loricritterswriting

[loricritterswriting]

Bad Prey (Preview)

TW: explicit descriptions of sexual assault

I’m not good prey. I’m not innocent enough. Midriff showing tops, garish Wet N Wild lipstick, a loud mouth. An abrasive laugh. I fuck on the first date, throw kisses around like confetti. I actually admit to masturbating. At the trashy country bar, you see a body half asleep on the bar. You keep giving me free drinks. Later on you get fired for stealing money and giving away too many drinks. Later on I realize you aren’t just fun. You’re on the prowl for beat up rag dolls like me.

I can barely stand, and you need to hold me up. We stumble out the bar door, and I look over my shoulder. See all the eyes that have seen this a million times, and accepted it as a fact of nature. I wonder why the women’s glares are the harshest.

We’re by the river. You and my friend balance yourselves on a fallen log, and I beg my friend to be careful. You come back and sit between us. You smell bad, like beer and bar, that chlorine like soap smell. You kiss her first, and then me. My friend says she’s not feeling well and says shes going to sit up on the hill, and wait for me. I’m scared, but I’ll admit I’m still kind of excited. A penis is going to enter me. My deep inner feeling of being a slut will finally be valid. I’ll have the secret code.

I hand you a condom and you put me in position. I’m bent over cement steps that smell like still water and mold and lichen. Over and over you try to shove yourself inside me, and I’m scared because you sound pissed off. Its all my fault my pussy isn’t working. All of a sudden my whole body, just, stops. You shove your cock in my ass, and the pain is blinding. I realize whats happening. I’m being raped. The idea of putting anything in anyone’s ass without their express permission is unfathomable to me. I swallow the pain and politely ask you to please take it out. You somehow don’t hear me, even though your head is right next to my ear.

Finally you hear me and pull out, and go back inside my pussy. I know all about the risks of infection, but I just stay still. You cum on my back, and I plaster a smile on my face and tell you that was fun. I look down and see the condom you used on the steps, except its still folded up, clean. It almost glows in the moonlight, so clean, compared to the filthy cement. I don’t accuse, but I say oh you didn’t use it. You roll your eyes and say you did.

Later I’m in the bathroom with my friend. I tell my friend everything and she tells me it was all wrong. I get quiet for a second, and then say I had fun anyway. I didn’t, but I can’t face it. I know how it looks. I tell myself it was just bad sex. And bad sex can still be fun. I have a bad sex story now.

Photo from the film Sucker Punch (2011), Directed by Zack Snyder

You can find the rest of this essay linked below:

[loricritterswriting]

Thank You For Hearing Me, Shuhada

Photo by Independent Newspapers Ireland/NLI Collection

By Lori Critter

I’m 12 in the family car, that we only owned for a little over 3 years, driving down Halsted street, the street that my family often jokes never ends. In Chicago, you don’t need cars. They’re kind of a novelty item, that you often discard when it becomes too annoying to own one. The family car is a 1986 Honda Accord. We have to keep the windows down because it pumps gasoline into the car if you don’t, and we never use it in winter because of this. Winter in Chicago would be a great time to have a car. No waiting in the snow, in subzero temperatures that in my time living there once plummeted to 50 below. But it does have a tape deck. Sure, its not my best friend’s Escalade that has DVD players for the backseats, but it can play my mom’s old Erasure, Talking Heads, Ani Difranco, David Bowie, and Sinead O’Connor tapes. Especially Sinead O’Connor (who later in life converted to Islam and took the name Shuhada Sadaqat. I will be using the names Sinead and Shuhada interchangeably, as this is how Shuhada did throughout her career).

My dad always talked about how crazy Shuhada is (and now, was). That she shaved her head, ripped up a picture of the pope on SNL, and was probably bipolar. And she sounds fucking insane. Which is exactly how I feel, at 12, and for my whole life. Sinead is so earnest, and furious, and in love in ways that I can relate to, in a way I feel from no other music. The drives up Halsted street were always to church. My mom talked about loving Sinead’s music, but how she hated how anti Catholic she was. She tells me how its important to separate the art from the artist. But I don’t. As a secret queer child, I want to know Shuhada. I want to feel no pain, no shame. When she talks about rising like a phoenix from a flame, I ask my dad what a phoenix is, and it becomes my favorite bird. I wish, so badly, that they were real.

At my church’s yearly camping trip, I stare into the bonfire and let it give me sunburns. I imagine a phoenix bursting from the flames, and taking me out of this place. To take me to some place where God loves me, in ways the people I’m surrounded by, who are outwardly just like me (homeschooled, Catholic, conservative), never can. I want to scream and thrash around and say exactly how I feel. I want everyone around me to see just how violent they’ve made me. I’m mad the old woman who molested me in the bathroom in front of my best friend isn’t here. I want to see the phoenix consume her in flames. I don’t even want her to be in pain, or die. Just to be erased from existence. To have never been here. I don’t know a lot about the lore of the phoenix, but I imagine fucking with space and time is something.

This is a preview of my essay. You can find the full version on my Substack, below:

[loricritterswriting]

Despair Is Inevitable, But Its Not Forever (Preview)

Photo by Mustafa Hassona

My politics is a combination of absolute cynicism in the current system’s ability to do anything lastingly good, and unrelenting optimism in the possibility of positive change under a new system. I’ve felt hopeless at times, watching a genocide televised constantly, while nothing seems to change. We always say that past atrocities couldn’t have happened in the age of the internet (the Holocaust, Vietnam War, etc), but currently, that saying seems to have been proven wrong. Undoubtably, social media has changed the public’s opinions on the Israeli occupation, apartheid, and genocide of Palestine, but I’ve also never seen a movement so popularized, so well documented, with almost no movement from the most powerful (until now, somewhat, since a manufactured famine is putting Palestinians at danger not just of hunger and starvation, but refeeding syndrome). If anything, politicians seem to have dug their heels in even more to fund Israel’s war crimes. To summarize, my hope is waning. 

Its hard not to let your hope dwindle while watching videos of screaming, starving infants, the bodies of toddlers shredded and impaled by rebar, and wheelchair bound hospital patients burning alive. That was pretty graphic of me. These are the things that haunt my mind daily. I do understand what a number American and Israeli propaganda has done on regular people. I don’t blame regular people for not fully understanding the situation. But the fact that politicians, who regularly are briefed on these atrocities, and work directly with the perpetrators, are fully aware of the situation and still give Israel millions of dollars in support, makes me believe in evil. I think greed turns people into Satan. 

I try to remember that the only way to ensure a movement fails is giving up. I remember all the stories of regular Palestinian people achieving great things and saving the lives of themselves and others amid unimaginable suffering. I think, if they haven’t given up, why should I? Every time I see a picture or video from the PCRF getting a child vital medical care, a starving baby finally receiving formula, or something as simple as an elderly Palestinian man smoking hookah amidst his destroyed home, refusing to deny himself joy, I hold those stories in my heart to keep me going. I try my hardest to remember that these are some of the most resilient people on earth. But they shouldn’t have to be resilient. The resilience is beautiful, but it is the result of unimaginable suffering that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

This is a preview of my latest essay on Substack; if you would like to read the rest of it, for free, it can be found in full here:

[loricritterswriting]

They Said On TV That You Aren't A Person Any More

I've written something about how trans people can organise toward liberation - it will be a youtube video in a few weeks' time, but it's on my patreon for $3+ patrons for now

[loricritterswriting]

Unionize The Children Pt. 2

(Photo by John Walmsley, from the book Neill And Summerhill: A Man And His Work)

By Lori Critter

In my last essay, I ended it with “Unionize the children.” I want to expand on that. I’m not sure if an actual union would work for kids, though the model could be helpful. I want to expand on my ideas of what true child liberation would look like, and how we can include actual children in the process. Modeling the nuclear family system, most, if not all, policies regarding children are made without their input. As pre-adults who are still developing their personality, children need guidance from safe adults (safe adults is an important part; an adult’s authority should not be respected simply on the basis of being a certain age). However, they are also the people being oppressed when working towards child liberation, and deserve to have their voices heard. All other anti-oppression movements prioritize the input of the people they are trying to liberate, and the children’s liberation movement should be no different.

Unions are organizations made up of members who are part of a specific community who want to advocate for their needs outside the control of who owns the means of their needs. You may only be familiar with the idea of labor unions, but there are also unions for renters, and even drug users (DULF in Canada). Vote Labor defines a union as “an organization formed by workers to negotiate with employers over wages, benefits, and working conditions. This process, known as collective bargaining, gives employees a voice on the job and ensures fair treatment in the workplace.” This definition obviously focuses on labor unions, but you get the idea.

When I wonder if a union for children could work, my main worry is the children’s time. Childhood is for making friends, acting out and trying on roles, and discovering who you are. Kids need plenty of time to try hobbies and dream. Unions require a lot of dedication and time. Kids also have the added responsibility of school. And because kids are still developing their senses of responsibility and empathy, how would adults facilitate groups like these, balancing roles as guides but not overstepping?

What issues would a children’s union tackle? The issues are numerous. Schools. Parents. Foster care. Pediatrics. Mental health care. Sexual education. Believe it or not, children face many of the same problems and systems adults do! I think the hardest system to deal with in the context of a childrens union would be the nuclear family. In the world, and especially a country like the US, the idea of parents having the ultimate authority in making decisions for their children is mammoth. In all but 4 US states, children can be married to adults with the permission of their parents. Child marriage, especially to an adult, is thought by most to be extremely dangerous for children, but it is horrifying that an adult can have the authority to okay something like that. Only 14 states do not require parental consent for a minor to obtain an abortion. Luckily all US states in some way allow minors to obtain contraception without a parents permission (though some states only allow it after age 16), though 6 states allow medical professionals to inform a parent of a child’s contraception services without the child’s consent. Rights for children to obtain gender affirming healthcare, even with a parents permission, is a whole other can of worms.

You can read the rest of my essay here:

[loricritterswriting]

Still accepting answers from any of my readers that would like to be a part of this article! Accepting answers in my dms!

Hi! I'm working on part 2 to my "Unionize the Children" essay; what do u think true children's liberation would look like? If children had actual unions/something similar, how do you think they could work best? What would adults roles be in these "kid unions"? In your answers please let me know if youre okay being quoted, or quoted but anon. Thanks!

[loricritterswriting]

Hi! I'm working on part 2 to my "Unionize the Children" essay; what do u think true children's liberation would look like? If children had actual unions/something similar, how do you think they could work best? What would adults roles be in these "kid unions"? In your answers please let me know if youre okay being quoted, or quoted but anon. Thanks!

[loricritterswriting]

"Punishment works!!!" We're drowning in three to four generations of people so pants-shittingly terrified of ever being wrong that half of everyone has constructed a worldview wherein they never even consider the possibility that they could be wrong and the other half behaves like one wrong move will make anything or anyone explode violently into a million irreperable pieces. I don't think it works guys

[loricritterswriting]

thank u so much!!!

Discussing Games, Organizing, YouTube, and Hope, w/Sophie From Mars (Preview)

This is a preview of my interview with @sophie-frm-mars. The rest can be found at the link at the end of this article.

When I started delving into the world of leftist YouTube, or as some call it “breadtube”, I instantly fell in love with Sophie’s videos. Sophie has a way of making videos on sensitive and dire topics like climate change, doomerism, the state of trans rights, and several other topics, that is serious, honest, funny, and inspiring. And colorful. Mixed in with politics are her thoughts on games, books, and movies, like The Witcher, The Mars Trilogy, and The Matrix. One of my absolute favorite Sophie videos is about the Pokemon romhack Liquid Crystal.

Sophie is also a writer on Substack, a podcaster, and a streamer. Red Planet is a news program on YouTube that Sophie collaborates with DJ Muel, ConquestOfDread, and KiraChats on. Red Planet also interviews important activists and organizers working in all kinds of leftist movements, including climate justice, sex worker rights, trans rights, labor and union movements, and immigrant rights, among many others.

On Substack, Sophie has published essays on everything from brewing her own hormones, the exile of those who cause harm in movement and queer spaces, and on her own journey with Dialectical Behavioral Therapy as someone with BPD, and other personal and generally relevant topics.

One of Sophie’s most exciting recent projects was her trip to the ZAD (Zone a Defense) in Notre Dame, France. From Sophie’s Tumblr post on the ZAD:

“In particular we were on the Notre Dame des Landes ZAD, a massive area of biodiverse wetland that was squatted by farmers, ecologists, anarchists and communists for over a decade to stop the French state building a new airport near Nantes. Eventually the state gave up and the squatters won, and now they live there outside of modern capitalism taking care each other in a manner that it wouldn't be unreasonable to call real, actual communism that's happening inside the imperial core right now.”

Reading this post about her trip to the ZAD was itself very inspiring. Actual people doing communism, and winning against the state! That is my favorite thing about Sophie’s work. She doesn’t shy away from acknowledging sadness and despair, but as she says later in our interview, her work shows that she truly believes we will win. Sophie will be releasing a documentary on her two trips to the ZAD, so definitely keep an eye out! You can find more information on this project here.

Below is my interview with Sophie. Please check out the links at the end to support Sophie’s work!

In the section on being seen as a human in your article “Arm The Dolls! But What Does It Mean?”, you write about doing things to help cis people see trans people as people. Understandably, many trans people and other marginalized people often feel appalled or at least stressed by the idea of dialogue and community with those who don’t yet see us as human. What advice do you have for these people? Are there any ideas, books, articles, techniques, etc that have helped you do this in your own life?

Sophie: I think the first and most important thing you can grasp is that the vast, vast majority of people just want to be nice, make more friends, have a nice time and so on. These people don't see you and not see you as a human being, they just aren't seeing you because you're not around them. The issue is that we silo ourselves away and instinctively hide, and then we make it worse by telling each other that everyone out there is out to get us! Very very few people are are actually carrying a vendetta. When you get out there and meet them, you'll find most people are lovely. For me personally the biggest sites of being in community with cis people around me have been at places I go regularly, like the hub I volunteer at, and my own neighbourhood, just meeting my neighbours and getting on a first name basis with them

I really enjoyed your essay The Forever Box. Why do you think in socialist/leftist/anarchist spaces, where the demand to abolish prisons is so popular, it is also so common to “cancel” people, and approach disagreement and harm carcerally?

Sophie: This one is a very complicated issue. The practice started as a move for public accountability for people in positions of power who exploited those positions to abuse women, then it became more of a question of what beliefs people expressed, trying to take that same technology of "cancelling" and apply it to more things to create more change. Now there is a dependable audience hungry for "drama" and that sucks because what harvey weinstein was doing was not "drama" it was monstrous. I think what makes this issue persist though - and the issue here is that we use this technology of social shame on each other in a way that splits our communities and holds us back - is that people don't see well mapped-out alternatives. They don't have ways to deal with conflicts in a low-key face-to-face way. DJ Muel has said to me a lot he thinks that it's about "convenience politics" and I think there's more besides but his take is very apt. Neoliberal capitalism tells us that everything should be as convenient to us as possible. Order shoes online, get them in the mail, and if they don't fit throw them away. We want to quickly and conveniently dispose of people in the same way, but that creates something absolutely monstrous too, and a kind of monstrosity that is harder to pin on a single person because it's a community monster. People need to get used to having hard conversations and believing that the person they are talking to can hear them and take it on board and change.

You can find the rest of our interview, for free below:

[loricritterswriting]

Unionize the Children

by Lori Critter

(image is a still from the movie Matilda)

I’m sitting on my porch, numbing my nervous system with nicotine. The neighbors next door are having a party, with a firepit and logs and axes. I’m a nosy person, and I love discreetly watching what my neighbors are up to. Sometimes things get dramatic and a drunken argument breaks out, and I update my polycule’s group chat about my favorite quotes and zingers. But today it seems peaceful. People are drunk and silly, but there isn’t any ill will.

There’s been a little girl running around the yard for a while, being shouted at when she gets too close to the man splitting logs. She goes and sits down, and has her legs crossed. All of a sudden, all of the adults start teasing her about crossing her legs and making fun of her for having to pee. Her dad tells her to go in the house and piss, and that if she pisses her pants, he’ll bruise her ass. I feel the familiar nausea and shock that I always feel when hearing about, or witnessing, the mistreatment of children. I instantly feel like that child. I remember the total dismissal of my humanness. The random comments from adults about my body: weight gain, telling me ladies don’t spread their legs, the priest who told me if I kept standing funny, with my legs crossed, that things would be difficult for my husband on my wedding night. And the crowd of adults who laughed, extremely amused, their terrifying voices echoing off the walls and ceiling of the church basement.

The little girl says nothing, but looks terrified and runs into the house. The adults keep laughing, and one of them says to the father “you don’t really hit her, do you?”. The dad looks shocked, and assures everyone that he beats her and her ass all the time. I usually stay on the porch for a while, playing music and enjoying the breeze, and fireflies sparkling in the bushes. But I can’t tonight. I can’t hear this. I can’t handle the guilt over not screaming at these adults, telling them the little girl is a human, a person, a future adult. That numerous things will happen if they continue treating her this way. Addiction. Silence. No boundaries. Letting future dates treat her however they like, as long as she feels in some way that she is loved.

The liberation of children is a serious, and strong, belief of mine. Children’s liberation is sometimes associated with the worst kinds of ideas: that children should be allowed to have sexual relationships with adults, or that the best way to raise children is to allow them to behave however way they want. Or that the idea of their liberation is absurd. The thinking goes: children are so fundamentally different from adults, that their parents are the only ones who should decide what rights they have. What matters isn’t a living thing having similarities to you, but whether you are causing it undue suffering.

The rest of this essay can be found at the link below:

[loricritterswriting]

Discussing Games, Organizing, YouTube, and Hope, w/Sophie From Mars (Preview)

This is a preview of my interview with @sophie-frm-mars. The rest can be found at the link at the end of this article.

When I started delving into the world of leftist YouTube, or as some call it “breadtube”, I instantly fell in love with Sophie’s videos. Sophie has a way of making videos on sensitive and dire topics like climate change, doomerism, the state of trans rights, and several other topics, that is serious, honest, funny, and inspiring. And colorful. Mixed in with politics are her thoughts on games, books, and movies, like The Witcher, The Mars Trilogy, and The Matrix. One of my absolute favorite Sophie videos is about the Pokemon romhack Liquid Crystal.

Sophie is also a writer on Substack, a podcaster, and a streamer. Red Planet is a news program on YouTube that Sophie collaborates with DJ Muel, ConquestOfDread, and KiraChats on. Red Planet also interviews important activists and organizers working in all kinds of leftist movements, including climate justice, sex worker rights, trans rights, labor and union movements, and immigrant rights, among many others.

On Substack, Sophie has published essays on everything from brewing her own hormones, the exile of those who cause harm in movement and queer spaces, and on her own journey with Dialectical Behavioral Therapy as someone with BPD, and other personal and generally relevant topics.

One of Sophie’s most exciting recent projects was her trip to the ZAD (Zone a Defense) in Notre Dame, France. From Sophie’s Tumblr post on the ZAD:

“In particular we were on the Notre Dame des Landes ZAD, a massive area of biodiverse wetland that was squatted by farmers, ecologists, anarchists and communists for over a decade to stop the French state building a new airport near Nantes. Eventually the state gave up and the squatters won, and now they live there outside of modern capitalism taking care each other in a manner that it wouldn't be unreasonable to call real, actual communism that's happening inside the imperial core right now.”

Reading this post about her trip to the ZAD was itself very inspiring. Actual people doing communism, and winning against the state! That is my favorite thing about Sophie’s work. She doesn’t shy away from acknowledging sadness and despair, but as she says later in our interview, her work shows that she truly believes we will win. Sophie will be releasing a documentary on her two trips to the ZAD, so definitely keep an eye out! You can find more information on this project here.

Below is my interview with Sophie. Please check out the links at the end to support Sophie’s work!

In the section on being seen as a human in your article “Arm The Dolls! But What Does It Mean?”, you write about doing things to help cis people see trans people as people. Understandably, many trans people and other marginalized people often feel appalled or at least stressed by the idea of dialogue and community with those who don’t yet see us as human. What advice do you have for these people? Are there any ideas, books, articles, techniques, etc that have helped you do this in your own life?

Sophie: I think the first and most important thing you can grasp is that the vast, vast majority of people just want to be nice, make more friends, have a nice time and so on. These people don't see you and not see you as a human being, they just aren't seeing you because you're not around them. The issue is that we silo ourselves away and instinctively hide, and then we make it worse by telling each other that everyone out there is out to get us! Very very few people are are actually carrying a vendetta. When you get out there and meet them, you'll find most people are lovely. For me personally the biggest sites of being in community with cis people around me have been at places I go regularly, like the hub I volunteer at, and my own neighbourhood, just meeting my neighbours and getting on a first name basis with them

I really enjoyed your essay The Forever Box. Why do you think in socialist/leftist/anarchist spaces, where the demand to abolish prisons is so popular, it is also so common to “cancel” people, and approach disagreement and harm carcerally?

Sophie: This one is a very complicated issue. The practice started as a move for public accountability for people in positions of power who exploited those positions to abuse women, then it became more of a question of what beliefs people expressed, trying to take that same technology of "cancelling" and apply it to more things to create more change. Now there is a dependable audience hungry for "drama" and that sucks because what harvey weinstein was doing was not "drama" it was monstrous. I think what makes this issue persist though - and the issue here is that we use this technology of social shame on each other in a way that splits our communities and holds us back - is that people don't see well mapped-out alternatives. They don't have ways to deal with conflicts in a low-key face-to-face way. DJ Muel has said to me a lot he thinks that it's about "convenience politics" and I think there's more besides but his take is very apt. Neoliberal capitalism tells us that everything should be as convenient to us as possible. Order shoes online, get them in the mail, and if they don't fit throw them away. We want to quickly and conveniently dispose of people in the same way, but that creates something absolutely monstrous too, and a kind of monstrosity that is harder to pin on a single person because it's a community monster. People need to get used to having hard conversations and believing that the person they are talking to can hear them and take it on board and change.

You can find the rest of our interview, for free below:

[loricritterswriting]

Wish You Were Here Aileen

Written by Lori Critter

When I was a teenager I discovered Aileen Wuornos. I saw her in memes saying how we needed another Aileen, or that “Aileen did nothing wrong.” My introduction to any kind of political belief outside the conservative framework were campus rape cases flooding the news cycle. Brock Turner never did prison time, because he had a good future as a competitive swimmer. I listened to an NPR interview with a resident of Steubenville Ohio, a woman, who said the only thing she was upset about was how bad the case made the town and football team look. A child, who is supposed to be enjoying her short years before adulthood, was raped, filmed, and thrown on someone’s front lawn. And now she had to face unimaginable pain and trauma for the rest of her life. And some people’s main worries were how their town would look. On the subway I dug my nails into my palms listening to a guy saying Brock Turner did nothing wrong.

I loved, and love, Aileen. Most people think she was just a sex worker who killed pushy clients, but the first client she killed was a previously convicted rapist, and she killed him defending herself from being drugged and violently raped. The rest of her victims, as far as we know, were pushy, or had wives, or she was extremely triggered, and thats why she killed them. In the movie about her life, Monster, the last man she murders picks her up and tells her he isn’t a client, that he’s going to take her to his house and have his wife set her up with a bed and a safe place to sleep. And then she kills him. In case any were wondering, I don’t think she should’ve killed him. I think a lot of her clients didn’t deserve to die, and that every murder wasn’t a case of self defense.

Read the rest of this essay by subscribing to my Substack: https://substack.com/@loricritter

[loricritterswriting]

On Being a Lapsed Vegetarian

Photo by Animal Liberation Front

Written by Lori Critter

When I was 12, I found a magazine by a group called Mercy for Animals in a coffee shop. Despite my parents being very, very conservative, they didn’t monitor my reading much. There were some exceptions; I was banned from reading Twilight, and The Fault In Our Stars. Other than that, if something I wanted to read seemed like something my parents wouldn’t approve of, I’d discreetly check it out from the library and hide the books under my bed. But unlike the YA books that had subtle sex scenes in them, this reading material was the impetus for me changing my life in a sudden and extreme way: completely giving up meat.

At first, it was extremely controversial. My grandparents had been vegetarians for years because they were afraid of mad cow disease, and my parents often made fun of them for it. They also were quite weak and unhealthy, and this was attributed to them not eating meat. And meat is easy to make. In my family only one person cooked, and was in charge of full time child rearing, house cleaning, and cooking. Not being able to just heat up cheap chicken nuggets for dinner would be an undertaking (and I don’t say this sarcastically). Meat is easy to eat.

I was told I wouldn’t be able to meet my needs for protein. That I couldn’t even consider taking it a step further and being vegan, because of calcium. But I had done my research; i listed off all non-animal product containing foods that had plenty of protein, iron, calcium, and other nutrients. Then I was told that different foods absorb differently, and that I had to eat meat and dairy and eggs. But I refused. I looked down at my burger. Frustratingly on my part, I had waited until a burger was cooked and in front of me to announce that my parents would now be responsible for catering to my new diet. As I looked at the burger I started crying and said I couldn’t eat a dead animal. A bag of salad was yanked out of the fridge, poured into a bowl, and dunked in front of me. And from then on, until a few years ago, I didn’t eat a single meat containing food, except for some candy I accidentally ate that contained gelatin.

I had always had a strong connection to animals. My family always had cats, fed homeless ones, and we always had fish as pets. Along with tiny little crabs the size of half a pinkie, that looked just like the crabs on anything advertising ocean themed things. And I adored the zoo. There was an elephant at the zoo named Peaches who was an ex circus elephant, and she still knew tricks. One winters day my dad took me to the zoo in the middle of a weekday in winter when no one was there. The zookeeper showed us how she did tricks like standing up on her back legs, and balancing balls on her trunk. I knew she was extremely smart, and I also knew people often hurt and killed elephants for trophies like their tusks. Every time I saw her I couldn’t help but wonder how someone could look past her obvious personality and just kill her for profit.

And after I read that Mercy For Animals booklet, I learned about all the puzzles chickens and pigs can do. I found out cows were extremely attached to their children, and would cry when they were separated. I knew they weren’t the same as humans, but that didn’t matter to me. Animals couldn’t read or have formal jobs (oh, god forbid), but who cared? They had an inner life. They loved, they got sad, and they could suffer. And be conscious of all those emotions. The suffering is what matters. No creature should have to do a puzzle or be able to speak to be deserving of compassion.

Years and years later though, I got very sick. Sick to the point that I couldn’t eat or even drink water without projectile vomiting. All my joy in food was gone, because I couldn’t eat anything I actually enjoyed. And I went from weighing around a hundred and fifty pounds, to being around 102 pounds. I was nearly unrecognizable, and my mental health was abysmal. My partner was, and still is, the primary breadwinner in our couple (now its a throuple actually!). He asked if I had considered eating meat so I could gain more weight, and because of how expensive vegetarian alternatives to meat can be. I really didn’t want to. But I also understood where my partner was coming from. We were struggling financially, and he was desperate to try whatever could help me stop being underweight.

The first few times I tried chicken again, I was hooked. I didn’t like beef or pork much, but chicken was addictive. But I also felt immensely guilty. I hated how my health and financial situation had ruined my ability to live by my morals. I never judged others for eating meat. I knew that we are all struggling to do our best to live a good life, and that tailoring your diet isn’t always an option. Especially if you are poor, or aren’t the primary breadwinner. Or are a child, and have your eating habits, along with everything else, controlled by your parents.

Eating meat didn’t help me get better at all. It didn’t make it worse either. I just stayed sick. After almost two years I finally figured out what was wrong, and its too long a story to delve into right now. But I still kept eating meat. I hate to admit it, but my main excuse was just that it was easier. I live in a rural area where vegetarian and vegan options are few and far between. Taking the grilled chicken out of a salad can feel like eating a bowl of leaves. But I’ve gotten to a point where I want to be vegetarian again, at least. I haven’t decided that everyone who eats meat is evil. But I think vegetarianism, and maybe even veganism, is calling me again.

Even though I started eating meat again, I never stopped loving animals. I turned on the porch light whenever it had just rained and I needed to go out, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t step on any slugs. I follow numerous pages dedicated to rescuing and freeing minks and other animals being imprisoned and murdered for their fur. And every single cat I’ve ever had is so clearly a total individual. There’s common similarities and behaviors, but I truly believe if you spend enough time with enough cats, you can see their individuality.

I also hate the culture of eating meat that I live in. We act like eating horses, cats, or dogs is appalling, while at the same time stuffing animals that are just as individual into disgusting conditions and eat them. Its cruel, and wildly racist. I remember seeing a woman eating balut (a Filipino dish consisting of a fertilized duck egg eaten out of its shell), and as a lapsed and now born again vegetarian, I was a bit shocked. But why? Why is that somehow worse than eating chicken nuggets? Because you can actually see the animal, and know you’re eating an actual living creature? Another time I was watching 90 Day Fiance and a woman from the US was horrified by seeing chickens butchered in a meat market in Africa. I related for a few seconds, until she said she loved chicken, but “couldnt believe they ate them like that.” Like what? Not hidden away? Out in the open, where she actually has to face what meat really is? Why is it (racistly) considered more “savage” and inhumane to kill animals with people to witness it?

I’ve always prided myself on not living in blissful ignorance. I have a deep need to investigate everything around me and to understand. I want to know the impact of my actions. I know there isn’t much I can do as one person, but if I can reduce the suffering of living things in any way, I try my best to. I am a dedicated BDS boycotter. When I buy books, I avoid Amazon like the plague. I’ve never been able to separate the artist from the artist.

I want to do better. I can’t make this decision for others, but I want to stop eating animals. As an ex silenced and emotionally neglected child, I can’t stand seeing anything caged and oppressed. I know that fruits and veggies are more frequently than not cultivated by exploited and dehumanized migrant workers in awful conditions. I plan on trying my absolute hardest to buy plant based foods ethically. Go to my local farmers market, start a garden, or at least a planter box. I’m even trying to start my own Food Not Bombs chapter in my area. I know not eating meat won’t save the world, but I do know the smallest decrease in suffering matters the world to those suffering. I know one person can’t change the world for animals, but I do know if everyone decides they’re that one person that can’t make a change, a movement can never win.

Read more of my writing on my Substack, where you can subscribe for free: https://substack.com/@loricritter

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Sex Workers and the Sex Industry Are Two Very Different Things

Photo by Leif Skoogfors for Getty Images

Written by Lori Critter

Recently on Instagram I saw a meme about the hypocrisy of people being angry at sex workers for selling their bodies, despite all of us selling our bodies in one way or another under a capitalist system. It also said “but I own my labor.” I don’t entirely disagree with this, but I also can’t fully get behind it. And while I know it was a goofy meme, it definitely was meant to make a point. In sex work circles online, there is a tendency to, somewhat understandably, attack any criticism of the sex industry, and fiercely defend websites like PornHub. I use PornHub. If PornHub was taken down, me and millions of other sex workers would lose a vital source of income and promotion. However, as a socialist, I’m wary of any large company that claims to have its employees interests at heart.

I think sex workers own a lot more of their labor than those in most other jobs. We can almost always make our own schedules, and decide what kind of work we want to do. We often don’t have a boss telling us what clients to take. However, its always been very clear to me that the sites I use, and the demands of clients, very much exert ownership over my work. I feel obligated to make work that will sell, and often what sells isn’t what I do in my private sex life, or similar to the kind of porn I myself watch. I still make content that reflects my own sexuality, but the push to keep track of whats popular and try to attract the most clients is extremely strong.

The companies us sex workers use also exert an extremely unfair power. Onlyfans and Fansly take 20% of our earnings, and Manyvids takes out 40% from video store sales. These are the most popular sites we use, but the smaller clip sites and subscription platforms usually take out 20% as well. This doesn’t even factor in the taxes we end up owing as independent contractors. Along with taxes and fees the sites take out of our paychecks, our work is constantly under threat from card processing companies. Before, it was mostly content like blood play, scat, and fisting that was banned on most porn sites. Now you’re lucky if you can post furry content, or smoke a joint in a clip. Many sex workers build fan bases on specific fetishes, and content bans like these can endanger our ability to make an income.

These are only the first three paragraphs! Read the rest by subscribing to my Substack: https://substack.com/@loricritter

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The Deep Dark Thing

By Lori Critter

There is something in my life that I call the deep dark thing. Its something that happened to me, and giving the smallest details in public makes me feel like vomiting. Only about 6 people in my life know, along with a 7th, the one who did the deep dark thing to me. I’m sure you can make your own conclusions as to what I’m alluding to, but I don’t need to help you figure it out. It is my deep dark thing, and I owe no one but my heart, thats deeply in need of healing.

I don’t want to destroy the person who did it. I also can’t comprehend how they thought it was okay, or how they felt like it was something they could get away with. I relate intensely to those who feel a strong vengeance and even murderous rage towards those who hurt them in the way I was hurt. Intellectualization helps though, sometimes. I know hurting this person won’t keep anyone, including me, from being hurt again. I know they probably did it because of traumas in their own past, their own deep dark things. I still love them and would fall to my knees and hope the earth swallowed me if they died.

A few times I’ve come to the decision to decide it never happened. To decide that they are wholly good, and only imperfect, the way all humans are. At the time I felt this would make my life easier, not having the deep dark thing clinging to my back like a giant leech. But this deep dark thing explains my life too much. It provides a map for how I got to be who I am, and why I’ve struggled so much in my daily life. Without this deep dark thing, I don’t think I could understand others who have been through a similar deep dark thing without having experienced it.

I have too many good memories of the person who did the deep dark thing. Is there a specific number for how many good things they can do to make up for something really awful? Has anyone done the calculations for that?

And is it weird that I am also more angry at this person for other things? Things that society would see as kind of toxic, but not as bad as the deep dark thing? There isn’t one thing that fucked me up in the head. And it certainly isn’t just this one person. I know I need to heal but I don’t want to burn the world down. I don’t want to destroy their life. I feel those ways sometimes, but I don’t generally. I used to see the world as bad people and good people, and saw “bad” people as wholly irredeemable. That there were things that deemed you undeserving of life, or being unable to have any happiness in your life. But then I was raped. And then I remembered the deep dark thing. And then I worked with people in a social work setting who were horrifically abused… and had also abused. I never thought the answer was to coddle anyone, but I also saw perpetrators in and out of prison, being branded for life as irredeemably bad, and giving up on ever being “good.” I had work experience with extremely hurt and imperfect people, and my own experiences of violence. I realized it wasn’t so simple.

I don’t have all the answers on forgiveness and anti carceral ways of treating perpetrators of violence. It may not be a very helpful position, but all I know is the way carceral systems work is inhumane and ineffective, and that its not working, and we need a new system. We need to not shame and cancel survivors for forgiving abusers. We need to realize that the saying “hurt people hurt people” is true. I don’t know exactly what to do, but I do know what doesn’t work.

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Puriteens, Sex Work, and the Watering Down of Queerness

By Lori Critter

From birth to age 14, I was raised Roman Catholic, going to a church every Sunday where girls and women wore “mantilas” and the mass was said in Latin. At the same time, I was raised in a neighborhood of Chicago locally known as “Boystown.” Boystown was, and still is, a historically gay neighborhood. One whole block was taken up by three different sex shops and a bookstore called RAM. The next block started with a sex store that had three different locations in the Chicago area, called Tulip. My neighbors in our apartment building were trans and gay and lesbian, and the loudest and most annoying were very straight college girls, who filled the apartment with small inbred puppies who made the whole floor smell like dog shit. They were also the only ones who ever slid notes into our mailbox complaining about my infant sister crying.

I was enthralled by queerness. I had no idea what sex was, and things like leather gear and PVC outfits fascinated me. In Whole Foods once, a man attending a bondage convention in town was checking out in front of us, in full rubber gear. I smiled at him and he hurriedly ran out the door. I always loved embarrassing adults. My parents taught me that gay people, especially gay men, preferred younger, even underage partners. But I was surrounded by older gay and lesbian couples, who put their love and magnetic sexuality on display. I have several memories of peeking at a queer couple making out, and having them panic and apologize to my parents. I never minded. They had a love and ardor I never saw between the couples at church.

The nastiest thing I ever learned about sex was that men put penises in womens vaginas. Sex was no longer fun outfits and fashion shows. It was mechanical and dangerous. Penises and vaginas could give you diseases, and get you pregnant. I was so mad at the little girl that blurted out the entire process to me in an art class. I’ve since changed my attitude towards penetrative sex, but I’ve never lost my need and desire for sex of all kinds to be exciting beyond the technicalities, for its energy and general vibe to leak out into everyday life. The erotic has always been my preference, over the explicitly sexual.

I am currently a sex worker. I have accounts on all the big sites: Pornhub, Manyvids, Fansly, etc. I’ve made videos dressed as a Bokoblin from Legend of Zelda, and as a tradwife who finds your collection of butt plugs. I love it. When I left Catholicism and the immediate vicinity of my family, I was thrilled to immerse myself in sexuality. I wanted to go to strip clubs, buy sex toys that looked particularly interesting, and watched porn literally just to see what happened. And to masturbate of course. But yes, I did watch a lot of it just for fun. Consensual, joyful sexuality saved me. Even when it wasnt explicit.

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Their Isn't A Switch Shortage, Your Thinking Just Isn't Expansive Enough

By Lori Critter

I am actually a switch. I don’t say this because I think we’re especially rare, or because all the other people calling themselves switches are lying, but because people always roll their eyes when I tell them I am one. They see the way I struggle with decision making, and my cutesy hobbies (plush animal collecting, an autistic obsession with opossums, etc) and decide I am submissive. I won’t lie; I love being wrecked. I love deep, deep sub space, and letting someone (or someones!) consensually take me. But my enjoyment of submission and people pigeon holing me as just a sub has almost made me accept there judgments. But recently I realized something new about myself.

A few months ago I was swiping on tinder and recognized someone who had Super Liked me. A few weeks before my partner had showed me the picture of someone he was talking to on Grindr, and I told him the guy was really cute. And this guy on Tinder was the guy! I told him I recognized him from my partner talking to him on Grindr, and after a bit of chatting we moved the conversation to Snapchat, and then made plans for me and my partner to go on a date with him at Chili’s. I have sub par taste in food, and I am working on being unashamed about it.

The date was one of the most nerve wracking experiences of my life. When me and my partner originally decided to be polyamorous, I was terrified to date on my own again. But on this date, I realized there’s a whole different kind of nervousness possible when dating with an established partner. Not only was I nervous about how this new guy (who I’ll call N going forward) would react to me, I was nervous of my partners reactions as well. I knew my partner knew how I actually acted, and was scared of seeming fake to them by showcasing the more fun parts of my personality.

After dinner we went to my house. I thought the guy was cute and wanted to have a threesome with him and my partner. But I kept thinking up new things to say, instead of propositioning him. I felt awful about myself. I alternately felt prudish for not putting my desire on full display, and feeling like a dirty person for wanting a threesome on the first date. After hours of admittedly fun conversation, he left and told me he had a great time, and even sent me a Snapchat letting me know he wanted to see me again.

After that, we chatted, went on dates. The first time he hung out just with me I showed him my favorite reality shows and after a few hours, our conversation came to an awkward end, and nothing was on tv for me to stare at, pretending to be interested. He broke the silence by asking me what I wanted to do. I blurted out “well I really would like to have sex if you want to” and he got bright red and smiled, laughing. I’m assuming I got red too and told him I was fine not having sex. He reached over and kissed me, and told me he thought the way I asked was adorable and that he’d love to have sex with me.

After dating for a while we talked more about our kinks, and he made it very clear how much he loved being dominated. And it made me nervous. I wasn’t dominant. Everyone I’d tried to dom hadn’t taken me seriously. I saw all the faces of people knowing more about myself then I myself knew. On top of that, I worried he would stop being interested in me if I couldn’t be dominant. But I also really, really, really wanted to be a dom. I wanted someone to listen to me, respect me, and await my requests. I’ve always secretly dreamed of being wholly listened to.

Most of the sex between me and N was vanilla at first. It was fun, but I could tell we both wanted something more. The first time we went to his house he showed me a huge internal dildo with a remote for vibration, and told me he’d recently bought a strap on for it. I was excited, but at the same time convinced I wouldn’t know how to use it. I’ve never doubted the skill of silicone slingers, but something about not physically having a dick made me feel like I wouldn’t know how to use it. How would I know how to move without feeling myself inside of him?

By the time he bent over in front of me, I knew he was into being fucked in the ass. He was bisexual, and I loved hearing all of his slutty stories. While I teased him with my fingers, I was surprised by how snug but accommodating his asshole was. As I slowly put more and more fingers in, I teased him about how easy it was, and how he was clearly practiced at having things up there. He covered his eyes and giggled, and I felt empowered. I finally felt like I was capable of not being a creep and being a dom at the same time. That I could command authority in a consensual way and have someone respect it.

On another date we tried fisting. This was what I was most nervous about; I was scared I would hurt him, that I’d be bad at it. But when I finally did, and my hand, encased in a latex elbow length glove, slid into his ass wrist deep, I felt exhilarated. I felt like I could do anything. I felt cool, and interesting, and dominant. And he loved it. I was doing something intensely physical and wildly intimate. I felt pleasure in giving him pleasure, and being in control. I wasn’t being stimulated sexually in any explicit, physical way. But it felt so, so, so good. I loved teasing him about how it was pretty easy to slide my fist inside him. I asked him why he enjoyed it so much, and teased him for having “fistable bottom” in a dating profile.

Since then we’ve done a lot more pegging. With dildoes, both normal and tentacled. I teased him a few times non sexually, and we realized he got a lot of erotic pleasure from me poking fun at him throughout our time together. He’s obsessed with my body, and often gives me random touches and tries to smell me. I love turning my head quickly and scolding him playfully, and watching his entire face turn pink. I love being taller than him. I love when he texts me in the middle of the night and tells me he misses me and its making him hard. I love the dominance he’s awakened in me. I actually feel like a real switch now. And I love him.

Find the rest of my writing on my Substack, where you can susbcribe for free: https://substack.com/@loricritter