#why does the aromantic flag have two shades of green?

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Aaaaaaah why am I having genuine like physical reactions to the asexual pride flag?????? This is so stupid!!!!!

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I saw you reblog the post about the bi flag colors and have potentially a Very Strange question:

Does your synesthesia for lgbtqia+ words coordinate with their respective flags?? I’m not sure why it would because everything we know about synesthesia says it’s organic and not influencable but I’m very curious!!!

...hmm. Let's think.

Queer: no. I love the rainbow, but nah, to me queer is a much greener word - actually, the aro flag is what I feel when I think the word queer. I do get a lot of green from 'aromantic', too, but also red. To me the aro flag would be red, green, white, grey, black.

Bi - yeah, pretty much right I think. But more gold sequins. Blue, purple, and gold sequins. Just a splash

Pan - so 'pansexual' is actually a lot of sunshiney joy that begins with pink, so it's really not bad. I mean the shade of pink is wrong (the word is more baby pink than Barbie pink), but it does give the right overall feeling.

Lesbian - that five stripe orange white and pink one? Perfect.

Gay - Not bad, with the greens and blues. But they should be vertical and darker and only three of them, I think. With a wine red thrown in somewhere. And a rock.

Trans - no. Completely off. It's like a landscape? Two hills, a red lake in the middle, and a coniferous forest on the left. I accept this would be an Odd flag.

Ace - pretty much in tone? And not bad for 'asexual', but 'ace' should be a red-pink-orange ice cream. Like a sundae. Three balls of ice cream. In a dish. With a wafer.

Non-binary: should be circles

Intersex: I cannot stress enough how jagged the word is to me, so the circle is completely off. To me it's all sharp angles. Good colours, but the purple should be more of a red-purple than a blue-purple.

[starlocked01]

Do You Love the Color of the Sky

(pls don’t scroll it’s not that post)

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Not being able to see green must suck, but Patton pitied his soulmate more for being stuck with him.

Content Warning: Swearing, Food

Day 26 Queerplatonic Intruality, background Logince-  You can't see shades of your soulmate's eye color until you meet and look into each other's eyes for the first time.

Do you love the color of the sky?

Patton scrolled through the ridiculously long post and sighed. He liked most of them but the shades of blue always looked so dull. A lot of people reposted this particular picture set because it was the easiest way to tell what color eyes your soulmate has. Which led to a lot of bored scrolling.

If not for the lack of blue in his life, Patton would have assumed he didn't have a soulmate. It just didn't make sense to him as a concept. He loved all his friends and cared about the people he met in his day to day life, he didn’t feel like anything was particularly missing.

Other than the color blue, that is. He stared at his own green eyes and chuckled sadly. His poor soulmate had never seen summer leaves or blades of grass, probably never liked Luigi as a character, hated driving, and wouldn't recognize Patton's pride flags. Patton had learned about the aromantic spectrum and a lot of his feelings had clicked into place. Romance just wasn't his thing and he was happy. He did worry about disappointing his blue-eyed soulmate. How awful to be tied with someone who won't love you romantically.

Patton's best friend since middle school had managed to find his brown-eyed soulmate at a local cafe. Logan didn't say much but Patton could tell he was ecstatic under the calm exterior. And from the sound of it, Roman was quite the romantic which flustered Logan. Patton was happy for them, really.

"You know, Pat, I could try to set you up on a blind date," Patton looked up at Roman with confusion.

"Oh no, they're blind?" Patton couldn't imagine not being able to see at all.

"Why would you suggest that, Roman. His eyes are only green," Logan interjected from the kitchen where he was preparing dinner for his soulmate and friend. Roman had been the one who insisted on inviting Patton and this idea was probably the reason why.

"No, they aren't blind. A blind date is when you go on a date with someone you haven't met before. I could set everything up! I've got the perfect man in mind-" Roman started rambling excitedly.

"Don't tell me it's your brother," Logan scolded.

"It's my brother, but that's not the point!"

"Don't you think you've put Remus through enough humiliation?" Logan turned, shaking a wooden spoon at Roman menacingly.

"I mean, I doubt he's my soulmate and I'll probably disappoint him, but I'll meet your brother if he's okay with it," Patton fiddled with the napkin holder, trying to diffuse the argument by agreeing. What did he have to lose?

"Fantastic! I'll call him right now!" Roman jumped up from the table, phone in hand.

"Roman! Dinner's almost done, just leave it alone!" Logan called with an exasperated sigh, "sorry, Patton. He does this to everyone."

"It's fine, Lo. A low-pressure date might be nice?" Patton shrugged.

Roman had the whole date set up before dinner was even done. He decided the two would meet for a picnic at the local park that weekend. Patton didn’t even have to say a word and it was all planned out. Logan shook his head but gave his soulmate a small smile.

The day of the picnic arrived. Roman had done everything to get this set up for the two, excited at the possible connection for his brother and new friend. Patton just rolled with it, bringing a small cake he'd made to share.

He found the picnic and spotted Roman talking with a man who looked oddly similar and dissimilar to him at the same time. Patton figured they must be brothers and hesitated several yards away.

The man couldn't look any more different from Patton if he tried. His hair was dyed and Patton thought he spotted the glint of a piercing on his lip just under a trim mustache.  For some reason, he'd decided on a black and green mini skirt and fishnet stockings with a ripped My Chemical Romance shirt. It certainly contrasted with Patton's sky grey polo, grey cardigan, and khaki slacks.

Patton took a few deep breaths to try and remember that this wasn't likely to work and was mostly to humor Roman. He'd be nice to Remus. Maybe meet him again at a Christmas party where they both laugh at Roman's poor matchmaking. End of story.

Roman spotted him and waved Patton over, more excited than a puppy brought home from a shelter.

"Patton! Let me introduce you to Remus," Roman grabbed his wrist to yank him the rest of the way over, "I think you guys are really going to hit it off!"

Remus stared at the ground, looking embarrassed. Patton felt really bad as Roman must put him through this all the time. He offered a hand and a warm smile which he took but Remus wouldn't meet his eyes. He was fine with that.

"Alright, I'll leave you two alone to start building chemistry. Good luck!" with that Roman turned and left and Remus let out an exasperated sigh before sitting down on the blanket.

"You don't have to stay. I know he probably paid you or something," Remus muttered at Patton.

"No, I agreed to try, no bribes. I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you," Patton smiled sadly, kneeling down on the other side of the blanket.

"It's not you, Patton. It's him. He's obsessed with finding my soulmate ever since I told him…" Remus got very quiet, picking at one of the threads of his sock.

Patton urged him to continue, "you told him what?"

"That I'm ace. No one is ever gonna be happy with me so why try?" Remus picked up a rock and threw it hard, "he doesn't believe me and thinks I'm just giving up. I wish he'd just fucking listen to me!"

"Oh, is that all? Gosh, I'm sorry, Remus. I totally get it though! Have you asked him to stop putting you in uncomfortable situations?" Patton was so relieved he forgot that Remus wouldn't know why.

"Don't you think I've tried?? And yet here you are, probably telling yourself you can change me because all anyone would need to do is get in my pants- skirt- whatever and I'll change my tune! Right?" Remus glared at Patton who looked away quickly.

"N-no… I mean I actually get it. I'm aro and I hear a lot of similar stuff from people who don't get it," Patton explained himself softly.

Remus hit his forehead and flopped down onto his back, staring up at the sky, "oh! Oh, of course... I'm sorry for assuming, Patton."

"It's okay. Let's just enjoy this lunch and what I assume is a beautiful day," Patton laid down and stared at the sky, "is it cloudy today or is the sky actually blue?"

"Oh, it's a brilliant blue today, Pattycake. Have you never seen the blue sky?" Remus asked in amazement.

Patton chuckled, "nope, never seen it. My 'soulmate'-" he used finger quotes "-has blue eyes."

"Oh, well it's about the color of your shirt today," Remus grinned, "so I guess you know the difference between leaves and clouds, huh?"

"Green is a beautiful color," Patton smiled, "I hope someday you get to see it with someone who appreciates you for who you are, Remus."

"Thanks, Patton."

They both laid there in silence for a few minutes before Remus broke it, "so what do you think of horror movies?"

"Too scary to watch alone, but I'll watch with a friend," Patton smiled, "opinion on Bob Ross?"

"A treasure, but I wish he drew fewer happy trees and more sad ones," Remus grinned. They continued bouncing questions off of each other, a few starting heated debates as they ate the picnic and just talked.

It was wonderfully non-romantic. Patton felt understood for the first time in a long while.

Remus became more and more animated as their conversation drifted from movies and games to tattoos (Patton showed him a Spongebob tattoo on his ankle much to Remus' surprise) and careers. Patton was shocked to discover that Remus worked in daycare most days, something he would have never guessed from his attire.

"You like working with kids?" Patton asked cheerfully.

"I get to give them back to their parents at the end of the day and sleep like a rock," Remus laughed and took a bite of cake, "let me guess, you're a baker?"

"Not quite, I help run my parents' Mom and Pop diner and they stick me on dessert duty way too often," Patton happily patted his stomach, "I bet chasing all those kids burns about as many calories as I can bake in a day."

Remus snorted, "maybe I should stop by and find out some time."

"Yeah! I make the best cheesecake- if I'm being humble," Patton laughed.

"I love cheesecake! Can we go now?" Remus sat bolt upright with a large grin on his face.

"Don't we have to clean all this up or wait for Roman?" Patton asked, happy but a little nervous to make Logan’s soulmate upset with him.

"Oh come on!"

"I can always just make you one," Patton replied carefully.

"That would imply seeing you again," Remus smirked at him.

"You seemed to like the idea," Patton smiled hopefully, picking at the grass.

"I love that idea. You're so easy to hang out with, Pat. You really do get it, and I'm sure we could have lots of fun together," Patton looked up, tears in his eyes. He took off his glasses and wiped them with the sleeve of his cardigan before meeting Remus' gaze with a smile.

Something in the back of his head clicked. He watched as Remus blinked in confusion and started looking around wildly. Patton felt just as confused until he noticed the sky.

He fell back down on the blanket and stared up at the brilliant depths of blue in the cloudless sky. He could almost feel how far it stretched into the void of space and was utterly in awe, tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes and down his ears. It was magnificent.

Patton lay there crying until his view was blocked by two navy blue eyes, sparkling with joy and streaming tears as well. Patton smiled and opened his arms for a hug which Remus gladly fell into.

Roman came back and found them in each other’s arms, laying on the blanket and talking about everything they couldn't tell anyone else before. Patton made sure later to tell him off for how he'd treated Remus but also thanked him for setting up the date.

They weren't dating. It was something different, but they were happy. And Patton really did love the color of the sky.

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

[vergess]

i was wondering, what exactly IS a palette flag? is it just any flag made only of colored stripes? is the trans flag a palette flag? is the rainbow flag a palette flag? google was unhelpful, though admittedly i'm not that good at searching things.

A palette flag is a set of horizontal stripes, usually all the same size, that move through a gradient, usually with two or more stripes that are the same color in different shades.

The vast majority of queer pride flags are palette flags.

It’s depressing, because as more and more of these palettes get popular, they stop functioning as flags. Not just in terms of production difficulties, whereby it’s very hard for independant creators to get multiple shades of the same color in the same material to work with, but in terms of the basic utility of flags: being identifiable symbols for a group.

Look at these flags, and tell me honestly, that you would be able to see them standing in a crowd and know at a glance which one is which:

Arbinale: Abinary to Abinary attraction. Seven horizontal stripes: deep bright green, bright green, light bright green, white, light green, medium green, dark green.

Malaromantic: Romantic orientation which is affected by neurodivergences such as schizotypal PD, schizoid PD, or schizophrenia which feature maladaptive daydreaming as a symptom. Five narrow bands from light green to dark green, a wide light green band, five narrow bands from dark green to light green.

Altromantic: Romantic orientation with is affected by one’s dissociative identity disorder, or related disorders such as OSDD, DDNOS. Five equally sized bands of varying greens: light mint green, turquoise, dark green, dark celadon, and light green.

Here and now, with the descriptions and the definitions right next to them, side by side with each other, it is easy to see that they are different flags. But in multiple lighting conditions, or spread across a crowd, it would be increasingly difficult to tell whether these are different constructions of the same flag, or are different flags, etc.

And that is a failure of design, as far as flags are concerned.

A great many people making queer flags seem to be under the impression that because the rainbow flag is equally sized stripes of colour, all queer flags must be equally sized stripes of colour. Which means that, since there are no other design considerations “allowed,” they become heavily invested in using unique combinations of intricate shades that no one else has already “claimed.”

Compared to flag design outside of the very niche “online queer youths and young adults making flags for every conceivable identity,” however, it is well recognized that a simple, bold palette of the sort you would find in a cheap box of crayons is your best bet, and that you should rely heavily on design choices, like the shape of the field (a standard 3x5 rectangle? A square? A 2x6 rectangle? A pennant? If a pennant, how many tails?), emblems (large symbols of relatively high complexity), symbols (stars, rings, etc), and so on.

In an ideal world, a flag should be identifiable as itself even when upside down, in black and white, at a very small resolution. Palette flags dramatically fail to be identifiable.

And in failing to be identifiable, they fail to be representative.

For example, in what way does 11 horizontal stripes of green represent schizophrenia or aromanticity? There is no symbolism. And because these flags fail to actually represent the people they are assigned to, they often fail to be widely adopted or engaged with.

So, why aren’t flags like the rainbow or the trans flag “palette flags”?

They achieve the major missions of flags: they have easily recognizable designs, and they have intensely emotional and rich symbolism that makes them resonate with the groups they represent. Indeed, they both “violate” some of the common “rules” of flag design. The trans flag cannot be oriented: it’s the same when it’s upside down. And that’s a symbolic choice made with intent. The rainbow flag has a huge palette of colors--for a flag, where three is usually considered the high end and four an extreme--and that too is a conscious and symbolic choice. And even with these design decisions, they remain easily identifiable and extremely distinct.

[hermiethefrog]

Now I'm kinda curious and wanna see all these alternative flags like... How could it be THAT bad? I'm expecting that Pepe colored flag that someone proposed for Norway's new flag or something.

Heyo text wall!! This is hitting a special interest because hi I graduated from art school I love colors.

So it started when someone got angry about the fact that aces “stole” the color purple from bisexuals. Even though if you look at the ace flag and you look at the bisexual flag, you can clearly see those are two different shades. I’d even call one violet and the other purple. Like, not alike at all??? 

and also the idea of colors being limited to sexualities is ridiculous seeing as purple is used in other flags like the gay rainbow flag and the genderfluid flag.

and then something about the black and the white being too similar to the heterosexual flag. Which I’m pretty sure was designed AFTER the asexual flag. and we have thematic reasons for the white and black and gray in the asexual flag. 

with this in mind, some asshat who I’m pretty sure wasn’t even ace or aro decides oh I’m gonna make new flags! and got no input from actual aces or aros on this.

these were the flags

First one was suggested for asexuals, second for aromantics.

Which. What was the problem with the aromantic flag? While it’s a similar identity to asexuality, it’s a different thing! The aromantic flag in either of its designs doesn’t have purple in it, so you can’t claim colors were “stolen” from bisexuals. I can’t even tell the difference between these two!

but yeah these are awful look at these stupid ass beach towels. I am not kidding when I say I took a photograph of the ticket stand at the amusement park I work at. The same colors. The exact same blues and yellows and greens. 

and the explanation that the lackwit gave for the colors was even worse because, again, pret sure they were not ace or aro. “The green and blue colors are the inversion passion and attraction(red, purple and pink), romantic or sexual depending on which you choose, while the yellow means happiness, loving yourself and finding happiness while not feeling sexual/romantic attraction.”

wow thanks I love being the opposite of normal I love how I’m a defect that has to find happiness despite something thanks thank you so much.

but also if the colors were chosen because they’re the opposite of the colors that are typically assigned to passion… what does that mean for the lipstick lesbian flag, which is pink and red? that aces are the opposite of lesbians? wow, I can’t believe ace lesbians are an enigma that shouldn’t be able to exist. /sarcasm

So then these people are like oh let’s redesign all the flags!! And a bisexual person tried their hand at a bisexual flag.

I actually like a lot of this!! The solid colors are so pretty and the reasoning was that they didn’t want blue and pink because bisexual isn’t inherently binary. And the crescent moon symbol makes sense too. However, the gradient doesn’t work at all. you can’t print a gradient on fabric. It blends into the colors and also the moon symbol clearly looks pixelated? I think the designer of the flag didn’t know how to use the pen tool and didn’t make those moons a vector.

But aside from that. Make those moons a deep dark solid purple and have it be a vexel shape and that could almost work? but I’m not bisexual so I shouldn’t offer an opinion on this beyond what I’d do as an artist.

Then, finally, came the attempt at a lesbian flag. Which, I do think is a discussion worth having. The lipstick lesbian flag is super feminine even without the lipstick logo. It hasn’t gotten much use and publicity yet, which is probably why tumblr didn’t include it in their pride month logo.

(Side note: tumblr, would it have killed you to add in the pinks for lesbian after people asked you to add it?? It was super not cool of you to exclude it.)

The other lesbian flag I’ve seen around is this

which unfortunately has gotten taken by a lot of cisgender terf lesbians and nooooooo! gross!! Bad associations!

so I get why the discussion is being have but the attempt was…

hideous. nope. please take that back to the pool where it belongs.

[precise-desolation]

Pride Month 3 - Flags (Part 1)

[[So for weekends during Pride, I’m going to shift away from LGBTQ things from Steve and Bucky’s childhood and talk instead about things that we take for granted that they wouldn’t know.  So today I’m going to talk about flags.  And because Tumblr only allows for so many images per post, this is part 1 of a series on flags.  (Due to the images, it is also so long that I am putting it under a read-more.)

Steve and Bucky, upon their return to the world in 2012 and 2014 respectively, would not have been familiar with any of the current, well known pride flags and most queer symbology.

Let’s start with the one everybody knows.  This is the rainbow pride flag, the gay pride flag, the queer pride flag...  This is the catch-all.  But it has more meaning than that.  Like all of the pride flags, the colors have meaning.  Red is for life, orange for healing, yellow for sunlight, green for nature, blue for serenity, and purple for spirit.  This is why purple has been adopted as the “queer color.”  

The original flag was created in 1978 by Gilbert Baker for a gay pride parade in San Francisco.  It had two additional stripes, hot pink for sex and turquoise for magic and art.  The pink stripe was dropped in 1979 due to the unavailability of hot pink fabric.  The two blue stripes, turquiose and indigo, were combined into a royal blue due to difficulties in displaying the flag in downtown San Francisco.  This version is still in use today.

This is the bisexual pride flag.  It was created in 1998 by Michael Page to increase bi visibility within the LGBTQ community.  Because the rainbow flag was often called the “gay flag,” he aimed to give the bisexual community a comparable symbol of their own.

Like the rainbow flag, the colors in the bi flag each have a meaning.  Bisexuality is attraction to both men and women.  The pink stripe symbolizes attraction to women, as pink is the color the West associates with females and femininity.  The blue stripe symbolizes attraction to men, as the West associates blue with males and masculinity.  The purple stripe symbolizes the overlap.  Purple is a combination of blue and pink, or of male and female.

An interesting point on this flag regarding Steve and Bucky is that they would not probably associate these colors the way we do today.  Prior to WWII, pink was considered a color for boys because it was strong and dedicated.  (Pink is, after all, a light shade of red, which has long been a color of violence or passion, because blood is red.)  Blue was for girls, because it was dainty and delicate.  It was also not uncommon for all children to wear white dresses until around age 6.  This was the rule until the 1910s.  White could be bleached and gender-neutral clothing allowed for outfits to be reused for any additional children.

The change in color symbolism occurred due to the events of WWII and a culture of homophobia.  During the Holocaust, homosexual male prisoners in concentration camps were marked with a pink triangle.  This association lead to switching the coded colors for children.  The color for boys was now blue and pink was for girls.  This also helped to spur the change in clothing for children.  Girls were now required to wear dresses, whereas boys no longer wore them.

So when Steve and Bucky were children, the may have been dressed in dresses until they were school-aged and likely would have worn pink.  So while they may associate pink and blue with men and women, they would associate them in direct opposition to the way we associate them now.

(Information on color-gender association comes from the Smithsonian.)

This is the transgender pride flag.  It was created by Monica Helms in 1999.  Like the bi pride flag, it was meant to increase visibility and provide a symbol of pride for the trans* community.  Transgender can refer to a specific identity (male-to-female or female-to-male transgender) or it can be an umbrella term referring to anyone who does not fall within society’s prescribed gender roles.

Being transgender means that one’s gender identity does not match the gender one was assigned at birth.  The colors in the flag represent this.  The colors are pastel because they are meant to be associated with the colors given to infants.  The blue stripes represent boys and the pink stripes represent girls.  The white stripe represents people who are intersex, transitioning, non-binary, or agender.  It is common practice even still to assign an intersex infant a binary gender at birth and take the necessary steps to make them appear as that sex, sometimes without the knowledge of the parents.

Steve and Bucky would not be familiar with any of the terms used in the present day trans* community.  The term “transgender” was not used until 1971.  The term “trans” was not used until 1996.  Prior to 1971, the term used was “transsexual,” coined in 1949.  This term has been largely dropped, as some transpeople do not choose to undergo a sex change.  It is often considered offensive.  Before that, the term “transvestite” was used.  This term was coined in 1910 in the UK and would have been the only trans* term that Bucky and Steve may have been familiar with.  It is no longer in use in the US (with the exception of some individuals) and is considered highly offensive.

This is the asexual, or “ace,” pride flag.  It was created through a process of online submissions and voting by the Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) in 2010.  Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction.  This is different from celibacy in that celibacy is experiencing sexual attraction and choosing not to act on it, whereas asexual people do not experience sexual attraction in the first place.  Asexual also does not mean aromantic.  Some asexual people are also aromantic, but many do experience romantic attraction or strong emotional bonds. 

Asexual, like transgender, can refer to a specific identity, but can also be an umbrella term.  Someone who is asexual, as a specific identity, experiences no sexual attraction at all.  Some asexual people may be completely opposed to sex, usually referred to as sex-repulsed asexuality.  Others may engage in sexual encounters, usually within romantic relationships.  Someone who is demisexual experiences sexual attraction only in the presence of an emotional bond.  Someone who is grey-asexual (”grey-ace” or “grey-a”) only occasionally experiences sexual attraction.  There are different variants of the ace flag for people who are demi-sexual and who are grey-ace.

The colors of this flag are representative of that wide array of identities.  Black is for asexuality.  Grey is for demisexual and grey-ace.  White is for non-asexual partners and allies, and purple is for the community.

This is the pansexual flag.  It was created online by unknown sources in 2010.  Pansexuality is the sexual attraction to people of any sex or gender.  This is distinct from bisexuality in that it also includes people of non-binary sex and gender.  These terms are sometimes used interchangeably, often by people who identify with both.

The term “pansexual” was coined in 1917 by Sigmund Freud to denote sexual energy and desire that was the basis for all human interaction.  Obviously, like many of Freud’s theories, this is no longer considered true.  It is also not how the term is used today.  It began to be used in its current form in the mid 1990s.

The colors of the flag are similar to the bisexual flag.  The pink stripe represents people who identify on the feminine spectrum, regardless of biology or exact gender identity.  The blue stripe represents people who identify on the masculine spectrum, regardless of biology or exact gender identity.  The yellow stripe represents people who do not fall within the commonly defined binary of sex and gender.

This is the polysexual pride flag.  It is a very recent flag and the term is not well defined yet.  In general, it means attraction to some but not all genders.  This differs from bisexuality in that it is not confined to a binary and from pansexuality in that it does not include all genders.

The colors in the flag are extremely similar to the pansexual flag.  Each pulls from non-binary flags for their third color.  The meanings are also the same.  Pink represents attraction to people on the feminine spectrum, blue represents attraction to people on the masculine spectrum.  Green represents people on the non-binary spectrum.]]

[aroworlds]

The Vampire Conundrum, Part One

When Rowan Ross is pressured into placing an aromantic pride mug on his desk, he doesn't know how to react when his co-workers don't notice it. Don't they realise he spent a weekend rehearsing answers for questions unasked? Then again, if nobody knows what aromanticism is, can't he display a growing collection of pride merch without a repeat of his coming out as trans? Be visible with impunity through their ignorance?

He can endure their thinking him a fan of archery, comic-book superheroes and glittery vampire movies. It's not like anyone in the office is an archer. (Are they?) But when a patch on his bag results in a massive misconception, correcting it means doing the one thing he most fears: making a scene.

After all, his name isn't Aro.

Contains: One trans, bisexual frayromantic alongside an office of well-meaning cis co-workers who think they're being supportive and inclusive.

Content Advisory: This story hinges on the way most cishet alloromantic people know nothing about aromanticism and the ways many trans-accepting cis people fail to best communicate their acceptance. In other words, expect a series of queer, trans and aro microaggressions. There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual", but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with romance.

Length: 2, 951 words (part one of two).

Note: Posted for @aggressivelyarospec‘s AggressivelyArospectacular 2019.

What is pride merch for if not petty passive-aggression in response to allo folks’ amatonormativity?

Beset by dizzying anxiety, Rowan places a green mug, printed on one side with a five-striped flag, on his desk. Done. He exhales and takes another furtive glance around the poky ten-desk office, but only Shelby sits close and she’s too busy peering at her computer to notice him. There: mug at work! Right where people can see! He grabs his phone, snaps a quick photo to send as proof to Matt and then, before anyone can ask about the mug or Rowan’s behaviour, moves it beside his pen caddy, the handle angled to hide the stripes.

Why does he have to be this scared? Everyone knows he’s trans. Hormones aren’t yet magical enough to give Rowan cis-unquestioned masculinity; coming out felt less damaging than constant misgendering. At the same time, being trans is why he feels like to pass out from nervousness. The initial slew of queries, concerns and clarifications, followed by daily episodes of cissexism, isn’t something anyone should care to repeat!

Trans identity, after the passing of marriage equality, at least possesses the dubious state of being the new conservative-favourite punching bag. Before he sent Damien his “I accept the position, by the way I’m trans” email, few people here would have been ignorant of Rowan’s theoretical existence.

Aromanticism, by contrast, requires more than revelation: it requires conceptualisation.

He thought he was prepared, last time.

Rowan Ross, master of whiteboards and planners, came for his first day armed with a list of resources and print-outs of an article he wrote for his university’s student magazine. He’d written out answers to likely questions and rehearsed them at his mirror. He wasn’t going to have another panic attack when faced with questions he couldn’t answer. He was going to be fine.

Instead, he learnt again that one can’t prepare for all the shapes of cis ignorance.

Hesitating to mention his aromanticism because being out as trans already ramps up the difficulty of his working life shouldn’t be cowardly. Why can’t Matt see that?

He stares at the mug, dizzy. Damien may not notice the striped flag, but Shelby uses anything as an opportunity to provide unneeded reassurances. Melanie has enough enthusiastic, unrestrained curiosity for ten people!

I read that trans men bind their chests. Is it comfortable? Do you do it every day? Are you allowed to wear a bra when you don’t?

Rowan shudders. No. He’s survived her interrogations; can’t he survive this, too? He practiced a short explanatory speech, made an email-ready digital PDF booklet and packed printed versions inside his satchel. He rehearsed his responses to as many provocative and prying questions as possible, including the line I’d rather not answer that. Maybe it won’t be as bad, this time! Maybe they won’t notice immediately, giving him more time to prepare and anticipate. Melanie doesn’t come back until next month; perhaps this mug, so bright and green, will pass unremarked until then.

Does the want to return it to his bag make Matt right?

Rowan touches the handle for luck and wonders if this will go better should someone not Melanie ask first.

***

“Good morning, everyone!” Melanie breezes through the office in an aura of floral-with-vanilla perfume, making a beeline for Rowan’s desk. She’s small, curvy and grandmotherly-but-modern in appearance: coloured slacks and loose floral-print blouses worn with dangling gold pendants and stacks of bangles over freckle-dusted forearms. Aside from her pixie-cut grey hair, she looks to him like a walking Millers advertisement. “Rowan, can you tell me how to put the new logo in my email again? Please? I know you told me last time.”

Rowan doesn’t understand why people who send emails on a daily basis don’t take the time to learn these things, but he’s worked here long enough to accept this lack as a fundamental truth of the universe. He turns to face her, his flag mug held in his right hand. “Do you want the instruction PDF I wrote, or do you want me to just do it for you?”

A few months ago, caught up in a fit of hopefulness inspired by a new SSRI and the less-inspiring reality of being the youngest person in the office, he spent his spare time typing up Rowan Ross’s Ultimate Guide to Basic Office Computing—a guide languishing unread by anyone not Rowan.

“Just fix it for me now.” Melanie beams at him, paying his mug no attention. “Thanks, Rowan!”

What will it take for someone to notice? Pouring his coffee on their shoes? He swallows the dregs, stands and follows Melanie to her computer before setting his mug on her desk, flag facing outwards, to take up her mouse and open her email settings.

To think he worried about someone’s asking questions! Rowan didn’t consider the problem of a lack of interest, but he’s spent the last five weeks drinking from a flag mug without as much as a passing glance.

“You’re a doll, Rowan!” Melanie hesitates; Rowan holds back a sigh. Here it comes. “Wait. Is that offensive, even though there’s male dolls, like Ken? And gay men collect dolls, don’t they? But gay men like feminine things and you don’t when you’re trans-gender, do you? You’re a darling? I know! You’re a treasure.” Melanie grins, as though she didn’t make an easily-overlooked statement into a thing shaded with too many queer microaggressions for one bi trans man to untangle, and grasps his mug. “I’ll get you some more coffee! One sugar, a dash of milk! Thank you so much!”

Her pink-painted nails and beige hands cover the flag, only a small section of black and grey visible at the edge of her pinky finger.

Maybe she’ll notice when she fills the mug.

Maybe she’ll notice when she brings it back to him.

Maybe pigs will fly and she’ll stop placing that too-long pause between “trans” and “gender”, too.

This way, there’s no need to endure alloromantic absurdity or criticism. No suffering the pain of being unable to explain or correct, given how often cis people dismiss even small gender-related requests. He did what Matt demanded; he left the mug on his desk. How is it Rowan’s fault that nobody’s knowledgeable enough to express curiosity? That he forgot to factor in the remarkable cishet tendency to avoid anything suggestive of unknown queerness?

Going ignored, somehow, doesn’t feel like a victory.

***

When Rowan sees a mug online featuring a shield in aromantic colours behind a design of crossed arrows in pride colours for other aromantic-spectrum identities, he snatches one with frayromantic blues. He also buys an unneeded but matching pencil case followed by a journal covered with rows of arrows coloured in aro stripes.

If he needn’t fear curiosity or question, why not pride up his desk? At least he can gulp coffee from a frayro mug emblazoned with an aro shield every time Shelby asks him if he’s found a partner yet.

What is pride merch for if not petty passive-aggression in response to allo folks’ amatonormativity?

A fortnight later, he arranges his mugs on his desk, stashes his decorative paper clip collection in the pencil case and ponders, just for a moment, if anyone’s made a pride-themed whiteboard.

“Rowan!” Damien appears out of nowhere and claps his hand on Rowan’s shoulder. He’s a raw-boned giant of a man with an improbable ability for stealth; Rowan, cursed with a body that reacts to unknown stimuli as though lethal rather than first checking, still can’t keep himself from jumping out of his chair on Damien’s approach. “I’ve got this photo from last night I want for Facebook. Can you crop out an arm from the side for me? I just sent it to you.”

“Sure,” Rowan murmurs, once his heart stops threatening to burst from terror. “I’ll do it right now.”

“Thanks. I’ll get you a coffee.” Damien snatches up the new mug, tiny in his oversized hands. Rowan doesn’t care to imagine how much of Damien’s pay goes to custom tailoring, but his pinstripe suits are the living dapper embodiment of every How to Dress Like a Professional Man guide Rowan has read and failed to implement. “Huh. I didn’t know you were into archery. One sugar, little bit of milk?”

“Yeah. I … uh...” Rowan blinks, struggling to find an answer, but Damien heads for the hallway and the kitchenette they share with the rest of the floor. Archery? Surely none of the arrow designs are realistic enough for any archery enthusiast to regard them as an expression of interest for the sport? Not to mention the stripes?

How do cishets cultivate their air of continued obliviousness? They’ve all seen Rowan’s trans pride phone case and bi pride pin; nobody won’t have seen the rainbow flag in the news. Shouldn’t one of them catch on to the concept of pride flags?

Why complain when their ignorance is easier than their questions?

He shakes his head, opens his emails and finds the photo from yesterday’s event, complete with a stray arm on one side and a half an empty chair on the other. He crops out the arm and the chair before adjusting the contrast and colours, until the photo appears as though only maybe taken on a cheap phone, indoors, by a man with his back to the window.

“Hey, did you know that Rowan’s really into archery?”

Rowan looks up. Damien stands by the door, showing Melanie Rowan’s newest mug.

He should say something before he gets archery gear in the office Secret Santa. He should say something even though they’re on the other side of the room and a lifetime of good manners, parental expectation and disabling anxiety says one doesn’t intrude on someone else’s conversation. What if someone in the office secretly likes archery and asks him questions? But corrections mean doing the one thing Rowan hopes he can continue to avoid, so...

He slides his hands under his legs and inhales slowly in a vain attempt to head off the giddy anxiousness. Does this mistake desperately need fixing? Can’t he wait to see what happens first?

“Archery? How does anyone get into archery?” Melanie shakes her head. “You don’t do it in school. Is it a country thing? Or a rich kid thing?”

“I did. Year nine, I think? And my school wasn’t that fancy. I think kids do more of that stuff, now, than real sport.” Damien shrugs and heads towards Rowan’s computer, setting his mug down on the desk. “You fixed the lighting! I don’t suppose you can make my face less red? It isn’t that red in real life.”

It is, but that’s easier to fix than the burgeoning fear that this archery misconception won’t be a one-off incident.

***

Another awful conversation with his housemates pushes Rowan into getting out his sewing box, despite a Melanie-induced fear that showing himself to be good at a traditionally-female art will result in another expression of cis nonsense. Too many friends still ask why he buys plain T-shirts from the women’s section (better fit) or has lavender-scented shower gel on his shelf in the bathroom (he likes it). He’s a man to the not-completely-cissexist people in his life if he meets a boring, insecure definition of manhood. “Oh, great God of Trans Men,” he mutters, “please pardon me for the crime of unmasculinity, because everyone knows you don’t allow true men to embroider.”

How is cross-stitch not just analogue pixel art, anyway?

He flips off whomever it is Melanie thinks “allows” him to defy gender norms before sketching a pattern, struggling with the shape of the R. His embroidery floss stash doesn’t allow him to perfectly colour-match the greens, but after the best part of a weekend Rowan produces a patch reading “ARO” in aromantic stripes against a background of allo-aro yellow and gold. He needs another hour to stitch it to his satchel beside a cluster of badges (trans pride, pronouns, bisexual flag), but the finish is worth the late night and sore fingertips.

Surely this will tell people that those five stripes mean something more than a liking for archery or the colour green?

He fists his hands, lips trembling. What call does an allo cis gay like Matt have to mock the idea of coming out as aromantic when Rowan, who lost his home, his family and his dog to the mistakes he made in coming out, knows exactly what those words mean? Why did Matt have to say that “someone like Rowan” only put a lousy mug on his desk because he knew nobody will ask? Yes, he owns a collection of anxiety disorder diagnoses, illnesses fairly earnt, a disability unchosen. That doesn’t make him cowardly!

Matt doesn’t emerge from his bedroom before Rowan dashes to catch the train, so he lacks even the questionable satisfaction of seeing his housemate note the large patch on his bag. He’s just left with a mood bouncing between frustration, anger and the quieter, sickening fear that making the patch didn’t challenge Matt’s opinion as much as validate it. Should Rowan have done that? What else can he do?

Why does Matt have to be so damn allo?

By the time he arrives at the office, Rowan focuses just enough to concentrate on the distraction waiting for him in the kitchenette. The walls need painting and the air conditioning smells like mice, but sharing the floor with four other sub-governmental community projects meant everyone pitched in for a decent coffee machine without too many hassles. Damien needs to stop taking terrible work-related selfies, but he does enforce a cleaning rota so Rowan can enjoy avoiding the horrors of instant coffee.

“Aro?”

Groggy annoyance fades into a heart-pounding, palm-sweating, vibrant wakefulness. Rowan wheels to face Melanie; she peers at the satchel hanging off his hip. Matt’s wrong about Rowan. This will prove it!

“Uh, yeah,” he says, fighting to sound casual. “I’m aro.”

There. He said it!

“Oh, like the movie vampire?”

The movie vampire? What vampire? There’s no obviously-aromantic vampire in a well-known movie; someone online would have said so! “I’m sorry?”

“The Twilight movies! You know the ones the teenage girls liked, with the family of glittery, vegetarian vampires and the human girl? And it was supposed to be romantic somehow? My daughter had posters and a quilt cover and T-shirts and Barbie dolls.” Melanie pulls a face, her lips twisting. “But she loved them, and there’s a vampire called Aro.”

Belatedly, he remembers a joke that posts about a minor character used to turn up in aro hashtags. “I suppose? But it isn’t a name when—”

“Damien! Rowan’s called Aro now! Should we hold a meeting telling everyone? Or just send an email around?” Melanie looks out into the hallway dividing the floor into its suites of offices: Damien stands outside their door, his battered phone held to his ear. “I didn’t know trans people were allowed to change names twice! Although I don’t suppose there’s a limit, is there? If I married someone five times, I could change my last name five times, couldn’t I? Is it really that different?”

“It,” Rowan says into the barest break in sentences, “isn’t—”

“Damien! Stop gasbagging about golf or whatever … I swear, that man never listens when you want him. Always on the phone! Damien.” She bustles out into the hallway with the determined stride of a woman on a mission. “Rowan’s Aro now!”

Panic spurs him into running after her. “Melanie!”

“Aro!” Shelby grabs his forearm as Rowan skids into the hallway, her brow furrowed in concern. If Melanie seems like the plump, huggable sort of grandmother, Shelby looks like the muscular, marathon-running grandmother who hits the beach every morning. Salt-coarsened long hair in a single braid, a fashionable black blazer worn over a T-shirt, hiking boots. “Is that European? Don’t worry, we’ll all do our best to remember, and you’re allowed to growl when we don’t. We said there’d be no problem, and we meant it. You’re allowed to growl at us when we make mistakes, okay? Okay, Aro? Promise me that you will correct us!”

The self-appointed protector figure of the office, she was kind during Rowan’s first week. Kind in a way that draws unnecessary attention, given her inability to correct someone else’s misuse of pronouns without crafting a production of hushed voices and pointed nudges—followed by scathing lectures that never happen far enough outside his earshot.

Why are the only options complete stealth or queerness front and centre in a way that never lets him be just a different shape of normal? Where exists a blessed middle ground?

Melanie reaches Damien and stares up at him, waving one hand and tapping the opposite foot, until Damien lowers his phone.

“Uh … thank you, but my name isn’t—”

“You absolutely must correct us.” Shelby squeezes Rowan’s forearm in a firm grip. “We’re not used to all this, but that doesn’t mean we won’t try. Aro. Do you people usually choose unusual names like that? You know, you trans people? Promise me that you’ll correct us. You need to know that we don’t mind in the least, truly we don’t!”

“I’m not—”

“Anyway, how was your weekend? You didn’t stay at home, did you? It worries me that you haven’t found a girl yet. Or a boy!” Shelby clasps his hand between hers, looking into his eyes as though hoping to impress upon him the depth of her sincerity. “You do know, Aro, that any girl—or boy!—will be lucky to date a sweet boy like you, don’t you?”

What does it mean, Rowan wonders in irony-fuelled despair, that returning to Births, Deaths and Marriages now feels like the easiest option?