#without having to make concessions for conformity

[fjordfolk]

i don't even think one has to go as far as to unravel the whole idea of breed, registry and stud books, because i know for a fact that in other animals one has managed to have all of these things without going fckn batshit

[almostwisegalaxy]

The Intransigence of Silence

Actor x fem!reader

Reader has a bit of a shy character in this story

Music to listen to for the atmosphere: teacher's pet _Melanie Martinez

Part_1

Part_2. Part_3

Teacher's pet core ?...Ohhh yes ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

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The autumn wind blew gently through the streets, and the subdued atmosphere of the theater conservatory brought an odd sense of calm to an otherwise noisy world. Y/N, a young actress, was one of the newest recruits at one of the country's most prestigious schools. Yet, in this environment where every move seemed scrutinized, every word weighed, she never truly felt at home. Shy and reserved, she struggled to carve out her place, to make herself visible among peers who were often louder, more confident.

The actor was an icon. His career was a jewel of both cinema and television. Behind his ever-brilliant smile and image of a charming prince lay a cold, unyielding man, whose passion for the craft was intertwined with a deep cynicism toward the industry. He had no patience for artists who sought to conform to superficial expectations. Teaching was a new challenge for him: to pass on what he had learned while keeping his distance, desiring only the raw essence of his students without truly letting them into his world.

The day he met Y/N, he had no intention of being impressed by her presence. She was there, among the other students, yet her energy seemed different. Timid, almost invisible. She didn’t have the audacity to stand out, and yet, he saw something in her—a potential she perhaps didn’t even know she had, or maybe one she was running from.

The first class was an ordeal. The actor made no concessions. His remarks were sharp, devoid of compassion. When Y/N stepped onto the stage for her first performance, his gaze bore into her.

— "You’re not here to look pretty. If you want to act, then act. Be present. Don’t aim for perfection; aim for truth."

She froze, unable to respond. She knew she hadn’t yet found her place, that she didn’t have that "something" he was looking for. But what escaped Y/N’s notice was the intensity of his gaze. He was testing her, provoking her—not to break her, but to draw something authentic out of her.

Days passed, and the actor watched Y/N with a frosty intensity. He gave her increasingly difficult tasks but never praised her. On the contrary, his remarks were cutting.

— "Still too timid. You don’t impress me," he would say, almost as if daring her. He pushed her further and further, forcing her to confront her own boundaries. But she couldn’t understand why he was so harsh. Why wouldn’t he just let her be?

One evening, after an especially long rehearsal, when everyone else had left, the actor found her alone in the empty theater. Y/N was still rehearsing, murmuring her lines as if the world around her didn’t exist. He paused at the entrance, silently observing her before finally approaching.

— "You have talent. That’s not the problem," he said at last, his voice cold but firm. "The problem is that you’re hiding that talent behind your fears."

He looked at her for a moment, as though waiting for a reaction, but she gave none.

— "If you want to be a real actress, you need to shed those chains—those little voices telling you you’re not good enough."

Her heart raced. His words hit harder than any critique. He spoke about her as if her doubts were plain to see, as if everyone knew, everyone could tell. But there was no comfort in his voice, only a stark observation, a demand.

She lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say. Yet, despite the harshness of his words, she felt both shattered and motivated. He wasn’t trying to crush her; he wanted her to wake up, to stop hiding. But he remained distant, offering no easy answers. This was a trial, not a helping hand.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N felt his gaze on her more intensely. He kept pushing her, challenging her at every turn. He observed her but never offered a word of comfort. Every comment, every look he gave her seemed to say she still wasn’t doing enough.

— "You need to stop trying to be liked," he told her one day. "That’s not what acting is. Acting is going beyond, into the invisible, into the uncomfortable."

She wrestled with her emotions. On one hand, she felt a certain gratitude toward him. He was right—she couldn’t keep hiding behind her timidity, her fear of falling short. But on the other hand, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. He watched her with an intensity she had never experienced before. But his attention was icy, distant, as if the goal was to push her to surpass herself, not to encourage her success.

One day, after a particularly difficult scene, Y/N broke down in tears. The actor, watching her with a cold expression, approached without a word. He made no attempt to console her.

— "Still too much doubt," he said simply. "Do you think crying makes you more human? It only makes you look weaker."

It wasn’t cruelty; it was raw truth. And it hurt.

But through the pain, something shifted within Y/N. She finally understood. He hadn’t abandoned her; he had forced her to rise. Every comment, every cutting observation, had been meant to push her to a place she never imagined she could reach. He wasn’t a gentle or kind mentor, but a relentless force driving her past her limits.

He never spoke of her progress or offered her compliments. But one evening, as they rehearsed alone in the empty theater, he turned to her, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

— "Do you want to know why I push you so hard?" he asked. "Because I see that you still don’t understand that art isn’t about comfort. It’s a battle."

And for the first time, Y/N felt truly seen, even without comforting words. She had become stronger, but she hadn’t changed who she was. The actor had broken her down to rebuild her, and in a strange way, that brought her closer to him, even if he remained a cold and enigmatic presence.

---

The days passed in a rhythm of endless rehearsals and the actor’s sharp remarks. With every session, Y/N felt more lost yet more determined. She wanted to earn his respect, but she no longer knew how. His critiques, though harsh, pushed her to go beyond her limits. Yet every word, every gesture seemed to push her further away from him, as if an invisible barrier stood between them.

Despite this, she knew that somewhere deep down, he believed in her. But he never let any warmth or support show. There was no comfort, no kind gestures or encouraging words—only expectations that grew heavier with each passing day. And yet, something about him drew her toward him. There was no flirtation, no obvious signs. But whenever they found themselves alone for rehearsals, a silent tension lingered between them—a kind of unspoken challenge, as though she was trying to understand him while he kept her at arm's length.

One day, after a long day of filming, as she was packing up her things in the dressing room, she saw the actor stop in the doorway, as if hesitating. He stepped inside without a word, his imposing figure framed by the shadows of the room.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but firm, as always. “I watched your scene again. It’s not enough. You let yourself go. This isn’t a role you play. It’s a life you live.”

She turned slowly, feeling her heart race. He was staring at her without blinking, as if waiting for a reaction. She still addressed him formally, and he seemed to appreciate that sense of distance, as if it shielded him from the emotions she never allowed herself to show.

“I... I understand, sir,” she replied timidly, though with a growing determination. “I’ll work harder.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and for a moment, he didn’t take his eyes off her. The air between them felt charged with a strange intensity. The actor, usually so in control of his emotions, had something undefined in his gaze—an internal conflict he refused to share. Finally, he nodded slowly, a gesture of acknowledgment but without comfort.

“You need to be more than this role,” he said almost in a whisper. “Be more than what you think you are.”

He turned to leave but paused just before stepping out the door. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if he’d caught a glimpse of vulnerability in her. But he didn’t dwell on it. “Tomorrow, rehearse thoroughly. I’ll be there to correct you,” he added without emotion.

Y/N watched him leave, her heart heavy. She didn’t know why his words affected her so deeply. Maybe it was because he spoke truths she didn’t want to hear but knew to be real. She wanted to be more than this role. She knew that deep down. But the task felt insurmountable.

The next day, during rehearsal, he was there as promised. The actor watched her enter the room with his piercing gaze. This time, however, there was no harsh speech, no immediate reproach—just a cold, analytical stare.

“Start,” he ordered in a clipped tone.

Y/N, her body tense, moved to the center of the room and began. This time, she gave her all, shedding her hesitations. She wasn’t thinking about him or his relentless critiques but about the scene, about the essence of the character. She wasn’t Y/N anymore—she was the actress, the soul of the role, losing herself in the performance. Yet even in her complete immersion, she couldn’t ignore his presence. He was there, motionless, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

When the scene ended, he didn’t speak for a moment, which made her nervous. Slowly, he walked toward her.

“Much better,” he said at last. But there was something in his tone—a subtle nuance she hadn’t heard before. A mix of satisfaction and restraint.

“But it’s not enough,” he added. “Do it again.”

This time, he didn’t move closer. He stayed at a distance, watching her from afar. A chill ran through her. Was that a veiled compliment? Or just another cold observation? She couldn’t tell.

The rehearsals continued, and a strange dynamic began to take shape between them. She realized that every time he was there, her focus sharpened. There was no room for hesitation, no space for fear. She was becoming the actress he demanded, but at what cost? Sometimes, the line between fear and respect blurred.

One day, while they were alone in the room after yet another grueling rehearsal, the actor suddenly turned to her. “You’re changing,” he said without preamble, as if it were obvious. “But don’t forget why you’re doing this. It’s not just to land a role. It’s for your own truth. Don’t lose yourself.”

Y/N, her breath shallow, lowered her eyes. His words resonated within her with an intensity she couldn’t quite grasp. The actor remained as distant as ever, but with every interaction, she felt there was something more beneath the surface. A kind of interest—not in her as a person, but in what she was becoming because of him. An interest that was unreadable, yet powerful enough to push her further, always further. But never past the silent boundary between mentor and protégé.

She straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming with an emotion he never allowed to surface. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away as always, leaving behind a lingering warmth in the air—a mystery she might never unravel.

---

Weeks had passed, and with each rehearsal, the atmosphere between Y/N and the actor grew denser, almost tangible. Y/N strived to follow every directive with precision, taking note of his every word, but she never truly understood where it all was leading. The actor, for his part, continued to push her, never offering any sign of approval. He shaped her like a sculptor shapes a statue, but without the slightest hint of tenderness. There was something almost inhuman in the way he treated her: on one hand, he gave her relentless attention, but on the other, he kept her at a distance, as if she were merely a tool for achieving a greater purpose—a masterpiece to be perfected.

Y/N no longer knew where she stood. Every time he gave her a role, a scene to rehearse, she threw herself into it without restraint, as if she had something to prove. But deep down, she constantly wondered: why her? Why this relentless effort? At times, she felt closer to him than anyone else, and at others, he seemed like a distant figure—a demanding master she could never fully understand.

One evening, after an especially grueling day of rehearsals, she wandered the corridors of the conservatory, her thoughts in turmoil. She had never seen the actor so silent, so detached, and it troubled her more than she wanted to admit. It felt as if he was ready to abandon her, to let her drown in her own doubts.

As she walked through a dimly lit hallway, she saw him. He stood near the door of the theater room, arms crossed, as though he had been waiting for her. He still had that intense, cold gaze—a gaze with a depth that fascinated her despite herself.

“You’re not satisfied with your performance, are you?” he asked in a calm, almost icy tone.

Y/N stopped a few steps away from him. She lowered her eyes before responding, not wanting to appear more vulnerable than she already felt. “I... I’m not sure, sir. Maybe I’m still making mistakes.”

He nodded slowly. “Mistakes, yes. But necessary ones,” he added, his tone neutral. “You can’t move forward without making them. And you need to accept that.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Why was his tone becoming more distant? She felt as though he was simultaneously pushing her to excel and to lose herself. He scrutinized her as if he could see beyond her timid exterior, as if every move he made was designed to turn her into a stronger, more relentless actress.

“Why... why do you push me so hard?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them. “Why won’t you just let me express myself?”

He stared at her for a long moment before answering, his gaze piercing like a beam of light cutting through the darkness of the room.

“Because you don’t know yet what you’re capable of,” he said in a low, almost inaudible voice. “Because you’re so desperate to be accepted that you hide behind roles, masks, rehearsed lines. But that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for what makes you vibrate, what burns inside you—what you’re still refusing to show.”

Y/N felt trapped by his words. Each sentence was like a challenge she had to overcome, a mountain she had to climb without the luxury of making mistakes. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself, and that terrified her.

“I... I don’t know if I can do it,” she whispered, her voice breaking with uncertainty.

He didn’t respond immediately but looked at her with a calculating expression, as though waiting for her to find her own truth. After a heavy silence, he stepped slightly closer.

“You don’t need to know if you’ll succeed. That’s the beauty of art. There are no certainties. Only the constant pursuit. And the pain of never being satisfied with yourself,” he said with a cold, almost wise tone. “But trust me—if you stop clinging to what’s comfortable, you’ll eventually find the part of you you’ve always been hiding.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. His words echoed in her mind, both a challenge and an invitation. Why did she feel like he wasn’t just pushing her to become a better actress? There was something more.

“Go rehearse. I’ll be here tomorrow,” the actor said as he turned away, as if he’d just finished a casual conversation. But he didn’t look back. Y/N remained there, frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, as though the weight of his expectations bore down on her shoulders. It wasn’t encouragement, but it had a destabilizing effect on her. He was right. She hadn’t yet found what she was searching for.

The next morning, during rehearsals, she once again felt the invisible pressure emanating from him. With every movement, every line, the actor watched her without blinking. He was still as distant as ever, but every adjustment he made to her performance pushed her further out of her comfort zone. Every minute spent under his unyielding gaze made her stronger—but also more fragile.

After a particularly difficult scene, where Y/N, on the verge of a breakdown, nearly collapsed, the actor paused for a moment and gave her an intense look. She waited, almost silently, for his verdict.

“You did well,” he said, his cold tone contrasting with the effort she had just poured into the scene. But there were no congratulations. No smile. Just a matter-of-fact statement.

She lowered her eyes, barely taking the time to process his words. He still hadn’t told her what he truly thought of her, of her progress. Nothing more than endless challenges and constant expectations.

“I know you expect more from me,” she murmured, almost despairingly.

He looked at her, his eyes seeming to analyze every part of her being. He wasn’t the type to offer comforting words. Yet in the silence that followed, there was a shared truth: he offered no easiness, no emotional support, but he was shaping her. Slowly, she realized he wasn’t pushing her just for the art—but for what she was becoming, for the strength she could build through every trial.

She had no choice but to keep going, to accept his cold and uncompromising methods. This was his truth, and Y/N was ready to search for it—even if she didn’t yet understand everything he expected of her.

---

Y/N was at her limit. Every day spent under the actor’s relentless guidance had pushed her further, eroding every shred of confidence she had in herself. His critiques, though measured, left no room for error. He showed no leniency, no satisfaction—always ready to take her to the edge of the precipice.

She might have been able to endure this pressure if she still believed in something. But she no longer believed in anything—not her talent, not her choices, not even him. And the rumors didn’t help. The whispers, the lingering glances as she passed through the studio, the half-muttered comments: "She’s special to him," "He favors her for some other reason." Y/N heard them, even if no one dared say them to her face.

One evening, alone in her cramped apartment, she broke. Everything seemed to collapse around her. The thought of quitting suddenly seemed appealing. More than that: a release.

The next day, Y/N arrived at the studio, her thoughts heavy but her decision burning in her mind. This would be her last day. She couldn’t take it anymore. During rehearsal, her movements were mechanical, her lines devoid of life. Her gaze remained lowered, as if she wanted to disappear.

The actor, who observed every detail, abruptly stopped the scene.

“Stop,” he said coldly. “Y/N.”

She lifted her head, but her face was closed off, her eyes dull.

“You can continue without me,” she said suddenly. Her voice trembled slightly, but she remained firm. “I’m leaving this project.”

The room collectively held its breath. No one dared intervene. The actor, meanwhile, stared at Y/N, a flash of disbelief crossing his face. But it was his icy tone that sent a chill through the room.

“You think you can just walk away? After everything you’ve invested here?”

Y/N felt a surge of anger. She replied, her voice cracking with emotion:

“Everything I’ve invested? You mean everything you’ve taken from me. You’ve used me, pushed me to my limits, and for what? To satisfy your need for perfection? I’m not your toy, sir!”

The silence that followed was heavy. The other actors exchanged nervous glances. The actor, motionless, seemed to weigh his words. Then, he abruptly turned to the others.

“Leave.”

Once they were alone, the actor slowly approached Y/N. He was calm, but his gaze burned with intensity.

“You think I’m using you?” he said, his voice sharp. “You think everything I do, everything I say, is for my own pleasure?”

Y/N stared at him, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s how it feels. You push me, but you don’t see me. Not really.”

Those words seemed to strike him. He stopped, his shoulders lowering slightly as if an invisible weight had settled on him.

“And you, Y/N,” he finally said, “do you see yourself?”

She remained silent, caught off guard. He continued, his tone softer but still charged with intensity:

“Do you think I’m harsh because I enjoy it? I’m harsh because you have something I can’t ignore. Something you refuse to see. If I push you, it’s because I want you to find it. Not for me. For you.”

His words hurt because, deep down, she knew he was right. But it didn’t erase the pain she felt, the loneliness he had allowed to grow inside her.

“And at what cost?” she asked, her voice breaking. “If I have to lose everything to reach what you see, is it worth it?”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on hers. Then, in a quieter, almost vulnerable voice, he replied:

“I won’t let you lose everything. But if you stop now, you’ll never know what you’re capable of. And that, Y/N, is a loss I can’t accept.”

Y/N spent that night thinking. The actor hadn’t tried to hold her back with promises or apologies. He had left the choice to her. And that choice weighed heavily on her.

When she returned to the studio the next day, he was there, as if he knew she would come back. He didn’t say a word to her, but his gaze was different: less harsh, less impenetrable.

Rehearsal resumed, and he pushed her again, but there was a new subtlety in his methods. When she succeeded in a particularly challenging scene, he gave a barely perceptible nod. That simple gesture was worth more than any speech.

Y/N didn’t know if she could continue indefinitely. But for now, she had chosen to stay. Because despite everything, deep down, she wanted to prove to the actor—and to herself—that he was right.

---

Y/N had made a decision in the quiet of her own mind. After weeks under the relentless guidance of the actor, she needed to prove—not to him, but to herself—that she could stand on her own. It was an almost desperate impulse, a vital need to reclaim her identity.

Without telling anyone, she auditioned for a minor role in a low-budget historical drama. It wasn’t much—just a few lines in three scenes. But that role meant so much more to Y/N. It was proof that she could find her place, that she could be seen for her talent and not because she was the favored student of a renowned actor.

When she got the call confirming she had landed the role, a rare feeling of triumph washed over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt free.

The news eventually reached the actor. He heard it from a colleague, a director he frequently collaborated with.

"Your student, Y/N, got a role in The Weight of the Crown. You should be proud of her," the director said casually.

The actor froze. The information hit him like a blow. She hadn’t said anything. She had acted behind his back. His jaw clenched, and a quiet anger rose within him. It wasn’t betrayal—he knew that—but it sparked a frustration he couldn’t name.

When he saw her arrive at the studio that day, he didn’t wait. He approached her quickly, his expression dark.

"You auditioned for a drama," he said without preamble, his tone sharper than he intended.

Y/N looked up, surprised, but she remained calm. "Yes, sir," she said softly. "I wanted to try something on my own."

"On your own?" he repeated, almost mocking. "Do you think you’re ready for that? Do you think appearing in a drama without being fully prepared will help you?" He paused, his voice dropping but growing harsher. "You didn’t even tell me."

"Because I knew you’d react like this," Y/N replied, her voice trembling slightly. "I knew you’d tell me I’m not ready. But it’s not your decision, sir. It’s mine."

This unexpected boldness caught him off guard. But instead of responding, he took a slow breath, trying to regain control of his emotions.

"Cancel the role," he said finally, every word heavy.

Y/N stared at him, incredulous. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he replied, his eyes fixed on hers. "You’re not ready. That role could destroy you more than it helps you. You need to withdraw."

Y/N said nothing. She lowered her eyes, holding back her emotions. But deep down, a quiet anger was rising. She was tired of being treated like a child incapable of making her own decisions. Yet, she obeyed.

A few days later, she informed the director that she was withdrawing from the project. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t want to explain her reasons. She hung up, her heart heavy, and felt empty.

That evening, as the studio emptied, Y/N stayed behind to rehearse alone. She needed to keep her mind occupied. As she recited her lines, her voice rose in the silence, rough with emotion. She collapsed onto the stage, unable to continue.

When the actor entered the room, she didn’t notice him at first. He lingered in the shadows for a moment, watching her. Guilt gnawed at him, but he didn’t know how to express it.

"Why are you still here?" he asked abruptly, breaking the silence.

Y/N jumped, looking up. "I... I wanted to practice."

He approached, his steps measured, and sat on the edge of the stage, his gaze fixed on her. "I asked you to withdraw from that project to protect you," he said softly, his voice losing its edge. "Not to break you."

"Then why do I feel like that’s exactly what you’ve done?" Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. "I just wanted... to try. Even if I failed."

The actor looked at her, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, without thinking, he reached out and gently touched her wrist—a rare gesture of tenderness from him.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice almost hoarse, "I don’t want you to fail. Not because you’re not ready, but because I... I don’t want to see you get lost in this harsh world before you’re strong enough."

That unexpected touch broke something inside her. Y/N gently pulled her hand away, but the weight of his words hung between them.

"And what if I don’t want your protection anymore?" she murmured. "What if I just want... to be seen for who I am?"

He remained silent, unable to respond. The tension between them, usually cold and disciplined, had shifted. It had become palpable, almost suffocating. And this time, it was Y/N who let the boundaries blur.

She straightened, slowly moving closer to him. Her gaze, hesitant but determined, met his. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then, in a moment she didn’t fully understand herself, she placed a light hand on his arm.

"Thank you," she finally murmured, before leaving the room, leaving him alone with his own inner turmoil.

The days that followed were marked by a silent tension. The actor was more distant than ever, avoiding any prolonged contact with Y/N. But every interaction, no matter how brief, carried an emotional weight they couldn’t ignore.

For her part, Y/N felt increasingly lost. She continued to work hard, but her mind was haunted by the confrontation, by the moment she had crossed a line she had sworn never to cross.

And the actor… He was conflicted. He knew he had to maintain the distance. But every time he met her gaze, he wondered how much longer he could ignore what he truly felt.

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[patientsporegypsy]

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[seewetter]

I think this post gets at something good, but I would like to make a few smaller amendments.

a class is a group of people defined by their relationship to the means of production. Housewives are a class. Women are not. I know some people want to define classes as relating to labour: emotional labour. Or relate it to social status: male privilege. But those are much more easy to change than classes are. A society can quickly change what it thinks about left-handed people or children born out of wedlock. A society can not so quickly figure out how to take care of children without specific caretakers or how to get more men to adopt care taking roles if those are not only stigmatized but financially completely unsupported. Changing what labour women do was more easy, because by entering the workforce, gender-non-conformity was literally financially rewarded. Thus it became normalized. Calling men and women "classes" dates back to developments in 1960s New York, when radfems managed to shut down any discussion about Marxism.

gender is an axis of oppression. It is one of the ways that our society tries to live with the tensions and complications resulting from how we organize wealth and distribute resources. And since our society does that in unjust and inhumane ways, gender is one way to rationalize everything that's happening.

I agree with your general point: sorting people into groups is coercive, even when a biological criterion is used. The biological criterion becomes a lie about that person. It is crucial not to omit one further detail: the supposedly free society where people can wear what they want (express their gender how they want) is not really free until people can freely choose their group, can freely associate with other people and fully be members of groups they want to join or fully opt out. If our society thinks of itself as open-minded because "a boy who likes ballet can join the girls" but that society still objects when the "boy" blends into the group and no longer is the exception or the outsider in any way, but fully a part of the group -- then all talk of being open-minded was a lie. All people have the right to trans their gender: to redefine their belonging.

some social meaning for physical features can be fine & non-coercive. That includes consensual social meaning (gendering people's bodies because they asked you to). Also, paradoxically, some mildly coercive transphobic situations may undermine the wider culture of transphobia and the entrenchment of gender. One of the main tools of transphobia (and gender) today is that of public panic. Of getting cis people or men or heterosexuals or tme people to be too scared the think. The culture war thrives off of people feeling like they are under assault or that things are being taken. And while we must totally avoid throwing our fellow queer people under the bus in a misguided attempt at calming emotions that may not be calmed... we may need to make certain concessions in order to turn the tables on our opponents. If biology professors are in a panic that they "can't teach human biology" challenging them can be a winning strategy. But in a climate of panic, it can also be a great way of funnelling people towards what falsely looks like scientific authority. And we need to read the room, as it were, and try to find calmer heads so we can organize the world that is most favourable to our survival and ideally, our thriving. To do that does not always mean blurting out that biological sex isn't real. It means being able to convince a room of people who will always use biological sex till the day they die that biological sex can be weaponized against trans people and that they should be against that. Those victories are going to be crucial. There are people who will always gender their newborn babies, who will always gender strangers from afar...but if we can teach those people to respect a child's expressed wish to the contrary and if we can teach them to respect when someone corrects them, that won't be the pie-in-the-sky perfect world for trans people, but that will also be an important step forward. Everything I mentioned at point 3) should be taken as a necessary habit that needs to establish itself in society. It needs to be commonplace enough for people to instinctively grasp that they and other people have the freedom, the right, to enter bathrooms of their choosing or be part of gendered groups of their choosing. This can't be negotiated with cis society. It can't be given up. It is core to our political struggle for free expression and free association. So biological sex can have some amount of meaning (although that is not ideal) but it can't be used as a replacement for gender and it needs to be clear to all that it has the same coercive qualities that gender has.

It feels like not enough people understand this in general so I'll attempt to explain in my own terms:

The notion that "gender" and "biological sex" are different concepts is ahistorical and has done nothing but harm to trans people.

Gender, correctly defined, is one hierarchical axis of a class society in which power, prestige, and wealth accrue disproportionately to one class, which we know as "men" from a number of lower classes, the best known among them being "women" but this is the reality for all genders outside of manhood.

Now, if you know anything about history, you know that the origin of biological sex is in the modern period. "Biological sex" is the reductive, pseudo-scientific narrative produced by the modern era to ascribe the societal system of patriarchal domination as arising from some fundamental, prediscursive biological reality. This is a lie.

The core of labelling "biological sex" is Exactly the same as that of gender: it is looking at a person's body and then ascribing social meaning to their physical features. The source of liberation then is Not in the changing of How we non-consentually read meaning into the bodies of others, but in ending the process of attributing social meaning into Literally All physical features.

[anthonybialy]

Buffalo Bills Heating When Needed Most

Conditions are always on the verge of changing.  Take how Northtowners worked on tans while the invisible line at Lake Erie may as well have been the border between the Tropic of Cancer and Arctic Circle.  And a club once banished to postseason Siberia now spreads warmth even when windshields are iced over.  The Buffalo Bills got hot at the right time without affecting the thermometer.

Many outcomes only seem altered when they end up conforming to patterns.  A forecast only seems to be the biggest factor.  The defense got gashed on San Francisco’s opening drive in what thankfully didn’t set the tone.  But this particular alignment allows that to happen routinely no matter the winter storm advisory.  A unit designed to bend but hold didn’t turn brittle like your plastic shovel or precious feelings.

For some, getting ready to freeze means exposing skin.  Matt Milano didn’t time his return so he could play in short sleeves while it snowed, but sometimes the universe works out like that.

Dealing with frigid surroundings is about possessing the right mentality.  James Cook is from Miami and played for Georgia yet looked comfortable stampeding through Hoth.  And Mack Hollins felt the end zone through his cleats in an effort to avoid frostbite even though donning footwear is not his predilection.

By contrast, San Francisco could’ve played like their season was over if they were in Fiji.  Their efforts at tackling indicated they wanted to be inside.  The goal-line fumble particularly showed fate wasn’t on their side.  But they played like they chose to doom themselves.  California dreamers couldn’t penetrate the snow fort.  Their season has shown they aren’t as proficient at plundering as their roster appears no matter the climate.

Conditions are equally lousy.  Defenders must cope with the same ghastly footing as receivers.  Everyone playing in a temperature more suited for fur storage shivers similarly.  The problem is that every amazing athlete is prevented from maximizing skills.  But half the teams worked through it.

Adjusting to blustery weather is the best way to not blame it.  Using a sixth offensive linemen was a concession to conditions that used a difficulty to their advantage like a service academy using the option.  And shotgun aficionado Josh Allen even holstered himself under center to facilitate handoffs.

The spy thought he could stop watching Josh learned the shark he was tasked with tracking can swim through snow.  As for spectators who gave up, I have surprising news for everyone who stopped watching after Amari Cooper’s catch thinking the play couldn’t get more amazing.  Rugby legend Allen will accept the pass from the scrum half, too.  The embodiment of relentlessness is such a singular talent that he’s doing things nobody else ever has before.

Even Allen can’t keep matching his unique accomplishments.  Heading downhill was bound to follow.  The slacker didn’t even get a touchdown pass on the next one he scored, which was quite the letdown.  And he only scored touchdowns in three measly ways.

Single ladies along with those in relationships who aren’t Hailee cheer for their dreamboat who broke their hearts.  The Niners lost the game like it was the race to have him propose to them.  I’m trying to think of a way to congratulate them on their engagement without admitting I know the lyrics to Starving.

Like the AFC East title, Buffalo’s erstwhile most eligible bachelor is off the market.  You can tell he made a fine choice by how his upcoming bride didn’t make him wear a ring while at work.  The city’s premier couple aren’t royalty: they’ve earned what they have.  They should pick a wedding date on a fall Sunday, as venues are cheaper.  

The Bills didn’t even have to deal with the imitator.  Brock Purdy’s technical return meant a return to the sidelines for Brandon Allen, who’s what you get when you order Josh on Temu.  He even wears the same number to confuse relatives shopping for Christmas presents who vaguely know you like football but haven’t retained details about which team and player.

The team’s social media stuck with the theme of snow as a virtue.  They also have to work with the way things are, whether it be cold air moving over a warm still body of water or someone else’s decision to again build a stadium in the same snowy band.  Calling an avalanche from above football weather is one way to justify the multibillionaire not springing for a lid.  You’re saying the new place is next door without a roof in the same remote lake effect area?  What next: the state forced taxpayers to fund Terry Pegula’s welfare checks?

A wise franchise might want their singular athlete to vie in ideal circumstances that double as a convention center.  You might even think they would do everything they could to please their best employee ever.  Mike Tirico mentioned Allen didn’t enjoy playing during bitterly frozen moments while the quarterback himself announced his aversion to snow angels during the postgame press conference as two big hints.  Allen won and performed the celebration despite natural aversions because he’s a team player on top of it all.

Change to changing environments.  The chilliest team probably won’t be able to rely on snow stopping the foe next game, what with the Rams having a dome.  Oh, and they play in Los Angeles, which my research indicates may not be renowned for blizzards.  A biosphere conducive to passing means Allen has the chance to catch even more touchdowns.

Don’t let seizing the division become anticlimactic even as it becomes routine.  Getting grouped with three delinquents dilutes the shock of clinching as December starts.  But Buffalo has still strung together remarkably consistent results.  That’s especially true this season considering only three of their wins have come against AFC East remedial teams.  A quarterback making some of the best plays ever isn’t going to be defeated by the 49ers or snowflakes.

[shinelikethunder]

new blorbo brain go brr, Severance edition

obsessed with the relentlessness of Helly R's self-assurance - we don't get a whole lot on Helena personality-wise, but there's enough there to set up this sort of... tension about it. (spoilers below the cut, obvs)

like on the one hand, this is a person whose entire neurochemistry has been built and trained on the assumption that she will get what she wants if she demands it and goes after it bare-knuckled. that she is a person and she matters. that she has just as much prerogative to wield power as any of the other sorry motherfuckers around her. she has just... never run up against a world where that isn't true, until now, and her inability to accept one when it's foisted on her is one of the biggest drivers of the plot.

on the other hand, her outside self grew up in a high-pressure line-of-succession position within a batshit high-control familial/corporate cult. we have to assume she's spent her life contorting her entire self to fit expectations, and furthermore to maneuver for power within the group (and prove herself via contributions to the power OF the group). we can even infer that it's to a distinctive and unusual degree: she volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb goat and undergo the severance procedure and spend eight hours a day as a peon, in service of some bizarre dual PR move + proof-of-concept for some even more ambitious plan, which she then plans to go back and claim as a huge win for Lumon. the people around her seem delighted by the audacity, but also pretty surprised that she's willing to subject herself to all that.

the guilt-inducing stressor Helly R hears in the break room is an angry man's raised voice, suggesting that even her severed self is psychologically vulnerable to specific habitual triggers from whatever family shitshow she grew up in. it's implied that this conditioned emotional response may even be what finally allows her to trick the machine. but without the whole indoctrinated framework of thought, that's all it is: knee-jerk emotion. without the loyalty to her dad, the recognition of duty & its demands for self-abnegation, the shot at a position of power, the personal stake in conforming to the system that benefits her -- without a history to be embedded in -- Helly is never, ever truly sorry for rebelling.

so you get this dual implication that Helly's self-confidence and determination have some less-savory roots in Helena's engrained sense of entitlement -- but also that this is what all of Helena's drivenness looks like when it, too, is freed from the warped constraints she must've built her entire sense of meaning around.

if the two selves get to know more about each other in season 2, god only fucking knows how Helena will react to that realization, because it IS gonna leave her Shooketh. we saw how fast the condescension flipped into furious outrage when presented with the evidence that Helly ALSO had a deep-seated sense of her own worth and was ALSO willing to fight hard and dirty for a stake in the decision-making. i gotta wonder, tbh, if it'll take on shades of a mother who had to sacrifice her own autonomy and compromise her own sense of self to survive, now confronted with a teenage daughter whose relatively intact selfhood has allowed her to become a total punkass. it wouldn't be the show's first parallel between Severance and the other, much older way to bring a new consciousness into the world.

(also notable that the team's most doggedly instinctive will to fight comes from someone who wasn't raised to even consider dehumanization and powerlessness as something that might happen to her. whose outrage is not only fresh, it's heightened by a forgotten-but-habitual expectation that she's the one who gets to dish that shit out. someone who has had concession and guile trained into her, but never -- word choice deliberate -- resignation.)

[less-than-three-3]

octopath traveler 2 - a masterclass in developing a sequel and an instant classic

I think that in games, when developing a sequel, it’s not uncommon to see a team take feedback and make changes that try to make it more widely received. Often, I feel that in that endeavor it’s easy to lose sight of what made the original game uniquely tick or feel like it did. Don’t just take my word for it (though what games I feel fall into this category can be controversial), it’s something that Sakurai has often mentioned before, for example.

Octopath Traveler II is a master class in how not to fall into that pitfall, and not just one of the best sequels (most improved award), but I think one of the best turn based RPG’s to date, at least by modern standards. I think it’s probably not a game that’s for everyone’s taste, but if you go in without expectations, I think it’s hard to ever really be let down. Likely spoilers below (especially end-game spoilers), but I’ll try to leave them to the end.

Before digging into the sequel though, I just want to briefly touch on octopath 1 in 2023. Something that I think about a lot is Scott’s retrospective on 3D World (I ain’t timestamping this one sorry), specifically, that 3D World was given a good bit of flack on release because it felt like it was “taking 3D mario into a bad direction” when, in a post-Odyssey world, we can really look back and really appreciate 3D World for what it is, and not judge it for what it isn’t (watch the whole video, it’s a great retrospective). 

All this to basically say, I think a lot of the flack that octopath 1 got was kind of in the same vein. People really wanted it to be what it wasn’t. It’s not a Final Fantasy or Dragon Quest, where you get a ragtag team of misfits banded together on a big journey, maybe with small individual branches along the way. It’s 8 very differently motivated individuals who just kind of pick each other up and just happen to help each other do their thing. The exp sharing and party system I can get being annoying, but I don’t think it’s really more than just a minor annoyance at worst, and I can get behind it being good to push the player to experiment with team composition (your leader gets somewhat overleveled but I really never found it that much more broken than synergies you get by mid-game). In another game that I love, Ruined King, they do have full party exp share, and while I loved experimenting and moving parts around to make different comps, I definitely felt that is very self-motivated, and the game doesn’t have too much in place to force you to move people around besides required character segments. Random encounters... I get complaining about it, but again it feels like idiot-proofing the level curve, because so often I see people in games with “walking encounters�� just never ever fight them and then complain about being underleveled and having to “grind”. 

This might feel like an odd rant to go on, and yeah it is partially just me getting on my damn soapbox and saying “octopath 1 was good actually”, but it’s important as context for why I find octopath 2 to be such a brilliant game (and because octopath 2 gives a new appreciation for these elements). I love the RPGSite review because it sums up this angle really well:

“As I mentioned previously, Octopath Traveler is meant to be a structurally open game that values player freedom. The overall arrangement of eight individual characters with eight distinct storylines may not fit the more traditional and expected structure of a unified JRPG party and a unified goal, thus some concessions are made in order to fit that vision in terms of character dynamics.   Maybe it took falling in love with the SaGa games - which share some common components - for me to begin to understand what Octopath was trying to do all along, but I think this was the right direction to take the sequel in. I'd rather not see Octopath change dramatically and risk its identity in order to conform to expectations it doesn’t try to meet. If you’re looking for linear, story-driven, party-centric RPGs, there are an abundance of them.”

Don’t get me wrong - I’m not saying the original is perfect. I found some of the stories not that interesting (or maybe I just never gave them a chance!), and certainly the character interactions were a little sparse and unimpactful. But that’s where octopath 2 really shines beyond its origins, because I think the entire cast is absolutely wonderful, and their interactions, both in their paired quests and side-banted, ooze character. There is certainly a disparity between characters because they are all such different people, but as you get through chapters you can definitely feel them warm up to each other and get to understand each other’s perspectives. It’s such a breath of fresh air because in the original I felt like a lot of them were kind of just, one character asking the other for advice, and then they give it? And the structure of the chapters is so varied in the sequel, including how and when to use path actions (the night/day system helps a lot), when in the original it definitely felt a bit cut and paste.

I don’t even know where to start with the characters and their stories. I guess, like with Live-a-Live, I’ll just list them from my least favorite to favorite, but just know that I loved all of them.

8. Agnea - her motivations really kind of felt the most octopath 1 out of everyone, and not necessarily in the best way? I mean, she’s pretty much like Tressa, who I love don’t get me wrong, but it is just strange to me that, throughout every single chapter, it never really, like, felt like there should really be conflict? It’s a weird way to put it, but she is pretty much just going to become a star, and that sure is the journey she goes on. I don’t even really think she has many foreshadowing moments, but I might have just missed those? She’s super adorable and lovable and brings everyone cheer, and her story is very much the lighthearted one, so I suppose it fits. I don’t know, it just didn’t fully click for me. Great member of the party, I just wasn’t the most invested. Part of it may also just be that it feels like so different from Prim, who was easily one of the best characters from 1.

I think that is literally the only vaguely negative one I have, and I didn’t even really dislike her story, I just was least invested in it lmao

7. Throne (I will be leaving out the accent sorry I’m lazy) - I think the premise and split path and internal and external qualms are interesting, but I just kinda felt like it was Therion-lite. The final twist... sure is a twist of all time. I’m not in love with her story in retrospect, but it was like good enough moment to moment. Kinda like Lycoris Recoil, thinking about it.

6. I guess Osvald is 6th? These rankings past 8 are definitely pretty wishy washy. His character and story and motivation is just. anguish. Everything sucks (for Osvald). Harvey sucks. At every step you think you cannot get more upset at the situation and it just keeps on getting worse. How. Incredible.

5. Ok I fucking love Partitio but I would be remiss to rank his story too highly, because he is just god’s gift to mercantilism. He can do no wrong. There is no growth. But he’s really fucking charismatic and funny so it totally makes sense. It’s also really funny that he is the most socialist merchant ever, and he takes down the chains of capitalism and their absurd contracts and loopholes and then that final boss fight is just so awesome. I love Partitio.

4. Hikari also goes in the middle for just being A Political War Drama (I love those). He’s pretty much simba. But like, a dark, fucked up version of simba. I don’t know if I have that much else to say about it, that pretty much is everything. 

3. Castti is really really interesting. Piecing together lost memories felt a little cliche to start, but the story being put together and the final few turns of the story were absolutely gut wrenching and my god what an incredible story. She is the mom of the group, and I don’t know if she was really that much more.

2. Temenos is a really interesting cleric character, and a huge departure from Ophilia (for the better). He is pretty much just Sherlock, from Sherlock. He can really be an asshole, and it’s really interesting to see this kind of angle, and not in a “church bad” trope, but in a “church good? but we need to fix the church?”. I would probably be mobbed for not mentioning Crick. So I have. I cannot talk about Crick without massive spoilers. If you finished his story you know why. Great character, great story.

1. Ochette may not belong up here but she is by far my favorite character what a fucking idiot I love her dearly. Just too stupid to live. There are like, a maximum of two things on her mind, ever. Her arc is great. She is voiced by Yuffie Kisaragi, the best character in FF7R. I am biased. This is my write-up. What are you gonna do about it.

Speaking of Live-A-Live, I can’t help but think Team Asano working on that remake helped reinvigorate some notable improvements in this sequel. Obviously the Octopath games have a lot of flesh and blood from Live-A-Live to begin with. But the final chapter of the game felt very reminiscent of that of LAL, both in terms of literal story structure, but especially with the worldbuilding and foreshadowing dropped throughout the game. I will spare many of the details, but I really liked the way that the foreshadowing is much more apparently integrated into events, major and minor, in each character’s story. 

The combat system being pretty much the same, but with an extra new gauge, is great, because the original combat system was already really great. I truly think that if you have complaints about the break/boost system, the game probably just is not for you. I vibe with it, I get it, I love it. Latent powers just add a new extra layer to how to approach turn planning and break timing. Such a small change that adds so much.

Class rebalancing/skill changes were also very noticeable for the better. I feel like a good amount of people must have complained about access to aoe because good aoe is pretty much a premium now, unless your name is ochette (and even then you really have to look for it) or osvald (scholar privilege, ig). Support skills shifting around makes for different dynamics in approaching battles, and I especially love the new hidden classes, specifically Inventor, though Arcanist and Conjurer are neat too (though Arcanist gets really broken... but it’s ok because merchant is a pretty weak class otherwise?). My only real complaint is that I wish you could refund/re-allocate JP in some way, and that’s just because I love experimenting with class combinations.

The day/night system giving pretty much 2 of every “ability” per time of day makes pretty much any comp good for just roaming around town stealing getting to know the townspeople. Having time-specific passive abilities is a neat function, but I think there is definitely a good amount of room to build upon this. A very great seed planted for a future game. There will be a future game, right?

Being up to level curve was only really a struggle for one level jump, I think it was right before chapter 3, but I think they make patching up those last couple levels really easy with all of the exp boosting tools they give you, and really early (I had not equipped them because I thought it was only for the equipping character - no, they’re bonuses for the whole active party - and that’s probably why I got a little behind). Otherwise just going through chapters, traveling from one place to another, exploring the side dungeons, the natural leveling pace felt, well mostly unnoticeable, which I think is the best place for a leveling curve to be? 

Dungeon design strictly in terms of explorability is nothing mindblowing, but it more than makes it up with the visual and sound design. Even now 2DHD still looks fucking wonderful and I wish so badly for the DQ3 remake to come out and other 2DHD games to come out. And yes, the music is incredible. I feel like often people just mention the battle themes, and yes, they go hard, but with both Octopath 1 and 2 every single environment has such unique sonic character. I don’t necessarily know if the best town themes come close to my favorites from the original (Orewell my beloved), but just the sheer variety in character, instrumentation, and composition is very much still ever-present, and I wish Yasunori Nishiki many many more opportunities in the future because he is genuinely one of the greats. Even better, though, like in any good musical design, is when the sound just cuts out. There is nothing more unsettling, especially in a game with such a lush soundtrack, than silence. Every such moment is incredible. I could literally make an entire separate essay on the sound design of these games (I have), but I won’t gush on and on here. 

Octopath Traveler II is a game that really really plays into its strengths, and even while it successfully patches up most of of its original’s actual weaknesses, it is very much its strengths that continue to really shine. It is an RPG experience unlike any other out there, and if it’s one you are keen to experience, you will have a wonderful time. This is one of my favorite turn-based RPG’s, followed closely by Team Asano’s own Triangle Strategy, and I think it still has incredibly high potential to continue to iterate on its niche. I absolutely think this will be one of the more influential games of the genre for the future - a modern classic, while still feeling solidly rooted in its inspirations from the SNES golden era. 

[drosera-nepenthes]

The late King Leopold was one of the most selfish men alive; he was fond of France, and used to spend the greater part of his time there, making rare appearances in Brussels. He disliked his capital owing to the impossibility of leading there the easy, unfettered kind of existence he was so fond of, and of introducing to Brussels society the person whom he had married morganatically , and who, before he had done so, had been one of the stars of a music-hall at Montmartre. He built for her a splendid villa at Villefranche, near Nice, where he preferred living to anywhere else. So strongly was he attached to France as an abode that he became alarmed lest this might be made difficult or unpleasant for him were his daughter to wed the Pretender to the throne of the Bonapartes. Consequently he forbade the Princess Clementine to think of Prince Victor Napoleon, and did all that lay within his power, though without success, to oblige the latter to give up his Brussels residence and, indeed, to leave Belgium. When his daughter implored him to yield to her wishes, and to remember she had absolutely no to love or to take care of her, he brutally replied that she did not require anything of that kind, and that if she was not content with her present position she could go where she liked. The fact was that crafty old man was glad to find a pretext to quarrel with his children so as to have reason for cutting them out of his will. For this reason he had opposed every marriage offer which they had, and he cursed the Princess Stephanie when she declared that she was going to be united to Count Lonyay. He would have done the same in regard to the Princess Clementine had the latter not been wise in her generation and expressed her willingness to conform to the King's wishes – conduct which obliged him to treat her with some consideration, a concession which he denied to all the other members of his family, whom he bullied and worried in turns.

The Princess Clementine was somewhat of a diplomat. She knew that her father's health was not of the best, and she armed herself with patience, and made up her mind to wait until her father was dead and she became free to do whatever she liked. The heavens proved merciful, because the King succumbed a few months later to the disease of which he had long been suffering, and though quarrels without number followed concerning his inheritance, his daughters found themselves at liberty to shape their lives according to their own wishes.

The Princess Clementine at last married Prince Victor Napoleon Bonaparte at the castle of Moncalieri, near Turin, the residence of his mother, the saintly Princess Clotilde of Savoy, about ten months after the death of Leopold II.

[butchviking]

tbf there are women (like me) who when we put on makeup are fully aware that we are putting it on only to conform to gender norms and avoid social stigma. like yeah it’s different than women who have never worn makeup, but i feel like there’s more of a scale. i only wear it once or twice a month and honestly it makes me a little angry when i do. if/when i become more willing to take on the consequences of eschewing gender norms i will never wear it again

ok so that post was one i put in my queue when i was angry - bc u shouldnt argue on the internet when ur angry lmao and i do too often so sometimes i put shit in queue to discuss when ive calmed down. problem is my queue is currently over two weeks long so sometimes i forget exactly what prompted the post. HOWEVER.

if i recall correctly that was abt this attitude i see, more often than not from gender-conforming women, that gnc women who disidentify with their sex are. basically self-absorbed sexist idiots who, by disidentifying, are implying that all women except them must love the female gender role and must love being oppressed. like a ~im not like the other girls~ thing. but with 'not like the other girls' i think a lot of ppl are now coming to recognise that, yeah, sometimes it's a sexist statement bc one particular woman thinks she's sooooo much deeper and more human than the other women around her - but sometimes, it's because she can see very clearly that she's NOT like other women. and has felt ostracisation and loneliness about that nd has felt like there must be something wrong with her for being so unlike the typical women in her life. and with trans identity it's often the same thing.

i just can no longer make the space in my heart to sympathise with gender-conforming women who act like gnc women disidentifying w womanhood is some kind of personal attack on them, or on all women. women in makeup and heels who act like it's a slight against them for a gnc woman (who will pretty certainly have faced shit in her life for being gnc) to look at them and say. i'm not her. i'm not whatever she is. i must be something different because if that's what women are then i'm not one and i don't want to be one. it's an argument i'm so fucking tired of hearing and nine times out of ten i will stand w a gnc female who identifies as trans bc she doesn't see any room in the definition of womanhood for her any day before i stand w gender-conforming women who mock or belittle her for that.

i recognise there's a scale of gender conformity, and makeup was just one example, and i know not all women who wear makeup wear it all the time - but, as you say, it is a concession to avoid social stigma. so to me it's like. let she who is without sin cast the first stone. how's a woman who makes concessions to gender because she doesn't have the strength to face the repercussions of refusing to conform going to criticise other women for the concessions they make to get through the repercussions they are facing for refusing to conform.

and one extra point: you say 'it’s different than women who have never worn makeup' but, while i know there are such women out there (and by god, good for them), it's worth noting that for some women - for me, personally - they might have made concessions to gender at times. because they felt like it's what they had to do. what they were supposed to do. as a girl. as a woman. and sometimes, it's disidentifying with womanhood that makes them feel like they're ALLOWED to not do that shit anymore. for several years as a teen i shaved my legs & my pits, wore light makeup most days, even wore skirts and dresses at times. it made me feel like an alien. i hated it. but i'd always been given the message that it was just What Women Do and it's part of growing up that you have to get used to that. and when i discovered i didn't 'have to be a woman' there was a freedom in that for me. i could stop shaving. i never had to wear makeup. when someone told me i walked like a man or dressed like a man or talked like a man or whatever, it didn't have to be an insult. i could take pride in being as masculine and as free & unconstrained by the trappings of femininity as i liked. sure, that's a concession to gender in its own way. patriarchy isn't going to be overthrown by women only feeling comfortable with gender non-conformity when they convince themselves they aren't women. but patriarchy isn't going to be overthrown by women wearing heels and makeup so people will be nice to them, either. you're no better than us.

[toxintouch]

Oh wait this looks fun! (& These are so good!!) Fair warning that I also only vaguely understand “the ick”.

Ais - not forming your own opinions on things - as in: being overly willing to believe common misconceptions or commonly held beliefs without ever examining them for yourself. (Your opinion/belief does not have to conform to his own or be contrarian, but if you believe it enough to bring it up and talk about it, you better have some convictions, not just regurgitate what you've been told.)

Leander - was indeed difficult but I'm gonna say: Eating so very loudly and un-flatteringly in public to the point where everyone around you is really uncomfortable. Causing damage to his positive public perception.  His image and reputation are obviously very important to him, so if you do something to actually deplete the way others view him, including a genuine mistake, he will have an immediate internal (self-esteem) reaction.

Lucky for you, There’s probably very few instances of this that Leander would actually be susceptible to since he's gained the loyalty and admiration of (most of) those around him.  He might actually find your ignorance charming or cute and/or your blatant lack of decorum up to even outright disinterest in Eridia's cultural norms to be sweetly naive, attractive, or refreshing but if your actions start actually threatening his reputation... he'll have to reevaluate a few things...

Vere - Showing a lack of value for your own autonomy.  He will see extreme indecision as a form of this.  Obviously also includes people who show a willingness to bargain away their freedom, even if it’s due to pure desperation, etc.  Unwitting hypocrisy.  According to Vere, if you’re going to be a hypocrite, you should at least have the decency (good sense) to be (reveling in it) self-aware about it.  Moral consistency is likely just disguised moral grandstanding, which is what he really hates for other people.  Speaking of… People who are consumed with their own victimization and/or self-flagellation, which he also considers a misuse of your own autonomy – no one in particular on his mind with this one, obviously.  And those who cannot back up their words with actions.  All bark and no bite. All style and no substance.

Mhin - Exerting derision over others just because you can – especially – if it doesn’t gain you anything. If you take joy in embarrassing people in public, or doing something that could be construed as making fun of people who are just minding their own business.  Applies even if you are not being purposely mean spirited.  (For example, if you are people watching with Mhin and you try to draw them into a joke by making fun of The Current Fashion, you need to be careful to comment on, say, the impracticality of staying alive during a Soulless attack in that outfit.  Even if Mhin also thinks someone’s outfit is ugly, they’ll get the ick if you sound like you’re making fun of the person themselves when that person isn’t even doing anything to you. Note: they will lay off if you explain yourself as not being malicious and point out that they don't always communicate tactfully either.)  Also, insisting that they should like (crowded, noisy) parties and similar things because everyone likes those things.  They are annoyed by people who feel that introversion is a defect to correct.

Kuras - Being destructively hasty. Unwillingness to engage in self-introspection, specifically: if he believes you have the resources.  Hypocrisy, especially at the expense or others/for the sake of personal gain.  He’d prefer you be noncommittal in regards to anything and everything than be a liar and/or a hypocrite.  I am hoping for an angsty hypocrite angel ending/story line so hard tho, willing or accidental.  Being unwilling to make a small and reasonable concession for the sake of someone else’s comfort or well being would deeply frustrate him.  (Random example: “Hey, will you guys warn me before you start setting off the party poppers so I can put ear protection on?”  He completely cannot relate to this but does not see any reason why someone would not simply follow through on this request, the cost is nothing.)

QUESTION

what do yall think would give the Touchstarved LI the biggest ick?

[patrocles]

agree with your level-headed takes 99% of the time so i have to ask.... he/him lesbians?

very valid!!

the easiest way i’ve been able to sort of rationalize the general concept of  he/him lesbians is when you think about Womanhood as being as fluctuating and without a specific binary as gender. i’ve seen the argument that he/him = male therefore you cannot identify as a lesbian if you’re male. and that’s not exactly it. for some people, pronouns don’t connotate gender identity in itself, but in relation to how one experiences and expressions that identity. (if that makes sense)

so with he/him lesbians, it’s essentially means just masc-of-center without necessarily identifying as a man or experiencing gender dysphoria. not all people who are women experience Being an Woman in the same way and you’ll find that it’s as broad as the idea of gender in itself, so generally you’ll see he/hims predominantly used by butch/gender non conforming people who use those pronouns as a sort of elevated expression of their gender without needing to make the concession to identify as male.  because again, womanhood means different things to different people and it doesnt inherently equate femininity. or they identify as non-binary and a lesbian and that’s valid too! there’s no real ~rules~ for how pronouns are used, i’m just giving you sort of general examples to paint a clearer picture of what it might mean for certain people

it’s really the other side of gay men who use she/her pronouns general “feminine” identifiers without necessarily identifying as women. 

[michaeloneillwords-music]

Oasis: Knobworth. Cocaine, Caricature and ‘The Culture Industry’s’ wet dream.

This week sees the release of the documentary film ‘Oasis Knobworth 1996’ which marks 25 years since the Manchester rock band played to over a quarter of a million disciples in a field in Hertfordshire across two nights. Obviously brand Oasis couldn’t miss the opportunity to celebrate its own greatness, in what is now being understood and accepted as some sort of era defining moment in pop cultural history. As a native of Manchester, who whether he likes it or not is psychically entrenched in the cities musical and cultural legacy and who was 15 years old when this event took place, I equally cannot miss the opportunity to challenge this retro fetish overstatement and present my own subjective understanding and experience of watching these caricatures of sex, drugs and rock roll as they rose to prominence. Let's face it ‘the culture industry’ has always needed fodder to sell to a teenage audience who in coming of age are flirting with the mask of social identity which is heavily informed by pop culture, and from late 1995 onwards Oasis, led by the brothers Gallagher were that fodder. The juggernaut of utter nonsense that they were peddling really began with the release of their sophomore effort (What’s the story) Morning Glory on the 2nd of October 1995, which to this day has gone on to sell in excess of 22 million copies worldwide, figures that depressingly highlight the state we are in as a species. Upon hearing the album as a 14 year engrossed in pop music culture I immediately disliked it. Gone were the walls of thick guitars, punkish irreverence and embellishments of baggy Northern Psychedelia that marked the best moments of their debut album, instead the listener was subjected to an overly clean, acoustic, commercial sounding record that was lyrically lazy, pedestrian and trite, to me it was and always will be an artistic car crash. It sounded immediately like a band uninterested in challenging itself or its audience, who instead were solely concerned with mass appeal, shifting units and making money. Whilst it should always be noted that the Gallagher brothers made no attempt to hide their aspirations for commercial success, material wealth and brand ubiquity, I simply find such sole motivations a turn off, that, more often than not result in utter dross, the kind that defines Oasis’ discography. Indeed, any ascent to the summit of pop culture will rarely be the sole result of an absolute desire for honest and uncompromising artistic expression, to just ‘make something’ regardless of economic reward or consideration for the consequences of what that expression communicates, represents or signifies. Indeed, such an approach will often come into direct conflict with the bottom line of the music industry, which is solely concerned with profit, monopolistic market control, the dissemination of ideology and projection of archetypes. And so it is that far from the ‘deviant bad boys of pop’ peddled by the culture industry press from 1995 onward, Oasis were actually a very obedient market vehicle for profit, who promoted nihilistic hedonism, idolatry, narcissism, misplaced masculinity, benign sexism, cocaine, lager and a depressing caricature of working class identity, and last but not least a brand of Beatles infused substance devoid pub rock. The ‘culture industry’ had been peddling this sort of shit from the mid 60’s in pop music and long before in general pop culture and as a result dear reader it was obviously very marketable once again to the mid-nineties teenage generation and to many subsequent generations for that matter. The game doesn't change. Oasis were and remain a wet dream of ‘the culture industry’, all too happy to short change a generation of youth culture with their destructive notions of cool, short sighted egocentric one dimensional outlook, and celebration of pack animal conformity under a banner of ‘rock and roll’ which signals ‘defiance’ ‘deviance’ and ‘hope’ but when unpacked and interrogated actually reveals a concession and obedience to the drudgery, depression and anomie of a top down controlled market culture by both the band and its disciples. They were without doubt a grey cloud of hard materialist understanding and sense pleasure that would leave Saint Francis of Assisi empty inside and reaching for a razor blade. I think it was the idolatry, narcissism and the reductionist mask of masculinity (that were all no doubt in the air at Knobworth, I couldn’t actually say as I wasn’t there, I had seen them on 26/11/1995 at the Manchester Nynex, and although I certainly do have deep seated masochistic tendencies everybody has a limit, and once was enough) that the band and its followers displayed that really didn’t sit well with me when the cultural juggernaut of Oasis and Britpop took off. These traits were for the most part distilled, embodied, displayed and performed by the band's frontman Liam Gallagher, a man whose answer to all of life’s existential conundrums is a pint of Carling. To me, Liam always carried a look of someone who had been asked a question they didn’t understand and was just trying to front it out with a gormless stare in an attempt to display some presence of depth and mystique to his onlooking disciples and celebrity obsessed media. When he did speak his articulations rarely got beyond how he was ‘mad for it’, how he was the ‘best frontman’ in the ‘best band’ and when his adopted mask of self-confidence was ever threatened would often bark ‘fook off’ in deflection and defence. Gallagher became the ‘Archetype’ that the modern-day British working class (and wannabe working class) alpha male identity is built on. Replete with feather cut, stone island jacket, adidas originals and cheap cocaine, ready to perform the identity prison they have adopted until the cows come home. I occasionally ponder as to whether the clinging too and performance of such a symbolically material identity merely masks an innate fear, and serves to deny the unpacking and unmasking of the ‘authentic self’, and how that process would more than likely contradict the projected ‘tower of strength’ that is indefinitely projected and protected by this deflective mask. I mean I thought we were an expression of consciousness with the innate capacity for creativity, who are looking to integrate the inner self into the ‘persona’ so as to not be imprisoned and tormented by the demands of the social mask, the gulf between the two and its insistence for the inauthentic? Who knows, and ultimately who really cares in this day and age. In terms of the idolatry, the fans deification of Liam and his brother Noel, alongside their deification of John Lennon, the two Paul McCartney's, Bozo and Poor Weller also really pissed me off when I was 15 and still doesn’t sit right with me today. It's the rock n roll hierarchy-musical establishment-gotta pay your dues-know the classics-they’re a fucking genius claptrap that really gets me goat. I mean fuck off, they've just made a record aided and abetted by an industry who want to flog them to death for moolah, and i’m expected to sit here and believe they're some sort of god like genius that captured the feelings of a mass populace, nah mate, it was capital backed exceptional marketing and mass gullibility. Limmy would capture working class culture in a 20 second video clip shot on his phone for nothing entitled “She’s turned the weans against us” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5VaPQflLq0&ab_channel=Limmy) in a far more profound and meaningful way 15 years after Knobworth. Furthermore, music solely informed and inspired by music and music history makes me want piss on my own face. That whole disciple of rock n roll dogmatic cultish crap, we want to be like our hero's motivation is so very depressing. I mean you’re having a unique subjective sensory experience, migrating through your own orbit of experience, and then when you engage with your creative faculties as a singular human being you adopt wholesale the principles and goals of those who’ve gone before you, or equally when simply embodying your identity it’s one built on the fetishization of a vapid celebrity archetype? Really? Really though? You’re not gonna take the opportunity to figure yourself out and project the uniqueness of your experience, reject or accept the external organising principles or merely just ‘mix the fucker up’? Hey who am I to pose such questions I guess, and in the immortal words of Oasis “You have to be yourself, you can’t be no one else”. Ha. I do think that line should now be updated to “you have to be a caricature of yourself because you cannot be anything else” though. Ooooh. Anyway, I shouldn’t really be blaming the current mask of one dimensional male social identity or celebrity deification on Oasis, they’re merely a cog in a machine that reproduces this reproduction over and over. However, that doesn’t detract from the fact that they are Manchester's greatest cultural own goal (shame really cause after the opening 5 or 10 minutes I was thinking we've got a team here), who made and continue to make to this day nonsensical grey groove-less drudgery a viable commodity with posthumous releases and as solo artists. Now that may be easy for me to say, as I was without doubt somewhat spoiled by exposure to the cities compelling history of DIY music from a young age, from the shadowy existential concrete corridors of Joy Division to the sharp witted marriage of high/low brow culture and realism/surrealism presented by The Fall, all the way through to the theological and philosophical street politics of The Stone Roses. Come 1995/96 I maybe expected more, but therein was a lesson for me, never expect, and indeed, always take the art and never the artist, and never ever deify. Musically Oasis were breathtakingly boring, real stodgy laboured stuff, and lyrically, to be brutally honest they were cringeworthy and embarrassing. However, to give them their due they did have conviction, but I’m sure that fellow Northerner Harold Shipman also had conviction in his creative output, but ultimately that doesn’t mean it was any good now does it? To me Oasis sounded like they were sent from the back of a battered cement mixer, or the lounge of the Robin Hood, or from the bottom of an overflowing ashtray on a coffee table in a council flat where shit cocaine is being relentlessly sniffed and Sky Sports News plays indefinitely. Symbolically they may be best defined as a scrunched up and discarded losing betting slip on the floor of a bookmaker’s that is heavy with the air of momentary hope, desperation, and inevitable loss. No thanks. P.S Look, all subjective criticism aside, Oasis spoke to millions and for that I congratulate them, they just never really spoke to me. Initially Liam and Noel were a breath of fresh air with their straight up lads with guitars attitude, riding their obvious desire with endlessly projected self- belief. However, to me there was just nothing after that initial Jab of intent present on Definitely Maybe and in interviews circa 94/95, there was no hook, combination or knock-out punch. Couple that with a general lack of grace, rhythm and finesse in the ring and to me as a spectacle it became boring very quickly, and as the rounds wore on that predictable Jab looked tired and stale, and the self-belief turned to coke fuelled narcissism. The ‘flock identity’ that materialised in the slipstream of their ascent and especially the attitude mimicry that was present then and remains today in the ‘Oasis Fan’ to be truthful is touch tragic. Furthermore, I've always held a deep-seated scepticism of the dynamics and motivations of 'the crowd' at the point of critical mass, especially when corporate power is deeply involved and invested in the relationship between the art and the audience. D'you know what I mean?

[sturnellaneglecta]

Something i will be eternally grateful for is my mom never nagged me about my appearance like a lot of moms do to their daughters, bc her mom did and she made a conscious effort not to be the same way. my mom does not wear makeup and bc she works outdoors tends not to wear clothes that aren't practical--I've only ever seen her wear one dress, besides when she was in a wedding party. Even the concessions she does make to beauty standards (shaving mostly) she never overtly pressured me into doing the same. So I've never felt self-conscious about not wearing makeup or having bad hair or wearing mens clothes, even in middle/high school when it got me negative attention, i was like well the force of my laziness and dislike for all these "girly" things is much stronger than the pressure to conform, so I just lived my annoying truth and survived those Bad Times and now as an adult woman I can do whatever the hell I want without feeling bad about it.

[sabot-sister]

I want to stress once again how vital unions are in winning the battle for a better world.

You may think a couple of things about the unions as they are now - bureaucratic, compliant, undemocratic or even corrupt - but the MODEL itself is possibly the best one we have in terms of left politics. It combines the organized structure and clear objective of a party with the grassroots democratic flexibility of small autonomous groups - without having to either conform to election systems and rules or abandoning clear goals for infighting and blocking change. Unions exist (in principle) as an independent entity outside of the capitalist political system and can act after their own set of rules.

And I'm not just talking about classical trade unions, I'm talking any organized structure where people on the dispossessed end of the system can combine their strength to fight those in power (tenant unions, unemployed associations, neighborhood and community organizations, etc.)

Unions are (again, on principle) a way of taking power without conforming to either the state or capitalism - taking power as a collective instead of relying on unelected leaders. This is why the left absolutely needs to invest much more of it's time into making new and old unions:

1. member-led and base democratic

(to prevent corruption and union leaders' bad decisions and compromises with the system)

2. independent from (party) politics and private donors

(to ensure that no concessions are made to the system that aren't decided upon by the member base)

3. enabling the member base

(training shop-floor members and organizers to see the big picture of dealing in societal power, enabling every member to strategize independently and make plans for change)

4. rank-and-file representative

(union speakers should be part of the ground struggle and only be allowed to enact decisions that were taken collectively by the locals to avoid a pseudo-democratic system like in many mainstream trade unions today)

5. acting in global solidarity

(cooperating with unions all over the world in the global north and south to disrupt global production chains and build power equally across borders and cornering employers)

Unions are the uniting factor for everyone fighting for change across continent borders and political systems, across identities, occupations and document status! Give them a chance and hmu if you're unsure how to start getting invested.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Were you invited to a free dinner? Did it change your life?

‘Influence’ by Professor Robert Cialdini could explain some things.

Robert Cialdini is a Professor of Psychology at Arizona State University and has spent many years devoted to the scientific investigation and research of persuasion techniques.

In his Introduction to Influence, a book that has sold three million copies and been translated into over thirty languages, Robert Cialdini admits he had aways been an easy mark for salespeople, peddlers and fundraisers. It had never been easy for him to just say ‘no’ when asked to donate money.

An experimental social psychologist, he began wondering about the actual techniques that are used to make a person agree to do something when normally they would not be interested.  As part of his research, Cialdini answered newspaper ads for various sales training programs so he could learn first hand about persuasion and selling techniques. He penetrated advertising, public relations and fundraising agencies in order to glean the secrets of the 'psychology of compliance’ from its professional practitioners.

The result is both a classic work of marketing and psychology that shows us why we are so vulnerable to persuasion, in the process telling us much about human nature.

Getting our tapes to play

Cialdini starts by discussing the mothering instinct of turkeys. Mother turkeys are very protective, good mothers, but their mothering instinct has been found to be triggered by one thing and one thing only: the 'cheep-cheep’ sound of her chicks. The polecat is the natural enemy of the turkey, and when a mother turkey sees one she will instantly go into attack mode; she will do so even at the sight of a stuffed version of a polecat. But when the same stuffed polecat is made to make the same 'cheep cheep’ sound that her chicks make, something strange happens: the mother turkey becomes a devoted protector of it!

You may think: how dumb are animals. Press a button, and they act a certain way, even if those actions are ridiculous. But Cialdini tells us about turkey behavior only to prepare us for the uncomfortable truth about human automatic reaction. We also have our 'preprogrammed tapes’ which usually work for us in positive ways – for instance, to ensure our survival without having to think too much – but they can also be played to our detriment when we are unaware of the triggers.

Cialdini identifies half a dozen 'weapons of influence’, ways of getting us to act automatically that sidesteps our normal rational decision making processes. Psychologists call these easily triggered behaviors 'fixed-action patterns’ – know the trigger, and you can predict with reasonable likelihood how a person will react.

A more accurate but longer title for Influence may have been 'How to get automatic reactions from people before they can think rationally about your proposition’. Cialdini’s six basic 'weapons’ that compliance professionals use to get people to say 'yes’ without thinking include: reciprocation, commitment and consistency; social proof; liking; authority; and scarcity.  

He recently added a seventh, unity, the idea that we share an identity, or commonalities of identity, with someone else. And we are much more likely to say ‘yes’ to such a person. LINK

____________________________________________

1.    Rule of Reciprocity

According to sociologists and anthropologists, one of the most widespread and basic norms of human culture is embodied in the rule of reciprocity This rule requires that one person try to repay what another person has provided. By obligating the recipient to an act of repayment in the future, the rule for reciprocation allows one individual to give something to another with the confidence that it is not being lost.

This sense of future obligation, according to the rule, makes possible the development of various kinds of continuing relationships, transactions, and exchanges that are beneficial to society. Consequently, virtually all members of society are trained from childhood to abide by this rule or suffer serious social disapproval.

The decision to comply with someone’s request is frequently based upon the Rule of Reciprocity. Again, a possible and profitable tactic to gain probable compliance would be to give something to someone before asking for a favor in return.

The opportunity to exploit this tactic is due to three characteristics of the Rule of Reciprocity:

1.     The rule is extremely powerful, often overwhelming the influence of other factors that normally determine compliance with a request.

2.     The rule applies even to uninvited first favors, which reduces our ability to decide whom we wish to owe and putting the choice in the hands of others.

3.     The rule can spur unequal exchanges. That is, to be rid of the uncomfortable feeling of indebtedness, an individual will often agree to a request for a substantially larger favor, than the one he or she first received.

Another way in which the Rule of Reciprocity can increase compliance involves a simple variation on the basic theme: instead of providing a favor first that stimulates a returned favor, an individual can make instead an initial concession – that stimulates a return concession.

One compliance procedure, called the “rejection-then-retreat technique”, or door-in-the-face technique, relies heavily on the pressure to reciprocate concessions. By starting with an extreme request that is sure to be rejected, the requester can then profitably retreat to a smaller request – the one that was desired all along. This request is likely to now be accepted because it appears to be a concession. Research indicates that aside from increasing the likelihood that a person will say yes to a request, the rejection-then-retreat technique also increases the likelihood that the person will carry out the request and will agree to future requests.

The best defense against manipulation by the use of the Rule of Reciprocity to gain compliance is not the total rejection of initial offers by others. But rather, accepting initial favors or concessions in good faith, while also remaining prepared to see through them as tricks should they later be proven so. Once they are seen in this way, there is no longer a need to feel the necessity to respond with a favor or concession.

_________________________________________

1. Reciprocity. We are obliged to give if we have been given something.

2. Scarcity. If it's scarce, we want it more. Use this by highlighting the Benefits, Uniqueness and Possible Loss.

3. Authority. We are more likely to comply with a request if it is coming from a perceived authority/expert.

4. Consistency. We want to be consistent with our past commitments, even if the initial commitment is much smaller.

5. Liking. We like people who are similar, who give us compliments and who co-operate with us.

6. Consensus. If others (especially similar others) are doing it, then we are more likely to do it ourselves. [Social pressure]

7. Unity. Robert Cialdini recently added a seventh, unity, the idea that we share an identity, or commonalities of identity, with someone else. We are much more likely to say ‘yes’ to such a person.

_________________________________________

Video: Science Of Persuasion

_________________________________________

conformity

Bending Truth – Cognitive Dissonance

Cult Indoctrination – and the Road to Recovery

Sun Myung Moon’s theology used to control members

_________________________________________

VIDEO: Terror Love and Brainwashing ft. Alexandra Stein

Chris Shelton: This week on Sensibly Speaking I have Dr. Alexandra Stein, social psychologist and author of the book Terror, Love and Brainwashing. We discuss various aspects of cult behavior and psychology.

Comments: This is an outstanding piece of work that I will go back to several times. It has provided me with a degree of clarity hitherto unknown. Now, what do I do with it?

Some brilliant information, again, thank you. I found the part about separating from ones emotions and not allowing yourself to process them particularly interesting. Having been brought up in a Scientology family, I still struggle with dealing with ("low tone") emotions.

Dr. Stein's entirely justifiable reaction to Chris’s mentioning the dread James R. Lewis and J Gordon Melton et hoc genus omni (24:36 onwards) was worth the price of admission alone! ;) May Eileen Barker, Massimo Introvigne and all the other 'New Religious Movement' merchants and cult apologists be consigned to the dustbin of history as soon as possible.

_________________________________________

[whentherewerebicycles]

“One of the concessions one makes to others is not to present homosexuality as anything but a kind of immediate pleasure, of two young men meeting in the street, seducing each other with a look, grabbing each other’s asses and getting each other off in a quarter of an hour. There you have a kind of neat image of homosexuality without any possibility of generating unease, and for two reasons: it responds to a reassuring canon of beauty, and it cancels everything that can be troubling in affection, tenderness, friendship, fidelity, camaraderie, and companionship, things that our rather sanitized society can’t allow a place for without fearing the formation of new alliances and the tying together of unforeseen lines of force.

I think that’s what makes homosexuality “disturbing”: the homosexual mode of life, much more than the sexual act itself. To imagine a sexual act that doesn’t conform to law or nature is not what disturbs people. But that individuals are beginning to love one another -- there’s the problem. The institution is caught in a contradiction; affective intensities traverse it which at one and the same time keep it going and shake it up. Look at the army, where love between men is ceaselessly provoked [appele] and shamed. Institutional codes can’t validate these relations with multiple intensities, variable colors, imperceptible movements and changing forms. These relations short-circuit it and introduce love where there’s supposed to be only law, rule, or habit. [...]

Is it possible to create a homosexual mode of life? This notion of mode of life seems important to me... A way of life can be shared among individuals of different age, status, and social activity. It can yield intense relations not resembling those that are institutionalized. It seems to me that a way of life can yield a culture and an ethics. To be ‘gay,’ I think, is not to identify with the psychological traits and the visible masks of the homosexual but to try to define and develop a way of life.”

-- Michel Foucault, “Friendship as a Way of Life” (1981)