#transgender slur

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 22 (BAU x transmale reader)

No. 22 PICK YOUR POISON

Toxic | Withdrawal | Allergic Reaction

ALT: Ambushed

(there will be a part two fo this!)

Warnings: transphobia (from a load of people, it's the main theme), deadnaming (D/N), the t-slur/trans slur/(tr**ny) used once, outing, misgendering, probably hate crime tbh, please let me know if I've missed anything

PLEASE DON’T READ IF YOU FIND THESE THEMES/WARNING UPSETTING

Word count: 2696

No one missed the looks you received when you walked into the precinct. It was your hometown, a typical small town with its typical small-town views and beliefs. You, however, had become accustomed to these looks. Particularly those who worked at the station. When you came out and started your transition (despite the strong words and opinions of your parents), it was as though the town had frozen you out. No one would speak to you unless they had to, no one would approach you, sure, you even got beaten up a few times. You were dreading this case to say the least. 

“Why do they keep glaring at you?” Spencer mumbled as he walked close to you.

“I was a smart mouthed kid,” You whispered back, finding the best excuse you could, “And this is a stereotypical small town - they have nothing else better to do than gossip,”

What made everything ten times worse was that the team didn’t even know. You didn’t write it on your application, fearing that if you did, you wouldn’t get the job - or the team would treat you differently. You had planned to tell them you were transgender, of course, but the right time had never surfaced and you were in too deep now. You’d just have to be stealth until you retired from the FBI. And if that’s the way it went, then hey, that would be okay. 

You knew Spencer didn’t believe you, but he didn’t comment on it either, which you’d take as a win. You had a feeling you were going to need all the wins you could get with this case. 

“Officer Hart is currently working this case, so you’ll be working closely with him, if that’s alright?”

You look at the officer, the name feeling familiar and your heart jumps. Standing in front of you with a wide smirk is your high school bully, Seth Hart. You mentally groan. Just your luck. And judging by his widening smirk, he recognises you. 

“That’s perfect,” Hotch said politely before turning to you, “(Y/N), do you know Officer Hart?”

You nod, about to answer, when Seth cuts in, “Oh, yes, (Y/N) and I go way back,” He emphasises your name and it makes you feel sick. You should probably just pretend to be sick and spend the rest of the case at the hotel. 

When the team had found out that you grew up here, they had immediately asked to meet your family, curious as to who raised the Fabulous (Y/N) (Garcia’s words). The whole team had joined for the case, Garcia included. When they had asked, after a moment you agreed. Instantly regretting it, but able to go back on your decision. Although you were trying your best to come up with an excuse, but you could worry about that later. Your current problem was staring straight at you. 

Hotch, sensing the tension, nods, “Good,” He says, “I’m sure that will be helpful for the case,”

It had been hours since you all were introduced, after checking the scenes, going over the files again, flicking through suspects, you were all worn out. 

“Alright, everyone, lunch break,” Hotch declares, looking up from the file, as he turns to you, “(Y/N), any recommendations?”

You pause, thinking for a moment before nodding. “There’s a diner not too far from here,” You said. 

“Vamoose to the cars,” Rossi cheers. 

You give directions from the back, anxiety building up in your chest as you do. ‘They probably won’t even recognise you’ You tell yourself. It does little to calm you down and soon enough, you’re there. 

“Ugh, she’s back,” You turn your head in the voice’s direction, holding back a smirk when you see the woman. 

“Janice,” You said curtly, “Still a joy to be around I see,”

You’re behind the rest of the group and they’re too caught up in chatter to have noticed or heard the conversation, which you were grateful for. You were going to make it out of the case without the team finding out you were trans if it was the last thing you did. 

When you’ve all chosen your seats and have gotten settled (you sat in a booth by the window), you realise you need the toilet. You announce it with a huff before standing and making your way over. It was still in view of the team, but quite a trek away. 

“Sorry, you can’t go in there,” Your stomach drops and you pause at the door. Turning, you see Mr Miles, your eleventh grade science teacher. “It’s mens,” He says, pointing at the stick figure on the toilet with ‘MEN’ written under it. 

“What do you want me to say?” You ask, “Well done for reading?” Mr Miles glares, stepping closer to you. 

“You’re not a man.”

“Listen, I get it, you’re insecure about your masculinity, but that’s no excuse to take that out on other people. You’re getting on in years, it’s completely normal to be insecure about your little soldier at your age,” You were exhausted and had no energy to waste on people like him. “Now, I suggest we both go our separate ways. If you don’t want me in your bathroom, wait until I’ve left.”

You walk into the bathroom with a smirk. 

When you exit the bathroom, a waitress is standing there, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” She says, folding her arms. You raise your eyebrows.

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re making customers uncomfortable,”

“Whatever,” You say with a laugh. You walk past her with a scoff, going up to the table the team were sitting at and you take your seat. You knew this wasn’t going to go well. 

You see the waitress talking to the manager. The team gives you a questioning look and you try your best to look innocent and shrug it off. And then the manager walks up to the table. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He says. 

“What, why?” Hotch asks from next to you.

“No you, just-” His eyes flick to you, “You.”

“Why does he have to leave?” Morgan asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Making customers uncomfortable,” He’s not using pronouns and it makes you bite back a smile. These people were the pettiest people you have ever met. 

“Right,” You say sarcastically, “Yet he was the one trying to get a sneak peak of my dick,” Had you had bottom surgery? No. Did they need to know that? No. 

The team’s jaws drop. “Leave willingly or we will forcibly remove you.”

“He’s an FBI agent-” Hotch argues.

“An FBI agent making multiple customers uncomfortable.”

“How?” Prentiss questions. 

“Alright, I’m leaving,” You say, beginning to stand up. Garcia grabs your arm, preventing you. 

“No, you’re not.” She says.

“It’s fine,” You lie, turning to the team. “I’ll meet you back at the station,” The team tries to protest but you shake your head, “No, it’s fine, I’ll grab something on the way back. By the way, the burger’s really good,” 

With that, you stand up and begin to make your way out of the diner. You’re shaking and you can’t remember ever being this angry. You’re getting a headache from the built up rage. 

You see Mr Miles smirking and waving at you as you leave. You respond with a sarcastic smile and the middle finger - watching as his face fills with rage. Old prick. 

You’re out of the diner, about to make your way back to the station when the team catches up. You close your eyes. “What was that about?” Spencer asks curiously.

You give a tightlipped smile, “Nothing,” You say, “Just-”

“You were a smart mouthed kid?” Spencer adds, referencing the lie from before. You nod. 

“You got kicked out of the diner for being smart mouthed as a kid?” Morgan asks. You nod.

“I don’t want to talk about it, can we just grab some food and get back to work?”

After a moment of studying you, Hotch nods, “Alright. But we will be talking about this later,” You repress a groan as you quickly nod.

Spencer’s sat next to you on the drive back and he’s keeping a close eye on you. So was Morgan (through the rearview mirror) and Garcia (from the passenger’s seat). Emily, Rossi, Hotch, and JJ were all in the other SUV. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Morgan asks as he takes a left. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You respond, “You need to take a right,”

It was near the end of the case, you could feel it. It was that awkward plateau before all the answers flooded in and you solved it. You were in the break room, grabbing a coffee for you (and Spencer, who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week). You hummed to yourself as you made it, you were the only one in the room so you felt comfortable enough to do so. 

The door opened and closed quietly behind you and you stopped humming but continued to make the coffees, currently waiting on the machine. 

“Do your team even know?” You roll your eyes, turning to face Seth.

“Do my team even know what, Seth?” You ask. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Stepping closer to you as he spoke, Seth sneered, “How are they gonna feel when they realise that you aren’t the person they thought you are? That you aren’t the person that they tolerate?”

You gulped, “Seth, shut up,”

“How can you expect your team to trust you, if they don’t even know you, huh?” You shoved him back when he went to touch your shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” You growled, you pointed a finger at him. “My team can trust me, they do trust. I have proven myself over and over again. So what they don’t know every damn thing about me? They don’t need to know everything about me to trust that I can do my job!”

"What's going on?" Your stomach dropped. Hotch. You turned around, seeing the team behind you. 

Seth snickered, “Nowhere to run now, (Y/N),” Breath hit the back of your throat. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Say something.

Say something, damnit! They’re all staring at you, waiting for you to reply. What do you say? You need to say something. 

“If you trust them so much, tell them. Go on, tell them pinochio. Tell them that you aren’t a real boy after all.” Seth laughs.

You open your mouth, ready to come up with a shitty excuse, yet another lie.  “I-”

You flush deeply at the laughter behind you, “God, this is just pathetic. How about I spell it out for you?” He suggested, “Since you can’t seem to do so yourself.” He turned to the team, whose faces were all painted with confusion. “She’s a girl. Woman. Female. A tranny.” Seth placed a hand over his chest as he gasped loudly. 

You feel your hands start to tremble, you shake your head - trying your best to blink back tears, “Stop,”

“Not that big tough FBI agent now, are you (D/N)?” The first tear falls causing Seth to taunt you with his smirk, “Oh this is just pathetic,” 

You’re not sure whether you want to hit him or run and hide away from the world for the rest of your life. You’re tempted to hit him and then hide away. Luckily for you, your legs are way ahead of your brain and you run, the team too surprised to chase you. Well, until Morgan snaps out of it and tries to run after you. You weave in and out of the buildings expertly, this wasn’t the first time you had to hide from someone. Although, you doubted that Morgan would hurt you. You didn’t have that doubt about Seth and his friends when you were growing up. You hide behind a dumpster and Morgan runs straight past you, you go undetected in the opposite direction. 

You’ve been out of the station for hours, it’s dark now. You can still see where you’re going, granted that’s mostly because of the dull street lights, but you can see well enough. You had left your phone at the station, knowing that the first thing Hotch would do is get Garcia to track it. You didn’t want to be found. You didn’t want to see the look of disappointment and judgement on your team’s face. You couldn’t deal with that. You had dealt with that your whole life and now all you wanted was a family and that’s what you had found here. All you wanted to do was find somewhere you fit in, where you could be who you really were and this team was the closest you had gotten to that and now it had been ripped away. 

You found the spot you used to hide in when you were young with ease. First floor of an abandoned building no one ever went in. Some teenagers a few years older than you started a rumour that it was haunted and since then, no one enters it. 

-

Glaring at Seth, Hotch walks forward. Seth coward at the glare. “Where would (Y/N) go?”

Seth gave a half-assed shrug, “Why do you care anyway?”

“He’s our family,” Rossi answered. “Where would he go?”

“Some stupid abandoned building,” Seth muttered after a second. 

“Perfect, sounds like you know where it is,” Prentiss said sharply. 

-

You sat in the corner, scowling at the wall opposite you. Seth had just ruined everything. Everything was gone. You shouldn’t have even come on this case. You should have pretended you were ill, or something! You groaned, letting your head fall back on the wall behind you. “This is just shit,” You mumbled. You kind of wished you had brought your phone with you so you could at least play Candy Crush or something. 

Your head snapped up, hearing a floorboard creak and you shot to your feet. Part of you expecting it to be Sean and his friends before you shove that thought aside. Hotch walks in first, followed swiftly by the rest of your team and your heart plummets, expecting the worst. 

“I told Hart that if he misgenders or deadnames you again, Derek will shoot him,” Garcia says, stepping forward to embrace you in a tight hug, which you gladly reciprocate. 

“You’re okay with it?” You mumble into her shoulder.

“We all are,” She replied, rubbing a hand up your back. “I promise. Look, we’re all okay with it, right guys?” 

“Of course!”

“We support you no matter what,”

“We’re family,”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” You grinned. 

“Come on, let’s get back to the station, I’m starving,” Garcia said.

Hotch nodded, “I’d like to try out that diner, I hear the burgers there are great.”

“I’m not allowed in, remember?”

Rossi patted your back with a grin, “Don’t you worry about that, kiddo,”

When the case was wrapped up, you sighed, turning to the team. “You still wanna meet the family?”

“We don’t have to-” JJ began, you shook your head.

“No, it’s fine, we’ve pretty much all met each other’s parents at this point,” You said with a laugh. “It’s my sister’s birthday and I don’t want to miss another one,” You and your sister, Clara, had always been close. She was the only one who supported you throughout your transition and you had managed to keep in contact, (despite your parents’ wishes). She was the only family member you kept in contact with. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Spencer commented.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” You said mysteriously, you all gave a short laugh. “Besides, it’s only round the corner anyway,”

With that, you began the car journey - Derek had let you drive. Turns out, getting outed did have it’s benefits. Within five minutes you’re out the car and walking down a road. 

“This is it,” You said, pausing in front of the door. You hadn’t been here since you left for university. It would be fine, your team was here.

With a deep breath, you knocked on the door. 

[yellowyarn]

Actually, the "F" on my passport is for faggot, not female.

[wrender]

Transparent pins taken from the Arquives' button collection!

[highlyincorrect]

I have never in my life watched a millisecond of the hit 2010 medical drama House, but the general impression I’m getting of Dr House himself is he’s like if your transition doctor was great in getting you meds and guiding you through surgery but called you unimaginable slurs the entire time

[hazelcoffeecreamer]

I genuinely like the word queer sm.

It's so much better than the acronym!

A. It's so many less syllables (therefore shorter to say and write)

B. It doesn't leave out any identities

C. It sounds better

[aropride]

[p4nishers]

can u believe this was published in 1999

[bossyball]

Since I am having a Bad Day right now and I think my family members are making up their "nonbinary friends" who are personally offended by my existence-

And since I want this to reach the outer corners of Tumblr, not just my mutuals who I know are okay with my pronouns, please reblog!!!

[vaspider]

Sometimes, when I'm just doing a bit of light TERF blocking to better curate my Tumblr experience, I stumble across a transphobic lesbian on her lil radfem blog writing shit like this:

... and I'm like... oh, you're so close to fucking getting it. So close, and yet so fucking far.

Transphobic gays and lesbians, I hope for your sake that you figure out sooner rather than later that you are not a human being to the people you're allying yourself with. You climbed into the cage with the face-eating leopards, and the only reason the leopard isn't currently eating your face is because it's chewing on ours. They are using you and you are next.

You are just a faggot to them. Just a fucking dyke. You are no different to them than I am. They think you're just as disgusting, just as perverse, just as wrong, and they're only hiding it long enough to play politics of divide-and-conquer. They do not see you as acceptable. You are just the problem they handle after they handle me and mine. You will never be more to them than that, and the only reason they tolerate you at all is because you are currently a useful tool for them.

You cannot protect yourself by licking the boot pressing down on your sibling's neck.

Fucking quislings.

[waywardsou2]

Logan x Trans!MaleReader

Reblogged from my writing blog

Summary: Being a mutant was hard enough as it is, but being on trans on top of that. Well, you might as well be cursed. Luckily Logan has your back when it counts the most.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: misgendering, dysphoria, transphobia, comforting, fluff, slurs

You were in charge of the supply run for the school this week. It was always strange carrying around Charles’ credit card, over the years he had been able to invest in stocks- knowing when they would dip and rise, he had amassed money from government funding and social projects, as well as working many jobs over the decades he has been alive so he had more than enough money to provide for all of the children at his school, but still the sum baffled you.

But if it meant that the school could stay stocked and at the highest capacity to care for the children, and the teachers living in the school then you didn’t think on it too hard.

You went about grabbing what you needed by the handful and stocking your trolley. Even grabbing a few extra things for you and Logan. Any time you had been on shift to go for the supply run you made sure to grab some extra snacks for Logan and you to keep in your room. You grabbed a bag of Skittles for yourself and some Recess cups for Logan (you had no idea how he could stand eating those).

As you were grabbing some breakfast cereals to stock the cabinet with you overheard a group of people whispering behind you. You turned and out of the corner of you eye saw them pointing at you as they continued to talk

“Why does she look like that? She looks like some cringe teenager?”

“Who does she think she’s fooling with that hair cut?”

“She was probably in prison and is growing it out”

Their voices were hushed but sounded like thunderclaps in your ears

She

She

She

You dropped the box of cereal you were holding, it made a skittering sound as it crunched on the floor. Your heart rate increased as their words reverberated around your mind, your chest tightening and not from your binder. Why today?

“Young miss? You dropped this” A middle-aged lady come into your view as you stared at the box on the floor, its bright logo staring you in the face. It’s mascot smiling gleefully. Her hand came into view as she picked up the box and handed it back to you. Trying to snap your self out of your downwards spiral you smiled sheepishly at her but the smile didn’t meet your eyes.

“Thank you” you took the box and shoved it into your cart. She smiled back at you and continued with her own shopping

The group from before were now snickering at you, before you could grab the last box you needed and head to the checkout the tallest boy in the group threw a packet of biscuits at you and said “Hey tranny, shouldn’t you be in the circus or something?”

The whole group laughed but you just stared. You turned around to face them, glaring them down with as much hate you could muster. All of it was controlled like a grenade ready to explode, the blast steadily building with each second passing as the chemical reaction grew inside the chamber.

Right now, it was anger, bubbling and building but never exploding. All the rage being pent up as you walked towards the checkout. Your feet felt heavy, your footsteps echoing more than last time as you stomped down the isles. Your heart beat fiercely but you looked on blankly, your eyes seeing but not processing what was in front of you. You just wanted to get out of here and get home. Go back to the school and hide away.

Deep down you just wanted to be seen. Being a mutant was hard enough as it was, having to keep a secret from the world and everyone who would ever know you outside of the school. And now, no matter how hard you tried the world still didn’t see you how you were. As a young boy, just like any other human.

But you weren’t, you weren’t and you would never be. Because society decided to define you based on your internal organs and bone structure. Just thinking about it made you irritated. That notion occupied your thoughts quite often and it angered you, all this hate and bigotry towards a group of people because they were simply different. Why did everyone else get to decide your fate? Why did they get to decide who you were and who you were supposed to be? It was bullshit.

As you drove back to the school you anger leaked out. It showed in the whites of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel. In the crease at the top of your nose in between your two brows. In the speedometer on your car screaming higher and higher as you broke the speed limit two times over, your foot flat to the floor on the pedal.

As you pulled into the gravel driveway the car screeched to a stop as you cut the ignition and yanked of your seat belt, opening the door with more force than necessary and slamming it shut with equal strength.

You began grabbing bags out of the trunk and bringing them to the kitchen. Leaving them with a few of the kids who smiled and thanked you as they began unpacking the bags you placed on the bench. Their smiles were genuine and warm as they helped you put the items away. You went back for the last bag and as you shut the boot and took a step away from your car you turned and came face to face with Logan. Almost bumping directly into him. You jumped and almost dropped the bag

“Jesus Logan, we need to get you a bell or something”

He chuckled but looked playfully disgusted by the idea.

“I’m not a cat” he laughs at you

“Well you already have the ears and the claws” you say pointing at the curls in his hair.

He laughs and gives you a punch in the arm as he reaches forward to take the bag from your hand. But you don’t let him take it. Usually you would have let him help you but today you didn’t.

It was stupid really, the reason you held onto he bag. The masculine clique of being strong and being able to provide had entered your mind on the way home, all the overcompensating masculine cliques imaginable had played out in your mind as you tried to combat the dysphoria that was consuming your brain.

He tilted his head at you when you pulled away from him but he didn’t press you any further. He walked along side you as you took the last of the groceries to the kitchen and put them away with the help of the few kids that were still unpacking the bags. You moved through the kitchen in a whir, putting things in their place at record time and then depositing the bags back into your car before walking back inside.

Now with nothing to do you felt to wired, to unoccupied. You didn’t want to talk about what was on your mind. You were to mad about. But slowly that anger began to dissolve. The feeling hollowing out your chest, taking up space and crushing your organs.

You had managed to evade Logan in your flurry around the kitchen, not that you meant to but you just weren’t thinking. Your mind was so full but blank. Like TV screen playing static. Numbly you walked to your shared room with Logan, you pulled off your shirt and looked at yourself in the mirror with your binder on. There was a slight pudge out the arm holes from the extra weight your binder couldn’t hold. You didn’t get it. You looked like a boy, like any other man you might have seen on the street. So how did they know? How were you still being misgendered? The thought made you angry again and you glared at yourself in the mirror, getting mad at your own face for betraying you. You pulled your binder up over your head. But because you hadn’t been careful to pull up from the arms first it got stuck, with your arms caught at an awkward angle

You tried to grab at the binder but couldn’t pull it up and over your head. You heard a knock on the door, and you ducked out of view, turning around so that your back faced the door as Logan’s voice accompanied the previous knocking. “Hey, you good?”

You sigh frustratedly, how was this the third time this week you had been caught like this “No…I’m stuck, again”

The door opened and clicked shut quickly as you heard Logan walk up behind you.

“Trying to get it off, or back on?”

You contemplated telling him you were putting it back on, but you had been wearing it for 6 hours already and you ribs were hurting, you knew you were pushing your limits. You sighed and told him to help you take it off.

Gently he grabbed onto the fabric and pulled it over your head, making sure to keep his hands away from your skin as much as possible as he freed you from your predicament.

You snatched your hoodie off the end of your bed and pulled it back on. Adjusting it so your body underneath was hidden, and your curved figure became blocked out and flatter.

He looked at you as you adjusted you hoodie with a sad and now knowing smile on his face.

“What happened” he asked softly

You stopped fussing with your shirt and you looked at him. All the anger from before was completely gone, and instead, the was replaced with the sting of sadness and the feeling of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You bit the inside of your cheek hoping that it would deter the tears in your eyes, but it didn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it, you didn’t want to say it to him. You felt pathic and you were embarrassed, but your heart ached.

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it did, and you didn’t know how to tell him

“Why don’t they see me” you couldn’t explain what had happened but you didn’t need to. He got the gist of it.

He pulled you forward into him softly, holding you against him and locking his arms around your back. Keeping you pressed closed to his chest. Your head resting right over his heart. The organ beating rhythmically and acting as a metronome that was grounding you.

The sound of his life brought you calmly back to earth, bringing you here into the moment, pulling you out of the hole you had been spiralling down. His deep long breaths added to the grounding atmosphere that he had created between the two of you. Those negative feelings were slowly fading away from you, the same way that mud and filth dripped down your fingers as you washed your hands clean of it.

It fell away from you and left you feeling clearer, lighter and calmer.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply following the rhythm he set naturally and took it in, leaving behind the past hour and reveling in the comfort of this moment. Appreciating every moment you could take with him, basking in the glow that radiated from him whenever the two of you were together.

And in this moment, everything faded away except the two of you. And all of that pain and anger and fear melted away.

He placed a kiss on the strands of your hair and then rested his chin on your head.

“You will always be one of the strongest, most capable men I’ve ever met. And anyone who doesn’t see that is a joke”

You pulled away so you could look at him, and your eyes softened, you could see the pure unbridled love in his face as he looked at you. He cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss, and that last bit of negativity slipped away from you.

Who cared about what other thoughts of you, they didn’t know you and they didn’t matter. Logan knew you, and he loved you however you were. He would never let you forget that because when he had met you at Charles’ school there was no doubt in his mind that you were the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

And that feeling never changed, each time he saw you no matter what state you were in or what you were wearing, each and every time, you would always be beautiful.

It didn’t matter what your body looked like under your clothes; it didn’t matter what society said you were supposed to be. All that you were, in its truest form, was more than he could have ever asked for in a partner. It didn’t matter to him that you were transgender because you were you. And that was enough for him, he hoped one day that you would be enough for you too.

This one goes out to all of my trans brothers out there, keep fighting boys. You've made it this far you can keep going!

And once again, I take requests. If you would like a one shot like this one or any of my other works then send me an ask!

[the-trans-advice-blog]

Btw stop sanitizing queer spaces!! They’re not meant to be palatable they’re meant to be safe. Obviously be respectful on an individual level but never be scared to be you and say what you want. I’m a fag and a tranny and I’m proud of that fact.

[haymarketvtubestuff]

[punkeropercyjackson]

I just wish white trans men would realize that masculinity isn't empowering for ALL transmascs or even enbies.I'm black afab and multigender so i identify as a trans man and genuinely enjoy the label but i didn't have femininity forced onto me,i was masculinized against my will to humiliate and dehumanize and abuse me ever since i was little kid by boys AND girls AND grown ass people and yes,i'm part of the 'tomboy to femme tboy' pipeline but it was never about validation,it was about INvalidating me as a girl because i was a black girl and the misogynoir that comes with it made me not be seen as a 'real' girl.I wasn't one of the guys or one of the girls even though i've always been both male and female and i now see it's because i was 'the gender freak' instead and that combined with my autism made nobody want to be friends with me even though i was always super nice to everyone and even a bully beater that stood up for kids who didn't even like me because i thought it was the right to do because my abuela raised me right

This is exactly why i hate the lack of intersectionality and inclusivity to nonstandard transmasculine experiences in the white transmasc community.I'm a black woman and i know for a fact if i'd been born amab,i would've been a transfem one because i'll always BE a black woman.You can't take that away from me for your own comfort and then get mad when i'm rude over it because you're literally misgendering me.I'm a black man too but a FEMME black man-All this pink and fem terms and soft aesthetics and kiddy interests are my personality and by extension my gender and it's antiblackness too to masculinize me for that since black males are also masculinized against their will even if black women have it worse.When i say i'm a boygirl and a faggot,i mean that shit and f*mboy is a transmisogynistic slur so i ain't using it and neither should any coward ass tmes on here.'Bigender','Genderfluid' and 'Black femme' are the correct terms for me.Keep your whiteness to yourself

[dailytransitiongoal]

transition goal<3

[thehealingsystem]

currently crying as I'm writing this but uh I reeeaallyy wonder when people are gonna decide to leave us lesbians with unconventional gender identities alone. please leave the teenage bigender lesbian alone. they're a young girl in high school who likes other girls whom their mother will never accept and has to hide their relationships, and forever hide their heartache after they fail. please leave the transmasc lesbian alone. people will whisper behind his back about how much of a tranny he is while expressing disgust when he holds hands with a girl. please leave the nonbinary lesbian or just transfem lesbian alone whom is too masc or man-leaning for your taste, whether that be because they're amab or a nonbinary guy, they're trying super hard just to live and can barely pass and is forced to hide or else people will accuse them of invading spaces or being a predator. I know you won't ever see us as deserving of the lesbian label- no matter how much we present like a cis girl or how much we've been discriminated against for our attraction, from my experience- but we're just trying to make it by too. I'm tired of just trying to convince people I'm allowed to exist. not be in spaces, be in communities, exist. please leave me alone. please leave trans lesbians alone.

[randomcartoonbro]

Heya!! My top surgery consultation is right around the corner and I still need a bit of financial help to pay for the surgery, so I've added some new designs to my RB to help with that :D . If you're a fellow queer punk, I think you'll enjoy these. If not, there's other softer designs up there too that might suit your fancy! Check it out!