#the plight of womanhood

[h2jlm]

“Even in Eden?” by h2jlm

[coremilk]

TRANS EXCLUSIONARY RADICAL FEMINISM

If you ask a TERF what the "radical" in "radical feminism" means, chances are she will tell you that it refers to locating the root cause of women's oppression in their belonging to a "sex class"* that is subjugated under patriarchy for the sake of controlling their reproductive capacity ("radical" being used in the sense of "pertaining to the root").

(*not all TERFs use "sex class" terminology, but the structure of the arguments being made is largely identical.)

The "trans exclusionary" part refers to trans women being excluded from the scope of the analysis that this kind of feminism offers on account of not belonging to the "sex class" whose reproductive capacity (i.e. the ability to bear children) is being controlled.

"Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism", for as long as that term has existed, has never "excluded" all trans people from its analysis. It has always "included" transmasculine people (whose gender is usually disregarded and disrespected by its proponents) as "belonging to the sex class" whose reproductive capacity is being controlled. TERFs have used the expression "You can't identify your way out of oppression" illustrating this idea to the point of it becoming a cliche.

That isn't to say that TERFs necessarily like transmasculine people: The charge of pursuing an individual solution to a structural problem - that trans men are "members of the female sex class trying to escape their oppression" through misguided means, that trans men are simply trying to change their location from oppressed to oppressor while leaving the oppressive structure intact - has been frequently directed at transmasculine people.

This accusation, however, is only one of attempting to do so: TERFs do not believe that it's actually possible to escape "sex based oppression" by way of transitioning or any other individual action. They do not believe that transmasculine people are granted a position that allows them to benefit from "sex based oppression" as they do not believe patriarchy allows "women" to escape their "sex class".

The account that TERFs offer of transfems' plight under patriarchy is simply that they are facing a secondary oppression as "gender non conforming males" for subverting the gender roles assigned to them on the basis of their "sex class" as "males". According to TERF analysis, trans women are not oppressed on the basis of their womanhood because the oppression of women is "sex based oppression" aimed at controlling the reproductive capacity of the "female sex class".

The charge that TERFs make against trans women (which serves as the basis for excluding them from feminist organizing) is that they are infiltrating and derailing/subverting feminism. Trans women are thought to be "males" (biologically, physically, socially, psychologically etc.) whose interests are not aligned with those of the "female sex class" but with those of the "male sex class" and who will therefore divert the goals of feminism away from the liberation of the "female sex class" if granted the right to participate in the formulation of feminist agendas.

The actual interests of transmasculine people are thought by TERFs to align with the liberation of the "female sex class" so they see no reason to exclude them from feminist organizing. At most, transmasculine people are thought of as having a "false consciousness" and being mistaken about what is and isn't in their interest on account of identifying with an oppressor class they are not actually a part of.

Do TERFs hate men? That depends on what is meant by "hate" and "men". To TERFs "men" means "members of the male sex class" (cis men, transfems) and doesn't include trans men (whom they view as "women"/"members of the female sex class"). TERFs believe that "men" have structural power over "women" based on these sex classes. They believe that there are coherent class interests that unite the members of each "sex class". How they actually "feel" about "men" is somewhat variable and ranges from relatively neutral academic analyses viewing them as an oppressor class to ascribing them more or less demonic essential characteristics.

Trans women aren't seen like other "men" by TERFs though: They are conceptualized (in explicitly conspiratorial terms) as something like the storm troopers of patriarchy - an especially militant advance force (possibly giving up their humanity and becoming a kind of medically constructed monstrosity) to strike at the core of feminism with the goal of hollowing it out and clearing the path for "colonizing" and resorbing it into the patriarchal mainstream. Trans women are understood as an especially nefarious category of person because they are seen as posing a direct threat to the ability of "women as a sex class" to organize among themselves, to develop and use the language and theory they need to understand their own oppression and thereby resist patriarchy and bring about their liberation. Trans women are not just seen as attackers of "female safe spaces", they are seen as the attack itself. Their very existence is made out to be a stratagem devised against feminism and "women".

How and why the "sex class interests" of transfems supposedly align with those of "men" is never quite explained in materialist terms. In this point, TERFs invariably have to fall back on idealist concepts like biological determinism, spiritual essence, socialization, etc. Whereas transmasculine people are seen as having a "false consciousness" for mistaking where their material interests lie, the question of the material interests of transfems is never quite advanced. By some mechanism, by some unexplained (and sometimes metaphysical) force they benefit from "sex based oppression" in ways that e.g. an infertile cis woman would not. It essentially doesn't matter, it's an a priori assumption. "Belonging" to the "male sex class" itself is thought to grant access to structural power and the ability to benefit from "sex based oppression", even when no real world mechanism to that effect exists.

"Hating men" is neither a defining nor a unique feature of TERF ideology. There are some TERFs who arguably do hate men and there are others who do not. There are feminists who "hate men" in nearly every school of feminism. Even the most toothless iteration of liberal "girl power" feminism had its "male tears" mugs. The defining feature of TERF ideology is the exclusion of trans women from its conceptualization of women's oppression and from feminist organizing, justified with the supposed "class interests" of trans women being those of the "male sex class".

Trying the redefine the meaning of "TERF" in an attempt to obfuscate the specificity of this ideology's hostility towards transfems is dishonest and transmisogynistic on its own. Trying to do so while also claiming that transfems' material interests actually do align with those of cis men, the central distinguishing claim of TERF ideology, is such an unbelievably repulsive act of hypocrisy that it should disqualify anyone who does so from participating in the discourse surrounding trans women's oppression entirely.

[nerdietalk]

In the original Adventure Time, Fionna wasn't really given any kind of personality. She's a self-insert for the romantic plights of other characters. Her stories revolve around love triangles, quirky relationship drama, and romantic foibles. And even within these stories, the drama is largely conflict free. No one's really at fault and all misunderstandings are cleared up without issue.

In comparison, Finn experienced a lot of major conflicts. He torpedoed his relationship with Flame Princess in one of the most uncomfortable and ill-advised manipulations I've ever seen in any fictional medium, to the point I was reluctant to ever return to the show afterwards. But through that mistake came growth and change. Finn made a lot of mistakes, but he learned a lot of lessons.

What's really interesting about Fionna and Cake is how it characterizes Fionna through that lens.

Fionna, created as a "copy" of Finn and Jake, was always the most mature person in the room. She was cute, graceful, and solved every problem without issue. But when she's only written like that, there's nowhere for her to grow. No room to change.

Adult Fionna is inherently irresponsible. She's flighty, abandons problems on whims, and she's oblivious to people's pain unless its extremely visible. When she travels through the multiverse, she views problems through narrative tropes. She talks about apocalypse rpgs and heroic fantasies. She's shockingly self-centered and ignorant to the suffering of others. When she looks at Simon, she can only see that she's "boring" compared to Ice King's "fun." She lived in a world with clear cut moral lines. No complications.

When adventuring for the "first" time, Fionna complains about the outfit. She can't move around well in the skirt. Prismo is baffled. "You never had any trouble with skirts in my stories." She wasn't written for practical considerations in mind. She was written for easy fun for a first-time writer.

As a form of escapism, Fionna is flawless. In the real world, Fionna has never faced a real challenge that forced her to grow up.

And what really just absolutely sells this writing choice is that the narrative doesn't make this as a potshot against fandom or womanhood. It doesn't look down on Fionna, it just communicates that this is the kind of person she became as an adult. There's nothing demonized about the idea of fandom or Fionna's womanhood. It writes Fionna this way because its interested in how she can be a real person, with real flaws. The moment to moment existence of Fionna and how she can function as a real person when the cameras turn off.

Fionna has to face challenge to grow as a person. She can only be a fully developed character when she gets the opportunity to be wrong, to make mistakes, when she's forced to think through her actions. And the show's willingness to confront this idea and what it means for Fionna's existence is so genuinely smart and compelling.

Adventure Time whips is what I'm getting at.

[animentality]

it's pretty sad how terfs talk about womanhood as this horrible agonizing burden that no human being could ever enjoy or desire, like, the self hatred is actually soooo tragic.

like, they say trans men just hate being women and trans women are just men mocking women's suffering and plight as women-

and it's like, I know they're fundamentally miserable people. they're terfs. that's self explanatory.

but that in particular just cements it for me.

they're projecting. so. fucking. hard.

they are miserable because they're toxic, bitter, indoctrinated losers who don't have friends, who don't meet new people, or give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

and they have joined a cult that just perpetuates falsehoods and misinformation, and convinces them that women through out all of history have never ever been happy, nor even had the capacity for happiness, not then, nor even today.

and it's like... sweetie.

are you absolutely sure that you feel this way because trans women exist, or is it because you have a series of mental issues that you refuse to acknowledge or work on?

are you sure someone transitioning because it'll make them happy is what's making you miserable, or is the fact that you're deeply unhappy with yourself and you resent seeing other people doing what they want to do?

you can flash your fangs all you like, but I see the look in your eyes, and I can read you like a fucking pamphlet.

you need to get a hobby aside from harassing trans women on Twitter. you need to talk to other people, even if it makes you uncomfortable, because to open your mind and your heart is integral to the human experience, and to human evolution, ultimately too. you need to deal with your SHIT.

but if you can't do any of that.

the best you can do is shut your mouth and keep your damage limited to yourself.

we all have our bad fucking days and mental health issues.

you don't see all of us attacking vulnerable people so we can feel righteous and tall.

get over your mean girl phase please, you're like 35.

[onmy-tallest-tiptoes]

I am tired of seeing complaints about America's monologue in Barbie being very basic and nothing new. Yes, it feels like something I have tweeted a thousand times years ago but I still cried and cried. What people tend to overlook is that in the movie she is not saying these things to women who have lived these all their lives, she isn't watering it down for hardcore feminists who know this and a thousand times more. She is talking to a literal doll who has only experienced womanhood in the real world and in Ken's mimicking of patriarchy for a moment and it has already broken her down. She is saying these things to someone who is feeling some things, most things for the very first time and can barely articulate them, and is doing it for her because she knows it very well. It might not feel like much to someone who has lived the life we lived, read and watched the things we have and fought our whole lives, but its everything to a doll who is experiencing patriarchy for the first time or may be a little girl in the real world who is growing up now and being more exposed to it everyday.

The strength in America's monologue is not in what she says being something noone has heard before, but its in the fact that we go through these things so often that they seem like nothing to us anymore and she is seeing the same things break Barbie down and is realising how messed up it is that even a doll who was made to represent women couldn't escape it. Such is the plight of womanhood.

Its inevitable.

[princesssarisa]

One of the most fascinating pieces of movie analysis I've ever read is J.B. Kaufman's thesis of the "two different Snow Whites" in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

He writes about this in both of his two books on the making of the movie, The Fairest One of All and its companion piece Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: The Art and Creation. His argument is that Snow White's two leading animators, Hamilton Luske and Grim Natwick, each gave Snow White a slightly different personality when they drew her. A close look at the movie, and knowledge of who animated which moments, reveals subtle differences in Snow White's expressions and body language. Luske, her head animator who handled the majority of her scenes, portrayed her as a more purely innocent, childlike character, while Natwick, the creator of Betty Boop, gave her a little more maturity, sophistication, and sauciness.

You can see the difference, for example, when comparing her girlish interactions with the animals in "With a Smile and a Song" and "Whistle While You Work" (animated by Luske) to her flirtatious smiling at the Prince from the balcony, or her "mothering" of the dwarfs as she examines their dirty hands (animated by Natwick). Or her responses to Grumpy in the scene before the Washing Song: as she asks "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she looks at him with a devilish grin (Natwick), but then when he sticks out his tongue at her, she reacts with the most wide-eyed, girlish shock (Luske).

Now, I don't know if these two men really held different views of Snow White's character, or if it just worked out that Luske drew Snow White's more innocent scenes while Natwick was assigned her more grown-up moments. But either way, Kaufman argues that this "tension," the movie's constant push-and-pull between "Snow White as a wide-eyed innocent girl" and "Snow White as a self-assured young woman," makes her an especially interesting Disney Princess. I tend to agree, especially because, miraculously, there's no sense of inconsistency in her character. She comes across as a young girl on the verge of womanhood, who naturally can still be naïve and childlike in some ways, but more grown-up and clever in others.

This thesis makes me wonder if certain "tensions" in other movies are the result of different viewpoints within the creative team.

For example, in Beauty and the Beast.

Linda Woolverton has often talked about her feminist goals in writing Belle's character, which sometimes clashed with her collaborators' visions of Belle as a more traditional fairy tale heroine. It just might have been those clashing viewpoints that created the dichotomy in Belle that I personally think makes her interesting. On the one hand, she's a strong-willed misfit rebel, partly inspired by Jo March in Little Women and by Katharine Hepburn's screwball comedy heroines, who longs for adventure, isn't looking for romance until she unexpectedly finds it, stands up to men (and beasts) who abuse their power, and refuses to let anyone dominate her. On the other hand, she's a sensitive dreamer with delicate beauty and balletic grace, who wears pretty, ladylike dresses, adores fairy tales and love stories, and is sweet, nurturing, and almost motherly to her friends and loved ones. Yet somehow these two sides of her character co-exist with no sense of inconsistency between them.

There's also the dichotomy between the two different views of the Beast that the movie seems to present at once. On the one hand, there's the Beast as an unseemly brute, who's beastly form is both a just punishment for his flawed character and an outward symbol of it, and who needs to be "tamed" into proper "human" behavior, culminating in his physically turning human again. On the other hand, there's the Beast as a suffering, self-loathing outcast, unfairly hated, feared, and dehumanized, whose plight under the spell can easily be read as an AIDS allegory, and who needs to be accepted and loved as he is. I suspect that this also stems from different goals and viewpoints in the creative team. (For example, Howard Ashman's clash with the directors over whether the Prince should be a child or a man in the prologue – the former would have made him more "tragic" but the latter makes his punishment more "fair.")

I'd like to read an analysis of these "tensions" similar to Kaufman's analysis of the "two different Snow Whites."

[hadesoftheladies]

i've been on radblr for a while, and maybe it's because of the specific users i follow being woc or disabled, but recently i've been seeing more ableist and racist radblr users crawl from whatever hole they've been molting in

in light of a recent conversation thread between @menalez and two whitefems, i've come to see the issue other radblr users have been talking about

radblr lacks a culture of intersectionality. there are many white/straight/abled women here who think solidarity means we only cater to their liberation, and they can ditch us whenever they please. it is one-sided support, and isn't solidarity at all. they are used to being centered, used to seeing themselves as default woman, used to seeing themselves as the standard of feminism and womanhood. their problems as more deserving.

i'm not going to use this post to diagnose radblr, but to say why these women are insanely stupid

racist and imperial radfems have been bold in their assertion that their empires are somehow benevolent, neutral, helpful to outsiders. they have endorsed their militaries, asserted that they are genetically and intellectually superior, and that they're oh so tired of stupid, backward women from stupid, backward countries whining about how colonization improved their society. (and some western black users have agreed).

and it's so STUPID because . . . how do you not see you're approving of the structure of your own oppression while complaining about the injustice of it?

you can acknowledge that men have misattributed women's achievements to men, that they have destroyed, twisted, and erased their history. you can acknowledge that the reason there weren't as many women geniuses as men was because of the brutal subjugation and social, economic barriers women faced, or some just had their ideas stolen and died unnamed and unattached to their invention. you understand how women's language, spaces, and philosophy have been hijacked by the male perspective in everything, from religion, to education, to literature. in marxist or materialist analysis, you understand that economy creates culture.

but you can't understand any of that when it comes to majority world countries? you mysteriously lose your capacity to analyze culture when you're at the top? your countries are rich because they're just so gosh darn good at being rich, aren't they? stolen wealth and labor doesn't give you a head start at all! and if money is power, and you have the money, you can get away with stealing even more, but that only applies to men, see? not our nice, lovely, governments! colonization and war aren't actually that bad or brutal and don't have any lasting negative effects! neocolonial systems don't exist! it's not like our beloved empires have anything to do with killing the cultures of billions because they can, they have, and it is in their best political and economic interest to. black people never did anything significant! this is a fact, and has nothing to do with deliberate propaganda from imperial countries! imperialist propaganda, ha! imagine that? african and asian people can't be smarter than white people, because . . . . genetics! whitefems on radblr care so much about science when it comes to transwomen, but their brains turn to mush when it comes to thinking whiteness somehow genetically increases intelligence. biology, everybody!

it's honestly funny. like you're trading one regime for another, congrats! you're anti-revolution! you can get off our backs and stop using our plight as examples of your oppression.

and to the british storm trooper that claimed her intelligence was genetic--if you truly believe that, you've got two options:

consider that this statement is unscientific, racist, and false, or

take an ancestry DNA test and find out if you're adopted :)

[reaching-verity]

The Young Man

Baseless arguements; How motorcars don't work on engines. Priceless explanations, On how Jesus is secretly Satan.

He talks of things he doesn't know. He thinks he has grown up. He spits 4 cusses in a row, Yet he thinks he's respectable.

Talks of ancient literature, 2 words he cannot spell. Jokes of 'pride' and womanhood, 2 words he is born to repel.

He is so brave; he is the victim. He is right, he's always right. He tries hard but cannot understand, This world of a woman's plight.

-from my pen Reaching Verity

[limeade-l3sbian]

we as people seem to think complexity equates to depth. that for something to truly hold a deeper meaning and to be something respectable it must be far more complex than we realize or than it appears. which, obviously, is not true.

the uninteresting web of sexualities and genders we've (who's we? ik, but stay with me lol) woven has not done anything but shallow the waters of a very real community of same sex attracted men and women. your sexuality is not that you are not only attracted to women sometimes but mainly men - you're bisexual, and that's 100% okay. your sexuality is not that you are not only attracted to people who are not interested in you and then when they are, you lose interest - you are just a bisexual with commitment issues. (a lot of these sexualities are just bisexuality: rebooted.)

part of that is this weird, individualistic thing we've got going now where being different and standing out is more important than community. and in terms of gender, a lot of women would rather be removed from their womanhood to escape the very real plights of existing rawly in your female body. to exist as a lesbian is to exist as a fetish incarnate to men.

but the only thing separating you from the truth are a hodgepodge of new words detracting further and further from distinct definitions and reality based sense and self interested surgeons who know the truth when they're feeding into your fruitless pursuit. and that's why even the slightest pushback hurts so much.

[stheresya]

that broey deschanel video-essay titled "Priscilla and the Plight of Women('s biopics)" is so insightful and voices a lot of my issues with how some female characters are given "depth" nowadays. the video is about how biopics of notorious women in history tend to be so concerned with denouncing the cages of patriarchy that they end up not leaving room for anything else, and so the woman gets stripped of everything that makes up her life and personality, all her moments of agency, and all that's left is her pain and suffering. she is defined by suffering, she exists to be a sacrificial lamb. there is no story unless she is suffering. deschanel criticizes how real life women are portrayed on screen, but i think that criticism applies in a broader scale. there are many examples of female characters in literature who are written to be complex and nuanced figures, but once they get a live-action adaptation all they do is suffer, brutal misogynistic violence is added for shock value while all the layers that make up who they are, every trait that made them distinct characters, get erased and they become solely defined by trauma. there's no room for their creativity, there is no room for genuine ambition, there is no room for defiance or transgression, there is no room for typical human flaws, and even if she does something morally dubious she must be pushed into it by the most terrible circumstances of her life, because "realistic" womanhood must be solely defined by passive suffering.

the video puts it very well when it states that in trying to denounce the cages in which women are placed in, they end up restricting women to these cages to the point where they don't exist outside of them. the moment they stop suffering is the moment the movie ends.

[mejcinta]

My very first reaction when I saw this scene was a MAJOR eye roll. Not out of scorn, no. But out of outrage that this should be deemed practical. I wanted to pull my Mom to my side (even though she was several kilometers away!!) and ask her, "Is this possible?" Can I go up a couple flights of stairs straight from birth? How can I endure after I've bled my way through the Keep, literally leaving blood trails as I go? How am I the heir and allowed to just bleed out as I go?

But the impractically didn't end there. My eyes were once more subjected to another gruesome labor scene that brought forth a stillborn. Fresh from the woe of birth and raw with pain, Rhaenyra somehow climbed atop Syrax and rode out to meet Otto.

Again, mommy. How is that possible???

The book itself made the point of stating that Rhaenyra needed time to heal from her labor wounds!!!!

I'm not trying to be rude. I just want to point out some of the things that make it so hard to fully immerse myself into hotd as a story. These scenes, moving as they were, were just not practical, especially coming from a production that pride themselves in 'understanding women'.

We already empathized with Rhaenyra but it sure would've been nice to not make the situations surrounding her plights of womanhood such an exaggeration.

Gosh!!!

[honorablepeachpitt]

An Enthusiastic Truce- Emilia Chen

[This piece takes place in Heavensward. There are some spoilers in it.]

“Was there something you needed of me?”

Less formal than expected, and less aggravated than she’d thought Y'shtola would be. Still, it was a little off-putting- to see her slightly meeker than she expected, even though she had good reason to be. After all she’d just…

Emilia sort of smiled. There was something….familiar about the phrase. Even at her coldest, she’d asked it, and even when Emilia had pushed her to the brink, Y'shtola had allowed it, so long as they could work towards the Scions’ goal in some semblance of peace. 

“...I-” She faltered. It was unlike her not to be prepared with the mask, but this was an extraneous situation, so she allowed it for once. With one sweeping gaze, she took in the sorceress’ appearance, from her now-grey eyes to her black boots and closed her eyes. “...just glad you’re not dead, is all.”

Y’shtola’s mouth worked a little at the words, a sigh escaping her as she closed her own eyes, hands to the bed she was sitting on, palms backwards, like she was getting ready to stand up. “...yes, well,” she shifted to one side where she sat, eyelashes fluttering downwards as she angled her head towards her books. “‘Tis a sentiment we share.”

Silence settled between them. After a while, Emilia said, “Y’shtola-”

“Do not take this the wrong way,” she cut her off, “but I am not fully convinced of you as an ally, even now. So I would prefer you to keep your distance.”

Strangely stabbed with a hurt she didn’t know she had, she nodded a bit and then shook her head. “...what came over me…” She mused. “How could I ever expect anything different from you?”

It was a tad more cracked than expected, but oh well. The old Emilia was aching for her, her equal, her best friend, her most important ally, but the new one didn’t know Y’shtola that well, not really. Knife wounds splitting her heart would hurt less than the nothing they were now. Suddenly feeling a stinging at her eyes, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, not even pausing to see if Y’shtola gave her a parting word, and continued on until she was out of Ishgard and pacing about Gridania like a runaway child.

****

It was not her fault, per se; were Emilia to know the fullest extent of Y’shtola’s plight, she might not have taken it so personally, her words, but one cannot know another’s heart without hearing its truth from the owner’s own mouth. The dark was ever haunting for her; robbed of her sight- even for the few moments, minutes, and hours it took for her to formulate a spell for her personal aethersight- she could do naught for the moment than try to take in her surroundings.

There were a few marked lodgings with aether in their make- some benches and dressers or drawers, but no walls were. In its own way, the space seemed marked by little lines drawn sharply to contrast those bright spots of aether, black lines to contain spaces for what she assumed were walls, curtains, and other amenities. Tataru had been right, however. It was a might harder to stand and walk too, after her long bath, and her sight wasn’t the only weakness in her bones. 

How am I to ask her for help when I cannot trust her to speak true to me? Even Thancred had his own semblance of truth. The previous Emilia-

…calling her that did call to mind the Ascians and Allagans, each with titles passed down from one herald to another. Mayhaps she should rectify that somehow, by further classifying the two? But the new one- the one who had claimed once that she was from another world- was in every way like the old Emilia, her only exception being that she had hardened where once was candy sweet. ‘Twas a natural thing, to be true; an aging woman finds herself at odds with the girlishness she once knew, and casts it off for a more solid and occasionally regal persona that she claims in this womanhood. But Emilia- this Emilia- was not like that at all. Rather, she was as an actor in a play- exaggeratedly willful and unkind, a cruelty displayed not unlike the most cartoonish of villains. Should she drop her mask, one might find that she was exactly the same girl who had grown teary over terminal patients and furious over verdicts that could not be overturned. 

She did not want to be found out, so Y’shtola would not hinder her. They were nothing now, and it would be best to…accept that.

“Are we going in the right direction?”

It was Alphinaud that brought her back to reality that day; the long road to Matoya’s more taxing than she remembered. A pity. Though ever in the present, t’would seem she was slowly making her way back to the past now, regardless of her wishes.

“...just past the swamp. There are some security measures, but nothing we cannot handle.” Far be it from her to complain, but mayhaps it was time to request a stop to rest. Still, the old hags’ cave was just over the horizon in the middle of the swamp, which by her estimation would not actually be quite far.

“If it’s close, we can stop,” Emilia put in. “I’m bushed. And I ain’t had nothin’ to eat.”

“What? But we just-” Alphinaud began, the brightness that was his aether moving back and then forth before the outline of the Warrior of Light’s arm shot out and met with his face. It didn’t sound very abrupt and the line of her arm stayed there for a while as he yelped- though more in surprise than pain. “Ouch!”

“We’re stopping. Hell, I wanna take a nap,” she mumbled, neck rolling enough to produce a gentle crack to Y’shtola’s ears. “Once we get in that swamp, we’ll finish the walk, and that should be fine.”

“May I remind you that we are on a very tight schedule? Though our friends are of the utmost importance to me,” Alphinaud reminded her, “we are still in the middle of a war.”

“If it won’t end with us, it won’t end without us,” Emilia replied, and it looked very much like she was attempting a shrug. “Don’t fuss about shit that ain’t that important.” 

“If it wasn’t important, there wouldn’t be a fuss,” he began, and Y’shtola found herself laughing.

“You two seem to get along quite well now.” It was almost sad, really. It really was that easy, for them, wasn’t it? 

A snort, mostly from Emilia’s side, but nothing else. Alphinaud sounded almost offended at first, though he said, “Yes, we’ve gotten quite close, haven’t we? Did you know, when we were at Camp Dragonhead-” Something heavy silenced him, and his shape fell to the ground without a hint of grace. “Oof!”

“I’m gonna set up camp and make some coffee.” A rougher sound than normal, a paper mache mask ill-fitting the one who formed it. Twas plain she’d doted on the boy at least once, else he would not be so hard pressed to push her buttons so and expect little to no repercussions. “Got cream too, if y’all want it.”

“Cream for me,” it was lightly muffled, so it occurred to Y’shtola that it must have been a bag that she’d thrown on him, or else the supplies she’d brought. 

“None for mine,” she said, “though I would thank you for a rather large cup.” In a perfect world, she would have it with a pinch of cinnamon to give it a bite of sweetness in the absence of her petit fours and finger cakes, but black would do.

“Don’t have those, but I’ll make enough to give you two,” Emilia drawled, and before long, they had settled in for the night. 

Though she could not see the night sky, there were a few indicators of time and place; frogs leaping below them in the swamp, the padding of webbed feet and other nocturnal creatures scurrying were a welcome sound after having gone without them for so long. It had been the symphony of her youth, in some ways; her time with Matoya was…trying at worst, and instructive and formative at best, but she would admit she didn’t mind the frogs populating the odds and ends of the space, leading all the way down to the swamp, where her former master had taken some as familiars. Given it was nice to rest her legs and arms for a bit, she propped herself up against the nearest sturdy structure in their makeshift campsite which allowed for some rest, a calm set by her smooth, even breaths.

“Got your coffee,” said a voice, and though her eyes were closed she accepted it immediately, one hand outstretched. “Well, that’s new.” Emilia mused. “Was afraid you’d ask if I poisoned it.”

In another life, she may have laughed. In this one, she replied, “Mayhaps I should have.”

“You’re no good to me dead, hon.” Mildly, she shuffled next to her, the grass rustling just enough to make Y’shtola assume she’d sat down. 

“I suppose you’ve devised some way to make use of me then,” it sounded cold, even to her own ears, but she knew it had the desired effect. “We are but pawns to you, in a world you neither respect nor call home. Am I to share camaraderie with you, when you see naught but ghosts in our place?”

The air felt heavy with something like a pause; though she lifted her cup to her face, she did not drink from it, only smelled its contents. Too true that Emilia had not poisoned her coffee before giving it to her, lest she slip something less offensive to the senses within it, odorless and colorless- though ‘color’ was lost on her now, save the bright or dullness of light that was within all things. 

For a while Emilia didn’t say anything. She imagined once or twice that she was making faces at her, deciding on how to look before realizing that Y’shtola would never be able to discern those masks again. Instead, she let out a soft sigh. “...this is downright stupid, Y’shtola.”

Her mouth twitched in displeasure. “Elucidate for me, then. From which angle is this a nonsensical conversation?”

She was drumming her fingers on her leg, the sound of dull fabric upon the leather of her gloves enough to turn Y’shtola’s head some. “Look,” she began, and Y’shtola imagined she was biting her lower lip as the old one did when she was thoughtful, “you know better than I do that working with someone you don’t like is just part of the game. The only difference here is-”

“That you are my coworker that has taken the place of a long-time friend. Yes, I am aware.” Her voice broke, despite herself, but Emilia did not mention it. 

“What I want most,” she began in a lower voice, possibly not to alert Alphinaud, “is to return back to my own world. Far as I’m concerned, that’s a win-win for you. You get the old Emilia back and I go home.” The sound of shifting again. If she looked, her silhouette was shifting into a cross-legged shape, blocking the energy of one leg from Y’shtola’s sight completely. “I don’t wanna be enemies. Besides, you’re the only one smart enough to help make that happen. I don’t trust the other ones ‘s far as I can throw’em to piece it together on their own.”

Because you do not know them, she almost said, though she would admit that Emilia was correct about one thing; Y’shtola had always been interested in the existence of other worlds and the truth of their connections. If this ‘Emilia’ was right and not simply her own suffering under a delusion- a delusion that was somewhat concerning to any of import- there may be some credence to her claim. Mayhaps she could glean much of interest from her. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting a truce. I won’t spit in your drinks or poison you, and you help me get back to my home.”

She snorted. “T’would seem that is a tall order for such minute unpleasantness.”

“I’ll even stop trying to get the rise out of ya, if you’d like.” This time she yawned a bit. “Borin’ me, anyway.”

Strange. It was the one thing she’d missed from her friend. “Do as you like. I accept your terms.” Saying so, she took a drink of the coffee as a show of fellowship, only to stop when she tasted it. “...what is this?”

“Hm? I didn’t spit in it or anything,” she said. 

“No,” Y'shtola began again, slowly, then though better of it. “...tis nothing. We’ll arrive at our destination in the morning, and Matoya may have shed some light on both of our problems.” 

A silence settled between them. Though she knew it to be peaceful for now, it would take more than a bit of cinnamon sprinkled in her coffee to calm her nerves. “How did you know?” 

“What?”

“The coffee, Emilia.” A wry sound, as always. “Am I to believe you coincidentally put cinnamon in my coffee and not your own?”

A pause or two, and her body shifted again. Almost uncomfortable, she answered, “You allergic or somethin’?”

And then it dawned on her. It was not something that needed better explanation- rather, it needed more research towards a hypothesis she was already forming. “...it is nothing of import. Thank you, Emilia. I prefer my coffee this way.”

[gwemmieee]

I've realized that I have a very complex relationship with gossip. Unique to most, but not so unique to any trans woman with autism. Not even that unique to any non-trans woman with autism. My relationship with gossip is somewhat dominated by the destructive consequences of abusers who falsely claim to be advancing the plight of women, almost as much as it is dominated by the empowerment of solidarity between women.

Since taking this new chance in this new less transphobic world to realize and broadcast that I am a woman, I have been given access to this rich inner world of gossip, and it has drastically and instantly changed my life for the better. It has allowed me to hope that anyone else will ever treat me like a human being, which has taught me how to treat myself like a human being for the first time.

I have always been someone who is in the trenches, directly facing many of the struggles of girlhood and womanhood, as well as celebrating many of its beauties and strengths, but I have not always been someone who had any clue that any of it was related to womanhood at all.

That was because I was not allowed into the world of gossip.

I had no blood family in that world--they were all too misogynistic and preoccupied with a religious level of all-encompassing shame. When it came to anyone else, I was seen for my appearance in a very bioessentialist way; for my frames of reference that had been thrust upon me without my consent and without a full picture of any other frames of reference to counterbalance; for my autism and my imperfect skills in making sure I'm accurately heard on who I am and what my intentions are. I was constantly deemed someone who is not entitled to, deserving of, or safe with, the privilege of gossip.

Instead, I was left with the scraps; people who do demonize gossip or who misuse it to be abusive; and ultimately between those people and loneliness, I chose loneliness. Because those people felt just like being lonely, and at least if I stayed away from those people, I could be more in touch with myself as a result.

My life could have become so much more fulfilling and fair so much sooner… if I had ever been given a chance to choose. To show who I am instead of being told I'm someone else and gatekept over it. I think the most traumatizing thing about my past experience with gossip, that I had before coming out as a woman, is that I was either ignored when I had my own gossip about abuse and pain, or I was adamantly kept out of real access to anyone else's genuine gossip, or I was taken advantage of in my faith in people and was led to believe that I was a welcome member of the community--while they openly refused to let me in on any gossip at all, to the point that I was deeply scared they might gossip negatively about me, too. (And in many cases, I would find out later that they did, even though I hadn't abused or coerced or been mean or dismissive to anyone. It was simply down to bioessentialism, homophobia, and especially ableism.)

That is really hard to process alongside the fact that, now that I am finally welcome into the world of gossip, gossip truly has transformed for me from this secret underworld that I was made to be afraid of to this empowering interconnected international network that helps me thrive. To this day, thanks to lingering trauma, I still have an instinctive fear of people who are especially eager to shit talk someone who I haven't had any reason to suspect is an abuser. And yet I also retain my lifelong instinct to look up to people who gleefully celebrate gossip, and to give them a chance in good faith. But, thanks to continuous traumatic experiences, I also have a very real knowledgeset, mask, and careful approach, because a large chunk of people who engage in gossip are, in fact, extremely ableist, and dangerous to interact with as an autistic person. Even if those people truly agree that I am a woman, and let me in on their gossip--the danger to letting them start to see more of me* is so great that they might just take that recognition of womanhood and access to gossip away from me, and not just for themselves but throughout every community I'm in that they have influence over. I've noticed that would even still be a problem if I was a cis woman--it's an autism struggle. It's also a much deeper problem as a trans woman, because the potential for and the consequences of my personhood being denied are much much greater. But also, it was my continued unconscious attempts to enter their world anyway, that got me here. It was the gradual inch by inch that, very rarely, exceptional women barely let me in a little bit more and educated me a little bit when they actually listened to me gossiping about my own abusers. Even while my misogynistic biological mom passionately demonized and rejected my attempts to gossip, attempted to control them, and kept me isolated. (She demonized a lot of other feminine things, too. There is something huge that I suspect about her these days in retrospect.)

It's almost as if my entire life is meant to reinforce the moral that bioessentialism is evil. I believe in the collective attempts by trans folks and our allies to redefine what womanhood is, so that people like me are more easily welcomed in, and abusers and bigots are not. And I believe in gossip as an essential tool of womanhood, that we must not tolerate misuse of.

*I carefully worded this. I would have phrased it as "the danger to letting them get to know me," but that wouldn't be accurate, as people like this never actually want to get to know me--they latch onto the first excuse they can find, however delusional, inaccurate, or bigoted, to brand me as dangerous, and once they've found it, they will voluntarily opt not to ever really know me at all.

[artandpunishment]

honestly, I think my favorite character in Brothers Karamazov is Grushenka. If I am understanding her right, then her plight of womanhood in upper class Russia during Dostoevsky's time took its toll on her, and is the biggest factor in why her life transpired the way it did. Dmitri's feels for her, although they can be sweet, are also so harmful and rather sexist (that is not unexpected, but for a man supposed to love her, he doesn't do a good job. he does try, and I will give him that much, plus he has his own problems). Grushenka isn't always amazing, and her treatment of Katerina in that chapter towards the beginning of the book was quite shocking to read. Yet, Grushenka's playfulness has different emotions injected into it; she can be very sweet. Grushenka's own jealousy is similar to Dmitri's, in the sense that it is strong and burns.

I am so glad we didn't get a scene of Fyodor and Grushenka having some kind of relation as I cannot imagine her being with him. Her having that relationship while being interested in Dmitri made their dynamic so much more painful and frustrating to read. And Grushenka asking Dmitri to give her a ride to her old benefactor (?)'s house so she might return to him despite how (if I read it right) he abused her was heartbreaking. Most of what she does comes across as a cry for help, and I am not sure if Dmitri is the person to help her. Although they are twin flames, that does not mean that they should be together romantically.

I am nearly 80% of the way through the book and I am ready to be done. At the same time I always enjoy typing/talking about it, plus the reading experience is much better now that I am close to finishing (plus there is a good deal of things going on now). Which feels wrong to say—there are always things going on throughout the book, yet there are so many that I can't help but feel as if it is dragging. I don't know. I like the book a lot because of how the characters are structured. Crime and Punishment's plot, however, was much stronger and engaging. Its messaging is more upfront and hammered into you, whereas Brothers Karamazov is subliminal and slight.

[overtlydinosaurian]

Watching "The Incel to Trans Pipeline And Inside Mori" as a Radfem

Saw this video and I had heard about it but never really sat down to watch it, and I finally did.

I have... mixed feelings, to say the least. And the next wall of text is going to be a bit jumbled and I jump around a bit on things I felt.

Overall, I think the video is a really fascinating perspective and is worth a watch. It can be very frustrating at times though, and covers some heavy topics so be warned. Ok now onto my mess:

I'll start with what I liked. I appreciated the deeper dive into territory I think people are too afraid to discuss: the incel (or sometimes just "conservative") > trans pipeline. I think the author did a wonderful explanation and deep analysis of Inside Mari. I was grateful for the author to be able to bear their soul and trauma in a way that was understandable (in a sense) from someone who doesn't have that same background or socialization. I appreciate the final message (more on that below).

I feel for the author and I understand their plight (as much as I am capable of as a woman), but the video rubbed me the wrong way in some parts. It talks so deeply and empathetically about male struggles with masculinity and expectations, but not once was it mentioned that women don't actually have it easier. It isn't "easy mode," I as a woman am not actually rewarded for being emotional and feeling things like the book and the youtuber/author suggest at times. I am not treated better (in fact, when I've pretended to be a man people were less sexual and rude to me although I can recognize it's anecdotal). The comments are even worse, with people completely skipping over a lot of the misogyny of the assumption that women have it easier, that we can be reduced to just a few things. That the worst thing that happens to women is just men being creepy towards us. While the video, the author, and apparently the book mention that the main character was a creep and stalker, it immediately glosses over how horrifying that would be for a woman to experience and instead favors the perspective of the man, who is lonely and seeking to be understood and seen for something else and then decides that his behavior is okay because of this internal struggle (I understand the "twist" later but this still goes unquestioned and unchallenged before the twist was acknowledged!!). I am glad the author did not try to speak of their perspective being the female perspective, but it feels so upsetting to have a video that's supposed to be about how uncomfortable you are with yourself and how cruel the world can be towards expectations vs how you see yourself/want for yourself, only for a woman's perspective to be completely ignored and worse, that the idea that women have it better/easier/etc. is completely accepted and almost defended at times.

Again, the comments really kinda point out the problems I had with the video and the takeaway. Some of the most contested comments are (presumably) women mentioning how they don't "feel" like women, they just are. One of the comments is a woman who argues "it's not easier to be a woman" and she has so many responses arguing the opposite.

btw, the other top comments before this one on the video have less than 100 replies.

I also find it completely frustating that "billiam" can acknowledge that this woman might not have a fair perspective of men because she is a woman (fair enough) but yet he is still able to determine the perspective of women, which he mentions he is not! Why do men get to define and explain and relate to femininity and womanhood, but women couldn't possibly understand the complexity and loneliness of manhood? Reason: Misogyny.

This comment too irritates me. I appreciate the attempt to connect and relate to women but look what he says are the downsides of womanhood: assault, fear, discrimination. Problems with men? Expected to be respected. Expected to be strong. And somehow this is the same as the gendered issues that women face?

The only reason I'm even bringing up the comments when typically I feel that the comments aren't necessarily reflective of the video or the author's intended takeaway is because I feel that this instance, people ARE understanding some of what is argued by both the author of the video and Inside Mori. Men have it bad, and these men having it bad means they might have it easier as women depending on circumstances, without account for that female perspective from other women. That whatever struggles you feel as a man make it okay how you view and treat women because of the inner turmoil they feel. Just because they feel bad about how they feel or their actions doesn't mean their actions cannot be criticized. And I don't feel anyone but some women in the comments are even trying to criticize what was done by the character in the book and what the author was suggesting.

All that said, I do really love what I believe was the intended message of the video, that just because you dislike labels and feel uncomfortable with gendered expectations you are you. Just you. I appreciate that people aren't pushing for transition as a way to reflect on how society treats the genders and their expectations. I am glad there wasn't more of the suggestion of "wow if you hate being a man so much obviously you must be a woman!" that I sometimes see in these "interpreting media as a trans person".

I just wanted to write out my feelings, and I am curious to see the perspective of other radfems or actually, from trans men or other AFAB trans people. I'm not so sure some trans men would relate to this video beyond the descriptions of sex and gender dysphoria.. but I could be wrong! I feel my own form of gender discomfort but it's not a discomfort with my sex, it's the expectations that society puts on my sex, and even I found it hard to relate to some aspects when the author describes literally that. Maybe because I'm just more sensitive to the dismissal of actual female experiences and points of view, maybe I'm just the one who can't relate. Idk.

Not that it's our style (I'd hope) to harass, but I am not calling for harassment or to shit-talk the author.

[alasse-earfalas]

Context: Esther is an alt of mine. And since I thought of my alts as characters before the DID became obvious & was diagnosed, she has a story. 

In this story, she was drafted into a men-only military around the age of four and raised to believe that she was merely a deformed man. Rye (another alt of mine) was the first one to notice and, really, reveal to her that she’s actually a woman. She rediscovered her birth name around that time and started using it. This scene takes place not long after the reveal, like maybe a week or so. 

"Koozyo" is my brother.

—

“No, you don’t understand!” 

He stepped toward her, heart breaking for her plight. She was a small girl, muscled build, could easily pass as the man she was raised to be. 

“They lied to me,” she said, her words hot like oven coals. “They told me I was a boy. They raised me as a boy. And now I’m, I’m not a boy‽ What am I supposed to do with that? I’ve lived my entire life as a warrior, and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.” She threw her arms in the air. “Cross-stitch? I mean I could probably learn, but—raising kids? Talking with other women? I just—” She dropped her train of thought and held a hand to her forehead. 

Rye approached her. “Haku,” he said. 

“Don’t call me by that name,” she snarled, “that is not my name! I am Esther. I am not a man, I will never be a man, don’t you ever call me by that name.” 

Rye grimaced. First Sky, and now Esther? He was behind the times, it seemed. 

“I’m sorry, I—I know you’ve been grieving for a while, after Koozyo died. I’m sorry. You didn’t mean any harm by it.” She rubbed her nose and crossed her arms. “I know you’re just trying to help.” 

He was grateful for that, but the crossed arms signaled to him to not press any closer. He read confusion on her face, and betrayal, and terror. “You’re not going to fail at this,” he said sweetly. “Being a woman is in your nature. You just have to remember it.” 

She made a sound like a halfhearted laugh. “You’re lucky I can read you, else I’d think you were being fake.” She glanced at him. “Though I do, truly, appreciate your faith in me. I just have a difficult time seeing it.” 

“You’re confused,” said Rye, venturing a little closer. He got near enough to put a reassuring hand on her arm. “You won’t fail. You’ve always been a woman. You always will be. Esther, nothing’s wrong with you. Be true to yourself, your true self, and you’ll discover what womanhood is. And you’ll discover it because you will find out who you are.” He drew a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into him. He could feel the doubt like a cold fog, oppressive and desolate. “You have me,” he said. “I know you don’t know how to deal with that fact. But I am here for you nonetheless.” 

“And I’m grateful for that,” she replied. She made a little huffing sound. “I just don’t know where to start.” 

Rye smiled at that. “Don’t worry, my dear. You have already begun.”