#tw: Microagressions

[w-meth]

Another update

Tw: Microagressions against trans

[3-2-whump]

The Party

<prev next>

TW/CW: public humiliation, pet whump (I think?), objectification, whumpee on display, whumpee being talked about as if not even there, light microagression towards whumpee (?) This is fun to tag.

By now, Khaled should’ve been used to hearing the faint sound of metallic clinking as he walked. His owner used to bind his feet in cuffs for nearly a year straight when he had first come into his home, leaving just enough chain in between to walk comfortably and not an inch more. That was nearly six years ago, yet even hearing the faint shk shk shk of shimmering chains whenever he moved mentally transported him back to boyhood, when he was scared, shy, and didn’t know what was going on or what was expected of him. Much like tonight.

“Stand up straight, pick up your feet, and don’t look so glum,” Thomas chided.

Easy for you to say, Khaled thought as he eyed his fully dressed owner in envy. The mafia boss was dressed in a three-piece suit as usual, though he had changed into one of the more expensive ones for tonight’s function, a charity ball of some sort. The garnets set into his golden cufflinks glowed like freshly shed blood under the foyer’s lights as he gestured at him.

Khaled wore gold and garnets of his own, except they were…everywhere. They were in his earrings, in his nose ring, studded like pomegranate seeds in his necklace, acting as connection points in the harness-like body chain draped over his bare chest and torso –he was covered in them and still felt naked. A sheer and silky fabric tied unskillfully around his waist matched the color of the sanguine jewels and provided the only shred of modesty in this obscene outfit. Khaled prayed it would not fall off, but he did not favor his chances.

At least I get a break from that chastity cage, he consoled himself.

He straightened his posture and adopted a more neutral expression. His master smiled. “Good boy,” he said, and yet the usual praise did not ease the nervous churning in his gut. The golden bracelets on his wrists, matching the bands on his ankles, clinked softly as the man reached out to squeeze his hands in reassurance. “You look beautiful,” was all he said to him before he dropped his hand and parted the large doors to the ballroom.

Khaled’s skin seared hot under the chandelier lights as he felt the gaze of every patrons’ eyes on him. Keeping his eyes focused on some neutral midpoint ahead of him –like that potted plant, yeah, is that even real? –he followed his master into the fray, swallowing nervously as he heard the heavy doors close behind him. It felt like everyone was staring at him, and from the glances he dared to take from his periphery, he understood why. Every other patron was dressed in formal attire. Even the few escorts he saw -and he could recognize a fellow sex worker when he saw one- were dressed more modestly than him. At least their chests were covered! His face burned with embarrassment, a blush that probably rivaled the cerise garnets, all the way down to his collarbones.

The boss stopped, finally, and so did he as they settled into the corner of the ballroom. They stood next to the bar and very close to the table laid out with several dozen little canapes. Khaled’s stomach loudly rumbled and his mouth pooled with saliva just looking at them. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was nearly eight hours ago. He glanced at his master, who was currently receiving a glass of whiskey from the bartender, and he carefully stretched a hand out to reach for the tartlet-thing closest to him.

“No.” His bracelets jingled as his hand was swatted away like he was a misbehaving pet. His master stared down at him as he threw back the shot of whiskey. Khaled drew his hand back to his side. “I’ll feed you when we get home, if you’ve been good, that is.” He sighed, but reluctantly nodded. He cast his gaze down to his sandaled feet as he tried not to think about the ever-present food and the persistent gnawing of his stomach.

A pair of expensive black leather shoes stepped into the top of his vision. “Thomas, so glad you could make it,” the unseen stranger greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” his owner replied, a polite smile in the tone of his voice.

“So, who’s this?” The stranger’s attentions were on him.

“This,” he said boastfully, “is my darling, my dearest, my worst-kept secret!” Khaled wanted to shrink away from the attention, but has master’s hand on his waist reminded him not to. “Come on, Khaled!” He summoned his courage to look up. An older man with a pot belly and a short, dour-faced wife on his arm was appraising him curiously, as if he was an exotic item and not a person. Smile, damn it, an impatient voice rang in his head. He flashed them a shy smile as he looked at them through his kohl-rimmed lashes.

“Your intern?”

“My ‘intern’,” his master clarified.

“He’s a pretty one, how long have you had him?”

“Oh, about six years now, come this spring.”

“Wow! Well, you’ve obviously been taking great care of him!” It was so obvious that this stranger wanted to do more than just look at him, with the way his fat fingers practically vibrated in excitement.

 “Six years?!” a second guest –a tall and thin woman– gasped. Khaled realized by now they had attracted a small crowd of partygoers to the bar, all with the intent to sneak a peek at Don Costa’s boy toy. He ducked his head in shame.

“Mine didn’t even last six months!” the woman whined, trying to garner sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I just got lucky, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Tell us, how is he in bed?” another guest asked.

“Good, though there’s not much skill in lying back and taking it!” A chorus of laughter accompanied his master’s. He found a scuff on the hardwood floor and pretended that was the only thing that existed.

“Does he speak?” yet another faceless guest asked. The whole semicircle of gawkers fell silent. Khaled dared to look up. All eyes were on him.

“Well, go on, boy, say something,” his master directed.

Khaled wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

“W-what should I say?” he asked nervously.

An irreverent number of oohs and aahs erupted from the small entourage.

“Not even the faintest hint of an accent!” the first man exclaimed. “Now tell me, Tom, did you train him to speak that well?”

“No,” his owner admitted, “I mean, I hired a tutor to teach him English, but he trained the accent out of himself on his own.”

“Why, though?”

The stretch of awkward silence indicated they were waiting yet again for Khaled to speak, that they wanted him to answer. Khaled shifted his eyes to the floor again, swallowing past the discomfort of being scrutinized this closely. “Because… I didn’t want to stand out.”

-

“You were amazing!” Thomas complimented Khaled as he watched him shovel take-out falafel pita into his mouth like it was his first meal in days.

“So, this was just a one-time thing, right?” his beloved slave asked, cheeks distended with half-chewed falafel.

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Thomas chastised him, “I trained you better than that.”

Khaled swallowed the food and apologized under his breath. “And to answer your question, who knows? They couldn’t keep their eyes off you,” he smirked pridefully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, either. He glanced from the road over to his passenger in the car. Khaled had looked every bit as alluring as he had imagined when he was covered in gold and jewels and blood red silk. He would never admit he was hard for nearly the entire time they were at the party, but the evidence probably spoke for itself through the bulge in his slacks. “It’s no wonder though. Red is a good color on you.” And I want to see what you look like in blue next, he mentally added. “I just might drag you out to other parties in the future if we get attention like that.”

Khaled set his stub of a pita down on his lap. Thomas couldn’t help but grimace; what if it left a stain? “Do I have to dress like this again?” the young man asked, though his defeated tone told him he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t be so sad about it, you were gorgeous!” I thought about nothing but how to get you alone for the entire time we were there!

“I was nearly naked, Master. In public. In front of strangers. Does that not bother you?”

“So? I like to show off what’s mine,” he shrugged. “Look, when you’re free, you can choose to wear whatever you want, but until then, you’ll put on whatever I give you, okay?” Khaled slumped further into the car seat. Maybe it was a bit cruel to tease him with the freedom he’d never willingly give him. Thomas sighed, feeling a little guilty. He reached out a hand to pat a silk-covered thigh. “It won’t be very often, I promise,” he reassured him.

“Yes, Master,” his pet murmured.Thomas smiled. At the red light, he leaned over to kiss the side of Khaled’s sauce-stained lips.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

[satellites-halo]

I saw a group recently that made pride merch, and they made altersex things before making anything for intersex people. Like holy shit, what a slap in the fucking face.

Love when things are like. Here's every identity you can think of. And 12 variations on the basic rainbow flag. But NO intersex flag at all.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for caring about social justice?

Hello. I (19M) care very deeply about righting all the wrongs in our world. I used to blind to these issues- Pardon me, that was an ableist slur. I'm terribly sorry about this microagression. #TW #ableism. To rephrase, I used to be unaware of these issues. But now I am aware, and I am working to be mindful of various prejudices and check my privlege.

However, my friend "P" (19F) says that I'm focusing too much on smaller issues, rather than what she deems to be the most important issue in our society - prejudice against women. I find this rather silly because our society is matriarchal. Sure, maybe women face some sort of oppression, but it's not nearly as much as a big deal as P makes it out to be. Surely it's a much more pressing use of my time to correct all my friends on their various slurs and microagressions. None of them seem to be capable of checking their privlege...

At any rate, AITA?

[spiritstalking]

https://www.tumblr.com/honey-bitch/782313352532754432/tw-rcism-and-mircoagresion-the-situation-is?source=share

As a mutual of honey irl and as a black person, after reading everything and hearing from her. I have to say this.

Honey is a teenager and being told that she said something horrific like calling a black woman a monkey - to find out that she didn't say that from the person. And then seeing posts saying false things. Is a painful seat to be in.

Fair enough she actually called a black women a monkey. You're free to shit talk down to the river nile - and justifiably so. Like with the ogre situation.

And to clarify i believe as a black woman myself that we should call out racism when we see it, not bring it up publicly idk how long later after initially ignoring it.

Seeing that the people in the server were interrogating honey on something you know she didn't do - explicitly call u a monkey.

Then to clarify that honey didn't say that to you in the dm's, but not clarify to everyone else.

Which then lead to multiple posts that incorrectly said that she called a black woman a monkey - when according to you honey didn't 'explicitly' say that. - not to mention we don't actually know what/when she said ,and will never actually know since there's no evidence.

I'm not trying to start an argument/bring up old news. But as a friend of honey and after she confided in me and seeing all these people say that she is a racist and called black women monkeys when she didn't.

She was very confused and distraught, as she didn't know what she said that was mircoaggressive/finding out she didn't call ... a monkey and was getting attacked for saying that. However after talking to multiple people she calmed herself down to explain her side without hating on anyone, because most sides are understandable .

I have to give my two pisces on the situation.

I'm not saying that the person who brought it up is a bad person, and also to note i'm not trying to start/stir up even more drama - honey doesn't know that i'm making this post so don't send hate to her.

But i disagree with the approach.

(that being said i'm not actually 100% sure if the person did try to clarify and if they did ignore/delete this whole post).

no one knew for sure if honey called someone a monkey or not. one person in the server believed that happened to them and them and honey hashed it put in DMs and honey has already resolved the situation by providing her side of the story and apologizing for the comments she did make. she wasn’t given the benefit of the doubt at that time because she already had a prior situation that was sketchy.

i’m never gonna side eye black people (or any POC for that matter) for the way they respond to microagressions/racism. it’s easy to say “oh you should’ve called racism out in the moment”, but things don’t always work out like that when that situation actually occurs

[wild-wombytch]

Ok, I'll pin this before shits go insane. The TL;DR is that I'll be temporarily uninstalling social medias so I have no idea whether I'll reply to about everything or when. All the following posts on this blog are queued. I'm probably not leaving radblr, just going on hiatus.

Putting the rest under the cut because I feel the best thing to do is being open-hearted and honest. I want to explain the reasoning nobody cares about behind it and I don't want to spam everyone's dash about this : (TW negativity, mental health, trauma dumping?, personal, pretty lengthy, blah)

I'm definitely overdramatic due to my own mental shits, but I'm getting SERIOUS anxiety from my reply to this post about poverty and middle class.

I don't regret it per se. I almost chose to ignore it because this is a painful topic and those who never experienced it wouldn't believe the amount of spits in the face you get from the middle-class as someone poor in the form of about daily microagressions and what trash you interiorize from it (you don't get much from billionaires because they don't even know we exist and they clearly don't frequent us, they fuck with us as a class but not on an individual level). As everything engaged with emotionally, it can quickly become a bomb. Yet, radblr has made (and still makes, we're all WIP after all) me someone less passive and more inclined to speak up. I'll never be grateful enough for that. So I chose to "woman-up" and make my voice heard. As insignificant as it seems. Because no one can talk for me better than myself.

Maybe it's absolutely nothing for a lot of people (and I guess it objectively IS nothing) but it is ENORMOUS for someone battling crippling anxiety (and I'm not choosing the word "crippling" lightly. My mental health literally gives me such tangible physical pains, gluing themselves to my already existing back issues/arthrodesis that I am physically disabled. I am heavily medicated. I am in a day hospital. I recently genuinely considered asking for a full-time internment in a mental hospital for maybe a month or two because I am becoming dangerous for myself and a burden). I used to be so passive, shy and anxious that I wouldn't voice my opinion at all in fear, that's how I got into the TRA movement so obediently. Exactly the example of Solanas about women completely conditioned out of their female power and inner worlds by their fathers, then becoming the emotional rags and handmaiden of every other men. I'm slowly unlearning that. Participating in something like that was part of the process. I don't know if I dose well. If I should dose and not be too "spicy" at all. Probably not. Radfems showed me the key to my shackles and I'm just starting to understand how it works. Yet, now I'm projecting all of my past experiences on this and fear I'm from one hand encouraged in a direction and going to get my neck broken for it from the other as a punishment. I shouldn't care, yet I still do at this point of my journey.

Again, I'm a mental mess. All is a bit blurry and unreasonable when we talk about anxiety/ptsd. I fear I'm going to get terfed out the terves and cancelled, do to speak. And it is oddly terrifying due to the mess I internalized and how highly and gratefully I look at radfems, with my tendency to idealize.

So when I was about 70% of my reply and I rechecked the whole thread to see it was Tepkunset out of all the Tumblr users I was "siding with"...fuck, did I stutter a nervous laugh. When I made this blog, I made a point to avoid interacting with hers, because I also used (and still do, to some degrees) highly look up to her. Like radfems, she is smart, brave and outspoken and I was all starry-eyed for her. She doesn't know of me and would probably block me on sight now (and probably will if that's not already done by seeing my reply), but she had genuinely been a model to me and got me in social justice and to think deeply about a lot of things, including myself as someone existing within bigger systems. I'm not making shits up when I say she changed the course of my life and I wouldn't be here in my journey if it wasn't for her. It was a process for me to actually embrace "heresy" and accept that I disagreed with her, my icon, about gender issues (which is a shame, because I think if cancel culture wasn't such a thing, she would genuinely be an amazing person to debate with). I've never been into celebs cult but that definitely was a close one. That's why I didn't interact with her blog, other than sometimes paying a visit and reblogging through other blogs as to not be blocked by her. Because I genuinely still respect her and want to hear about her thoughts even if I don't necessarily agree with them anymore, and want to see if she's okay and sometimes I rake my drawers to send money her way when life gets Bad™.

So that's some bullshit irony there that I feel torn in my "loyalties" among people I deeply admire yet disagree with and who themselves probably only intereacted with me anecdotally and know of me as much as they know of the flies in their kitchens. So essentially all that noise is in my head only yet what if I told you my back pains that almost miraculously vanished after seeing an osteopath yesterday just came back and now I can't lay on my back at all, no matter how many painkillers I take? Yes, I'm stressing out that bad over a Tumblr post no one cares about. If it was a telenovela it would be one of these scenes where a character is caught between a fight between their current crush and ex and has to pick a side and gets rightfully dumped by both.

So yeah, it also stirred a lot of things I haven't processed yet about my TRA days and even shittier moments of my life. I definitely wasn't ready for that.

I also genuinely internalized that I shine in society by not being very smart or useful or assertive like the women I admire so much. I'm not even sure about what I write, because I have no inner voice, my thoughts happen as I voice them, my brain is barren cotton, a perpetual state of dream. I don't know which of my memories are exact and which are dreams and past thoughts. I have amnesia of full discussions I had and consents I gave and I am completely stunned when people prove me I said something, because, in all good faith, I have not a shred of memory. Maybe a drop of a hazy memory you'd have in a dream. My past self and my current self both seem unreal, like other people. So I stick to ideas I have of my identity, shards of it, labels. I fiercely defend them because they are the only sense of self I perceive at all. Because I don't even feel human outside of thel. So I still have the same fear as during my TRA days that a breeze can make everything crumble. Most women here are very bright, it would take nothing to unmask the lack of ability I have to counter, to emotionally rein myself in, to construct a consistent data-based retort. That's why I was afraid of radfems in my TRA days already.

Anyway, that plus my irl social life being toxic currently makes me cope by going on social medias, which I know are awful for my mental health, yet I persist inflicting that on myself. There are several medical leaves at the day hospital so I'm ~aLoNe~ with my shits. Then you know the shit circle of life it is : not sleeping, not eating, being more anxious, sleeping less, being more anxious, eating less, reflecting too deeply on which way of sabotaging myself is the most reasonable...

So radical times call for radical measures. I'm deleting temporarily all of my apps instead of seeing notifications all the time and obsessively checking if everyone hates me yet or if nobody cares and pondering which is worse by looking at a wall for a whole day trying to not think about SH. That's stupid, and cowardly and pathetic and unfair towards people who reads me and puts thoughts in their replies and it's many other ugly things probably. But if I don't I'll implode. I just want to break the circle of feeling like shit and back pains that ruin my life so I can get back on my legs and maybe tackle one thing at a time. And I quite literally need to touch grass, even if I don't want to see anyone in my irl circles for now.

I don't know if any of this made sense. I'd probably also regret dumping all that tomorrow. Sedation is finally starting to work, so I guess that's why I m so talkative so I'll surf on it, post this, delete everything and pray I'll also forget about this until it randomly pops into my mind and gives me an existential crisis 20y from now. Should I even be given a right to vote and access to internet until I'm fixed? Are those rights part of the reconstruction process and of creating a sense of self?

Idk, I'm just tired. I wish you all well during this time. Radblr is wonderful despite occasional disagreements. I hope we can still be sisters after that and hope you won't think less of me. If you do, well, you're probably right, I also think less of myself every time I dare to exist and open the mouth. I am also the daughter of my father, after all, so I have plenty of reasons to think I deserve my own hatred and other people's.

I said I needed to be honest and open hearted so I've been. That's also why it's the over sharing website I guess? Here's a random gif to conclude this because I don't know what else to say and this is all fairly embarrassing:

[mockerycrow]

AWWW THAT WAS SO SWEET 😭😭

don't worry, the word bonnie doesn't bother me, i rlly appreciate you checking in tho

also i know that this sounds like me trying to act tough but I'm being honest here - racist insults don't really bother me anymore. they really got to me when i was a kid, of course they did, but now ppl are just repeating the same stuff over and over again. however when it's stuff like GETTING KICKED OUT OF A FUCKING MALL THAT I WASN'T EVEN IN I WAS LIKE 10 METERS AWAY FROM THE ENTRANCE WITH OTHER WHITE PEOPLE JUST WAITING then yeah, that does get to me a little. not like in a "I'm gonna cry in the shower today" typa way, but in a "i will steal this man's dog and also reset his phone to factory settings" typa way

I APPRECIATE YOUUU

-🦝

tw/ talks about racism

Yeahh, once something is done so much, you eventually get used to it :/ I’ll see all these white people—keyword is white here—say that racism is not as bad today as it used to be, but they don’t realize that they’re talking about the more outward violent racism (which still happens). They don’t realize how many microagressions are thrown at people of color everyday, the marketing techniques to target specifically black communities, or the bills messing with native american lands, or they don’t realize mocking a chinese accent is racist, or how you’re “unexplainable uncomfortableness” around a black person is just very deeply rooted racism that they refuse to acknowledge—

i didn’t mean to go on spree, but i see you 100%. I may not have experienced anything you have, but I’m here for you, raccoon anon. I know you’re used to it, but it’s sucks that you are in the sense of that, that shit never should’ve happened at all!!! god i fucking hate people

[indie-queer-movie-tournament]

Boys Don’t Cry

tw deadnaming in the synopsis below:

Female born, Teena Brandon adopts his male identity of Brandon Teena and attempts to find himself and love in Nebraska.

Letterboxd:

I guess the first things I need to do are note the usual crimes. The film deadnames Brandon Teena, misgenders him, and while it ultimately falls heavily on Brandon's side in a lot of ways, it still fails to equip uneducated viewers with a way to respectfully address and respond to the subject matter. If you think that isn't this film's purpose, my response is merely to point out that its purpose is very obviously to show the horror of the violence against trans people. If it can't do so without enacting microagressions against us in the process, it shouldn't have been made at all. This film casts a cis woman as a trans man, which has the same erasing, hurtful undertones that casting a cis man as a trans woman does, though obviously with different nuances. If this film shows anything, though, it is that the transphobic belief that trans men aren't men is what gets them killed in many circumstances. The film also goes out of its way to show Brandon's dressing in a way that emphasizes his anatomy and suggests that he is somehow artificial.

[w-meth]

Another update

Tw: Microagressions against trans

[wildestdreamcatcher]

I think that Elijah would be very upset with Marley about her being with guys who are only fetishizing her race and the fact that she seems to struggle with internalized racism. I feel like he would want Jude and Marley to be confident in their racial identity and the fact that Marley hates it sm would upset him a lot

TW: Mentions of internalized racism and race fetishization

Elijah really couldn't understand why Marley hated herself so much about her race because it wasn't something she could change. He watched Marley absolutely fry her hair by straightening it so much to fit in, he saw her become the token black girl in some of her friend groups, he watched her become friends with people who were microagressing her, he watched her date people with race fetishes. He heard Marley talk about bleaching her skin because she hated how she looked. Elijah didn't understand it and apart of him felt offended because he didn't really understand this hatred she had and thought that could be towards other black people, he wanted her to be so confident in her features and everything about her so the fact she would rather do something so drastic like damaging her body to fit in, was something he couldn't understand.

@vommitgirl @blowflygrls @sadlonelyyogurt

[eastendies]

Frankie having to prove her worth to Tina just because she’s deaf when they wouldn’t have made Mick or anyone else do that? Miss me with that bullshit.

That honestly pissed me off so much, esp when I was rooting for Tina/Frankie and it turns out Tina is a raging shit heel. It's so utterly infuriating that Frankie, like a lot of disabled people, has to PROVE herself to even be given basic respect as an employee.

"Oh you're disabled, I don't think you could do this :(" is such a staple of ableist language that its was obviously intentionally put there by the writers, and for what? What's the point of making Frankie have to endure an ableist shit bag who doesn't respect her at all just to have her treat her like an actual employee and stop whining abt how she didn't get to use nepotism to hire her brother to work at a GAY BAR. Mostly I think it was to make Frankie look awesome (which she already is but it was a nice moment when Tina got to eat her bullshit), but what was the point for Tina? To prove she's an awful employer to ppl she doesn't consider "suited for the job :)"? Or to try and start a relationship where the first step is "maybe she IS a person after all!" Like fuck off???

It's just infuriating bc Deaf and disabled ppl in general have to prove themselves all the time just to get ppl to listen and treat us like an actual person worthy of respect. Why can't abled ppl just think "new employee, I'm going to treat them like one" and move on with their life? Like it's so much everyday and to see Tina have the NERVE to say she's inclusive is just fuel to the fire of her being an ableist asshole who doesn't even recognize her own microagressions and plain aggressions bc she's so stuck over the fact she couldn't hire her brother in a job he didn't really want.

[roxelll213]

just flashbacked to listening to the Heroes of Olympus audiobooks and the way they absolutely BUTCHERED pronouncing Frank’s last name and it makes my blood boil because it’s so easy to just look up the correct pronunciation online or even just consult somebody I mean honestly??? 

[transmascskywalker]

thoughts on dark content from a survivor

all of the discussion about dark dinluke content has dredged up a lot of feelings for me. things i haven’t really contemplated in years. things i’ve only brought up in passing to my therapist and two close friends. for the most part i’ve avoided discussion about dark content because i just wanted to pretend like it didn’t exist. but maybe i shouldn’t. for the first time i feel like maybe i’ll have people on my side instead of hate sent my way. i’ll admit it would be nice to have support.

if you are a fan of dark content i urge you to read this and keep an open mind. i want to talk to you without the anger. i want you to understand where we come from. DNI if you aren’t open to reflection, or if you’re going to get defensive/nasty. coming into my comments to tell me that you don’t care just shows your lack of empathy for other people, and i will not hesitate to block you. this is not a debate, these are my thoughts and feelings based on experiences from my life.

((TW: SA discussion under line break))

i was sexually assaulted when i was six years old. i did not know what was happening. i did not know for years after. i did not realize what happened to me until i was in 8th grade, when the me too movement began to pick up.

what i did know, and what i always knew for as long as i can remember, is the phantom feeling. feeling his hands on me, always. the terror i felt at wearing dresses or skirts, anything that left me open. the way i always held my legs together around men, the fear i felt that i didn’t understand.

it was a strange mix of trauma and gender dysphoria. it’s a mix i’m still trying to unravel now.

the reason i’m writing this is because i desperately want people to understand. it’s a hard thing to empathize with if you haven’t experienced anything close to it, i know. it’s something a lot of people can’t really comprehend. and i envy that.

sexual trauma is so often misconstrued and portrayed in fiction. it’s so often romanticized. so often misunderstood.

i cant even really describe it, though i’m trying now. i just want people who create/enjoy dark content to understand. it is not just fiction. it’s a violation that crawls into your skin and never leaves. it’s something i (and so many other people) will have to live with for the rest of my life. it gets easier to cope as you get used to it, and only now after years of therapy am i comfortable talking about it like this.

but something changed in me that day. that little girl from before, to the man i am now.

portraying sexual assault is not something to be taken lightly. it is not just fiction, it is a reality. and so many people suffer in silence from it. you will never know if the person you’re reaching out to has felt this way before. it’s something we’ve been taught to shame, something we just want to forget. but we can’t.

i cant stop you from writing what you want. of course i know that, freedom of speech, yadda yadda. all we ask is empathy. all we ask is nuance. all we ask is for you to know that every single hit on your fanfictions is a person, every tumblr url you scroll past on the tag is someone who has lived a whole life, is still living a whole life.

you get defensive. you get angry. you don’t want other people to impede on your fun. after all, that’s what it is, right? just fandom fun?

it’s just fandom fun for you. but for the people who accidentally click on your improperly tagged fanfiction, for the people who you get so angry at for asking you to do better in your comments? the people you freely insult?

for us, it’s something that carries into our moods outside of tumblr and ao3. for us it’s something that flares up those phantom feelings, that pulls unwanted memories from our subconscious.

of course we can’t tell you what to write. of course we have no control over you. but you have control over us, and you have the power to hurt us. we just want you to understand that.

i would hope that you mean no harm. i would hope that you’re all perfectly nice people in your lives, that you have friends and family who will tell everyone around them that they love you, that you’re thoughtful and caring.

so before you get defensive, please just think about that. we’re all people. every single one of us is an individual. we all want to have fandom fun, and we all want to be respected. we’re a community. and in a community, you have an obligation to extend that respect to people around you if you want it in return.

tagging dark fics properly is simply basic respect. if you don’t give that respect to your potential readers, you will not receive it in return.

we know we can’t stop you from writing dark things, but there’s no reason that we can’t coexist. so long as you respect us by giving us the opportunity to avoid your works. just think about it.

-casper

[w-meth]

Update to the binder stuff

Tw: Microagressions against trans

He's leaving me on read

[nekochan-simmer]

Hi hello, rant time

tw: microagression, homophobia

Let me start with introducing myself, I'm Nora, go by she/her pronouns, I'm a cis woman and a lesbian but I'm not really out to my mother (I told her but she acts as if I never told her anything and I'm straight). I work at a real estate agency, our desks are underground and upstairs there's only the front desk with the secretary. Now that you have a context I'll tell you what happened yesterday.

I came back to the office after being out for work, before getting back I saw the news of where Pride in my city was going to be and it made me laugh because its in a part of the city where me and my friends whom Im going to pride with always hang out. So whilst going down the stairs of the office I sent a quick voice memo to them saying: you won't believe where pride is going to be, it's going to be at *insert place name*. That's it, that was the message that made the secretary so uncomfortable that she had to go and complain to the director of the agency. So he comes to me and in front of my coworkers nonetheless, and goes "So what you do outside of work isn't of our interests but certain things are not appropriate to talk about at the office"

I felt like shit, because he didn't say what I talked about but we both know he was referring to pride. It wouldn't be an issue if noone talked about their personal lives at all but the secretary that went on to complain is always always talking about how bad her husband is, why do I have the feeling that if my voice message had been about going on a date with a guy there wouldn't have been any issue present?

It's nothing major and I'm aware, but microagressions can hurt as well. Because at the root of the problem stands the fact that they see being part of the lgbtq+ community as some sort of sex thing, which it's not, it's not only about sex it's about who you love and who you are and being free and proud of those things. I'm sorry for the rant but this made me really upset yesterday and I think it's important to talk about this things. It might be something small in the grand scale of things but why should I keep quiet and not talk about a big part of who I am

so yeah, HAPPY PRIDE BITCHES

[eastendies]

I feel it is unfair of you to say that I was rude when you were not there to see what happened! You say I should have informed her that I was uncomfortable taking my mask of and she could have found someone else but I DID tell her I was uncomfortable removing my mask! Also you say that it is important to get the information across but the only thing I had to ask her was if she wanted a bag for her shopping, we have a screen that show the items being scanned and the price!

Well clearly if you HAD handled the situation well your customer wouldn't have felt the need to call you rude and be frustrated with your attempt to accommodate her. Though, granted that you were a new employee and you thought that the information you were giving out was inconsequential, I can see why you acted the way you did. But still, YOU decided that the information wasn't important enough to communicate to her properly. Previously i assumed she hadn't outright TOLD you to take off your mask and you didn't know that you had to, but the scenario you present is even worse.

She TOLD you to remove your mask. She wouldn't have done that unless she NEEDED it. Unless it was worth the effort to say it over and over and over. You don't get to decide what is good enough. You SHOULD have gotten someone else the moment you knew you couldn't help out this customer even if you thought asking abt a bag for shopping wasn't important. Because she shouldn't have to say over and over "don't wear a mask. I want someone without a mask. Can you get another person?" That stuff is fucking draining. Trying to make sure you get what you need is really fucking draining, and I'm not surprised that she called you rude when she was frustrated with you service. Why do disabled ppl need to be super insistent on everything? Why do we need to press again and again and again before ppl listen? Why couldn't you have just gotten someone else who could have actually helped this customer?

Is it unfair not to give you a benefit of a doubt when I don't have all the information? Maybe. But I have been in situations before where Hearing/abled ppl act in ways that are patronizing and rude and are called out to be so, and I generally believe a Deaf person saying "what you did was wrong" over an Hearing person saying "I didn't MEAN it!" Don't be surprised when ppl make judgement calls based on the information you give them. Don't talk to me about being unfair when I conclude something from the information you presented to me to conclude from.

In reality what you did wasn't all that big of a deal. What you did is a microagression that you didn't intend. But, repeat after me:

You still have to APOLOGISE for your microagressions even if you don't intend them. What you think doesn't matter. The thought behind it doesn't matter. What MATTERS is how you react and move forward.

I get being concerned for your family. I admire your commitment to keeping them safe. But you should have reacted better. You can't be upset at ppl telling you that, even if their tone isn't as nice as Soph's.

I wouldn't be devoting this many words to what happened to you if I didn't think you could learn and grow in some way. I get that admitting you did something wrong feels bad. Trust me, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. But from this point you know not to do that again and to be better in the future.