures, it will fail. It will exclude people who should not be excluded. ESPECIALLY Intersex people. That’s why “Two Spirit” isn’t something rigid- it is an umbrella term for the identities within over a dozen different cultures. In the next two sections, I have excerpts on Two-Spirit and Butch identity, to give a better idea of the linguistics of queer culture: This section on Two-Spirit comes from wikipedia, as it has the most links to further sources, I have linked all sources directly, though you can also access them from the Wikipedia page’s bibliography: Two-Spirit is a pan-Indian, umbrella term used by some Indigenous North Americans to describe Native people who fulfill a traditional ceremonial and social role that does not correlate to the western binary. [1] [2] [3] Created at the 1990 Indigenous lesbian and gay international gathering in Winnipeg, it was "specifically chosen to distinguish and distance Native American/First Nations people from non-Native peoples." [4] Criticism of Two-Spirit arises from 2 major points, 1. That it can exasperate the erasure of the traditional terms and identities of specific cultures. a. Notice how this parallels criticisms of Gay being used as the umbrella term for queer culture in general. 2. That it implies adherence to the Western binary; that Natives believe these individuals are "both male and female" [4] a. Again, you’ll notice that this parallels my criticisms of the TERF definition of Lesbian, that tying LGBT+ identities to a rigid western gender binary does a disservice to LGBT+ people,—especially across cultures. “Two Spirit" wasn’t intended to be interchangeable with "LGBT Native American" or "Gay Indian"; [2] nor was it meant to replace traditional terms in Indigenous languages. Rather, it was created to serve as a pan-Indian unifier. [1] [2] [4] —The term and identity of two-spirit "does not make sense" unless it is contextualized within a Native American or First Nations framework and traditional cultural understanding. [3] [10] [11] The ceremonial roles intended to be under the modern umbrella of two-spirit can vary widely, even among the Indigenous people who accept the English-language term. No one Native American/First Nations' culture's gender or sexuality categories apply to all, or even a majority of, these cultures. [4] [8] Butch: At the turn of the 20th century, the word “butch” meant “tough kid” or referred to a men’s haircut. It surfaced as a term used among women who identified as lesbians in the 1940s, but historians and scholars have struggled to identify exactly how or when it entered the queer lexicon. However it happened, "Butch” has come to mean a “lesbian of masculine appearance or behavior.” (I have heard that, though the words originate from French, Femme & Butch came into Lesbian culture from Latina lesbian culture, and if I find a good source for that I will share. If I had to guess, there may be some wonderful history to find of it in New Orleans—or somewhere similar.) Before “butch” became a term used by lesbians, there were other terms in the 1920s that described masculinity among queer women. According to the historian Lillian Faderman,“bull dagger” and “bull dyke” came out of the Black lesbian subculture of Harlem, where there were “mama” and “papa” relationships that looked like butch-femme partnerships. Performer Gladys Bentley epitomized this style with her men’s hats, ties and jackets. Women in same-sex relationships at this time didn’t yet use the word “lesbian” to describe themselves. Prison slang introduced the terms “daddy,” “husband,” and “top sargeant” into the working class lesbian subculture of the 1930s. This lesbian history happened alongside Trans history, and often intersected, just as the Harlem renaissance had music at the forefront of black and lesbian (and trans!) culture, so too can trans musicians, actresses, and more be found all across history, and all across the US. Some of the earliest known trans musicians are Billy Tipton and Willmer “Little Ax” Broadnax—Both transmasculine musicians who hold an important place in not just queer history, but music history.

Lesbian isn’t rigid & biological, it’s social and personal, built up of community and self-determination.

And it has been for millennia.

So when people say that nonbinary lesbians aren’t lesbian, or asexual lesboromantics aren’t lesbian, or bisexual lesbians aren’t lesbian, it’s not if those things are technically true within the framework — It’s that those statements are working off a fundamentally claustrophobic, regressive, reductionist, Incorrect definition You’ll notice that whilst I have been able to give citations for TERFs, for Butch, and especially for Two-Spirit, there is little to say for Lesbianism. The chief reason for this is that lesbian history has been quite effectively erased-but it is not forgotten, and the anthropological work to recover what was lost is still ongoing. One of the primary issues is that so many who know or remember the history have so much trauma connected to "Lesbian” that they feel unable to reclaim it. Despite this trauma, just like the anthropological work, reclamation is ongoing.

Since Sappho, lesbian was someone who rejects the patriarchal hierarchy. For centuries, esbian wasn’t just a sexuality, it was intersectional community, kin to a gender spectrum, like today’s “queer”. When TERFs co-opted 2nd Wave feminism, they redefined Lesbian to “woman w/ a vag attracted to other women w/ vags”. So when you say “bi lesbians aren’t lesbian” it’s not whether that’s true within the framework, it’s that you’re working off a claustrophobic, regressive, and reductionist definition.

I want Feminism, Queerness, Lesbianism, to be fucking sustainable.

I wanna see happy trans and lesbian and queer kids in a green and blue fucking world some day.

I want them to be able to grow old in a world we made good.

#Lesbian #Trans #Transgender #Queer #Queer positivity #Queer history #Police brutality #Gay #Linguistics #Sappho #History #Femme #Butch #R #TERF #Terf friendly haha jk fuck tERFS

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whoa-its-dani · 3 years

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I’ve started slowly trying to be more comfortable in my gender expression publicly.

Like I don’t get out often so 90% of my gender exp is sitting around in my room in boxers looking like a pre-HRT Grunkle Stan...

But I’m being a little more gnc lately. Like I’m fine expressing femme but sometimes I wanna look like a dude. I doubt that I’m a trans guy, I could be considered nb, but I just prefer gnc...

It’s also a tactic of psychological warfare.

See, I can’t openly wear a bi pin on my jacket because I could literally be killed by my psycho relatives if they figured out what it was. (I know this seems stupid but like it’s a 1 inch pin and I was so happy to have it, but I quickly realized OH SHIT I live in a LGBTphobic environment and I could Actually Die if someone recognized it. It’s really disheartening, honestly.) But! I can dress what I like to call “deniably LGBT”, meaning that I look LGBT enough where other LGBT people might think “Oh, they’re one of us!” but it confuses the LGBTphobes I have to fucking put up with.

Like... am I “one of those”? Or am I just a bit of a tomboy. Is “one of those” sitting here, at your family gathering? No, no, of course not. She’s such a good girl, she couldn’t be “one of those”.

Please, by all means, continue your tirade about how “the homos” shouldn’t be on tv. Please, tell me again that trans women are just “perverted men in dresses who want to rape little girls”. I’m listening :) I’ve been listening since I was a child. And I haven’t forgotten anything. And I never will.

And I hope that one day, in the future, when I’m out of the closet, open and free, when you realize that I am “one of those” that you have a moment where you remember all of the shit you said, right in front of me, all of the shit I heard coming out of your mouth. I hope you remember all of the times you hugged me (even when I asked you not to), all of the time you spent with me and around me, and I hope your gut drops just like mine has every time I’ve had to be around you.

I dunno where this post is going but like I’m dreading having to see the same lgbtphobic relatives for a third day in a row so I’m rambling here. I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense lmao

#whoa.txt #Whoa's Posts #Ramble #Vent #Rant #OK to Reblog #I guess #IDC man #lmao #LGBT #GNC #Gender Nonconforming #Bisexual

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thatgirlwritingficsatnight · 4 years

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Odi et Amo I

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5582

A/N: Hi this is my first fanfic ever, and so there are few things I have to say before you hopefully enjoy reading it. 1. English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors. I’m sorry, perhaps in the future there will be someone to proofread my works. 2. I’m terribly sorry for my interpunction :( for some reason they don’t teach it here and so it may be terrible. I am reading about it more but it’s not easy for me as I haven’t practiced enough. I’m really sorry if it’s awkward. 3. This was supposed to be long oneshot, but I was told not all people enjoy long reads on tumblr like I do, so I decided to make a miniseries out of it. Let me know if you enjoyed it and if you want me to write some scenarios, or post more of my works (i have a lot of them in the depths of my drive lol). Love, thatgirlwritingficsatnight.

***

You sat in spacious sofa in your old apartment in Korea. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked through the headlines.

"The black sheep of Korean show biz comes back after four years in USA"

"Whose heart will she eat now? National heartbreaker came back to Korea"

"Go back to USA you wh*re! - internet went wild over L/N Y/N"

"L/N Y/N comes back in outrageous style"

Most of them were a summary or perhaps a reminder for k-netizens why they should hate you; it's because you dated who you wanted to and for how long you wanted to, it's because this one time in the talk show you told off male host when he kept asking about your private life and because the other time you told another one to stop giving you all the questions about clothes and make up while your male co-star got to answer some deep questions about character development and that's to name the few reasons that came instantly to your mind. Of course some articles had to focus on your airport fashion too. The conservative Korean society had a problem with your bra, or rather a lack of thereof under your designer t-shirt. You left out an irritated groan as you scrolled to the comments. They were vicious and vulgar, you don't know what else did you expect honestly. You tossed the phone and buried your face in your hands fighting the urge to tweet something about the nasty people and how they should keep their antediluvian opinions to themselves. You sighed again perhaps if you were in a different country you'd do that, but here with systematic misogyny, where women were supposed to always smile and nod their heads, here where they got paid 60% of men's pay... you'd most likely be crucified. Then again who if not you would come to your defense? You knew the answer — no one, that realization was enough to anger you even more. The blood was boiling inside you as you snatched your phone back and went into Twitter silently mouthing apologies to your manager who'd be blowing your phone in just a few minutes.

"Yes, I don't wear bras. No, it's not a topic for your article nor your problem. I also know it may shock some people but my dating life is not a topic for your entertainment either."

"It baffles me how Korean society thinks its country is in the group of one of the most civilized ones but still treats women as if we were stuck in 50s."

Your phone was already blowing with notifications, you could see some new articles already popping and soon after that it buzzed as your manager tried to reach you. You silenced your phone and left it on the coffee table while you moved to the kitchen. You got yourself a lamp of wine and watched always busy streets of Seoul from a window. It was already dark and it looked like rivers of light with cars and street lights constantly illuminating them. You were deep in your thoughts as you pondered if you made a good decision. You had a good life in California. You had your best friend there, a house with a pool and many good opportunities for roles you declined. In those four years you became an international star after your role as Marvel's White Fox — a gumiho superhero. You knew in a year or two Disney would ask you to come back to make more movies and most likely you would but you couldn't stay in the USA any longer. Somehow, even though it seemed illogical considering the warm welcome you've got, you still missed your home. You missed Korea the country that loved to hate you. You weren't exaggerating when you said they loved to hate you, for instance you always played villains in Korean films and dramas and the Korean audience loved it. They loved to hate your characters and so every time you tried to audition for a role that would be first or second lead you'd always be cast as the villain. The very first time you played a good character was when you portrayed the White Fox for Marvel, they chose you because you were half American (on your father's side) and because you used to play femme fatales and that was kinda the character. You accepted the role secretly hoping that it would change the way Korea has seen you. It didn't. They said you were too Westernised and that you weren't true Korean and had their own perfect casting with actresses that weren't as scandalous as you. Well, at least the rest of the world loved you. Nonetheless, you came back. You still weren't sure if it was a good idea or for how long, or even if you'd work here or just relax; you were just happy you could eat unhealthy convenience store food whenever you felt like and that kimchi was a standard and not something you'd only find in specific shops. Speaking of, you craved some ramyun with cheese and perhaps some yakult as well. You changed your clothes into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie and chose to wear a black cap and face mask as well. You checked yourself in a huge mirror in the corridor. Your outfit screamed two things: first was "I am a crazy murderer from drama" and and second "look at me I'm a celebrity". You sighed. Honestly what else could you wear? You decided not to change and went out to the nearest convenience store.

You walked slowly taking your time to get to the store while listening to Def Soul hoping lazy beats would calm your nerves. You bopped your head to the rhythm as you entered the store and went straight into ramyun section. You picked your favourite spicy one and grabbed some cheese, yakult and cherry coke. The girl working there seemed really young and you caught her yawning. She apologized and you smiled warmly although she probably couldn't see it through the mask.

"Don't worry about it I'm tired today as well." you said, and she smiled. You paid with a card and regretted not withdrawing any money so that you could tip her. You remember when you were just a bit younger than her, working in similar way but back in the USA; she’d appreciate extra cash. You took the ramyun to prepare it and hummed as you waited for the noodles to get soft. Food always got you to feel better. You were spreading cheese on your noodles when middle-aged men entered the shop. Soon you'd believe it's not your night or perhaps that you got some bad karma, or that you were just cursed. The men came up to the cashier and asked for a pack of cigarettes. You were about to slurp the first noodles when he spoke.

"When will you finish your shift cutie maybe I can pick you up?" He chuckled and the girl tried to smile politely although anyone with eyes could see how uncomfortable she felt. She tried to decline his advances with a small scared voice clearly she was too young to feel comfortable enough to just curse him out.

"You sluts are always the same. You smile at me flirt with me and then act all fucking.."

"Aish!" you didn't let him finish. And he turned your way surprised someone else was in the store. "I lost all appetite," you dropped the chopsticks next to the bowl and moved your gaze at the male: disgust was rolling off from you in waves, and he flinched upon meeting your eyes, "then again who wouldn't if they had to eat in the presence of trash?" You watched as his face got all red and furious, it seemed almost twisted now. "How dare you speak like that to me, you bi..." once again he couldn't finish his sentence this time you silenced him with your swift actions. You closed the distance between the two of you and grabbed his hand firmly. Then you put it behind his back and twisted it painfully enough for him to groan.

"Call me a bitch, I dare you." you said quietly, but he didn't respond, he just jerked trying to escape your hold. He smelled like tobacco, digested alcohol and grease. You scrunched your nose and took him out of the store. You pushed him lightly, and yet he still lost balance and fell. He shot you a glare full of hate and fury while you tried to remain calm. Truth to be told you were scared, yes you jumped in to help the girl, and successfully silenced him, but that was most likely only because he wasn't sober. You were silently asking universe to help you out as you mustered your courage and played your part of "fearless Y/N”.

"Leave or I'll call the police and tell them you harassed both me and the girl." He stood up and spit under your legs before he left. You sighed, a tight knot unravelling itself finally in your belly, adrenaline that was brought up with the surge of fury disappearing now, leaving you bit wobbly. You made mental note to thank the director of The White Fox for making you take those material arts classes, they came in handy. You came back to the store, you didn’t pay attention to the girl that watched you in awe. You just wanted to enjoy your noodles. Finally, able to take the bite you let out disgusted groan they got too soft. Letting out resigned sigh you opened the yakult.

"Miss Y/N.." small voice started next to you. The girl was blushing and smiling. She was cute, had long brown hair and a mole just under her left eye. You smiled back and it seemed to encourage her. "Thank you. You are like the coolest unnie ever. I will always support you and fight anyone that calls you names and.." You chuckled at her eagerness and sudden flood of words. "Thanks kid. What's your name? "Kim Seoyun." "Nice to meet you Kim Seoyun. I'm L/N Y/N." you said with a smile, and she blushed even more. You looked through the window and bit the inside of your cheek. What if he comes back when you're gone, you couldn’t risk it. "Tell me Seoyun when do you end your shift?" She took out a phone from her pocket. "Oh, in ten minutes." "Great I'll wait for you and order you a taxi." "Ah, unnie you don't have to… you already helped me enough and.." "Nonsense", you cut her off "he may come back and I'll sleep better knowing you are safe at home."

She nodded and came back to work. Leaving you with your soggy and lukewarm noodles. You thought about throwing it out but you hated wasting food and so you made yourself eat at least a bit although now it was cold and awfully soft. Ten minutes passed rather quickly and soon you found yourself standing next to the taxi with Seoyun. You gestured her to get in, but she stood in front of you and suddenly bowed deeply while extending her hands in front of you. Much to your surprise she was giving you a popsicle.

"Y/N-unnie I know it's not much but I wanted to thank you..."

You grinned at her while taking the gift. You quickly unwrapped it and tried it, it was strawberry flavoured.

"Thank you. It's the best popsicle I've ever had." You said honestly. Seoyun blushed and entered the car but before the taxi took off she lowered the car window and screamed.

"Y/N-unnie from today I'm your biggest fan! Unnie fighting!" You laughed.

"Mmm. Thank you!" After that car took off and you happily walked back home. Earphones in, phone in your hand as you decided to order some food since the ramyun sadly haven't been quite satisfying. You slurped at the popsicle even though it was the time of year when nights got colder. The taste of strawberries melted on your tongue. It was the first time someone in Korea told you they were your fan, it was also the first time a Korean fan gave you a gift. Despite the chilly air, and cold ice against your lips you felt warmth spreading from your chest. Grinning to yourself, you scrolled through different restaurants still thinking of what should you eat and then you bumped into someone or rather someone bumped into you. Popsicle fell to the ground and so did your phone with earphones brutally torn out from your ears. The man who bumped into you was in a very similar attire as your own he even wore a mask and a cap. You frowned upon realizing the gift from your first Korean fan was melting next to you. You were however about to apologize before he spoke in irritated tone while collecting some boxes scattered around you two.

"Next time watch where you're going." The blood inside you boiled the third time this evening and you snapped back at him before he could add anything else.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going." your tone was so aggressive it was clear all of the frustrations from today's evening build up in you. You gathered your things quickly.

"Excuse me..." he said straightening as he glared at you. His tone was promising a fight or a lecture at least. You didn't feel like any of that so once again today you didn't let someone finish their sentence, a habit of yours as it seems.

"Apologies accepted, asshole." you said fiercely and left him standing there with his stupid boxes in a state of shock. You got into the elevator and decided not to pay anyone any more of your thoughts tonight. You smiled at wooden popsicle stick and quickly forgot about the man downstairs.

Jinyoung was still shocked but also amused by your witty comeback. He knew he reacted upon his emotions when he was rude to you. He was just angry that he had to move the second time in the last two months. Sasaengs somehow found out about his last apartment in which he lived for only two weeks and just started feeling at home. Few days ago they found him, and he was harassed once again. Tired and angry he acted without thinking when you bumped into him and his belongings scattered. He wanted to apologize right away but you growled back at him, and he got irritated, so he wanted to lecture you or at least tell you not to interrupt other people when they are speaking, but you did just that and in very smart matter at that as well. Now Jinyoung was riding an elevator trying to pinpoint your face, he was sure he had seen you somewhere already. He entered his flat and sighed as he realized he had to unpack once again. He decided it could wait till morning.

You were woken up by both pounding and drilling in the wall behind your head. With long groan you pulled a pillow over your head but it didn't help much. You checked the time on your phone. It was seven thirty in the morning and you couldn't fall asleep till three - courtesy of your jet lag. You tried to ignore it hoping that you were sleepy and tired enough to fall asleep, unfortunately to no avail.

"Who the hell does the renovation on Saturday morning?" you asked your own walls with furious tone. You left the bed deciding to speak with the person next door. You didn't even bother to change from your PJ or brush your teeth, or hair, or even to throw something over yourself. You left your apartment in your bunny pyjama set, a gift from your best friend. Soon you were pounding angrily at the door. It took quite some time before the drilling inside stopped and someone opened the door. The man who opened seized you up and down with his eyes and coughed in his fist diverting his gaze somewhere else.

"Can I help you?" he asked his voice was a bit distressed. "I sure hope you can. It's Saturday seven in the morning." you were fuming, and he finally looked at you although he kept his eyes stuck to your face. "Ah... thank you for informing me. Are you working as personal calendar and clock for all of your neighbours or am I on some special treatment?" he asked sarcastically and smirked which made you: first bewildered and second even more mad if that's possible. "Let me rephrase that for you: it's Saturday, early morning and you are drilling in a wall." "Well, technically it was Mr Ahn who was drilling, I was enjoying myself with a book." He clearly enjoyed teasing you, there was this gleam in his eyes. "Don't you think that's a bit too early for a renovation?" your voice was seething with venom although you tried to keep your cool. "Quite contrary. I checked with the building manager, and I am only supposed to keep quiet between ten p.m and seven a.m. as you can see I even waited thirty minutes." He smiled at you and in that second you hated him, his stupid brown hair, strangely symmetrical face, weirdly tight cardigan and the fact that you couldn't do much since he was in the right. You just turned on your heels ready to storm off back to your flat when he spoke again. "Ah, and might I add I just love your fashion sense." he raised one brow and his eyes once again travelled through your body. "Excuse me?"

"Apologies accepted." Your face went from frowned and angry to shocked in a second, and he laughed at your reaction before closing the doors and leaving you cursing yourself, your luck and your best friend who thought it would be cute to buy you pyjama set which contained of hoodie with ears and a bunny tail and some shorts.

You entered your apartment, deep red setted on your face from both anger and embarrassment. As soon as you closed the doors the drilling continued. You cursed under the breath and went to shower. You stood long under the stream letting the water wash away both dirt and emotions. Once you were clean and ready for the day you’ve decided to ditch your flat for now since it was too loud for you anyway. This time you went for less sporty look but still all black. It was a turtleneck, slacks, martens and a beret. Chic and comfortable. You did your makeup and hair and went out for breakfast. The car was already waiting for you when you got downstairs. You pulled a black mask over your face and greeted the driver who didn't talk much and so you didn't have to worry about the small talk. You scrolled through your phone checking the messages you got from your manager — there was about twenty of them and somehow each was written with different emotion: rage, irritation, sadness, hopelessness and so on. You sighed knowing that you should probably apologize for the troubles you caused him. Then again what were you supposed to do, not react when half of this country is calling you names? You signed back in your Twitter only to be greeted by thousands of notifications. Most of which were trolls and haters commenting on your tweets with occasional death threats in your DMs. You tried your very best not to read each and every comment knowing that even though you were strong it still affected you. You were; however, positively surprised when you found some supporting voices. There was your best friend (obviously) who fiercely defended you and called out everyone on their bull, he even threatened legal action and you smiled brightly at his tweets, but there were also few Korean celebrities who took your side and defended you as well. Most importantly there were few normal people, fans perhaps, who applauded you and thanked for speaking out. You smiled when you saw user "Y/NUnnieFandomPresidentSeoyun" somewhere in your notifications. Somehow traffic was still bad even on weekend and it took you forty minutes to get to the café you had in mind. Once you got there however you didn't regret time spend on travel. It was café in quiet part of town, it wasn't very popular since it wasn't in Gangnam but because of that it was one of your favourites. No paparazzi, no dispatch, no other celebrities.

The place itself wasn't very big but it had huge windows and was located in front of the park so you could easily grab a coffee and go for a walk or just stay inside and watch people and kids spending their time at the park. The interior wasn't anything special either, it wasn't one of those Instagram worthy cafés. It had simple modern style. You came in and ordered coffee and some toasts and sat in front of the window. There were few people inside so you sat without your mask freely and wondered if your friend was already sleeping. It was around nine here so in Los Angeles it was probably midnight. You texted him asking if he's sleeping, and he just responded by facetiming you right away. His black hair was still wet from shower, and he wasn't wearing any shirt.

"Yah! Y/N-ah!" he scolded you immediately. "How dare you not text or call your best friend for over a day. Do you know how worried I was?" You rolled your eyes at him.

"It's not like you contacted me either. And put some clothes on Tuan."

"Never. I know you secretly love watching my chest."

"Gross. Anyway.. I haven't called because I was tired yesterday, you know jet lag and all of that, so don't get mad at me."

"How are you now?" His playfulness was replaced by concern and it was clear he wasn't really asking about the quality of your sleep which was in fact terrible thanks to your lovely neighbour.

"I'm fine." He gave you the look. "Really. Honestly I didn't expect anything better from what I got, so I'm fine Mark."

"I shouldn't have let you go. You know what? Those people don't deserve you. Come back to the USA and let's live together again I'll even cook. Or I can come to you I'll fight them and keep you company. I'm can easily stream from there.." You giggled at him and he grinned. "You know I'm serious though you can come back I already miss you anyway. God, I should have married you maybe you wouldn't leave me Y/N-ah..." he was whiny again and you laughed. It was an inside joke between you. Both yours and his parents would always tell you to just marry already but neither of you felt anything romantic towards the other one. You'd known each other since you were two and both of you had treated each other like siblings ever since.

"You should have and now it's too late. I'll find myself new victim and feast on their heart like a true gumiho I am." you said in theatrical manner while munching on your toast.

"Honestly who the fuck writes those articles?"

"I don't know but I'm pretty sure... Oh my god. You've got to be kidding me." you said and tried to lower your face down so that the person passing in front of the window you've been sitting by couldn't see you.

"What? What? Is that paparazzi? Your ex? Is that paparazzi rented by your ex?" You frowned at your friend.

"What? No? It's my asshole neighbour." "Never heard of him. Why are we hiding anyway? You can just tell him to back off. Last time I checked you were great at that." He showed you two thumbs up and smiled broadly. "I'm hiding because I'm embarrassed and I don't want to talk to him." "Why?" he laughed. "What did you do?" "I didn't do anything it was that stupid PJ you got me..." you whispered at him while trying to make yourself as small as possible. "Oh my god. One day in Korea and you already got yourself a one-night stand. This is not how I raised you. What would your mother say?" he teased you and giggled. "For the love of... it's not like that." you said angrily a bit too loud perhaps since the men in question who was just ordering by the counter turned around and looked you dead in the eyes. His neutral expression changing to surprised before it transformed to smirk. You cursed yourself and Mark and bowed your head slightly and awkwardly before you turned around to face your now laughing friend.

"You should see your face."

"Shut up. I hate you."

"You love me."

"What a surprise." Third voice spoke up by your side and you cringed a little before you put on your cold mask on.

"A surprise indeed." You said, your neighbour moved his eyes from your face to the screen of your phone carefully placed against the glass. Mark was still there, still half naked and smirking at you.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes."

"No." you and Mark said at the same time and you send him death glare regretting that you couldn't kick him right now. "I was about to go to sleep anyway. Love you."

He disappeared without waiting for your response. You let out soft sigh and reach out for phone.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The man was already sitting next to you. He was smiling at you and perhaps any other person would say it was a warm type of smile but you felt like he was mocking you. Constantly. You straightened up in your seat and eyed him closely. He was wearing the same tight cardigan, it was accentuating his broad frame and muscles hidden underneath soft, brown cashmere and simple but well fitted blue jeans. You had to admit he was handsome and had somehow angelic face which only made you cringe once you compared it to his personality or at least to what he showed you already. "I don't think that's a good idea." You said after a pause, his expression didn't change for a second, and he sipped on coffee that blushing waitress brought a few seconds ago. "How so?" His voice was sweet and melodic, it irritated you even more. "I am a celebrity, there might be an article about me having coffee with you tomorrow." You kept your tone intentionally bored as you played with the spoon. He laughed and you changed your mind his speaking voice couldn't be called melodic when his laughter sounded so beautifully.

"That's funny. I'm celebrity as well I think I'll survive." It wasn't surprising at all, he was too good-looking to not be an idol, a model or an actor perhaps. You held back another sigh. You could already see the headlines "Y/N attacks again will this man keep up with her appetite" or perhaps "One day in Korea, and she already dates — check out Y/N and her new boy toy". "Yeah I doubt it." you said but quickly added. "Weren't you supposed to renovate your apartment anyway?" "I left it to Mr Ahn it got too loud for me to read in peace."

"I can imagine." Sarcasm was basically dripping from your tongue which only seemed to amuse him even more. His eyes were now twinkling and you thought that he must be a devil in disguise. "I must say it's very lucky that I met you here. What are the odds, right?" "Ah I wouldn't call it lucky, that's for sure." You were currently planning how to escape from this conversation. "So how about we get to know each other a bit better?" He proposed with a warm smile. "I don't think so. I don't even know you." "Oh. That's harsh you do know me. I'm your neighbour and this is our third meeting." He placed a hand over his heart and frowned in pain and you wondered how can one still look handsome while frowning before he continued. "Besides I can fix that. I'm Park Jinyoung nice to meet you. See now we know each other." You fought and urge to roll your eyes and you summoned the most polite looking smile you had in your arsenal. Your phone rang before you could say anything and you've never been more happy to see your manager's face appearing on your screen.

"I'm sorry I have to take it." you said politely, and he just nodded. "Oh I wasn't expecting you to pick up." "Ah manager-nim don't be like that I haven't been picking up only for one day." "Why are you so polite are you with someone?" "Yes." You glared at Jinyoung, he was watching you with a smile with coffee in his hand. "Ok, I can call later." "No!" you almost screamed and cleared your throat trying to remain composure. "No, it's fine." "O-ok. Do you have time today? We should meet and talk I just got something that may interest you. It's really nice drama. I know you said you don't want to play in any of those romantic stories but hear me out this one is..." you'd roll your eyes if not for your neighbour's curious eyes. "Of course when and where will we meet?" You decided to cut off his rumbling. "Really? Before departure, you said you won't play in any stupid drama again." "Ah, I see. I did say that. We should meet today, text me the address then." Hanging up on him, you hoped he got the brains to follow up with text. He thankfully did and your phone barked. Jinyoung laughed again and you gave him confused look. "Did your phone just bark at you?" You blushed against yourself. Was it so weird to have a dog's bark as your message sound? "Ah... yes. I like dogs." You cringed on yourself. Somehow today in front of this man you were constantly losing your cool. He either irritated you or made you flustered enough to forget any eloquent comebacks or eloquence at all. "Anyway it was nice meeting you Jinyoung-ssi but I have to meet up with my manager."

"Oh you're leaving without even properly introducing yourself?" He cocked a brow on you and smirked. You stood up and looked at him coldly. "I'm sorry I don't feel the need." You were about to leave before he spoke again. "Ah… running already... startled... like a true bunny. Come to think of it... it does have a nice ring into it, doesn't it? Bunny. It suits you and you even have a costume already." His voice was so extremely mocking that you felt the irritation buzzing in you like electricity. Not to mention he spoke so loudly the waitress that was blushing at him before now listened carefully. You groaned internally. What if she writes about it somewhere. Media won't let you live especially that he is your neighbour they'd say he is already in love with you. And "bunny" was such a couple pet name. You were in the midst of your internal crisis before he decided to speak again.

"Have nice day bun.." You reacted before you thought, your hand slapped against his mouth before he could say anything more. His eyes got bigger, he was clearly shocked that you were so close to him, that you touched him and that you didn't really care about your language. You on the other had were fuming. You've met your fair share of fuckboys, assholes and idiots but not one of them that had similar status to yours acted with such insolence in public where other people could see you. Well, almost none, perhaps your ex was the only one. You kept your voice quiet, loud enough only for him to hear.

"Shut up. And watch your tongue before I pull it out because the universe be my witness I will and I'll do it with pleasure. My name is not kitten, bunny or any other pet name your buffoon head comes up with. It's Y/N. My name is bloody Y/N." You hissed out and his hand reach out to yours. It was hot from coffee and soft even though his grasp was firm. He took your hand of his mouth and smiled.

"Nice to meet you."

You took a step back and send him the look that must have looked like you were trying to shoot daggers at him.

"I'm sure it is. Now if you excuse me. I don't want to be late."

You rushed to counter to pay only to find out it was already taken care of by Jinyoung. You furrowed your brows and wanted to give him his money back instantly but your phone buzzed and it was your cue to leave. The driver was here.

To Mark 🐰 💙 : One day Tuan... you'll pay for this betrayal

From Mark 🐰 💙 : ILY 2 good night. P.S. He seemed hot 👀

You rolled your eyes how hot was he didn't matter if his sole personality drove you crazy only after three brief meetings. You sighed. This was not how you wanted to spend this day: enraged twice and on your way to see your manager.

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woman-loving · 4 years

Text

The Emergence of a Lesbian Bar Scene in 1960s Sydney

Selection from Unnamed Desires: A Sydney Lesbian History, Rebecca Jennings, 2015.

In addition to these social groups, lesbians were also beginning to join a much longer-standing gay male bar culture in significant numbers, reflecting a broader social acceptance of women and public drinking in the wake of reforms to the licensing laws in the late 1950s. Male narrators recall seeing lesbians on the commercial scene for the first time in the early 1960s, and lesbian narrators begin to discuss their participation in the bar scene from the 1960s onwards.[28] Lesbians socialised alongside homosexual men and drag queens in venues such as Chez Ivy wine bar in Bondi Junction and the Purple Onion coffee shop on Anzac Parade. Virginia, who first visited Chez Ivy and the Purple Onion in the early 1960s, went out on the scene in a group of male and female camp friends and remembers that: ‘It was very mixed. I hardly went anywhere where it was just for women. I think the women’s thing came later, yeah, the segregation side of it.’ She spent these nights out drinking gin and tonic, talking to her friends and dancing the twist, as well as enjoying the drag shows that were put on at the Purple Onion and Les Girls.[29] When Carolyn began to frequent Chez Ivy in the late 1960s she also remembered the clientele as very diverse:

“Chez Ivy’s was home to guys, girls, drag, bi, crossdressers and straights--I felt comfortable in this group and I would look forward to hitting ‘the Club’ each night and weekend ... The cat fights and tantrums were ongoing--this added to the fun of the night and drama. We had parents looking for sons and daughters, bomb threats, vice squad raids, scuffles with ex-lovers--but it was fun!"[30]

Chez Ivy closed at 10pm, but many revellers continue their night out at coffee shops such as Doddy’s on Darlinghurst Road and the Coffee Pot in Kings Cross, or at cabaret clubs such as Les Girls or the Purple Onion.

This picture of the 1960s as a period of transition from a predominantly male to a mixed camp scene is supported by accounts which suggest that lesbians, as newcomers, were not always entirely welcome at Sydney’s camp venues in this period. One reason for this attitude may have been the behaviour and image projected by some bar lesbians: a number of interviewees recall Sydney’s bar lesbians as being quite ‘tough’ or ‘rough’ in this period, in contrast to the more flamboyant drag culture cultivated by camp men. Lesbians were widely regarded as being prone to fighting and causing difficulty in bars with their behaviour. [...]

Although the majority of venues were mixed in the 1960s, lesbians increasingly made up most of the clientele at a few bars: the Trolley Car near Sydney University, the Sussex Hotel on Sussex Street in the City and the Park Inn opposite Centennial Park. Dennis worked at the Trolley Car, owned by Dawn O’Donnell, when it opened in 1966 and recalled the venue as a ‘long, old terraced house’ with a licensed bar downstairs until 10pm and an upstairs room which continued to operate illicitly after official closing time. The venue was popular with lesbians[...]. A significant lesbian clientele also mixed with drag queens at the Park Inn in this period. Karen went to the Park Inn in the late 1960s and recalled that ‘The majority that went there were women.’[35] Laurie, who had gone there for the first time in the 1960s with her girlfriend Helena and two new friends, also remembered:

“I walked in there and it was like seventh heaven. It was full of lesbians from wall to carpet to wall you know? And drag queens. I saw my first drag show there and that was it for me ... We went there every Friday night to Saturday night for the next ten, fifteen years I think?’”[36]

A number of the women who socialised in these venues adopted masculine dress codes and identities. Laurie recalled that all the lesbians at the Park Inn were ‘butch and femme. Three piece suits, cufflinks, ties, the whole bit.’ Laurie herself was introduced to this butch/femme scene by some lesbian friends, who took her clothes shopping in the men’s department of Grace Bros and then to get her hair cut into a ‘short back and sides’ before escorting her to the bar. Her girlfriend, Helene, retained her feminine dress and appearance, as she was adopting a femme identity. Margaret also described the masculine appearance of the other women clientele when she first discovered a camp venue in the 1960s. [...]

For some women, adopting a butch appearance meant potentially passing as a man. Colette recalled experiencing some confusion on her first encounter with a butch lesbian in the early 1960s:

“In 1964/65 I said to my sister, ‘We have to find some lesbians’ ... the only gay place at that time was a place called the ‘Hole in the Wall’, literally a brick circle had been made in the wall ... it was dark inside. It was in Kings Cross in the vicinity of St Vincent’s hospital. It was fully of very interesting people and after about an hour I noticed this very attractive blond boy, there was just something about him, and he obviously noticed me because he came over and spoke and her turned out to be a woman in fully drag so this was terribly exciting for me ... she looked like a boy but she was a girl, this was exactly what I was looking for. So we went home together and it was off with the frock for me and she unstrapped and stripped down to a t-shirt.”[38]

Colette’s reference to the girl unstrapping suggests that some butch lesbians in this period were binding their breasts in order to adopt a more masculine physique, in addition to wearing male clothes.[39] Some of the lesbians who frequented Ivy Richter’s venues in the 1960s were similarly capable of passing as young men. Ivy recalled one occasion on which gender ambiguity led to an altercation between one of her lesbian clients and a member of the licensing police. [...]

The extent to which femme women were a part of the Sydney scene in this period is more difficult to determine. While a small number of accounts refer to butch/femme partnerships and communities, many focus primarily on butch lesbians, suggesting that butch identities predominated. It is also possible that many femme partners of butch lesbians occupied a more transient position in the lesbian social circles of this period and were therefore less visible. Davis and Kennedy noted that, in the butch/femme community they documents in 1940s and 1950s Buffalo, ‘many fems ... became butch, others went straight, and others claimed to be too shy to be interviewed.’[41] A similar picture emerges in Sydney. In her account of a casual encounter with a butch lesbian at the Hole in the Wall in Kings Cross in the 1960s, Colette describes herself as removing her ‘frock’, suggesting that her own appearance was more feminine than that of her butch partner. Colette herself was a newcomer to the bar on this occasion and implied that she was not part of any coherent lesbian community at the time. Accounts of the Park Inn hotel in this period also suggest that the predominantly butch lesbian clientele mixed with other women as well as drag queens. Laurie, who had gone there for the first time in the 1960s, recalled that women of all classes mixed there and ‘there was one table that was reserved permanently for when the prostitutes came in, from Kings Cross, and they were all gay.’[42] The hotel owner, Ken (Kandy) Johnson, claimed that nurses made up a significant group amongst the more butch regulars and remembered one occasion on which he had received a call from the local hospital, attempting to locate one of their nurses, who was needed to assist on an operation. [...] Kandy’s account of this exchange suggests that camp women who identified as butch--wearing men’s suits and short hair--may have interacted with more feminine prostitutes in his bar. Whether or not some of the prostitutes had sexual relationships with women, Kandy’s account suggests that others may not have immediately identified them as camp, defining them instead primarily as ‘prostitutes’. How the women themselves defined their sexual identity, if at all, is even more elusive, in the absence of accounts by femme participants in this scene.

The possibility that femme identities may not have been clearly identified as lesbian identity model is also suggested by Elizabeth’s account of roles in her suburban social circle. Unlike the majority of women socialising in private friendship networks in the mid-century, who describe their roles and appearance as conforming to mainstream ideals of respectable femininity, Elizabeth recalled her private house party scene in the late 1960s as organised around a restrictive form of gender role-playing. [...] Despite her partner’s expectation that she adopt a feminine appearance, however, Elizabeth does not appear to have developed a clearly defined femme identity. Explaining the relationship between their respective roles, Elizabeth was unsure of the term for a feminine partner, commenting:

“You were a butch lesbian or you were a, whatever, I don’t know what you call it, but anyway, you were one or the other and that’s how it worked and I thought that makes sense.”[45]

Elizabeth’s ambivalence toward her femme identity was also apparently reflected by those around her, as she recalled attracting criticism of her appearance from a woman at a party. The woman commented that Elizabeth shouldn’t ‘think you can fool us wearing that dress’, suggesting that she regarded the adoption of a feminine appearance as an attempt to hide a lesbian identity. This account suggests that feminine lesbians may have been viewed with distrust in some Sydney lesbian circles, and perhaps not regarded as having an important or valued role in that community.

Other accounts, however, suggest that both butch and femme identities were consciously adopted by some women as an indication of membership in a lesbian community. Laurie had been introduced to the butch/femme scene when she moved from Perth to Sydney in the 1960s and she she and her girlfriend Helene adopted butch and femme identities respectively. [...] After introducing them to butch/femme fashion, June and her girlfriend Karen took Laurie and Helen to their local bar and the new arrivals soon became regulars. Descriptions such as Laurie’s are reminiscent of postwar butch/femme lesbians in the US and UK, where the commercial bar scene fostered a highly nuanced subculture based around butch/femme role-playing, and new entrants to the community were expected to adopt either a butch or femme style and behaviour. This was often a highly conscious process in which new members chose an identity and experienced a rite of passage in which they adapted their image to fit the new identity. For Laurie, the decision to become a butch was taken by her new butch friend, June, on the basis that Laurie was a better pool player than Helene. [...]

Personal narrative such as Laurie’s suggest that, while a number of lesbian identity models in the 1960s were characterised by an emphasis on secrecy and discretion, others, such as butch/femme, were highly visible and confrontational. Butch/femme lesbians, like Laurie and Helen, forged their identities in social spaces which they shared with prostitutes, gay men and drag queens and as a result they understood their lesbianism within a broad, cross-gendered community of sexual minorities. Similarly, the shared nature of the camp social scene in the 1960s, meant that many more discreet lesbians in this period also defined their identity alongside gay men, in terms of a shared attempt to evade detection by mainstream society.

However, despite the presence of consciously butch women on the commercial lesbian scene in the 1960s, butch/femme did not represent a pervasive subculture in the Sydney camp bar scene in the manner described by historians of US lesbian subcultures. Oral history accounts suggest instead that butch lesbians coexisted with women of more conventional appearance, often sharing the same social spaces. This reflects the situation in Melbourne in the same period, where Lucy Chesser has found that:

“while there were sizeable lesbian social groups which organised around role playing in Melbourne in this period alternative models of lesbian relationship were often avialable to women from working class backgrounds ... In addition, butch/femme role playing appears to have deceased in importance as the 1960s progressed.”[48]

In Sydney, other lesbians who socialised both within and outside of the bar scene in the 1960s do not recall the early scene as a butch/femme culture and did not themselves adopt either a butch or femme identity. Virginia did not recall a butch/femme scene at Chez Ivy and the Purple Onion in the early 1960s, although she conceded that ‘some of them probably were pretty butch’, while Carolyn described Chez Ivy’s lesbian clientele as a relatively diverse culture group.[49] The fluidity of lesbian dress and identity on the commercial camp scene in Sydney in the 1960s reflects the predominance of small, private networks in the preceding decades and indicates the absence of a long-standing and developed subculture in the bars of this period.

Moreover, the ways in which women made use of the new pubic spaces becoming available to them continued to be shaped by private networks and patterns of socialising. Both the bar scene and the camp social groups in the 1960s were relatively secretive and enclosed, making it difficult for outsiders or the authorities to identify them. In the absence of any homosexual press, bars and clubs did not advertise and only a few individuals were lucky enough to stumble across them by accident. The mainstream press could occasionally give a hint but most women were introduced to the camp scene by friends from elsewhere.[50] Virginia first visited camp bars with friends from a North Shore ballroom dancing club she belonged to, and Karen began socialising with lesbians she met at a hockey club in the late 1960s. Carolyn and her girlfriend were first introduced to Chez Ivy by a lesbian couple they met by chance on holiday in the Central Coast.[51] The enclosed nature of the scene in this period also lent a secretive atmosphere to socialising, which some women remembered as exciting. [...] Lucy Chesser argues that the sense of belonging to a secretive lesbian subculture in this period played an important role in affirming women’s lesbian identities and giving women a sense of pride in escaping detection.[53]

Friendship circles continued to be important, not only introducing women to venues, but in the ways in which individual lesbians made use of the spaces available to them. Unlike the pattern of socialising in London’s lesbian venues in the 1960s, where each bar or club possessed it own community of regular clientele with specific behavioural codes and identities, venues seem to have played a less important role in shaping identity on the Sydney scene. Women moved more freely from one venue to another, but as groups rather than individuals. [...] In this sense, the commercial camp scene which emerged for lesbians in the 1960s reflected earlier patterns of socialising in the city. Women continued to structure their social networks around small, private circles of friends and simply extended the location of their social activities as new spaces became available to them. Sydney’s lesbian socialising in the 1960s was defined by one’s circle of friends, rather than a regular haunt, and as a result women moved easily between the social spaces available to them.

#lgbtq #lgbtq history #lesbian history #bisexual history #butch femme #australia #australian lgbtq history #sydney

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coldvampire · 3 years

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@impossible-rat-babies tagged me in a “fictional characters that remind me of/i project onto my oc” meme (thank u owen uwu) so! naturally i went with kat because who else?? would i talk about???/s

she’s an interesting one to disseminate because she’s existed in my head in some capacity or another since i was like. six lmao. obviously this is just going off of her most recent iteration, which is ~vampire~. because she’s so established for me, this is more about vibes/similarities rather than direct creation inspiration.

yennefer of vengerberg (specifically the book/offical canon take on her character) - look i feel like this is just kinda obvious lmao. visually the wiki paraphrases her description as having “pronounced cheekbones, natural, slightly irregular eyebrows trimmed by hand and emphasized with charcoal, long eyelashes, and petite hands. Even in high-heeled shoes she wasn't tall, was beautiful but threatening...” yeah okay kinda cringe perhaps but also this is a power fantasy so. i can do what i want lmao. but yeah overall small, scary-hot, pale, cool eyes, great hair, that’s the visual i have in mind. and personality wise, it’s no surprise that yen was my favourite from the series & that you can see some of the same qualities in kat. i have a weakness for shrewd, self-aware powerful women with internal damage and soft spots for their very select group of loved ones. (mod link.)

mia wallace. height clearly wasn’t a factor here lmao, but i think as far as colour palette and personality go you can see some connections. i wouldn’t call her a femme fatale or anything like that, but there’s something very much surly-yet-feminine about uma’s performance that i dig. also, the risk-taking behaviours and smoking motif.

deanna troi. alright so personality wise they. don’t have a ton in common actually. perhaps it’s just something about being a cool bi women with a thing for scruffy slightly dorky men lmao. deanna could just very well come to mind for the visuals. look at her hair! i need to know what was going on in the next generation’s styling department because i don’t think marina sirtis had a bad look for the entire 7 season run. oh, and i guess it’s also neat that both kat and deanna’s actress are greek.

miranda lawson. i’m noticing a pattern here. are you noticing a pattern here? we love dedicated career women who use their expertise and skillset to put up emotional walls and avoid vulnerability like the plague (until they can’t, that is) and who show they care in some endearingly bizarre ways. miranda and kat both share a protective love & dedication to their families, a tendency to scold rather than admit they were worried, the knowledge that they’re the hottest person in any given room, and oh my god issues with their fathers (or with kat, her sire) in spades. & once again, pretty dark haired woman with cool eyes.

liz sherman. with liz, i think the biggest draw is probably the complicated relationship we see between her and hellboy in the first film. i think that internally she probably pushes people away from a similar place, but her reasons are different than kat. also the way they isolate themselves kinda parallels too--liz seems the type who wants to just quietly recede, whereas if kat feels trapped she goes scorched earth. then again that does seem to be,,, a less literal version of what happens with liz so. maybe there’s more to that than i think.

helga sinclair. holy shit, we have our first outlier for hair colour! full disclosure, i don’t actually remember anything about this movie or her character. like, at all. but that said, the energy she gives off & how she carries herself? very much kat. also, matching under-eye beauty marks!

meg. attitude and vocal tone (in respect to how her voice is low; i don’t have a voice claim for kat right now, but this wouldn’t be how i picture her sounding). also the whole relationship with love and romance and opening yourself up to being with someone else is very apt.

beatrix kiddo. uma thurman has some very iconic roles that really solidified themselves in my brain here, doesn’t she? in this case, while kat’s revenge arc isn’t about a child, it is very much about killing a certain man. that single-minded ruthlessness is extremely her, much like her willingness to get her hands dirty and put in the work. also, the dedication--if you cross enough of her boundaries, kat will quite literally chase someone for the better part of a century until she feels they’ve atoned properly.

#oc tag #katerina irakleidis #vampire the masquerade

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queer-as-frikc · 4 years

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My coming out story is weird, it gets a lil transphobic so tw near the end tw long post too

So, pretty much throughout my time growing up through elementary school and half of middle school, i grew up in a white middle class area. I didnt know about the LGBTQ+ or anything other than what I saw, which was white people and an occasional poc. Eventually I had to move and I ended up in a super diverse area, and ended up becoming best friends with this person (they are ftm now so imma use the right pronouns but they were f when this story mostly takes place) he told me all about things I didnt know, specifically the LGBTQ+ community and that he was pan, and it was new information so just like any 13 year old learning new things, I questioned myself, I questioned if I could like the same sex or not or possibly more.

Sadly, drama happened between my best friend, his girlfriend and I, so thing got a little weird. But there was a time in winter, when he was off that relationship for more than a month and he said he'd like to date me, and I really thought about it before hand and said yeah, I couldnt tell you how happy I was to have this experience.

I told my mom that night, in a round about way cuz I was nervous, "Hey mom, what if I liked girls?" She told me she doesnt think that I do, because I always expressed feelings for guys, and when I tell her I didnt really understand what being gay was when I was younger, I didn't really know it was a possibility. She snapped at me and said, "Unless you are willing to kiss a girl and do the other stuff, you arent gay at all."

Eventually I have a sit down conversation with her, about how confusing this all was and how I wish I knew how I felt, and so on. She said she had a similar questioning phase but it never stuck so she doesnt think I am.

Like a month later I figure it out and dude that was so gratifying. I came out as bi to my mom, who just dismissed the whole thing, but I was terrified to tell my uncle (it's a long story about that, no it's not "sweet home Alabama") because he always said bi's were wh*res so yeah. I ended up telling him, and he goes, "You know my opinion on it but that doesnt mean that I'll disown you or anything." Btw the relationship (dating wise) with my best friend after he came out as ftm because he went back to his ex, it's all cool tho.

So that was that, or so I thought. It was my first year of high school, and I finally really understood the definition of pan, what was holding me back though was the trans experience, I thought because I didnt know what it was like, I couldnt be pan, even though I didnt have a preference, turns out it just means you like people no matter their gender and it like, clicked finally so yeah. I've told my family about that since but I a similar reaction: my mom said she doesnt think I am and she lectured me on my generation having so many labels and how she hated it. My uncle said he appreciated that I was pan more than me being bi which confused me but he just had a better view of pansexual than bisexual. (I explained to both of them what the difference was but idk man)

I believe it was my second year of high school when I really started to question my gender, and that was mostly because I saw a video of what gender dysphoria looks like if it's not that strong and you arent aware for ftm. So like wearing bagging clothes all the time, always wearing sports bras, and practically no other bra, feeling really good if someone accidentally calls you sir, etc. And I was like, oml it's me. But it wasnt, I didnt find that out until later tho. So, with my friend group, I find a name that seems to fit me well and ask them to address me by it and he/him pronouns, as like a test of sorts. (All of my friends are gay in some way so it was cool) In the end tho, I got a little iffy about the whole thing and wouldnt ever correct them at times or it was just off for me. I felt really bad because I thought that they might have thought that I was just trying to force myself to be more like them, but I wasnt, i still felt bad though and kinda dropped it.

I'm not sure 100% how I figured it out tho, but I remember talking to my best friend (not the same one from middle school, they were my best friend as well but they arent the same person) about the whole experience and I believe they brought up the idea of genderfulid, and I was like :0.... what that. They explain it, you go aall over the gender spectrum, some days you might feel like a boy, others you might feel like you have no gender, some days you might feel like your gender is something completely weird and different, that's just what it is. And I was like, "It fits but like, I barely feel femme at any point in time, maybe like once a year." And they tell me, that's ok and stuff as long as my gender just decides to be a completely weird and went all over the place, it counted, so I was like, "I finally figured it out!!!" And i was so happy.

Then came the time I was comfortable enough to tell my parents. I had been using the label genderfuild for over half a year already and I thought that it was what I was so it was ok to tell them. I saw how ok me being gay went, so I was nervous but not as nervous as I should have been, probably. I told my mom first, she went on a similar rant of her no liking my generations labels and such, but it went fine, I explained it, I thought I was through, I thought I was fine, apparently not. One day I'm in the shower and I hear my mom being very expressive with what ever shes talking about to my uncle, which is fine, she needs someone to vent to sometimes. When I get out though, and I can here her clearly, I hear sees complaining about what I told her recently, that I'm genderfulid, but instead of saying that, she only says I want to be a boy. (Oh no) So shes complaining to him, asking why I cant be more like her and just be a masculine girl and be fine, why do I have to fit in with the crowd of my generation to feel special, why cant I just be fine with who I am now? Etc.

The sad thing is, that night, I was going out shopping for pants and underwear with my uncle because I needed some and I wore men's pants already at that point, because they are more durable, and stuff so I knew it was gonna be a long ride. My mom was snippy with me that whole night, just the entire time which sucked.

When we finally left to go get clothes though, I didnt know it could get worse. My uncle lectured me about how that's just my generations fad, and how his was making tattoos and piercings ok in the work place and mine is being trans a gay and all that crap, and that I'm just trying to fit in, I'm not being myself, no matter how much I chop myself up and cut my hair and take hormones my chromosomes will never change and so I can never be an actual guy. He also said that I would bring just more attention to myself being a woman who does guy things rather than try and be one, and he thinks I'm doing this all for attention. I was mad but silent at this point, I didnt want to cause anything to happen. He ended up asking me, "So did you pick a different name?" I was surprised but I said yeah, and my friends were using it and it seemed to fit better. He asked me what it was and fear over took my body. I told him, "I'll only tell you if you dont use it against me if your mad." He says, "i cant promise that." And then gets mad because I wont tell him. Though I do, because I feel obligated since hes buying me clothes. To be even more confusing, he buys me guys underwear, and undershirts along with the predetermined pants he promised me and now I'm so confused.

But it gets even worse. When we get home, my mom freaks out on him because be bought me all that mens stuff and she said he was encouraging my behavior and stuff, he defended with it's just clothes, and yah it is. Eventually things settle down, obviously my mom isnt talking to be, but that's for the best at this point. I'm in the living room with my uncle and he just then starts harassing me with questions like, how do you know? he asks. "Well, I just feel that way, same as you." I say. But why do you wanna be a guy? he asks. "I dont wanna be a guy, it's just weird that way. Also it's not me being a guy, it me being many more than that," I say. He says that's bullsh*t. I offer to show him videos that better explain what trans is and how it's an actual sciencey thing and stuff but he said he wont take a video because he wants me to say it. And then he just goes off, saying the name I picked out shows how self centered I am because I am selfish, he kept asking me if i liked to fight, to catch and play with bugs, to be strong, to be angry all the time, and all these stereotypes for men and I just left, and went to bed. He wasnt going to listen to me, so there wasnt a point to me staying.

But, it gets worse. The morning comes and I'm awoken by the slam of my door by my uncle and the laughter of my mom. My uncle starts being really aggressive and starts cleaning my room, I only have clothes on the floor mostly so that's all it was, but he starts saying, well if you're gonna be a man, imma start training you like one, the man of the house picks up after everyone, the man of the house does everything he can to help the house run smoothly, the man of the house has to be strong, and all that stuff. (Which I thought was funny because he was "the man of the house" yet I did everything, and still do. I clean up most after him, funny huh.) And, I know what's happening and so I stay in bed, I don't want this to happen. But I literally get ripped out of my bed by my uncle and get told to stop being a little b*tch and a brat because I'm being selfish by my mom and I'm yelled at to sit in the living room and wait while my uncle cleans my room. When hes done hes starts lecturing me and being all aggressive and in my face. He keeps asking me a million questions with the tone that he didnt care so I knew he wouldn't listen. Eventually, him and my mom leave, I'm told to stay there until I get back. When they do get back, they act like everything is fine, nothing happened between them and I and it's just been so hard for me to talk to them about that since.

I'm greatful that I dont have to deal with that anymore but every time something that that is brought up with my family, I panic so much now. I'm fine and I'm safe but it was very traumatic for me. And uh, thanks for listening.

hey, thank you so much for sharing your story. this was just. so heartbreaking. noone deserves to have a person like your uncle in their life. im so sorry you had to go through all of that. i hope you’re in a much better place now <3 (also i loveeddd reading about how you figured it out) =)

again, tysm <3

#transphobia #transphobia tw #biphobia tw #abuse tw

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apollowned · 4 years

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Ok, the femme and butch discourse was such an odd thing to watch as a Canadian on this website.

Because Femme is a real French word and people were taking pictures of shirts that said it in Canadian Forever21, and I was cracking up. People were honestly saying it was "cultural appropriation," as if in the men's section, there wasn't a shirt with the word "homme" on it. I remember vividly seeing a post on my dash of a person talking about the discourse, and they straight out said something like, "there is no legitimate way to use the word femme in the English language unless you are a lesbian." And I, of course, being the asshole I am, replied by merely writing "femme fatale." they were not happy. They ended up more or less saying, "that's not what I mean, and you know it," and they were right. What they meant is they didn't want bi women to have access to the word. They didn't want trans people using it.

It is pretty incredible how deeply ridiculous people made themselves look in an attempt to "purify" queer culture. I'll be honest, I looked at the discourse and was like, am I missing something? These people are speaking with such confidence they must have straightforward and legitimate reasons to feel this way. So I more or less left it alone and let it unfold without much comment. Now that it's settled, it is pretty obvious why people were saying what they were saying.

I'm not looking to convince anyone of anything; too many people have put their opinion on this discourse as a part of their identity for any attempt from someone who cares as little as I do to change it. But looking back, it is just so silly. The fake outrage, the drama, the weak arguments put forward. The thought of how many children were radicalized by terfs in that argument is less fun to think about. How many trans people and bi women were harassed. But the idea of these seventeen-year-olds messaging queer elders to "learn their history" is still a pretty absurd picture.

While I don't think everyone involved in that discourse was American, it was one of those fights that really showed precisely how American-centric this site is.

#meta tumblr #i am an idiot #silly discourse #i dont want to tag this too much and put myself on terfs dashes on purposd #but reblogging is ok

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hellomynameisbisexual · 4 years

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5 Ways That Bi Erasure Hurts More Than Just Bisexual People

December 2, 2014 by Milo Todd

This year, Bisexual Awareness Day/Celebrate Bisexuality Day was on September 23rd.

That same day, the National LGBTQ Task Force thought it’d be a good idea to post an article entitled “Bye Bye Bi, Hello Queer,” in which leadership programs director Evangeline Weiss said “she is ready ‘to say bye bye to the word bisexuality.’

She said it does not describe her sexual orientation, and she encouraged readers to cease using the word as well as she felt it reinforced a binary concept of gender.

Let me drive that home a little more. The National LGBTQ Task Force not only thought it would be a good idea to publish an article insulting, misrepresenting, and forsaking the bisexual letter in their own name, but did so on Celebrate Bisexuality Day.

Rude.

And a fantastic example of the constant, ongoing erasure bisexual people have to deal with. This one just happened to be incredibly blatant.

What happened as a result of that article? People got pissed.

People got so pissed that the Task Force not only removed the article from their website, but posted in its place this non-apology (it keeps being referred to as an apology, but I’m not so easily pleased): “Having listened to a wide array of feedback on the timing and content, we recognize that this blog offended people. For this we sincerely apologize. It has been removed.”

In other words, “Sorry you got pissed off. Hopefully you’ll shut up if we take it down.” Which, as far as I can tell, isn’t much of an apology for a blatant disregard of an entire community of people.

Misunderstanding of the bisexual community has been the crux of biphobia’s history and the ongoing battle to erase bisexuality from the LGBTQIA+ community.

It’s a scary time to be bi, especially when your lesbian, gay, pansexual, and queer siblings and allies are calling for your blood simply because they’ve fallen victim to the mainstream agenda without realizing it. (Say what?! Jump to #5.)

It’s time for a change.

It’s time for all of us to properly understand one another and to — hope of hopes — become allies for our incredibly similar endeavors. To help initiate that friendship, I ask you, dear reader, to go through the following three steps.

Step 1: Look below. If I’ve played my cards right, virtually every reader should find at least one category with which they identify.

Step 2: Approach your designated section(s) with an open mind, an unprejudiced heart, and a desire to further enhance your own community/ies. It’s difficult for people to learn new things and see different views if they automatically approach them with resistance, which is often the case with bisexual topics.

Step 3: See how bi erasure hurts you as a person and, while you’re at it, likely hurts the people you care about. Because it really is happening.

So here are five ways in which bi erasure is hurting people of layered identities.

1. Female-Identified People and Feminists

Bisexuality is one of the only non-monosexual* identities currently recognized in the English-speaking world. If bisexuality is kept underground, it suppresses our limited, precious resources for open discussion about non-monosexuality. This hurts female-identified people and feminists regardless of their sexual orientation.

To this day, female-identified people can’t get a fair shake. Pay is unequal, birth control access is limited, and objectification is a daily thing. Non-monosexual women in particular are often not taken seriously because they’re seen as sluts, greedy, or unable to make up their minds.

Also, the general fetishizing of women is particularly intensified in the bisexual realm by (straight-identified) men, turning the very act of women’s sexual freedom, empowerment, and self-expression into nothing more than something for male gazes. (This is most often seen through the relentless prompts for female-female-male threesomes and masculine catcalls in bars when two femme-appearing women make out.)

By participating in or casually allowing bi erasure to happen, we’re ignoring the specific plights and abuses of bisexual women, thereby contributing to the ongoing problem of female inequality, objectification, and silence.

As feminists, we can’t pick and choose which women to fight for. The complexities of womanhood — and all of its cultural suppressions — are an all-or-none deal.

*Note: Non-monosexuality usually refers to someone who is interested in more than one sex or gender. (In other words, somebody who isn’t gay, lesbian, or straight.) Another way to say “non-monosexuality” would be “polysexuality” to help keep it from sounding negative.

2. Male-Identified People and Male Liberationists*

Just like with female-identified people and feminists, bi erasure hurts male-identified people and male liberationists regardless of their sexual orientation.

Allow me to make this pretty basic: Men continue to be fed the message that being gay is bad. Being gay means you’re not really a man, which means you lose your dude membership and the bulk of your male privilege. And since gayness equals the slightest shred of attraction to or intimacy with another male, all manners of bromance must be squashed.

In short, many guys live in a state of silent terror in this regard.

Bi men are afraid of being banished from the world of lady-loving, gay men are worried about losing all of their connections to hetero land, and nothing is worse for a straight man than being called a fag.

Constant monitoring, constant filtering, constant stress: Is this really the kind of world we guys want to keep living in?

By being able to talk about bisexuality — remember: one of our only non-monosexual identities — male-identified people can begin to break free from the masculine ideal.

Bi talk helps bridge the gap between being a man (straight) and not being a man (gay) and realizing, hey, having some manner of attraction to or intimate interaction with another guy is totally okay, masculinity unscathed.

Gay men can begin to regain their identities as men, bi men can finally start coming out, and “fag” will lose its strength as an insult from one straight man to another.

*Note: Male liberationists are more or less seen as allies to feminists and vice versa. Both will argue that patriarchy is bad, but while feminists talk of how it’s bad for females, male liberationists talk of how it’s bad for males. Examples include the inability to romantically or sexually love another male, the emasculation of men of color, and the physical, verbal, and mental abuse that comes from society’s expectations to be stereotypically masculine.

3. People Who Identify as Trans Sexual, Trans Gender, Genderfluid, Genderqueer, or Gender Non-Conforming

This one’s pretty easy. Some people on the trans spectrum identify as bisexual. But then they’re told they can’t or that it’s an insult to their trans siblings because bisexuality is believed to be trans-exclusive.

The problem with bi erasure is it adds to the ongoing problem of cis people — LGQ or not — telling trans people what to think. Cis people have a bad habit of thinking they need to speak for people on the trans spectrum even when trans people are quite capable of speaking for themselves. This is even more frustrating when it comes from a community supposedly meant to support them.

Despite the personhood for which they’re continuing to fight, trans people can receive backlash from the lesbian, gay, and queer communities as their identities and bodies are turned into political battlegrounds.

Sometimes, they’re used without consent by some cis individuals so that points can be made for non-trans-specific agendas, and sometimes they’re ironically used in the attempts for cis identities to help better the trans worlds.

For instance, automatically dismissing bisexuality as trans-exclusive and guilting any person on the trans spectrum that wants to identity as bisexual, if I may make so fine a point.

As blogger Aud Traher writes, “If you want to support trans people like me, don’t erase me or speak over me or cause me harm out of self-righteous biphobia. Look into yourself and deal with that internalized biphobia and then help others get over theirs. Don’t advocate for the destruction of a community in the name of ‘saving’ it. And, especially, don’t do it in my name.”

4. People Who Identify as Gay, Lesbian, or — Yes — Straight

Quite simply, it makes gays and lesbians (and straight people) look bad, too.

Bisexual people get a bad rap for apparently upholding the gender binary by saying they love only (cis) men or (cis) women, but isn’t that pretty much exactly what gays, lesbians, and straight people are saying when they identify as gay, lesbian, or straight? That they’ll only love either (cis) men or (cis) women?

But where’s their rampant backlash from the rest of the community for upholding the gender binary? I’m just sayin’.

Even when these groups extend their definitions to include trans people and people on the gender non-conforming spectrum, it’s often still as long as those trans people exhibit some manner of gender representation that falls into the lover’s category of desire.

Now, I’m honestly not trying to rag on gays, lesbians, or even straight people. They have as much right to identify how they want as anybody else. And there’s nothing wrong with feeling primarily attracted to only, say, cis or trans men if your brain simply tells you that you only like guys. That’s fine. Go ahead and do that. I’m not saying you can’t.

What I am saying is you can’t be spewing bi hate or letting bi erasure slide because 1) it’s incredibly one-sided and unfair, and 2) in the end, it’s making you look bad, too.

What do you think will happen if bi erasure is a success? You’ll be next, dears.

*cue Jaws theme*

5. People Who Identify as Queer, Pansexual, or Another Fellow Non-Monosexual

In late October, Lizzy the Lezzy — who I quite enjoy, by the way — shared a photo on her Facebook timeline explaining sexuality in terms of guests at a BBQ.

This would be all well and good if it didn’t include a glaring misconception about bisexual people, especially when compared to pansexuals. While bisexual people were defined as getting both hot dogs and hamburgers, pansexuals were defined as getting hot dogs, hamburgers, “and a salad.” Oops. What year is this again?

I’m going to make something very plain to you, dear reader: Bisexual people don’t just love (cis) men or (cis) women. That’s not how the ballpark definition goes. The “bi” in “bisexual” does not indicate a binary. Well, okay, it does indicate a binary, but probably not the one you think.

Instead of “bi” meaning a love for only cis men or cis women or otherwise putting men and women at two opposite ends of a spectrum, “bi” means a love for identities bisexual people identify with themselves and identities that they don’t.

Or, as the popular Robyn Ochs definition goes: “I call myself bisexual because I acknowledge that I have in myself the potential to be attracted – romantically and/or sexually – to people of more than one sex and/or gender, not necessarily at the same time, not necessarily in the same way, and not necessarily to the same degree.”

Look at that very closely. That’s still a binary. That’s still “bi.” And there isn’t a thing wrong with it, no exclusion to be seen.

When compared with the general concepts of pansexuals and queers, our orientations suddenly sound pretty darn similar: We love everyone.

Bisexual people get a bad rap for apparently being transphobic. While we’ve already seen a little bit in #3 as to why we aren’t, I want to further drive the point home here. A large portion of the transphobic accusations toward us come from the queer and pansexual communities, which in turn seem to derive from some serious misinformation and misdirection by the mainstream.

For the record, queers and pansexuals are cool. I like them. But the fact of the matter is that the misconception of the “bi” in “bisexual” as meaning an attraction to only (cis) men or (cis) women — and therefore upholding the gender binary — was created and imposed upon bisexual people by the mainstream. You know, the people that want the gender binary to stick around.

And some queers and pansexuals ate the propaganda they were fed? That’s terrifying. It starts to show just how large and sneaky the mainstream’s gender binary monster truly is.

By defining and erasing bisexuality on the grounds that it upholds the gender binary, pansexuals and queers are not only reinforcing the binary they so sorely wish to dismantle, but they are losing important focus on where the problem actually resides: the mainstream’s insistence to force the gender binary on non-mainstream groups such as bisexual people.

Further, holding bisexual people responsible for the abuse they’ve suffered is simply wrong. All that’s doing is blaming the victim. But, by recognizing and respecting bisexual people as they truly are, bisexual people can not only help dismantle the gender binary and put a new definition on the concept of the spectrum, but finally be allowed to team up with pansexuals and queers to crush mainstream abuse on non-mainstream identities.

Doesn’t that sound nice? I think it sounds nice.

TL;DR

Dear non-bisexual identities, please stop shooting yourselves in the foot and then wondering why you’re missing toes.

We’re here for the same reasons you are: for the right to love whoever we want and for the right for others to do the same.

So let’s finally be friends. We’re never going to get anything done if we keep spending our time putting each other down.

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carlyraejepstein · 4 years

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potentially upsetting topics: sui, gender dysphoria, abuse and parents, sex

Elliot Page’s coming out rescued an awful day. Its wording is unbelievably powerful, a comment I have made once before and will continue to do so. In it, he so strongly encompasses the fears, the sorrow, the rage, but most importantly the determination and the defiance of not only him but every trans person. I hesitate to use the word “community” because it implies a certain connection that might just not be there; I play a bit of Counter-Strike but I don’t consider myself part of the Counter-Strike community; yet when I read Elliot’s words I feel solidarity, I feel a pull to the trans community that I often don’t feel I pay my dues to, and it feels good, really good. Like I said on Twitter once, other trans people being, existing, living, is just rad. Inspiring, even, despite how that word has been worn out by cis people.

However, there’s a certain something that Elliot didn’t write, for Elliot never wrote “I am a man”; only his name, and pronouns, how he wishes to be referred to. Of course, we cannot possibly know what this omission means or does not mean to Elliot, but it’s something that concurred with a shift in how I perceive my own gender.

I remember first properly ruminating on gender in 2012 or 2013. My understanding was primitive, coming from Wikipedia. Once I knew what transgender or, given the time period, transsexual, the curiosity never really went away. I knew at this point about transition, and I knew about deed polls because of my resentment of my parents, I knew about HRT and I even knew about the GICs. I felt compelled to be an ally in that turbulent period in both my life and in the online culture I immersed myself in from around 2015 to 2017. At this time a friend was going through their own transition and seeing them gave me pause for thought; partly pride, partly worry but a small kernel of imagination, wondering if that could ever be me. It was when I went to sixth form, with its environment permitting greater yet still constrained self expression, that I felt gender dysphoria hit me with its full weight. Thinking, wondering, worrying about being transgender has been the central dialogue of my internal and external monologue ever since. Not a day passes where I don’t think about the dysphoria I feel over my continued closet-dwelling and the malignantly gendered properties of my body. On a January morning in 2019, at my very lowest point, motionless under the covers, I gave myself a choice between transition and death, and I chose transition.

It’s been a complex journey. When I was 13 I shortened my gender neutral name to make it more masc (which I have now happily embraced as my middle name). I leant into the deepening of my voice because I thought it gave me authority, conditioned through the harsh words of people from public Team Fortress 2 servers. I’ve done almost everything under the sun that gets people to say “I’d never have known!” when you come out to them; I worry that I still do and that nothing has changed. I’ve gone and cross-dressed when my parents were out, and I’ve been traumatised by Susan’s Place. I am autistic, no one who has met me can escape that fact; not that I would want to, and as a consequence I am so much more confident in my presence on the internet than I ever have been in the flesh, despite me still not knowing how to make friends; hence I’ve ended up trying to piece my transition together through 4chan (I know, bad) and Reddit and Twitter.

Perhaps the biggest reason I am not out is the time when I decided I would come out to my mother as trans. When we were in Munich we had walked past a pride parade, and when we got back to the apartment I revealed off hand that I was bi. My mother chided me for not telling them before hand since it was “polite” to do so, as if it were not my choice to make because, as I still believe to this day, it’s not a big deal and it’s none of their business. But I decided this time it was important, and that I could trust her. It turns out that just like every other time, trusting my mother is a bad idea that is guaranteed to cause me pain every time I make that mistake. She told me that because she “knows more about [me] than [I] do”, that she thought that I was just straight up wrong, couched it in rhetoric about how she thought that I was too weak to be trans, and quoted the shockingly offensive “autism is extreme male brain” theory to me. It was really devastating at the time and I think it still affects me to this day, especially as she constantly tries to worm her tendrils back into my life after I moved out.

But enough about my mother; she is a fucking flat out abuser. She has emotionally abused me, and undoubtedly my brother, all our lives. I was relieved that my dad chose not to react aggressively as she did, but with a modicum of respect and agreement not to make such a big deal out of it, something I would never expect my mother to match. In the middle of writing this piece I had to decide that I could not do it any longer, and I would never let her back into my life again.

Where that conversation in late 2018 relates to Elliot Page’s statement is my mother’s purported belief that “you don’t have to define yourself as a man or a woman”. Going past the fact that she is lying, since her tolerance for all trans people is thinner than the grey hairs on her head going on the basis that she couldn’t bring herself to say one positive thing to her own daughter that afternoon, it struck me recently that I can more eloquently describe my gender through elimination rather than a label. I am happy to call myself a woman, a trans woman, and I don’t feel as if I really am wavering in or around the binary. But what I can say for definite is that while I have been a boy for almost all my life, and am holding onto that, I am not, and never will be, a man.

Where that leaves me is that I am not a man, but must I be a woman? If I am perhaps not a woman, am I non-binary? No; it doesn’t feel right. However, if I attach just a convenience to the label woman, I can give myself that flexibility in how I feel and how I present myself, and perhaps the biggest example of that is how in recent months I have made peace with my voice. It is not really a femme voice; I hit vocal fry just speaking normally. But I know how to be expressive with it; it is my voice that I have honed over 19 years after all. One day I want to find someone who will help me upgrade my voice (and yes, upgrade) but keeping it means I fulfil one cool thing about being trans, and that is saying fuck you to the very existence of the gender binary. I keep this voice out of necessity, but I’m still trans femme, I am still a woman and I still want my facial hair zapped off.

As well, I reserve the right to say I used to be a boy. Not a man, but a boy. That’s why they call it boymoding, right? How else can I describe the first 17 years of my life? I can be a boy all the same now, although I may be pushing it aged 20, and at the point at which I am really stretching that concept which at this point I am adhering to solely for my safety and comfort, I shouldn’t need to use it anymore. Wishful thinking, of course.

I think we should consider why we use “man” and “woman” in the first place. From my perspective they are simply words to describe people with two different sets of primary and secondary sexual characteristics, convenient because, well, being cis is unavoidably common. But they are not discrete, as we so often have to reiterate using intersex people as an unwilling crutch, where one does not occur in the other they are so often analogous and often they overlap! Supposedly 60% of teenage boys develop further breast tissue, and 40% of women have some form of facial hair. Thinking that the two are discrete gives rise to the idea of “biological sex”, a concept developed by cis people either to misgender trans people in a way they think is philosophically rigorous, or to reconcile their tenuous support for trans people with a continuing belief in the gender binary. Personally I would like to smash the concept of biological sex to bits because it is not useful to us. At the very least it may describe one’s primary sexual characteristics but bottom surgery exists, and I don’t happen to think that it is “mutilation”. I don’t need to argue that “biological sex can be changed”; they are not discrete categories, and I don’t need to move between them, or seek validation for having moved between them. It is not a helpful generalisation for bodies, diverse as they are.

I must add that as a trans woman the fact that I may have a penis doesn’t mean that I use it in the same way as a man. I use mine to pee, primarily, and it’s definitely not going inside anyone except myself any time soon; a whole zine was written about how trans women fuck and use their bits to fuck, so I definitely don’t need to anyway.

Another bullshit concept is “biological destiny” or “biological reality”, although I will give less breath to this one because at it’s core it is fundamentally misogynistic, and it so often is divorced from any sensible definition of reality. It’s like if I had to have my arm amputated and then someone came up to me and said “you’ll always have two arms, you were born with them and you’ll die with them”.

I’ve heard and thought a lot about gender abolition but it seems to me that its proponents expect that like the state, gendered differences will just disappear over time. But I don’t want that to happen. If the binary is done away with I don’t want gender to disappear I want it to flourish! Because gender is beautiful, men are beautiful, women are beautiful, and everyone in between or outwith are beautiful. On the other hand, me and you don’t need to be men, or women, or call ourselves non-binary to be beautiful. Being trans is about cultivating your own beauty and your own identity. When cissiety demands that the only identity and presentation we’re allowed is one that corresponds to what they decided was between our legs when we were born, why give ourselves only one other choice?

I don’t really know how to end this piece because I wrote one half of it one day and the other half a couple of weeks later. At the very least I’m glad I can attribute my peace with not necessarily being a woman but a femme to Elliot Page, and not my rotten bastard mother.

#trans #transgender #elliot page #gender abolition

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mildlyoccultish · 4 years

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I don’t usually post personal stuff here, but...

Yesterday, I had a white gay cis man tell me to recognize my passing privilege when I am in queer dominated spaces. He said be aware of it. This man, who is a podcaster with a large following and a massive platform in the pagan sphere, and who is conventionally attractive and fit, “passes” more for cishet than my shaved purple crewcut fat ass does.

He said this because I mentioned that I am a non-binary bisexual/pansexual person who is married to a cishet man. I’m also poly. He disregarded that I am also married to a non binary pansexual person.

I was told by a cis white conventionally attractive man that I am less queer because I am married to a man. Because I can pass as cis and straight.

He said “It isn't that you don't belong. It's that walking around as a passing heteronormative person, you are far, far, FAR less likely to be a target of violence due to your identity. You are far less likely to be a victim of a hate crime due to your identity. You are far less likely to be denied housing or employment … or any number of things because of your identity. You pass. You have the golden ticket. Many of us can't pass for cis/het/etc or don't want to and need a safe space to be ourselves.”

Ourselves. As if I was not one of them.

He said “It's not that it isn't your space, but it's important that you recognize going in to a space like that as a straight passing cis white woman you carry 𝑰𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑬 privilege.”

Even after I pointed out I was non binary, he still misgendered me.

When I pointed out that this gay cis white man was gatekeeping, he said “Nobody here is gatekeeping.

I will defend the sacredness and queerness of queer spaces, but I don't think I am defending them from you or REDACTED, as you both certainly belong in those spaces.

I don't care if you don't *want* to pass. You do pass. That is privilege. Immense privilege. Recognize and remember that. That's all I'm saying.”

“... That idea seems to have touched a nerve with you, given how you've sort of blown up this comment thread. Perhaps this is something you can unpack and write about elsewhere. I'd be happy to read those thoughts.”

Okay. Sure. Right-o.

Let’s be real for a minute - anyone can pass if they want to diminish themselves enough. Not talking about the safety of trans folks here - just merely the concept of “passing”.I recognize some trans folks make the choice to pass for their own safety, regardless of their true gender. That is a shitty, horrible choice they have to make. They shouldn’t have to.

I am specifically talking about passing in queer spaces.

What he said is incredibly hurtful, and it is gatekeeping. It is biphobia, panphobia, and it is not privilege. Calling out people as having ‘straight privilege’ is a silencing tactic. It’s turning being queer into a binary – you’re either gay or you’re straight. Monosexism is the great uniter in the erasure and bigotry against pansexual and bisexual people.

I do recognize that most cishets might just clock me as weird, but not necessarily queer. I recognize that to the cishet world, I am less likely to suffer violence than someone who is trans or a lesbian with their partner, for example. However, it is not a privilege to be shut out of my own community because I happen to be married to a cis hetero dude. I’m also married to a non binary pansexual person who looks like a cis hetero dude, but is no less non binary. It’s not privilege to be questioned about how queer I am. That I’m somehow a traitor or fake because I married a cishet. It’s not a privilege to be shoved back into the closet because I somehow don’t tick all the binary boxes.

Did you know that bi and pan people are far more likely to experience issues surrounding mental health? That they are at an increased risk of intimate partner violence, sexual assault, and stalking? That bi and pan people have a harder time raising human rights and discrimination suits if their relationship appears heteronormative? Bi and pan folks (and ace and aro folks too) constantly have to reaffirm and restate and justify their queerness to cis white gay men to pass their judgement and be let past the velvet rope, temporarily. That somehow being bi means if you’re in a gay relationship, you’re going to leave anyway because you’re not actually gay, but if you’re in a heteronormative relationship you’re a traitor and no longer belong in queer spaces.

Pan and bi erasure is a real thing, hidden under the term “passing privilege”. It’s absolute horseshit. And the audacity of this cis white gay man – this conventionally attractive white gay man who “passes” as more cishet than I do – to other me out of queer spaces that I belong in is disgusting. He has more privilege than I ever will, and instead of recognizing his own, he decides to lecture me about what he perceives mine to be.

Not to mention that there are loads of queer people out there who don’t fit the idea of how queer people should “look” – and what does that even mean anyway? Does it mean that a femme lesbian who goes to a queer event without her girlfriend as proof of queerness will be turned away? Or how about all the single queer people that don’t look “queer”? Are they questioned by the cis white gay men in charge to make sure they’re queer enough? There is no specific “queer” look. I know lots of gay folks who are “cishet passing” – doesn’t make them less queer, nor does it give anyone the right to question them about it! Queer people are not homogenized - everyone is different and beautiful and just as valid as anyone else. If someone is in a queer space and says they are queer, they are queer.

I don’t owe anyone androgyny. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I am queer. I belong.

(Now – in other terms of privilege, yes. I am privileged because I am white, lower middle class, and appear able bodied. I don’t identify as trans. And there are other folks who have to deal with this bullshit ‘passing privilege’ stuff too – trans folks, intersex folks. All of the shit I am saying? Goes DOUBLE for queer BIPOC who identify as bi/pan. And trans folks and BIPOC trans folks have it even worse. Because of my own privilege, I feel pretty safe to talk about this, but please remember that all of us in the queer community should be elevating more marginalized voices and people who are not able to voice their concerns on this. This happens all the time. If you see it, speak up against it because fuck this bullshit.)

#happy pride i guess #panphobia #biphobia #nonbinary #queer #passing privilege #white gay cis men are the WORST #ace and aro people are lgbtq+#don't test me on that shit

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