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dylanobrienisbatman · 3 years

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You not liking Taylor’s music and not caring about lyrics makes sense. I love Taylor and I love lyrics more than the overall production of music. It’s why i love Lorde but hate Solar Power with a passion. While the songs can be fun to listen to, the lyrics were (to me) soulless compared to her previous records. Taylor writes music that I can relate to, even if she is a very rich cis white woman. Lorde is the same except Solar Power screamed an experience and mindset that I can’t relate to at all

I do find a lot of your points to dislike her a little meh if you did take more time to learn about what she gives us access into seeing. But I also really don’t care to inform someone who doesn’t like her. She isn’t losing sleep over this stuff LMAO The same way I’m sure 5SOS isn’t going to be affected by me not liking any of their songs or knowing any of their names. Or me not caring about DOB or Sadie Sink. All of the celebrities I’ve mentioned are talented, but not everyone has to care or like them and they’re still going to be talented

I find her re-recordings pretty lacklustre just given the nature that it is the same songs we already heard and a handful of ones that didn’t make the cut the first time, but I truly don’t really care if she is milking it. I’m sure I would too, from a business standpoint. If rich people are going to do one thing, it’s going to be stay rich

I’ll start by saying I appreciate how respectful this message is 🥰 thanks!

Yeah honestly for me the way a song sounds musically and sonically is the most important thing. Lyrically, it often takes me reading the lyrics or watching a review on YouTube that discusses the lyrics to understand what they’re saying and what they mean (yay HOH and auditory processing issues), so to me, lyrics matter only in the sense that they should sound good within the song (I.e. good flow, working with the music, etc), and what they’re actually saying is really not that important to me. So obviously the musical part of the song is what I notice and care about, and if I’m not enjoying the sound of a song, why bother? And I’m also very much anti-ballads, I find them soooo boring, which likely doesn’t help matters in regards to her because she puts out a TON of ballads. Not my speed AT ALL.

But as for the rest, exactly! Like, I don’t have to like her. My reasons are mine, and they’re enough for me, and nobody is gonna convince me otherwise by yelling at me on the internet, in fact, you’ll likely make me dig my heels in. And my reasons for not liking her personally are long standing, so I’m not gonna go out of my way to engage with her to try to see “more” of what she shows her fans, because why would I engage more with someone I don’t like as a person?

I never take it personally when people don’t like artists I like. 5sos is my favourite band, their music is some of my favourite out there and they seem like authentic dudes, but if someone (such as yourself) isn’t into it… why do I care? Same with Dylan O’Brien! If something isn’t for you, it isn’t for you. If someone’s art doesn’t speak to you or connect with you, that’s okay, and to me that respect should extend both ways. I’ve never understood the need to try to batter people into liking something that is entirely subjective. And honestly, the thing about her not losing sleep? 100% accurate. That woman could not care less what I think of her, and I’m not berating her in a way that engages with her personally, so I don’t see what the problem is.

In terms of the re-recording thing, my big issue is the that it’s so clearly a money grab, and it’s also a way for her fans to harass and be obnoxious towards the men these songs are presumably about. Like, I saw people saying they hope Joe Jonas’s daughter grows up to hate him for what he did to her when he was a teenager… that’s some disturbing shit. And like, she could have donated to charities or causes she cares about or done something like, start a fund to help other artists in the fight to get their own masters back, or something, but instead she is milking it for every penny and keeping it all for herself. But as you said, if there’s one thing a rich person is gonna do it’s get richer, so I’ll just be annoyed with it and be done!

#anti taylor swift #to be safe

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mom-of-today · 4 years

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Hard Talks

Happy Friday/Saturday/Fourth of July, friends and followers! I was listening to one of my classic podcasts and they were talking about the horrible misogyny that exists within politics. The way the women were questioned more harshly than the men, forced to take more hard-line directions, not allowed to get away with the generic, broad strokes, that their male counterparts were expected to give. They had to give solid answers, were judged not just on their words, but also on their attire. They could not look too “old” but they also could not dress too “young” and the conversations were often not about what they said, but how they seemed to “behave” on screen, and to their male counterparts. It made me consider the conversations we have had in our household in the last couple of months. We want to raise well-rounded young boys who don’t grow up to hate themselves, with suppressed emotions they are never allowed to express among other things. But as we are also white, cis-gendered, heterosexual individuals we have had to explain concepts that are foreign to us. Our oldest son was very concerned about the concept of gay marriage, and the ability of two boys to get married. He thinks mostly from his own perspective because, of course he does, he’s eight, so he was mostly thinking about boys. And when I say he was “concerned” I mean he was concerned that two men could not get married because they were two men, rather than the idea of two men getting married was somehow a gross concept to him. As two straight people, how do you explain that of course two people should be allowed to get married if they love each other? Regardless if those two people are of the same gender. Openly we have had these conversations regarding gender-norms and what other people might expect of them, but also that we just want them to live their very best lives and be happy. That is our only expectation. So when my son wants to paint his room a shade of reddish-pink we say “Absolutely!” and paint his room that color. When he gravitates towards the pink end of the red spectrum we support him. Our middle child is much more of a typical “boy” in that we have never had these questions from him, and he has always gravitated towards “boy” things. Just to be clear, it isn’t that I’m leaving him out of this conversation, he just fits what most people consider to be “gender normative” and therefore he has never pushed the limits of social acceptability when it comes to norms (at least not in that way, but that’s another post all together). Despite our best efforts to help him understand, it’s a tricky conversation to navigate without telling the whole story. And without having many real-life representations. Neither my husband or I have a huge social group; I moved around so often that I never become any good at keeping in touch with people (and before the internet and cell phones you had to actually call people, gross), and my husband moved a couple hundred miles away from his family/friends, became more liberal and lost many of this childhood friends. Since he isn’t the most social person, making new friends has always been more of a struggle for him, but I find that I struggle to make friends because I’m awkward af in real life. So while I know people in my personal life that are members of the LGBTQIA+ community, we have lost touch over the years and don’t see much of each other now. So how do you explain to your children about social constructs that you yourself have no experience with? How do you do this justice without trying to sound like apologist? With all the protests going on in the country, we have also had to discuss what BLM stands for, why they are protesting, and why it’s a good thing. While we might have issue with the destruction of property on some level, we also understand that no real change has ever been achieved through passivity. So we have had to have these conversations with our children about race. Did I mention that we are white. I mean look at me! I am almost as white as it gets out here, and talking about the unfair treatment of BIPOC members of our community feels awkward. Possibly because it isn’t a habit, because it isn’t part of our daily conversations, because I have never really had these conversations myself with anyone and wouldn’t even know where to begin. Over the last several months I have attempted to educate myself, and it’s been eye opening, but I can’t exactly sit my children down with a book about how to be a better ally that was designed for an adult. So we have just been encouraging them to understand that this is important, that there are people who are not treated fairly because of the color of their skin, and that they get judged no matter what choices they make in their life. That their lives are in danger just for existing. Attending public schools in which they have been in many diverse classrooms, they, quite honestly, do not understand what I even mean when we have these conversations. They look at me and say “But that doesn't matter, mom, everyone is important.” And they aren’t wrong. They don’t quite understand why people would judge anyone based on the color of their skin, and I don’t either. Not that I have not been guilty of micro aggressions against the BIPOC community in my life, because I most certainly have (but again, not the time for that post here), but in my adult life I have actively tried to be better and not judge anyone, but definitely not BIPOC, just because they present themselves in a certain way. Forcing myself to learn about their actual lives, their systematic oppression and all the big, and small, ways in which we force them into certain lives I understand why racism and white supremacy is such an issue. Explain that to an eight and six year old. Teach them 31 years of life experience in one conversation, or one million, why these members of our community are suffering and so, so angry. You can’t. You can try, but they will never fully appreciate a lifetime of experience. They are too young to sit through a movie they don’t find all that interesting, let alone an entire conversation that is too “adult” for them. But we try, and we make connections, and we buy (or are planning on buying) books to help them engage with the BIPOC community in a way that is more child-friendly, but also doesn’t minimize the damage that white people have caused. Do we want them to feel guilty? No, not really. They can’t help it. But we want them to be allies to people who have had no choice, and limited voice, in what happens to them. We want them to love, and be loved, and we want them to never think that a black man running in their neighborhood is threatening, intimidating, or something to be suspicious of. We want them to think critically of the world they live in, and we want them to be mindful of the people who live in it with them. To care more about ALL people, but especially those of the BIPOC community and the LGBTQIA+ who do not have the same opportunity to speak up and stand up. Love is stronger than fear, than hate, than violence and we will try to do so much better raising this generation. I just hope we’re doing enough. If you have any solid books you recommend for children, let me know! I am always open for better book ideas to help my children understand complex social issues. hugs and love.

#mom #lgbtqia #bipoc matter #blacklivesmatter #blm #parenting #Parent blog #mom blog #pride #allies #support #raising children #doing our best #raising the next generation

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stopgenderingchildren · 4 years

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I’m 16 and have known I didn’t fit the idea of “gender” very well for around a decade, but grew up in a left leaning college educated Mexican/ white household that didn’t really force gender roles on me, so I didn’t question it much until around four years ago.

I grew up a tomboy- at 13 I came out as ftm trans. Soon after, my best friend (who I’ll adore forever) came out as ftm trans as well, but didn’t approach it as I had- reading articles, listening to podcasts, scrolling through educational videos- he latched on instead to people like Kalvin Garrah and similar influencers who propose that “transtrenders” exist and steal “real” trans people’s supplies and that you need dysphoria to be trans, etc.

This was the first time I really became aware that there was something deeply flawed in my understanding of gender. I have dysphoria, but the more I thought about it the more I realized I don’t hate my body; I hate how people see my breasts and assign me “female.” I don’t hate dresses and how they look, I hate that it means automatically no one asks for my pronouns.

Tonight I was working on an oratory for debate that started with a central idea I wanted to expand: “We Don’t Need to Fit Your Stereotypes.” I felt that if male could look like dresses and cars and makeup and video games and childcare, if female could look like gardening and beards and owning a business and loving pink, then maybe there wouldn’t need to be transitioning. If we made breasts=anyone and penises=anyone then maybe I would wear a dress everyday and my friend would be able to shower with the lights on.

Basically, I was trying to say ask everyone, everyone, their pronouns, and allow people’s looks and hobbies to be defined by their interests rather than the roles forced on them at birth as a result of their genitals. This contradicted with my central idea, so new title: “We Don’t Need to Fit Stereotypes.” I’m no longer writing about trans versus cis norms, I’m trying to write about all people versus the (at best, limiting) rules of gender forced upon them.

After exploring that (and after realizing what I think I’ve always knows is true: I’m not a boy, but just someone severely disconnected from whatever a boy or girl is supposed to be and generally masculine by societal standards, making he/him the easiest explanation) I had to take a break, and somehow @stopgenderingchildren was the first post recommended for me. After scrolling through for awhile, I felt like I’d found a whole rabbit hole of some new level of gender I’ve only briefly considered before, of thoughts I’ve always struggled to put into words.

After this night, I still have questions though, and unfortunately the ask box just doesn’t have nearly enough characters. The main things I’m still struggling to understand is: what is womanhood? What is manhood? If no one were gendered and lived life by personalities, why would there ever be a need for those two at all, or masculinity or femininity? What stops life from just... going on if people dressed and acted and were interested in what they want to be? What is the point of this thing that causes people so much pain? Even in things like athletics, split up to “help,” there are still people with different amounts of hormones, different heights, people are just different. And it’s all so incredibly westernized. I’ve read Delusions of Gender by Cordelia Fine, and there was a striking story about a trans woman who found the more society expected her to not be able to do things like open a jar, the more she found herself unable to do those things.

I don’t know, this is a bit all over the place, but I really just need some direction. I’m trying really hard to understand this on my own, but after scrolling through your blog I’d really like to hear your thoughts. Thanks you so much ahead of time 🌹 ~~~~

Hi awesome person!! Unfortunately this blog is a tad bit dead, but I am still a real person who can write things, and I’m still passionate about gender and child development, so here I am, responding to you. Also I want to apologize because tumblr is broken and I have no idea how long ago this message was sent to me. For all I know, you could be old enough to drink by now. Oops. Thank you for sharing your journey with gender so far. You sound very thoughtful and systematic about these things, and I love it. First I want to say that I'm sorry your friend has such limited thoughts about the ways it's okay to be trans. That kind of exclusionist thinking doesn't actually help more supplies come around, or help binary trans people get acceptance. It just makes it harder for people to work together to change things. That said, I've known some young trans people who held these positions initially because it was part of the way they were proving their gender to themselves and the world. Once they got more secure in their understanding of themselves, they had more room for accepting other types of trans people. I hope that happens for your friend. I felt like I’d found a whole rabbit hole of some new level of gender I’ve only briefly considered before... Wow, awesome. I love that this blog did that for you. I wish I had more time to make it a consistently amazing place! what is womanhood? What is manhood? Each person gets to decide this for themselves. If you ask me, that’s what makes gender exciting!! Everyone is different. We need lots of different people in the world, lots of different genders, lots of different gender expressions, for the world to continue being as amazing as it is. The idea that there are only two types of gender expression, “manhood” and “womanhood,” is and always has been flawed. Humans have always been more diverse than that. We are just, now, in this supercool time when people are spending energy and vocabulary thinking about it in a more active way. If no one were gendered and lived life by personalities, why would there ever be a need for those two at all, or masculinity or femininity? It sure is an interesting concept, to think of life without gender. I don’t personally believe, however, that gender doesn’t exist. I just don’t believe we should be giving children recipes for gender and then expecting them to follow the recipes in order to be “proper” people. That is gendering which is something we do to other people. Gendering others is meddling at best and traumatic at worst, whether those others are children, teens like you, or adults. So, if the world lived according to my values, we would still have gender, but gender would be something that comes from within, not from without. Maybe we would still have two genders that are most common, maybe not. In a patriarchal society, gender definitions can serve an important and protective function, especially for women, trans, and genderqueer folks. As an example, I teach classes for parents about child development. As I am passionate about parents sharing the joys and challenges regardless of their gender, I welcome all parents to my classes. I stand by this decision, but I recently had a chance to observe a similar class that only allowed mothers (women) to attend. I noticed that the women felt more comfortable being vulnerable in this setting, and in particular they felt able to discuss things like how their bodies were changing and healing after giving birth. By excluding certain people based on gender, this instructor created a safe space that was different from my own classes, and probably better for at least some of those women. I imagine a similar effect would be seen in a class that only allowed fathers (men) or trans or genderqueer parents. What stops life from just... going on if people dressed and acted and were interested in what they want to be? What is the point of this thing that causes people so much pain? Even in things like athletics, split up to “help,” there are still people with different amounts of hormones, different heights, people are just different. And it’s all so incredibly westernized. I hear your frustration so much! Why can't we just let people be themselves! And, yes it's super westernized, and that is ridiculous too. But I think all we can do is speak up for ourselves and others when we feel able, and model behavior towards others that isn't gendering, for example using they/them pronouns for people who's gender we don't know, and not making a big deal of a boy wearing a dress. Or, of course, you could do more by choosing a profession where you are teaching children or adults about gender diversity, or working to pass laws that support name changes and freedom to transition. There are lots of ways we could make the world better! I’ve read Delusions of Gender by Cordelia Fine, and there was a striking story about a trans woman who found the more society expected her to not be able to do things like open a jar, the more she found herself unable to do those things. This book sounds awesome. I will check it out! And, yes, people are gendered in a very subconscious way because it starts at birth, before language and verbal (story) memory. There is lots of research showing that we treat babies different based on their assigned gender from the very first day they are born. Creepy... I don’t know, this is a bit all over the place, but I really just need some direction. I’m trying really hard to understand this on my own, but after scrolling through your blog I’d really like to hear your thoughts. Lastly, I just want to say that it sounds like you are on a great path to figuring things out for yourself. Just keep trying things on to see what fits, both metaphorically and literally, if you like :)

It's also okay to not know what labels are best for you, or for you to change your mind, or to sometimes give up on caring. Actually, there are labels for those states too! But not every trans person has dysphoria, or discovers a strong allegiance to a binary (or nonbinary) gender. As I say to the kids I work with, there are just so many ways for people to be, and that is the way it should be.

#gender freedom #raising kids today #gendering of trans* folk #gendering of POC #western gender norms #transgender #any input is appreciated #submission

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electrakarasu · 5 years

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❛ she is a knight polishing her amour, carrying her own sword. fighting her own battles. making her own glory. ❜

SIMAY BARLAS? No, that’s actually ELECTRA “LEXI” KARASU. Only TWENTY-ONE years old, this SLYTHERIN alumni works as a CURSE BREAKER and is sided with THE NEUTRALS. SHE identifies as CIS-WOMAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be ARROGANT, SCRUTINISING, and DETACHED but also CLEVER, DETERMINED, and ENTERPRISING.

links: stats, pinterest character parallels: jane villanueva ( jane the virgin ), jessica huang ( fresh off the boat ), valencia perez ( crazy ex-girlfriend ), lu ( elite ), lucifer morningstar ( lucifer ), annalise keating ( how to get away with murder )

ELECTRA KARASU : ON HER LIFE

tulip karasu never did have an off-switch. she danced through life like it was a party, she broke every rule the world set out for her and she made reckless decisions with the fury of someone who was so sure of what they were doing. was she so sure that sleeping with a man twice her age, a man who had a wife, was the right thing to do? maybe not. but she did it anyway.

antigone, tulip’s first child, was six years old when tulip gave birth to electra. electra. another name from an old greek play tulip had only half understood. people tried to warn her that naming your child after a woman who attempts to murder her mother was bad luck, but tulip refused to listen — she liked that it sounded alive, crackling with intensity.

one week after electra was born and seven months after she had left christopher harris, tulip reached out to the married man to let him know of the birth of his daughter. christopher, being the ceo of a well-respected company in london, was absolutely mortified and agreed to pay a generous portion of child support if tulip didn’t tell anyone who was the father of her daughter — especially not his wife. he arranged to have the money transfer out of an account his wife could not see, set it to wire to tulip once a month and then never spoke to her again. tulip didn’t much mind — she was on to her next affair anyway.

and so electra was born into a world of chaos, a world without rules or order. tulip wasn’t much of a mother, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t kind — it just meant that as electra grew up, as her smarts began to build, she had to learn how to raise herself. she changed her name to lexi when she was just six, finding the name electra to be too stormy, too out-dated for a girl such as herself, and with that she formed the first step to navigating the world on her own, separate from her mother, from ‘ electra ’.

you see, lexi was something of a prodigy in every sense of the word. she was intelligent and cunning and emotionally mature, showing skills far beyond her age range from the time she could walk. she was nothing like her wild mother or her scruffy older sibling — she had the genes of her father, and from a young age she knew she could build an EMPIRE on that. she understood that she was better. she embraced it. she scolded her mother and her sibling, she corrected her teacher with a squeaky little voice, and by the time she was ready to be shipped off the hogwarts, she knew she was the best of the best.

and so she proved it. having been sorted into slytherin exactly thirteen seconds after the hat had found her head, lexi thrived both academically and socially. within months she was top of her class, she was the most popular girl in her grade and she knew, oh she knew she had the world wrapped around her little finger. this self-importance only grew as she flew through each year, passing every subject with flying colours and proving herself to be one of the brightest and most talented witches the school had seen in years. she finished on a high when she was elected her years head girl, and promised to stay in contact with everyone after graduation. ( spoiler alert: she didn’t. )

leaving hogwarts, lexi knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. anywhere she went, they’d be lucky to have her, and in fact the ministry had tried to recruit her in any capacity, but she refused, telling them outright that she wouldn’t align herself with a corrupt organisation running over with power-hungry white males. she instead headed straight for gringotts, slotting in easily with the dangerous and fast-paced job of a curse breaker. she would travel the world and learn new languages and collect priceless treasure. within months she was trusted, she proved herself to be worthy of the dangerous title and she wears it with great pride.

ELECTRA KARASU : ON THE WAR

lexi wasn’t daft — she’d always known that some people looked at her differently, as if she were tainted, not worthy of the numerous titles that were being thrown at her. and she knew what it was rooted in, too — for years people would try to undermine her achievements because she had muggle blood, because she wasn’t as pure in her magic as, say, her housemates at hogwarts. and she knew that simmering hate could only last so long before it burst — so she knew what was here when the war finally arrived.

just because lexi is a halfblood, does not mean she is about to storm the streets with signs painted in large letters campaigning for MUGGLE RIGHTS. she thinks it’s ridiculous she should be seen as lesser than, of course, but she’s no fool — war is toxic. no side can claim innocence because anyone who participated in nameless violence, something this war requires, is corrupt. she sees right through the orders facade of innocence and believes them to be just as reckless and one-sided as the death eater’s. she refuses to join, to participate in something that is so clearly below her. let them fight — they can’t touch her, anyway. she’s smarter than any of them, quicker than any spell that can be thrown her way. she can defend herself without a cult.

perhaps subconsciously — though she would never admit it — lexi doesn’t care for the war either because she doesn’t particularly care for muggles. after all, the one muggle that always comes to mind for her is her father. and she hates that man more than she hates anyone else on this earth. her father, power-hungry and drowning in his white privilege, thriving off his success and not giving a fucking damn about anyone other than himself. not even his wife. christopher disgusts lexi, and she is vehemently in agreement with him on one thing — they will never meet.

ELECTRA KARASU : ON FAMILY

despite any apathy that lexi might try and push when it comes to her mother and her sibling, lexi would do anything for her little family. especially antigone — certainly not a role model, nor a particularly good older sibling, but a force and someone lexi would defend until the ends of the earth.

from a young age, lexi had to take on a leadership role in her family — the only one with realistic, practical common sense, the little girl keeping her family from blowing up the earth. she’s very good at it, too, with the emotional maturity to keep it together, but sometimes she can’t help but resent tulip and antigone for leaving it up to her to pick up the pieces. tulip is supposed to be a mother. antigone is supposed to be older. and yet both of them can’t seem to hold it together long enough to stay sane when lexi is gone. sometimes she wonders how they’re even alive, but she’ll do it. her job. her job to keep them together. she might not love it, but she’d rather be caught dead then see her family crash and burn.

lexi is incredibly protective over antigone and so had her doubts when antigone decided to push themselves into the spotlight. they’re obviously talented and incredibly good at what they do, but lexi worries about what might happen should antigone be caught slipping up. after all, they’re all in the spotlight now, no matter how small. lexi isn’t a fan of fame, and she’s certainly not a fan of how antigone deals with their success. throwing your money away and screaming political opinions on stage is certainly no way for a sensible adult to behave. she’ll support her siblings career, always, but of course she’ll worry — and worry she did when antigone disappeared.

to say that lexi nearly lost it when antigone disappeared and returned as a vampire would be an understatement. she was so overwhelmed with grief when they were gone, and then when they returned to live a new truth — lexi could barely handle it. she is so worried about how antigone is handling things, whether they’re dealing with this appropriately and whether or not they’re keeping safe. of course, she got somewhat of an answer when they announced their vampirism live on stage for the world to hear after the announcement of the new creature registry — clearly they are not keeping safe. and lexi doesn’t know how much longer she can keep her sibling truly safe before they get themselves killed — really killed.

ELECTRA KARASU : THE REST

born in 2002, lexi is the absolute epitome of a gen z kid. she’s still not over vine’s death, she’s over dramatic and sarcastic and has a very dry sense of humour. and of course her wardrobe is a complete mess. ( check out her pinterest for more wardrobe inspo. )

obviously incredibly self-important when it comes to her smarts and her skills with a wand, but is also equally aware of just how beautiful she is. she doesn’t exactly strive to accentuate anything in particular, but she knows that eyes are on her almost constantly, and while sometimes she revels in it, other times she gets frustrated and wishes people ( men, in particular ) would see her for more than her looks.

she’s pansexual but very, very tired of men. any man talks and she instantly turns into the eye roll emoji. men exhaust her! she’s attracted to them but at what cost!

multilingual! she says it’s part of the job, but honestly she’s known italian and french since she was 12 and it’s not even necessary to speak the languages of the places she travels. it’s just another way to challenge her brain.

#iidyintro #| ❛ a little devil in her angel eyes. ❜ ( character study. )#i love this demon <3

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lighthouseroleplay · 5 years

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ROMAIN AUCLAIR

( 21 , cis male , he/him )

♪♫ currently listening ⧸⧸ victorious by panic at the disco!

a bottle of champagne shattered on the ground, syllables fumbled in a mouth unused to them, fingertips that smell of smoke. a smear of crimson lipstick, white teeth grinning widely, dark leather jackets on broad shoulders. neatly tailored shirts, autumn trees’ burnt orange hue, marble statues, an ever-present disdain for authority. the gleam of fireworks, dark alleys, a loud arrogance.

• montgomery was a hookup, nothing more. or at least that’s what you’d assumed? in a back corner of a party, kissing gently, until you or he disappeared back into it — barely something to register on your own radar. it seemed to have registered, on his, though, and the way he blushed to look at you, avoided you in class and stammered, shyly: it was endearing, and made you curious, made you wonder if to him it was perhaps more than that to him.

• ramirez was your partner in crime, unused to the type of luxury you reveled in, but a willing participant nonetheless. you appreciated their effortless cool, shared their music with your friends back in france, and wanted their success, not for the acclaim it would bring you, as their friend, but in a surprisingly selfless way. they had a passion for music in a way you didn’t understand, but admired: you’d never felt so passionate about anything. music, intellectual pursuits, sports, all had always felt almost useless, a means to an end, never anything you wanted to devote your life to. ramirez knew what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be, and you longed for that kind of certainty.

taken by julie ⧸⧸ younes kahlaoui

PARIS, FRANCE

“vraiment, cette attitude, il tient ça de ta famille.”

“t’es pas sérieux? t’as vue ta mère? elle se prend pour la reine-mère, nous parle comme si on était qu’une bande de chiens. elle est aussi arrogante que ton fils!”

“non. définitivement pas. ce gamin, c’est ton fils.”

the road ahead is flat, uneventful. trees are running, and romain tries to find someone, something, hiding into the trees. his father’s driving, fast and careless. his mother is fixing her makeup again. they’re both trying to convince each other that romain is not their son; that his faults are a result of either DNA, and not a result of their parenting. never would they win an award for being the most present, caring parents. both are successful, father works in the financial world, his mother a up-and-coming fashion designer. they fight, alot. not often about their three older sons. but mostly about the youngest. they often do that when the boy messes up. today, it’s a fist in an annoying girl’s face. she kept telling him that he was stupid. kept laughing at him you have girl lips and pointing at him. his mother always told him that he should never hit girls (but boys are ok, right mother?) but his father always told him that real men stood up when they are intimidated, bullied. so why, oh why, is it bad that he hit angela’s bird-like face? she certainly deserved it. romain is a real man, he stood up.

his mother sighs, romain keeps his attention focused on the road outside. she turns to him, her dark hair encircling her face, accentuating her jaw. his mother, imane auclair, née imane karam, is the epitome of refinement. though, her eyes are never kind. especially not towards her last son. she told him, once, that she hated him. hated how gorgeous he was, as if he stole all of her remaining beauty. romain was seven at that time, and he remembers this as if it just happened. he despises imane. can’t wait to be out of her clutches. “mais pour l’amour de dieu romain, pourquoi t’as frappé cette fille? t’es en manque d’attention, c’est ça?” she barks the words at him, but he focuses on the scenery outside. thinks that if he keeps his attention elsewhere, then her words would glide off him. she scoffs and turns back to rearranging her lipstick.

romain does not understand where his anger comes from; would never quite be brave enough to look deep. it is probably rooted in this twisted thing the auclairs call family.

the trees are running, and romain thinks he spots something dark, dangerous, lingering in the woods.

they send him to Sainte Perpetue’s lycee, in the heart of Paris. he’s fourteen and has been expelled from three different elementary schools. no matter the price his parents offer, not a lot of lycees wants him in their ranks. he’s been into fights, he’s been arrogant, he’s been abusive. he’s a bully and he knows it.

of all the things they do, they send him to a boarding school. he wouldn’t have minded the public educational system, rather than this prissy, snob school. it’s a school known for its disciplinary measures. nuns march the corridors, brothers watch their recess time. it’s a prison, disguised as higher education. they think that he will learn his place in the world.

instead of discipline, romain learns procrastination.

instead of rigueur, romain learns the taste of stolen champagne bottles.

he meets beatrice there, whom is highly mean but highly fun. she teaches him how to put makeup on, lipstick red and messed up on his face. une image de sa mère, pâle parodie, un amour cynique. she does not care much about a lot of things. romain can relate.

he meets martin there, whom he kisses in front of the whole school in cinquième. martin does not speak to him for two whole months after that; romain knew he was not ready to come out. but romain has never been much of a good friend, or patient. but martin is a steady, if not a bit overwhelming, friend.

he despises the uniform, gets detention everytime he forgets his tie. the evergoing stares of the teachers, watching them, making sure they form a line, that they don’t run in corridors, that the uniforms are pressed and cleaned. nothing better for difficult childs, the principal assured his mother. she did not even say goodbye, désolé, mon chéri. j’ai une réunion avec les investisseurs.

it’s not all bad, romain knows. he discovers literature, and poetry, then. gets lost in music. martin makes him listen to new bands, americans, french, even canadians. he joins beatrice in secret parties, they get into bars during the weekends, even though they’re underaged. they drink and smoke, and it eases everything. no more pressure, just the low, warm feeling in his belly, like a beast that has finally calmed down. he kisses martin again, in a dark alley, the night heavy around them, like a blanket protecting them from the outside, the reality of their own situation. martin is pliant, flexible, under his hands. and when romain gets on his knees, martin whispers his name against the silence, and romain loves how it sounds like a prayer.

martin comes up to them with a crumbled sheet, sits next to romain (close, always too close, romain feels claustrophobic) and ignores the dirty looks sent by beatrice, who was busy talking about romain’s mother new collection (she keeps insisting that romain introduces her to his mother). “vous savez pas, je fais partie de l’échange!” he’s shaking the paper so much, which contains a list of name, and romain tries to take a look but can’t. he frowns and goes to fetch it as soon as martin calms down a little, an agile move, like a panther going for the kill. as soon as he reads it, he scoffs. gives back the paper. “quoi, romain? t’as pas été pris? hallelujah pour ces pauvres américains.” beatrice snickers, steals the rest of romain’s vegetables.

romain is pissed. not that he’s definitely passionate about traveling, but everything sounds better than france right now. and he’s got good grades (he’s got excellent grades). and he didn’t get into detention for the last three weeks. he wanted a place in the exchange, mostly to shut up martin. but they decided to choose martin, of all people. sweet, immaculate, pure and well-mannered martin. he looks over at martin, who’s ecstatic, listening to beatrice’s advices on how to get in bed with american boys with a small smile. he feels robbed.

martin is called to the principal’s office a few days later.

martin gets detention for the rest of the year, then. loses his spot in the exchange. that’s what you get when the schools finds pot and alcohol in your room, under your bed. they don’t listen to his defenses, because nothing can go against cold, hard evidence.

and coup de théâtre! romain gets the spot (also gets a black eye from martin’s fist, but no one comments on that).

THE DAY

“Grief is something you carry around inside of you, like a secret second heart, its rhythm known only to you.”

she keeps talking and talking about it. it’s an obsession, one he can’t quite get into. he wishes they could go back to smoking joints by the port without andy going on about the damned lighthouse. he tells her that; romain hasn’t known her for as long as some other students here, but they developed an easy, honest kind of friendship. harsh she is, she often tells him how an asshole he is. and in the same way, he calls her out when she’s being too much. “can you … chill? i mean, you were supposed to show me california, not some dusty, old … books.” he gestures to the book she borrowed (stole) from the archives. she fixes him with a glare, one he’s come to know so well in the last two years. he likes tenebrin, more than he would admit to martin an beatrice. but he felt somewhat calmer here, away from the imposing pressure of his family. he still got detention in tenebrin, though. it seems that teachers did not like his french callouts. or french replies. fair enough, he guesses.

“fine, walk me through it again.” that’s something they both have in common. their curiosity. how much they both can push against tenebrin before tenebrin pushes back? when she asks him, have you ever swam in the ocean and he easily says yes, he can see the jealousy in her eyes. he thinks he understands then.

so he follows where she goes, because he’s curious. though, there’s an anxious feeling that creeps up in the back of his mind as soon as they arrive in the port. a storm is brewing, the waves crashing upon the shoreline. violent, angry. he’s familiar now, with the weather, grey skies painting the scenery, the morning fog and the dark waves. andrea is far in front of him, and he takes a moment to look at the lighthouse. standing strong in the port, he never really gave it too much attention. but now, he thinks, it feels as if its guarding the town from something. he wonders about the tales that andrea filled his mind with, all those months ago, when he first set foot in tenebrin. reaching out without much thinking for his phone, he texts ramirez real quick. a message, void of any fun or jokes. like they’re used to. “andy! wait up!” he runs after her.

he comes back, mouth shut, eyes empty. martin and beatrice shoot him looks, they’re worried. he keeps reaching for his phone, an unsent text to andrea. if he calls her number, he can still hear her voicemail. his cellphone bills explode, long distance fees ignored. the clares hasn’t deactivated it yet. maybe like him, they like to call her. maybe like him, they have unsaid things, heavy on their heart, that they pour in andrea’s voicemail. he didn’t even stay for the burial. unable to meet mrs. clare’s eyes, guilt pressing on his shoulders. pressing, and pushing down. soon he’ll join her. maybe he should have joined her, should have tried to save her. a voice in the back of his mind (why didn’t you help) keeps interrupting his every thoughts. his days are (coward, coward) disrupted, short and too long.

beatrice brings him to the school’s counselor; romain doesn’t see the point. in less than a week, they’ll graduate. he will leave the Sainte Perpetue’s white halls, will bid adieu to the white, austere marble statues adorning the school’s corridors. will shed the school’s uniform like a second skin, and will fly away. the school knows what happened, of course they do. they probably think it’s his fault. but they say nothing to him, and the counselor only hands him pamphlets to help him deal with his fucking grief.

romain laughs in his face, something twisted and ugly. remembers; that’s what you get when you let people in.

le deuil.

his brother says something, accuses the dead. time holds still, all of them waiting for the other shoe to drop. her mother silently scoffs at manu, sends him a glare. manu shrugs. romain understands, in this very moment, that they don’t really get what happened. they think it’s his fault (they don’t say it, but he knows. oh yes, he knows that this guilt, eating and gnawing at his heart, is nothing but deserved).

romain hits manu, his mother screams and brunch is, once again, ruined because of him. his brother said well she just had to put a lifevest or something. his knuckles are red, tainted by his anger, by blood that’s not his. gabe grabs him and shoves him away. he wants to tear them apart, he wants to see them in her place, fighting against the waves.

WELCOME BACK, WILD CHILD

Sometimes it makes no sense at all

If I stumble, will I fall?

If I fall, I'll tuck and roll

Close my eyes and let the love-light guide me home

Let the love-light guide me home

martin looks at him, smoke hanging from his lips. romain would like to immortalize this look, he thinks. the moon plays with shadows on the other man’s pale skin, an halo around his head. a marble statues in a long corridors of mistakes and lies. a fixture in his life, unmoving. present. “romain, you know you’re an asshole, yeah?”

waves crashing upon the shoreline. violent, angry

romain nods, moves slowly, like a cat ready to hunt. kneels before martin, the wooden floor hard underneath him. “yeah, i guess.” his long fingers takes the cigarette, brings it to his own lips. inhales, exhales. martin leans, breathes the smoke for a moment. crashes in romain a second later, hand in his hair. they kiss for awhile, practically unmoving. romain realizes that he missed him, somewhere between the end of the high school and his moving away to london. it resurfaces now, as he came back to france. romain’s father suffered a fall from horseback, a tragic, ugly thing. his death does not come that much of a surprise, or does not bring grief.

after what happened, three years ago, romain knows grief well enough. does not need it anymore. his father’s death is a sad affair, brought him back to la mère patrie. he’s been studying photography, back in london. working with some of his mother’s contacts (a debt he knows he could never repay). heard through beatrice that martin was sick. some kind of unpronounceable cancer. if romain had been a poet, he might have convinced himself that he was cursed to love ghosts.

the waves are --

“you’re leaving. again.”

romain nods, again. he hates how martin always sees through him, but revels in this easiness. the dreams came and stayed. romain told himself at first that he perhaps associated martin to everything that happened in tenebrin. that would be the reason why he kept having those horrible dreams.

-- crashing.

“are you coming back?” martin’s fingers follows the hard lines of romain’s jaw, cheekbones, lips. romain closes his eyes for a moment, focuses on the feeling. he’s not sure what will happen back in tenebrin. he has a bad feeling about this.

“i don’t know.”

have you ever swam in the ocean

(well she just had to put a life vest or something)

“what a fucking asshole.”

romain chuckles, looks up at martin’s perfect face. if he’d been less than an horrible man, perhaps he would have told him that he’d call him. that he’d miss him. romain does not know about those things; his head is filled with waves, crashing and violent.

he sets foot in tenebrin port once again, his jacket heavy on his shoulders. he walks, slowly, through the silent streets. it’s too early, and ramirez won’t answer his texts. he got practically nothing with him, beside a small hand bag. he remembers some of the stores, colourful against the usual monotony of the port. fishermen told him, once when he travelled in newfoundland, that the people used to paint their houses with bright colours so that the sailors could see the coast, and recognize their homes. why would tenebrin do the same, when their sea was nothing but murderous?

romain walks, and walks. and ends up here. their bench. he sits, looks down at the tips of his fingers, pink with cold. looks back up, at the sea : “alors, on fait quoi maintenant?”.

#auclair: skel #skel: all #auclair #skel: closed

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almarchive · 5 years

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hello, its nora n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam. she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck. raised in a farmhouse in vermont, never really had to work for anything in her life and doesn’t want to. studying class civ cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into lockwood. loves the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages. i might forget tho so pls message me x

application template.

( elle fanning / cis-female ) haven’t seen ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM around in a while. the ELLE FANNING lookalike has been known to be TENACIOUS & MAGNETIC, but SHE can also be FANCIFUL & DOUBLE-CROSSING. The 20 year old is a SOPHOMORE majoring in CLASSICS. I believe they’re living in FIDELIS but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake.

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

alma saw her as academic competition and a threat to her de jure throne. in freshman year, tatiana got the role alma auditioned for in a university production. she’s disliked her ever since. alma abslutely chose tatiana’s name, and she’d do it again without hesitating. [that vine voice] I WON’T HESITATE, BITCH

the short form.

— born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.

— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years. — very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets. — ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless” — is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french. — studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin. — isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night. — pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class. — very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan. — judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive — just wants to be loved by all. a party girl ; doesn’t rlly enjoy it, jst feels she should enjoy it. — tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. — obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen. — act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity — heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention. — has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning. — her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk. — relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art. – likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.

plots.

here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:

study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library

if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends – probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !

people who live on the same floor and only know each other from brief interactions in the lift or the canteen

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !

hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning

i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties

people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse

people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all

full biography.

alma olive putnam.

intro.

the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.

biography.

if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.

at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.

your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.

language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.

fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.

the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to small-town fame. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive.

#water:intro #i promise i didn't rip this character out of dare me or the secret history

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yelloskello · 5 years

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i fucking hate the stag/doe - butch/femme thing. I hate it. I hate that we are explicitly told that we’re not allowed to use these terms, and for what? I went a’googling to see what lesbians were actually saying in regards to why they’re lesbian-exclusive, read the arguments straight from the horse’s mouth, and it amounts to this:

TERFs (and no, I do not mean lesbians = terfs, I mean it is TERFS who came up with this) straight-up believe that bi women and trans women just weren’t there in our history. They say that butch and femme carry the weight of a painful history and fighting for our rights in the words, and that when anybody but lesbians use the terms, they’re putting it on like a fancy dress and calling it an aesthetic.

As if bi women and trans women just straight-up weren’t there for that history, too.

They argue that ‘nobody fights men to use phrases like bear/otter/twink!’ and quite frankly, i’m pretty fuckin’ sure bisexual men and/or trans men can happily use those terms, too, so shitty argument there pal.

So they kick us out of a history that we were actively a part of, and younger lesbians who want to do the right thing but don’t know the history of this argument latch onto it, and bisexual people... Within the last year... Create the terms stag/doe, since it’s evidently morally wrong to use terms that are part of our own history, but since we can experience the same kind of dynamics in our relationships, we need SOMETHING to describe them. And what do people say?

‘wtf this is so dumb/fucked up, this is just watered/down butch and femme, they’re literally the same thing, why would you make up new words to mean the same thing?’

because we experience the same goddamn thing, just because we like multiple genders doesn’t mean we always hop on “opposite” genders, we can have relationships with similar-gendered/nonbinary people, even outside of a relationship we are still part of the community, we still experience Gay Attraction, and it can still be part of our identity because we’re still LGBT+, but we’re not allowed to use those terms! We’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.

I hate the wave of separatism that we’ve gone through. I hate the idea that everything has to have shit exclusively for them, even if it has a history of being used by multiple sexualities. I hate that people think No Experiences Overlap Ever, when in truth, marginalized people (and I don’t mean just queer/LGBT+ people - I mean PoC, disabled folks, etc) have SO much more in common than anyone might ever think. Yes, some groups do have things that exclusively happen to them, as a white person i’m NEVER going to fully understand the struggle that brown and black people go through, there’s SO much i’m still ignorant to concerning that, i’ll never pretend all our experiences are exactly the same, but there are also at least some issues that I can strongly empathize with because I hear what they go through and can see similarities in the way i’m treated as an AFAB person or as a bi person or as a nonbinary person. A microaggression because you’re gay and a microaggression because you’re brown are both microaggressions, even if they’re presented in different ways, over different issues. Multiple groups are denied housing and jobs for their identities, even if it’s done quietly behind closed doors so the law doesn’t crack down on peoples’ bigotry. As a trans person I can feel the personal pain of my people being accosted in bathrooms by bigots, and I can look at how black people are assumed to be criminals by virtue of simply walking around in a store, and even though the issues are very different, I can see the similarities - we both are mistrusted by “””normal””” society based on hideous stereotypes - and I can feel for them, even if I don’t experience being assumed to be a criminal personally. I listen to them and I believe them not just because they’re fucking people who deserved to be listened to and believed, but because I have seen how general society treats people like me, so why should it be so hard to believe they could be treated like shit, too?

People think that our struggles are so fucking exclusive that they lose all empathy for other groups, thinking that the only people who have ever suffered are themselves. It’s always baffled me that LGBT+ people can be so fucking ignorant and racist and hateful when you think they’d be able to tap into their own hurt and understand that other people are being treated in similar ways because they’re ‘different’, too. But then again, LGBT+ people can barely understand how other subsets of LGBT+ people have struggled, so I guess it shouldn’t be that surprising. I think of how ace people can write a laundry list of things they personally experience, and other subsets will scoff and say ‘yeah as if we don’t go through that too’, completely fucking ignoring what that overlap means. Thinking that since they go through that, anybody else who reports that they might, too, are just Faking, or trying to steal the spotlight. How can people so completely lack empathy? Why are we not there for each other? Why do we not care about anybody else? Why can’t we recognize the same fucking pain we’re all going through, even if that same pain comes in different flavors, and try to be there for each other because nobody should have to go through what we’re going through?

Like, it’s a complicated issue. Like I said, yeah, groups do have stuff that effects them exclusively, and it can be frustrating to express unhappiness with something exclusive to your group and have people who clearly aren’t actually understanding what you’re going through say they can relate. But denying that there are any similarities at all just drives us farther apart when right now marginalized people desperately need the support of one-another.

(I was gonna give bi people’s Double Discrimination as an example of that exclusivity, unwanted by communities on either side of the fence, since obviously lesbians and gays don’t experience that... But y’know who probably can empathize? Mixed race folks. Or folks with invisible disabilities. Or ANYONE who’s caught between both communities, not x enough for one and not y enough for the other.)

Speaking only of communities that I am personally in: in LGBT+ circles, separatism breaks up the subsets and causes infighting. In circles concerning disability and mental/physical illness, it isolates its members, denies them support, makes them feel like nobody truly understands, even people dealing with the exact same disability or illness, because symptoms can be so widespread and varied. Hell, even when dealing with our oppressors, separatism fails to actually try and change the views of the people oppressing us: i’d much rather have narratives where men are gentle, kind, feminine, loving, supporting, open to their emotions, and respectful permeating our culture, teaching young boys how to be as they grow, than narratives where men are just evil.

There’s a lot of gray area. There are people who have been so hurt by oppression that I do not blame them one bit for prescribing to a separatist narrative. But I mean in a general sense... I don’t want separatism to be pervasive. I don’t want it to be the mindset people automatically turn to regardless of what they’ve gone through. I want sympathy and support for the people who have been hurt, and I want the groups that have been doing the hurting to change. I want people to recognize the similarities between each other and be unafraid of empathizing and sharing.

The butch/femme and doe/stag thing is a result of separatism, and I can see where they get the idea for it - basically pulling the ideas of appropriation from communities of PoC telling white people not to appropriate their stuff - but they’re lashing out at the wrong people. When a white person appropriates locs, they’re seen by the public eye as being carefree, trendy, and cool, while black folks are still punished for wearing the same look that occurs naturally for them. When a white person puts on a war bonnet, they’re seen as being high-fashion and ‘exotic~~~’, while literally desecrating a sacred part of a culture they don’t belong to in any way, shape, or form. When a bi person calls themselves butch, they’re a part of the community that shares the exact same history, their histories are literally interwoven, and experiences extremely similar dynamics, at the very least, as lesbians. These are two very different things. Tell cis/straight people not to appropriate the terms, but remember, other LGBT+/queer people aren’t fucking cis/straight.

anyways this got way longer than I was expecting but shit, I got like 60 followers, who gives a damn what I say, right? peace.

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discyours · 6 years

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Depressed passing guide

I see a lot of passing guides around, and they’re great, but they usually assume you have 100% of your energy to put into passing. For those of us who have like 24 other mental illnesses that make gender dysphoria take the backseat, that’s not always realistic. So here’s some shit I’ve noticed can help you pass that doesn’t take much effort. I’m pre-t FTM so most of these tips will mainly be applicable if you are too. Ps, you’re not required to pass in order to be “”valid””. Most of us want to and it can be important to stay safe, but remember you’re doing this for you, not the rest of the world. General : Most pre-t guys will naturally look closest to 12-15 years old if they do pass. I know most of us hate not being treated our age but embracing this will make passing 100x easier. Match your mannerisms to those of teenage boys, and when looking for clothes/hairstyles try to match your perceived age rather than your actual age. Clothing: General rule for all clothes: don’t underestimate the kids’ section, and shop online if you can’t find your size. If both of those fail you, you can try to order internationally. Asian men have much smaller frames so clothes from China work great, just be careful not to order from dodgy sites. Tailors are also a good option if you can afford them. Never get your jeans in the women’s section. They’ll be cut to accentuate your hips 99% of the time. If you can find men’s or boys’ jeans that fit your hips, straight leg is best. If you can’t, don’t sweat it you have other options.

Sweatpants/joggers are great. They’ll go past your hips without issue because of the elastic, and if you don’t already pass nobody will look at you weird for going into the mens section to buy what’s widely recognised as very fucking comfortable clothing. Get a pair that’s looser on top and tighter on the bottom if you can, it keeps you from looking like a total slob. Stick to dark colours as they’ll slim down your hips. For t-shirts, get something slim fit/athletic fit, and get it as close to your size as possible. Aside from your chest, your arms are the most obvious sign you’re not cis on your upper half. Getting shirts with tighter arm holes will give the illusion that you’re muscly, or at least not a total string bean. Once again, stick to dark colours. Large colour differences between your top and bottom half will draw a line across your body, making you look shorter. Graphic tees are a hit or miss. They can help conceal your chest and they fit the teenage boy look, but since they’re unisex they could end up making you look like a tomboy. Avoid flannel, it’s associated with butch lesbians and could make people think you are one too.

Hoodies are a lifesaver. They’re easy to layer with (especially the zip-up kind) which will help conceal your chest. Rolling up the sleeves to your elbows makes them hug your arms tightly, making them look more muscular. Putting up the hood will make you look masculine, or at least hide feminine features somewhat. If you’re too small for men’s jackets, layering a zip-up hoodie with a (faux) leather jacket will look masculine and mimic the style a lot of men’s jackets have. Binding:

First of all, if you’re going to bind, be as safe as possible (there’s always risks, keep that in mind). 8 hours a day MAXIMUM (and maximum does not mean that that’s an allowance you need to use up every day), take it off as often as possible, and don’t ever sleep or exercise in your binder. Listen to your body, take a break when it hurts. Don’t bind with ace bandages or tape, just generally avoid homemade binders. And for the love of god, don’t get a cheap amazon/aliexpress/wish/ebay binder. If you bind unsafely, you can break your ribs, permanently deform your rib cage/collarbones, damage your soft tissues (which seriously reduces your chances of getting good top surgery results), permanently reduce your lung capacity, and just generally damage your body so much that you will never be able to bind again. Don’t be stupid. Gc2b and underworks are the most popular and safest binder brands. Generally speaking, gc2b is better for smaller chests and underworks is better for larger chests. There are two main styles of binders, tri-top and full tank. Tri-top does everything you need, full tank binders just add more (non-compressive) fabric to the bottom. Tri-top tends to be more comfortable as there’s no extra fabric to bunch up, but if you want your binder to be subtle if you have to change in front of people/are wearing a tight shirt, getting something that looks like a tank top is your best bet. Gc2b binders are available in a range of colours, while underworks offers black, white and beige binders. I decided to get a binder that matched my skin colour since I could only afford one and I didn’t want it to show through any clothing. I HIGHLY regret it. Cis men do not wear skin coloured garments under their shirts. If your collar slips up in the slightest, there’s an obvious sign that you’re trans. Cis men DO wear undershirts though, so get a binder that’s the same colour as an undershirt (usually white but black works too). Some trans men use kt tape to bind, and transtape is a product made specifically to improve upon kt tape binding. Mind you, putting tape on your skin is very fucking bad for it and you will likely get blisters, as well as risk losing skin elasticity (something that’s important to retain if you want top surgery). Only do this as a last resort if you’re in a situation where regular binders are even more unsafe or would out you, such as while traveling. Look up how to apply it properly first and remove it VERY carefully. Hair: If you want long hair that’s your choice, and some trans men do pass with long hair. But keep in mind even square-jawed cis men will get misgendered from the back if they have long hair. If you’re not okay with regularly getting she’d, keep it short until you’re on t for a while.

If you have yet to get your hair cut short, a barber may refuse to cut you. Some of them really do only work with men/boys and if you don’t pass, you’ll be turned away. Just go to a unisex salon, if you don’t want to out yourself then find a picture of a woman with a masculine haircut. Show them that, then get them to make it even more masculine (ask for your sideburns or “the bits on the side” squared, it makes a world of difference). You’ll be able to go to a barber for your next haircut after that. Resist the urge to get a buzzcut. It’s very low maintenance but it makes your face shape extremely apparent, you will look feminine. Get your hair as short as you can stand on the sides and leave some length on top. If you get the sides really short, you should only have to brave your social anxiety every two months orso to get a new cut. Style the top upwards with some product (wax, gel, whatever). Your face will look less round if you do this. To avoid talking to your barber and possibly outing yourself, just find a picture of the haircut you want and show it to them. I’ve found barbers are far less chatty than people at unisex salons so you’ll probably be okay just not speaking. Wash your hair as little as possible. Don’t let it get greasy, but allow it to build up some texture. Cis men’s hair is a lot rougher and less silky than cis women’s, so you want to mimic that. Throw your conditioner in the trash. For body hair, leave it alone as much as possible. Don’t touch your eyebrows, either. Let them get bushy, don’t pluck any stray hairs. You can fill in your eyebrows to make them look thicker but I’d recommend against using makeup in any form as a trans man, it’s hard to make it look subtle and people will instantly think you’re a woman if they notice you’re wearing it. You can shave your face if you want to, but it’s honestly a waste of time. Your skin will look softer without the peach fuzz, which is the opposite of what you want to achieve. Hair doesn’t grow back thicker after you shave it, so don’t bother doing it for that reason. Body composition: Dysphoria TW for mention of biological sex. A lot of guides make a major point of this. Work out 5 days a week, eat as little as possible, get your body fat percentage down. One of the most popular guides there is for FTMs even suggests you get down below 20% body fat, acknowledging that that’d be an unacceptable advice for cis women but going on to say it’s okay because we aren’t cis women. My advice on this is to do your best to shut THAT advice out. Our bodies are (unfortunately) female, they play by female rules. The notion that we can (and should!) starve and exercise our way into a male body is harmful and wrong. Having a female looking body isn’t a personal failure or a sign that you’re not working hard enough, it’s an unavoidable consequence of BEING physically female. Building muscle helps. Lower bodyfat helps. If you’re overweight and can manage to go on a diet, go for it. If you can start working out, go for it! Just don’t sweat it if you can’t for whatever reason. I promise it’s still possible to pass. Mannerisms

Sit with your legs open. Manspread a little. You want to be sitting in a way that would get old ladies tutting if a lady in a dress did it, but don’t go so far that you’re doing the splits. If you want to cross your legs, do it with your ankle on your leg. Crossing your legs too tightly will crush the dick you want people to think you have. Walk with your legs slightly apart, and try not to sway your hips. Visualise having something between your legs that you’re trying not to crush (because cis men do). Put your hands in your pockets as much as possible. Standing with your hands in your pockets basically draws a straight line down your body, minimising the appearance of your hips. It also makes you look like a bored teenager so it’s perfect. Don’t smile too much, especially not in pictures. If you do smile, smirk. Try to look cocky. Cis men have stronger brow bones and eyebrows closer to their eyes. You can mimic this by frowning mildly. There are tons of voice training techniques you can look up to get your voice to go deeper, but to be honest it’s a lot of effort. You need to actually put force behind your voice to get it to come from your chest, and god knows I’m too depressed to do that 90% of the time. I’m fond of the “never fucking speak to anyone” technique and it works out just fine. Confidence is absolutely the most important part. If you’re showing that you’re sure of yourself and act like you being a man is the most natural, obvious thing ever, people are unlikely to doubt you. If they do doubt you, just laugh it off. Act like the notion of you being anything but male is ridiculous. I don’t even do all the things in this guide. I’m very short with wide hips and a very high pitched voice, but confidence is what consistently gets me to pass. If you’re not confident, fake it till you make it. Feel free to add!

#FTM #passing #passing guide #transgender #trans guy #trans man #trans boy #ftm passing #transmaculine #pre-t #binding #gc2b #advice #OP

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feministlikeme · 6 years

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1. Before explaining something to a woman, ask yourself if she might already understand. She may know more about it than you do.

2. Related: Never, ever try to explain feminism to a woman.

3. Trans women are women. Repeat that until you perish.

4. RESPECT PEOPLE’S PRONOUNS. It’s not hard.

5. Remember that fat women exist and aren’t all trying to get thin. Treat them with respect.

6. In fact, just never comment on a woman's body.

7. Be kind to women in customer service positions. Tip them extra. (But not in a creepy way.)

8. Trust women. When they teach you something, don't feel the need to go and check for yourself. And especially do not Google it in front of them.

9. Don’t maintain a double standard for… anything, ever.

10. CLOSE YOUR LEGS ON PUBLIC TRANSIT, OH MY GOD.

11. Trying to describe a woman positively? Say she's “talented,” “clever,” or “funny.” Not “gorgeous,” “sweet,” or “cute.”

12. Examine your language when talking about women. Get rid of “irrational,” “dramatic,” “bossy,” and “badgering” immediately.

13. Don't think to yourself, I describe men like that too. A) You probably don't. B) If you do, it's to criticize them for acting like a woman.

14. Do you love “fiery” Latina women? “Strong” Black women? “Mysterious” Asian women? Stop. Pick up a book on decolonial feminism. Read.

15. Stop calling women “feisty.” We don't need a special lady word for “has an opinion."

16. Recognize women's credibility when you introduce them. “Donna is lovely” is much less useful than “Donna knows shitloads about architecture.”

17. Think about how you describe the young women in your family. Celebrate them for being funny and smart, not for being pretty and compliant.

18. Examine the way you talk about women you’re attracted to. Fat women, old women, queer, trans, and powerful women are not your “guilty crush.”

19. Learn to praise a woman without demonizing other women. “You're not like other girls” is not a compliment. I want to be like other girls. Other girls are awesome.

20. Share writing by women. Don't paraphrase their work in your own Facebook post to show us all how smart or woke you are. I guarantee the woman said it better in the first place.

21. Buy sanitary pads and tampons and donate them to a homeless shelter. Just do it.

22. How much of what you are watching/reading/listening to was made by women? Gender balance your bookcase.

23. Feeling proud of your balanced bookcase? Are there women of color there? Trans, queer, and disabled women? Poor women? Always make sure you’re being intersectional.

24. Don't buy media that demeans women’s experiences, valorizes violence against women, or excludes them entirely from a cast. It's not enough to oppose those things. You have to actively make them unmarketable.

25. Pay attention to stories with nuanced female characters. It will be interesting, I promise.

26. If you read stories to a child, swap the genders.

27. Watch women's sport. And just call it “sports.”

28. Withdraw your support from sports clubs, institutions, and companies that protect and employ rapists and abusers.

29. Stop raving about Woody Allen. I don't care if he shits gold. Find a non-accused-abuser to fanboy over.

30. It's General Leia, not princess. The Doctor has a companion, not an assistant. It's Doctor Bartlett, not Mrs Madame First Lady.

31. Cast women in parts written for men. We know how to rule kingdoms, go to war, be, not be, and wait for Godot.

32. Pay for porn.

33. Recognize that sex work is work. Be an advocate for and ally to sex workers without speaking for them.

34. Share political hot takes from women as well as men. They might not be as widely accessible, so look for them.

35. Understand that it was never “about ethics in journalism.”

36. Speak less in meetings today to make space for your women colleagues to share their thoughts. If you're leading the meeting, make sure women are being heard as much as men.

37. If a woman makes a good point, say, “That was a good point.” Don't repeat her point and take credit for it.

38. Promote women. Their leadership styles may be different than yours. That's probably a good thing.

39. Recruit women on the same salary as men. Even if they don't ask for it.

40. Open doors for women with caring responsibilities by offering flexible employment contracts.

41. If you meet a man and a woman at work, do not assume the man is the superior for literally no reason.

42. If you're wrongly assumed to be more experienced than a woman colleague, correct that person and pass the platform to the woman who knows more.

43. Make a round of tea for the office.

44. Wash it up.

45. If you find you're only interviewing men for a role, rewrite the job listing so that it’s more welcoming to women.

46. Make sure you have women on your interview panel.

47. Tell female colleagues what your salary is.

48. Make sure there's childcare at your events.

49. Don't schedule breakfast meetings during the school run.

50. If you manage a team, make sure that your employees know that you recognize period pain and cystitis as legitimate reasons for a sick day.

51. If you have a strict boss (or mom or teacher) who is a woman, she is not a “bitch.” Grow up.

52. Expect a woman to do the stuff that's in her job description. Not the other miscellaneous shit you don't know how to do yourself.

53. Refuse to speak on an all-male panel.

54. In a Q&A session, only put your hand up if you have A QUESTION. Others didn’t attend to listen to you.

55. If you have friends or family members who use slurs or discriminate against trans or non-binary people, sit them down and explain why they must stop. (This goes for cis women, too.)

56. If you have friends or family members who use slurs or discriminate against women of other races, sit them down and explain why they must stop. (This goes for white women, too.)

57. If you see women with their hands up, put yours down. This can be taken as a metaphor for a lot of things. Think about it.

58. Raising a feminist daughter means she's going to disagree with you. And probably be right. Feel proud, not threatened.

59. Teach your sons to listen to girls, give them space, believe them, and elevate them.

60. Dads, buy your daughter tampons, make her hot water bottles, wash her bras. Show her that her body isn't something to be ashamed of.

61. But dads, do not try to iron her bras. This is a mistake you will only make once.

62. Examine how domestic labor is divided in your home. Who does the cleaning, the childcare, the organizing, the meal budgeting? Sons, this goes for you, too.

63. Learn how to do domestic tasks to a high standard. “I'd only do it wrong” is a bullshit excuse.

64. Never again comment on how long it takes a woman to get ready. WE ARE TRYING TO MEET THE RIDICULOUS STANDARDS OF A SYSTEM YOU BENEFIT FROM.

65. Challenge the patriarchs in your religious group when they enable the oppression of women.

66. Challenge the patriarchs in your secular movement when they enable the oppression of women.

67. Trust women's religious choices. Don't pretend to liberate them just so you can criticise their beliefs.

68. Examine who books your trips, arranges outings, organizes Christmas, buys birthday cards. Is it a woman? IS IT?

69. And if it is actually you, a man, don't even dare get in touch with me looking for your medal.

70. Take stock of the emotional labor you expect from women. Do you turn to the women around you for emotional support and give nothing in return?

71. Remember that loving your mom/sister/girlfriend is not the same as giving up your own privilege to progress equality for women. And that gender inequality extends beyond the women in your direct social group.

72. Don’t assume that all women are attracted to men.

73. Don’t assume that a woman in public wants to talk to you just because she’s in public.

74. If a woman tells you she was raped, assaulted, or abused, don't ask her for proof. Ask how you can support her.

75. If you see a friend or colleague being inappropriate to a woman, call him out. You will survive the awkwardness, I promise.

76. Repeat after me: Always. Hold. Men. Accountable. For. Their. Actions.

77. Do not walk too close to a woman late at night. That shit can be scary.

78. If you see a woman being followed or otherwise bothered by a stranger, stick around to make sure she’s safe.

79. This should go without saying: Do not yell unsolicited “compliments” at women on the street. Or anywhere.

80. If you are a queer man, recognize that your sexuality doesn’t exclude you from potential misogyny.

81. If you are a queer man, recognize that your queer women or non-binary friends may not feel comfortable in a male-dominated space, even if it’s dominated by queer men.

82. Be happy to have women friends without needing them to want to sleep with you. The “friend zone” is not a thing. We do not owe you sex.

83. Remember that you can lack consent in situations not involving sex—such as when pursuing uninterested women or forcing a hug on a colleague.

84. Champion sex positive women but don't expect them to have sex with you.

85. Trust a woman to know her own body. If she says she won't enjoy part of your sexual repertoire, do not try to convince her otherwise.

86. Be sensitive to nonverbal cues from women, especially around sex. We’re not just being awkward for no reason. (You read “Cat Person,” didn’t you?)

87. It is not cute to try to persuade a woman to have sex with you. EVER. AT ALL. Go home.

88. Same goes for pressuring women to have sex without a condom. Go. Home. And masturbate.

89. Accidentally impregnated a women who doesn't want a kid? Abortions cost money. Pay for half of it.

90. Accidentally came inside a woman without protection? Plan B is expensive. Pay for all of it.

91. Get STD tested. Regularly. Without having to be asked.

92. Examine your opinion on abortion. Then put it in a box. Because, honestly, it's completely irrelevant.

93. Understand that disabled women are whole, sexual human beings. Listen to and respect them.

94. Understand that not all women have periods or vaginas.

95. Believe women's pain. Periods hurt. Endometriosis is real. Polycystic ovaries, vaginal pain, cystitis. These things are real. Hysteria isn’t.

96. If a woman accidentally bleeds on you, try your absolute best to just keep your shit together.

97. Lobby your elected officials to implement high quality sex education in schools.

98. Uplift young Black and Indigenous girls at every possible opportunity. No excuses.

99. Do not ever assume you know what it’s like.

100. Mainly, just listen to women. Listen to us and believe us. It’s the only place to start if you actually want all women to have a “Happy International Women’s Day.”

#feminism #sexism #misogyny #patriarchy #equality #truth #rape culture #trans #lgbtqia #girl hate

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soconfusingforalittlegirl3 · 2 years

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Hi, I’m O.

I’m using this blog for venting. Please don’t follow or reblog but feel free to interact (asks, likes, comments etc).

TW: Mental health struggles, body image, emotional abuse

I struggle badly with my mental health. All the venting on here is for helping me look after myself. I’m trying very hard to be gentle with myself. I know I deserve better.

I’m too closed off emotionally to talk to anyone irl and tell them how I feel, friends or family, not even my best friend in the whole world.

A lot of my issues stem from my mother, who my whole life I have never been good enough for. She wanted a baby, not the adult that baby would grow into. No matter what I do, what I achieve, there is always something I haven’t done, or haven’t done well enough.

I first noticed how low and numb I was feeling constantly when I became 13. I am now 19 and am feeling no different. I have told my mum on many occasions how I feel, and she’s always told me that I’m “dramatic”, “miserable”, “not trying hard enough”, “lazy”. She’s told me that she “loves me but doesn’t like me.” Every day she turns on me and shouts insult after insult at me, even for minor things such as not putting my plate in the sink, or having laundry on my bedroom floor. Her and my dad don’t have a good relationship either. I listen to them argue every day. It’s what wakes me up most mornings. I’ve only ever seen them share one kiss on each other’s birthdays, valentines day, mother’s day etc. My dad is completely emotionally detached and has never expressed anything to me. He refers to my mother as “mum” even when I am not there (not that he needs to even when I am, I’m an adult and know her name.) He also treats her as such, sitting as she does his laundry, cleaning, cooking. He is openly misogynistic to both myself and my mother. He has horrible inhuman political views in which more or less he thinks no one should have rights except cis white heterosexual men. Once I move out permanently I will never speak to him again. If I bend down in front of him with a low-cut shirt he will make a comment about my breasts, tell me I shouldn’t do things like bending over in front of my dad. My own dad. He’ll tell me he thinks my breasts will be as big as my mother’s when I’m older. If I don’t wear a bra in the house, even if I’m just wearing my pyjamas, he will make eye contact with my nipples rather than my eyes as I speak to him. My 66 year old dad to his 19 year old daughter. I have run off and sobbed every time he’s commented on my breasts to me. I feel no love for him.

Last september I moved out into halls of residence at my university. I love it. I love the freedom being alone grants me. What I don’t love is that she makes me come home every weekend instead of staying there. This is because I have two dogs who can’t be left alone, so they bring me home so that they may go out together and leave me at home with the dogs. I understand that, I truly do, I’m not so pig-headed and selfish that I would confine them to the house forever with the dogs. But it really is holding me back, mostly from making friends. The odd weekend I do stay at uni (roughly 2 out of 4 weekends a month, fair enough of a deal I think) I have the time of my life. I get to sleep in, I go out on daytrips with my flatmates, I go out clubbing in the evenings, we go out for lunch together.

Although I am miles and miles away at uni, my mother rings me every single day at the very least once daily and asks about if I’ve done my work yet, tells me how lazy I am for not having done it, compares me to the one girl she knows on my course who always has her work done months in advance and gets top grades (good for her but that’s not me.) But oh how she wishes I was her. She also inquires about every last thing I’ve done while she’s not been there, what I plan on doing that day, what I’ve eaten, what I’ll be eating later. I understand this may just sound like a caring mother wanting to know what her daughter’s been doing, but it’s otherwise. She’s always been a helicopter parent since the day I was born. It’s one of the reasons I now have such crippling anxiety about doing so many things. I never got to do things for myself and now that I have to I panic and overthink absolutely everything until I work myself into a state of extreme anxiety. Anyway, she hates that she can’t control what I do when I’m not at home. I can choose to spend my day in a messy room, sleep in until after lunch time and stay up all night and she can’t do anything about it. Brilliant.

I have never had friends. I have never been popular. I have been bullied to tears day after day since before I was even a teenager. Since my age didn’t even have two digits. It’s the exact painstaking-same even now at 19. I didn’t realise bullies would be a thing at university. I don’t get along with almost all the 9 girls in my flat. Because of my anxiety, constant exhaustion, low moods, I mostly stay in my bedroom alone rather than mingling with them in the communal area/kitchen. The only place I can truly be myself and feel comfortable is in my bedroom. When I am there no one can judge me, make snide comments about my every word or action, no one can shout at me, tell me to do this or that, tell me how lazy I am, that I’m not good enough. It’s heaven.

I’ve always been introverted regardless. I thrive in my own company. I’m a bit of a nerd, sure. I’m super into fandom culture, always have been. At age ten I had a lord of the rings poster on my wall, marvel keychains all over my backpack, sherlock wallpaper on my phone. Sure it’s cringy I guess, but not really. Let girls enjoy things. Delving further into cringe, I have written reader insert fanfiction since I was about thirteen. Granted back then it was awful stuff such as Markiplier youtuber fanfiction on wattpad (sorry Mark, unus annus was great tho.) I, embarassingly, still write and consume fanfiction to this day. Being truthful it’s an escape mechanism. I’ve never been loved by anyone who didn’t mentally or verbally abuse me during that. I can’t even rely on my own mother to love me. So being able to read and write stories where I am so desperately loved by a fictional character, where I’m appreciated and never screamed at, never told I’m worthless but instead told how cared for I am and told how well I’m doing and how proud they are? It’s fucking fantastic. No one can hurt you when they aren’t real. I’m sometimes hit with a moment of reality when I catch myself smiling lovestruck at words on ao3, when I realise what it is im doing in that moment. And it hurts. Fuck, it hurts. Remembering that I have to search up stories of someone loving me because it’s no more than fantasy, unsurprisingly, hurts like hell.

I was bullied mercilessly in school as I’ve already said. But I had two friends. Two boys, an escape from the girls who tormented me day after day. Boy 1 and Boy 2, I’ll call them. Boy 2 didn’t join the school until about two years before GCSEs but Boy 1 was there from the very beginning. Whereas with the way the other girls bullied me for being a nerd, he openly embraced that. And god I loved that. Truthfully I loved him too, but that’s what led him away from me (I’ll get to that in a minute though, I’m getting ahead of myself.) Boy 1, like me, loved the lord of the rings, sherlock, marvel, all those things I obsessed over daily. He also, just like me, loved gaming. We spent countless hours on our favourite games like minecraft, elder scrolls online, etc., pulled all nighters while on skype calls the entire time we played. He’d always ask me to play and being wanted felt so good after all the bullying I’d endured. So, naturally, I developed a crush on this boy. Understandably, when you find someone who understands you and accepts you for who you are you feel something for them.

Unfortunately for me, the barely teen girls in my class picked up on my probably obvious nervousness around him, the way I blushed when he’d talk to me or sit next to me in class. They teased me so much, told boy 1 I loved him. It was a novelty seeing the little chubby nerdy girl with big round classes and braces in love. The other boys in the class very quickly picked up on this, and began to tease boy 1. So, as any teen boy would, he began to distance himself from the weird girl ruining his popularity, regardless of the hours we spent together as best friends.

As some stroke of luck (god knows how) a slightly-nerdy girl joined our school. But the popular girls adopted her straight away. She was gorgeous, so thin, big deep brown eyes and long eyelashes, sporty, outgoing, party girl. She was immediately in the popular group. And yet something about her slight nerdy side drew her to me. We played minecraft together, the game I used to play religiously with boy 1. When boy 1 caught wind of this, he all of a sudden got rid of that distance he’d been keeping with me. He wanted to play with me again like we used to and I was so thrilled. I was delighted that my best friend and crush was no longer to embarrased to play games with me again. What began to make itself clear was that he wasn’t doing this for me. Every time we’d log on the first thing he’d always ask me would be “text *popular girl* and ask her to come join us.” If she couldn’t play he’d say he had to go.

The boy of my teenage dreams was using me to talk to my new friend.

He was enamoured by her. Of course he was, she was beautiful, funny, popular, thin. Everything you’d want. I wasn’t what he wanted. I was just a route to getting her to like him. He never had feelings for me, I don’t think. Maybe he did, I don’t know. It was so long ago now. But in some turn of fate the popular girl moved schools and left us again. Conveniently he immediately cut me off again. At one point he messaged me for advice on asking out one of the other girls in my class. As though I was ‘one of the boys’ or something. Ouch. He didn’t talk to me for years after that.

Enter ‘boy 2.’ He became friends with boy 1 because of their shared interests. They were their own friend group. He also became friends with me. We were the only two people who picked the art GCSE over PE, so we took that together while everyone else did sports. Just the two of us being there, we quickly became best friends and bonded over our exactly-the-same interests. I loved him so much- as a friend. Nothing more. I never felt so much as the slightest spark of romantic interest in him. None at all. I was perfectly happy being best friends. He felt the opposite. Boy 2 fell overwhelmingly in love with me, and professed his love to me on many occasions. On all of these, I very politely declined his affections and told him I didn’t like him in that way, that I saw him as a friend and that was all. He ignored this, didn’t respect my blatant “no” and continued to pursue me. This made me wildly uncomfortable, to the extent where I asked my art teacher if I could work in a different classrom every week, to which she responded that she knew exactly why I felt that way because she watched him make me uncomfortable every week and instantly approved my request (thank god for her.) He would text me and tell me about his porn habits, about his masturbation and penis size. It got to the point where one day, I had to publicly reject boy 2 in front of other people because I was so insanely uncomfortable with his advances. He then ran off and cried in the locker rooms (not sorry at all, I said no so many times and he ignored them all.) Anyway, as you can imagine, the popular group who witnessed this found it hysterical, telling me how cruel I was for rejecting him, and how horrible I am. Boy two went on to later call me a slut (as I found out through boy 1) and never talk to me again (thank god.) I have now blocked him on everything and feel peace from that.

I have also blocked boy 1. Why you ask? That would be because, after three years of not talking to me because I ruined his reputation, he messaged me, right after we finished school and our GCSES, and asked me to take his virginity so he could have fun in college without worrying about virginity. I, horrifically, being the shy-people pleaser who physically couldn’t fathom saying no to people, even those who had been so cruel to me, replied with “yeah maybe.” God. I’m better than that now. I was 16 when this happened. If he’d asked me that now at 19 I’d have told him to go fuck himself and more. But back then the prospect of doing anything but agreeing seemed terrifying. Although even at 16 I was repulsed by this and spent many nights crying that he thought so low of me. My once best friend and crush wanted to use me so that he could have fun at college. Maybe a few years before I’d have swooned at the thought of him wanting me. But he didn’t want me. He wanted my body, my virginity. I was an object to him. Thank god I never went through with it, I never let him defile me like that and I’m proud of my younger self for knowing her worth.

I think this experience of being sexualised and objectified by the people I trusted most and considered my best friends has given me a permanent distrust of men. They didn’t want to be my friend. They wanted to fuck me. I was their one female friend and that was how they both saw me. As for boy 2, the fact that he wouldn’t accept just my friendship no matter how many times I told him I didn’t want more, the fact that he dumped me when he finally accepted the rejection of being his girlfriend and sleeping with him, it’s showed me how men don’t want friendship, how they’ll never respect a female friend like their male friends. Boy 2 would often share with me extremely misogynistic memes his other friends had sent him as though I too would find them as hilarious as him. I shut him down every time and told him how offensive they were. That was my very first red flag for him. I should have blocked him way back then. More the fool me. Anyway, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m still a virgin at 19. I’ve never had my first kiss. Never been the one boys want in a healthy way. Never had anyone hold my hand. I’m lonely. I want love. It’s hard to trust men, I think.

I am a people pleaser. This stems from my mother’s tendency to snap at me for the slightest mistake. It doesn’t even have to be a mistake, it could just be something that she doesn’t approve of. If a teacher tells me I’m making too much noise I will remember that forever. I think it comes from how mum wants everything I do to be perfect. Can’t be bothered to elaborate on this one, you get the idea though. If someone doesn’t like me it pains me.

At college I was excluded by a group of popular girls in my english class. They didn’t want me at their table, and when I was there they bullied me. That took me from age 16-18 with no escape from bullying. Cut to now at uni. My flatmates bully me now. I live in a single-sex flat of 9 girls. Because I spend almost all my time in my room outside of lectures I have been dubbed anti-social, weird, a loner. My friend in the flat who talks to me tells me all the horrible things those girls say about me in the kitchen. The names they call me all because I prefer to mind my business and feel comfortable in my own company. I almost wish she wouldn’t tell me. I then have to wake up the next day and go to lectures with the girl who calls me names and talks about me the most. I have never been anything but nice to her. What have I done to deserve being treated like that? She will never sit next to me. Every time my friend tells me of something the girls have said about me in the kitchen it makes me spend that same day/night crying myself to sleep. Yay. I got so close to emailing my GP and telling them the state of my mental health, that I wanted help. But my mum would find out if I did that and I’d never hear the end of it.

Mum whispers the named of mental illnessess as though they are slurs. She’ll tell me a colleague has depression, while saying it under her breath and with a wide-eyed look that suggests it’s shameful and her fault, that she’s not right in the head. How could I ever get a mental-health diagnosis and keep my mother’s approval. But, god, I want a diagnosis so bad. I think it would be a brilliant first step in healing myself, looking after myself. Maybe even medication that could help me feel better. But no.

A doctor once told me, while my mother was by my side, that my heart condition was caused by anxiety. A HEART CONDITION which I still have to this day and which prevents me from sleeping at night. And yet she acts as if it never happened. If I mention I have anxiety to my mum she’ll say “no you don’t,” and if I remind her of what the doctor said she’ll say “no she didn’t.” It’s as if she thinks that if she ignores it, if she pretends it never happens, it will go away. For her, maybe it will. But not for me. I lie awake every night feeling my completely-off heartbeat, how its doing me damage. She doesn’t care.

With all this said, I love my mum. I love her so much. You only get one mother and she’s mine. She looks after me, she provides for me, she spends so much money on me. I love going out with her, even if it’s just to the supermarket, I love having girly days out with her, going shopping, I love baking for her. I love her. And god do I appreciate her. But all the good things she’s done for me don’t un-traumatise me. Every name she’s ever called me, every insult she’s thrown my way, I remember them all as though they were branded into my skin. I feel guilt for this. I feel guilt for the resentment I so strongly hold for a mother who takes care of me and prioritizes me over herself. But she switches so quickly. Never apologizes. One minute she’ll be screaming how much she hates me and five minutes later she’ll be calling me ‘darling’, ‘my gorgeous girl.’ It hurts so badly. I often feel like I’m unworthy of feeling the way I do for her because at least she looks after me, right?

I remember how I wanted to die so desperately between the ages of 15 and 19. I no longer want to die, I just want to LIVE. Something I’m trying to achieve. But I remember how painful that feeling of wanting to be dead was. No child should want that, but I did. Every day I’d wake up, wouldn’t want to ever get up again, would be screamed at for it, would cry myself to sleep, would beg and cry to not be made to go to school every day. The only reason I never went through with it was because I would imagine my mum finding me dead, the hurt she’d feel at her only child taking her own life. And I’m glad of that because I’m so glad I survived that. I want a life. I want children, a husband who loves me unconditionally.

I know this sounds stereotypical but another huge contributor to my feelings is capitalist society. I was shoved into the education system age 4 and I’ll now work until I’m old enough to retire by which point I’ll be living with all the burdens of age like pains, immobility etc. I want to live while I’m young but I can’t. I have to study, pay bills, get a job, pay tax etc etc. It’s depressing. I just want to enjoy life. I want to be free.

In about a month and a half I finish uni for the year. That means moving out of my first year halls so I will have to be at home with no escape until the end of september. Don’t know how I’ll cope but I’ve got no choice. I’m learning to drive at the moment. Once I have a lisence I’ll have my freedom and I’ll go out all the time but for now I’ve just got to cope.

Anyway. This took me about an hour to write. I feel better now I think. At least it’s out there somewhere even if no-one ever reads it. On the other hand it’s a bad feeling to know I have all of this built up and I’ll never get any help for it. Maybe I’ll be brave enough one day to talk to my GP and get some help. Not today though.

I understand lots of this may read as me being in danger. I am not even remotely in danger. I am okay. The point in this venting blog is to help myself heal. I am looking after myself and hopefully on a journey of getting better. I have friends and family who care about me, and even though I’d never tell them any of the things I’ve written about here, they still look after me too. Every little helps.

Signing off for now,

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sciencefordragons · 6 years

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I have a lot of thoughts about femme* modes of communication because I had a weird interaction with a coworker who was helping me move a desk he gave to me.

I’m currently working on a NASA mission as a research technologist, and I also just graduated from an obsessively academic institution, so I’ve spent enough time around academic scientists to know that it’s a sphere where (white/cis) men feel entirely comfortable taking up a maddening amount of space in the way they speak to other people and among themselves. I am the only non-male scientist in our entire office. Lots of scientists never really learn to cut themselves off, which in normal conversation is sometimes acceptable as long as you aren’t sacrificing your conversation partners’ attention/interest. Most of the time, however, it drives me particularly nuts because I have some cognitive demons to fight to function normally and staying focused is difficult. I also think this is part of what keeps underrepresented genders and minorities out of academia in the sciences, because we have to FIGHT BACK and FIGHT BACK HARD to be heard.

Today I was having a conversation with my coworker who was helping me move stuff, and he spent most of the ride explaining various (astro)physical processes that had to do with his research or research I might possibly get involved with at this job. I spent the entire ride to my place listening to him explain a bunch of different things he’s worked on, but at the first chance I got to explain some research I’d been working on before graduating, he cut me off pretty quickly and just...left. Which I considered pretty disrespectful that he didn’t even give me the chance to clarify what I was talking about.

I can tell I’m going to have to fight this dude to be heard if I decide I want to work on some of the same projects that he does. (Working with him might be a mistake, but multimessenger astronomy is just so...*attractive*)

But this has me thinking a fuckton about modes of communication that I was socialized to use and that other people have talked about at length, like using “check-in” phrases such as “you know?” and “does that make sense?” as well as the ratio of time men think they should occupy in an “equal” conversation with a non-male colleague. (Cis) Men are often socialized to feel as if they should occupy that much more space and time with their thoughts than anyone else.

The thing is, I could adopt these masculine modes of communication for myself and make conversation a fight that I have to win every time I engage with someone. But this also makes me think about a tweet I once read where someone said that men should start saying sorry instead of telling other people to stop saying sorry. I do think that there are some things we shouldn’t feel as if we have to say sorry for, such as our bodies and the way they work or don’t and how they exist and take up space. But expressing caution and apologizing, even if it turns out everything’s alright, can be a wonderful act of care that shows your consideration of someone’s wellbeing no matter how well you know them. It’s also valuable to back down and admit uncertainty because it invites other people’s input and lets them know their input is actually valued.

I’m lucky enough to have the energy to fight back in some cases, like telling my coworker that he’s being rude when he interrupts me or repeating myself when I have something important to say or saying “hold on, I’m not done,” with some force behind it. I am also pretty fighty and often take it as a serious challenge when someone infringes on my space in a way I find unacceptable.

In my consideration of a career in academia, this is a huge point against it. I know there are professors who I admire greatly who are not like the kinds of people I work with now. I know that this is who I could be if I ever decided I wanted to be a professor. But it took a lot out of me to just get to a place like where I’m working now, and I am genuinely worried that if I enter academia again, I’ll become too tired to be curious and won’t have enough energy to put into constantly growing. I don’t want to care about prestige in the way that it seems required to do if you want to be an academic.

I’m going to use this job to learn a lot of skills, but I guess advocating for myself is going to go on that list too. And I don’t always mind an excuse to bare my wild little teeth and make myself heard.

*for lack of a better word. What I mean is modes of communication that are typically used by women/people who were socialized as women for a significant portion of their life.

#science n gender #scientist #sciblr #personal

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jmsa1287 · 6 years

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Not Just for the Straight Guy: 'Queer Eye' Reboots & Rebrands Itself on Netflix

i wrote about the rebooted “Queer Eye” on Netflix

It's been over a decade since the hit makeover show "Queer Eye," once known by its longer title "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," ended its five season run on Bravo. A lot has changed since it went off the airwaves in 2007, including the repeal of "Don't Ask Don't Tell" measure and the legalization of same-sex marriage in the U.S. Rebooted and rebranded, the second iteration of "Queer Eye," which hits Netflix on Feb. 7, offers something more substantial than just hair care tips or clothing advice. The new Fab 5 wants their viewers to know beauty isn't only skin deep.

In the weeks leading up to the rebooted "Queer Eye," series creator David Collins promised the new series will push the envelope when it comes to a number of social issues, including LGBTQ rights and the Black Lives Matter movement.

"It's a new time with a new audience," he told Entertainment Weekly in December. "If the original round was about tolerance, this time it is about acceptance.

"If you think about the original five, we definitely weren't going to be talking about that Tan [France] is married to a Mormon cowboy, let alone that he's Muslim," Collins added. "So it's those authentic moments that really pay off in this new version of 'Queer Eye.'"

The first "Queer Eye," which debuted in July 2003, gained notoriety for "normalizing" gay life thanks to its Fab Five - five men who were openly gay and not ashamed of their sexuality were in the homes of millions of Americans across the country. Though 2003 may not seem that long ago, the U.S.'s views on LGBTQ people were starkly different than today and marriage equality was still a dream - it wasn't until 2004 that Massachusetts became the first state to recognize same-sex marriage.

In the show, the Fab Five took over the lives of (usually) slobby straight men, making them and their homes over while teaching them life skills. That format is still the case for the rebooted "Queer Eye," which features a brand new crew. The new Fab Five is made up of Karamo Brown (culture), Jonathan Van Ness (grooming), Tan France (fashion), Antoni Porowski (food and wine), and Bobby Berk (design). Unlike the first series, which was set in New York City, Netflix's version finds the Fab Five heading down South - specifically, Georgia, which doesn't have the best track record when it comes to LGBTQ equality and protection.

Collins may be hyping up the new "Queer Eye" as the "woke" version of the show but the new Fab Five only scratch the surface of what could be a provoking unscripted series. That doesn't mean "Queer Eye" is bad or not worth your time - it's an enjoyable and easy watch that's fully entertaining.

In a few moments throughout the eight episodes provided for review, "Queer Eye" edges up to discussing important issues but avoids getting in to the weeds. The new show lacks the political bite it promises - if you're looking for a deep discussion about LGBTQ rights by five proud gay men with Trump-supporting police officers from Georgia this isn't it.

One of the most interesting moments from the show comes in the third episode when straight guy Cory - the aforementioned Trump-supporting cop - and Karamo are bonding while driving in car alone together. Earlier in the episode, Cory's friend, also a police officer, pulls the Fab Five over while Karamo, a black man, is driving. Though the incident ends up being a gag, it's a tense moment that finds Karamo worried about how he'll be treated by the authorities. It later serves as a talking point when Karamo expresses his feelings over the faux pull over.

"The perception right now, especially between black people and cops - it's tension," Karamo says, adding that when he was pulled over he was "freaking out."

"I thought, 'This is going to be that incident when I get dragged out of the car,'" he continues. "...My whole thing is, obviously not all black people want to be lumped in one category as criminals, which sometimes we feel that way."

"And all police officers don't want to be lumped into being the bad guy," Cory says. "I get stereotyped because of that 10% shown on the media of being excessive or killing a black guy that didn't need to have deadly force used upon him."

Cory then recalls a recent nearby incident about a cop kicking a man in the face after he was handcuffed.

"There was nothing that makes it alright," he said.

"I got to tell you just even hearing you acknowledging that the officer that used force should never have just heals me and gives me a little bit of relief," Karamo tells Cory. "All I ever hear usually is cops sticking together, saying, 'What about us?' And it is true, what about you all? But it's also like, what about us? We're both dealing with the same pain on two different ends. But none of us are acknowledging it."

"It does go both ways and I'm glad you feel that way," Cory responds. "Black lives matter. They weren't able to be heard and the police officers weren't able to be heard. If we could sit down and have a conversation like you and I just did, things would be a lot better in society. Everyone wants to talk but nobody wants to listen."

In his confessional later, Karamo says, "The beauty with what is happening here is that I am open and I'm going to stay open because I need him to learn from me and I need to learn from.

"Right now our country seems to bet getting worse and worse and worse and it has to start somewhere and I'm not saying a conversation with one police officer and one gay guy is going to solve problems but maybe it can open up eyes to something more," he adds.

Indeed, Karamo is right - it's a start and an admirable effort with a moving payoff. But these moments come far and few between in "Queer Eye."

In the fourth episode the Fab Five make over civil engineer AJ, who is gay. AJ is shy and not out to his stepmother, who was married to his late father. Part of the episode finds the Fab Five guiding AJ, who has kept his life and boyfriend separate from his family, into feeling comfortable with talking with his stepmom. Though the episode is touching, it also has a concerning moment when AJ is speaking with Tan about his conservative style. AJ gets anxious when Tan explains his fashion plans for him.

Tan says he wants AJ to dress younger and "dress sexy, feel sexy"

"Just don't make me look feminine - or just some regular guy on the street. Keep me original still," AJ says.

"I want to mention one word that you just mentioned: 'feminine,'" Tan says. "Why are you concerned about that? And it's a concern a lot of gay guys [have]."

"A lot of my friends they live more free with what they wear and I just couldn't do it," AJ responds.

"...You being your true self isn't going to offend anybody," Tan says. "It's very unlikely people are going to cause you an issue just be cur being yourself. And if their concerned that's ton them - your happy."

Though Tan's advice is sound, it doesn't go far enough in correcting AJ that there really isn't anything wrong with dressing "feminine." Again, a commendable moment but one that doesn't quiet go there.

"Queer Eye" is a well-meaning reboot that can be easily binge-watched - the new Fab Five hold their own and are all thoroughly charismatic. It's also a cathartic experience, with almost every episode in the season ending in tears and the men expressing their admiration and respect for the Fab Five, proving the country has indeed come a long way when it comes to LGBTQ rights. Netflix's "Queer Eye" may not the remedy to solve America's deeply rooted divide but it does provide hope, proving even straight cis white men from the most conservative parts of the U.S. appreciate a fierce makeover, honey.

#tv #queer eye #netflix #lgbt #lgbtq #queer #fashion #style #fools gold

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bluewavenewwave · 3 years

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Part of being an ally is forming your own opinions.

I've seen a lot of people get questions either in their inbox or in their curious cat messages about certain social/political issues and their answers will be "I'm not part of that community, so I can't say". For instance, a trans person will ask a question prefacing that they are trans, give their opinion, and then ask the other person for theirs, and the answer they will get back is "I'm not trans, so I can't say".

The better way for allies to answer these kinds of questions would be to preface by saying: "I'm not trans (or part of the community in which is being asked about), so I have not had the same experiences.” Acknowledge the other person's views if they have stated them, then you can say "please correct me if I'm wrong" if you want to before giving your opinion, then “here's what I think/here's my take” and then give your opinion. You should give your opinion because that's what they are asking of you.

If it's truly something you do not know enough about, you can say that you don't know enough about the issue, and you're not as educated as you would like to be, and state that you'll come back to it after educating yourself (if you plan on educating yourself on the issue, which, as an ally, you should) or just educate yourself first and then answer the question.

And if you're not going to respond in one of those two ways, you just shouldn't answer/post the question.

Saying “I'm not part of X community, so I can't answer that question/I don't get a say” takes the pressure off of you (the ally) and puts it back on the community who already has the pressure on them.

Saying “I'm not part of the community, so I don't get a say” feels like an excuse to not get involved in said issues; i.e. not calling out people who are being transphobic/ homophobic, etc. or actively choosing to not educate yourself or spread awareness because you're not part of the community and it's not your problem. It feels like you're saying “I'm not part of this community, this person's community/issues make me uncomfortable, so I'm going to stay out of it."

If a trans person is asking a cis person a question on trans issues, they want to know the cis person's opinion. They want to know a wider range of opinions on these issues. They are trans and can provide a trans opinion to the discussion, but they're not cis and cannot provide a cis opinion, so when they ask a cis person for their opinion, they expect an answer.

When someone asks for your opinion it's because they want to know your opinion. This is obviously not the same thing as trans people talking about trans issues with other trans people and then a cis person interjects with their unsolicited, unprovoked cis opinion.

Sometimes not answering comes across as "I don't want to be a part of your problems, I'm going to stay out of it" and it seems like you don't care enough about these communities and these issues to get involved.

It sounds like you're saying "that's your problem, figure it out yourself" and it doesn't feel like I have your support. It feels like you're trying to get away from helping/supporting me.

If I ask a question and then nobody answers, I'm left just as confused as I was before I asked. Nobody helped me, and I wanted help.

Sometimes it feels like the question is being brushed off as if it’s not even important. But I’m sure it’s important to the person who’s asking the question.

Sometimes it feels like someone asks "should trans people have equal rights" then get in response, "sorry I'm not trans, so I don't get a say". Like, no, you do get a say. Hopefully your answer is yes, trans people should have equal rights, and as an ally, it probably is. When you vote, you are giving your opinion on other communities' issues, so people do expect you to answer their questions about their communities' issues when you are asked.

Obviously white people shouldn't be telling poc what is and isn't racist (example below**), and men shouldn't be telling women what is and is not misogynistic (example below*) and cishet people shouldn't be telling queer people what is and is not homophobic or transphobic, but if someone from a certain community asks someone who has defined themself as an ally a question about a certain issue they are facing, they do not want to get an answer of "I'm not part of that community, so I can't say". It just isn't helpful.

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* For example (men shouldn't be telling women what is and is not misogynistic)

During the Olympics, I was with a group of people. One was a man, the rest of the group were women. The man brought up trans women competing in women's sports and how it was unfair to women, it was misogynistic, it was an attack on women, and women need to stand up and speak out against it. Almost every woman in the group said that it isn't misogynistic, that trans women are actually at a disadvantage to cis women because their estrogen levels are higher than cis women, and that trans women have every right to compete in women's sports. The man doubled down, saying that men and women are born with different bodies and that men have the athletic advantage (which isn't even true). To which the women continued to try to explain to him that the only real advantage men have athletically comes from hormone differences, which after taking HRT and meeting athletic requirements, the advantage is already long gone and there is no issue with trans women competing in women's sports. Again the women reiterated that trans women competing in women's sports is not misogynistic and not an attack on women and there is nothing for women to speak out against, as we all thought it was a good thing that there were trans athletes competing at the Olympic level. Of course the man (who is ironically the most misogynistic person I have ever met) played the victim and said how hurt he was that we told him that his attempts at feminism were actually far more misogynistic than what he had tried to pass off as misogynistic.

This was an example of a man trying to tell women what is and is not misogynistic and actually trying to compel women to fight back against a real win for women. This was also an unprovoked comment, no woman had asked him his opinion on feminism, trans women, or women's sports. He was trying to push his views and use feminism as an excuse to be openly transphobic. In this case, he was speaking over the actual group whose issues were in question, and not listening to them when they told him he was not being helpful.

** For example (white people shouldn't be telling poc what is and isn't racist)

One time, the same man from the above example, was having a conversation with some of his friends about the Redskins changing their name to the Washington Football Team. He said how the Redskins logo had been the image of a real person, not just a generalized caricature, and he said (condescendingly) “Well I think that’s racist” to remove the image of a real person. The issue was not whether the Washington logo was drawn in a mocking/racist way, or if it depicted a real person or a fictional person, the issue was that the Washington team was using a person’s race/ethnicity/culture as a mascot/costume, and using a derogatory term for their team name. As this man is not part of that race/ethnicity/culture/heritage, he cannot decide what is and is not racist to them. He can’t say something is racist when that group is saying it isn't. He cannot say something that that group is saying is racist isn't just because he likes football and doesn't want his team name/mascot to change. In this case, again, he was speaking over the actual group whose issues were in question.

Obviously, these two examples are not the kind of giving your input that I had previously described.

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Overall, the point is that part of being an ally is educating yourself on issues that the community you are an ally to is facing, and forming your own opinions so that you can contribute to discussions when you are called upon to do so. As an ally you often have a louder voice or bigger platform to spread awareness /take a stand than the people who are part of the community that you are an ally to. Often when people of a certain community are asking for your opinion, they are asking for your help to spread awareness of their communities' issues and be a loud voice and platform to help them. Refusing to contribute to discussions when called upon to do so is to turn your back on your role as an ally. Yes, allies should first and foremost uplift the voices of people who are part of the community and help put the attention on people who are trying to share their own experiences, but allies also need to be educated and be ready to contribute to said discussions when they are asked for their input.

Being an ally is an active role, not a passive one. It's an action, not a title.

#hopefully this makes sense #11 #social media #social media activism #activism #social media activism 11 #allies #ally #allyship

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