"Allies have raised our profiles beyond what is necessary to help the LGBT community. It’s been a big year for allies to get famous, grab a book deal, win awards, maybe pocket some speaker’s fees for appearances. Resources that should be going to empower LGBT voices are instead going to enhance the visibility of straight people. We’ve created professional allies (or, as the history major in me would call them, mercenaries). We’ve created famous allies. Think of how absurd that concept is."
[TW for trangst] Being trans makes you apologetic.
(AKA “I should be doing homework but this really needs to be said and I didn’t stick it in my proposal because it felt like whining and I couldn’t find a proper place to put it but this has got to be out there somewhere.”)
It does. It really does.
It starts the very first time you realize you aren’t “normal,” and you turn to your first person and tell then that maybe, you know, if it’d be ok… Maybe they wouldn’t mind calling you Sam instead of Samantha? Or Joan instead of Joe? Or could they just use your initials, maybe? If it’s not too much trouble? And this person (whoever they are) thinks it’s a game. And they laugh, or they snicker, or they ask you why you would do such a thing. Because Joan is a girl name, and you’re not a girl. Why would you want to be one? So you apologize and laugh it off, but inside you’re not smiling.
And it happens again a couple of years later, when you find your way to the internet and make yourself an account in a kiddy forum and say you’re a boy. Your little display picture is a male anime character or another. And you grow to really like this community, until one day someone finds you out for one way or another. Maybe you were careless and let a friend see the site over your shoulder, and they joined. Maybe you started IMing with someone from the forum and they saw your display photo on your IM system, and it’s of a girl. Maybe you decided to go to a meet-up and everyone realizes you were lying. Because of course you are not who you say you are. So you apologize and laugh it off, and say you were just roleplaying. Or it was a joint account with a friend, and they left. Or you clicked the wrong gender when signing up and didn’t realize until people thought you were that gender and you kept it going because it was funny. But of course you can’t go back to the site now.
Again when you start dressing more androgynous, and when someone genders you the way you feel inside, your friends laugh and assure these people that you are not what you look like. That you really do have a dick. Would this stranger want to see it? ‘Cause they’ll pull it out for you if they have to. Hahaha, isn’t it funny that this person thought you were a girl? And you laugh and you apologize to this other person for looking misleading, but inside you are kicking yourself.
And then you come out. Hesitantly at first. You come out to a couple of close friends, and you say you may be genderqueer, and you don’t really know where you stand, but would they mind calling you “they?” And could they just call you Alex, or Cory, or Logan, which are all gender-neutral? And they say that maybe, I mean, it’s really hard, they’ve always known you as Alice and it’s going to be so super-hard to keep those pronouns straight. Hahahaha get it? Straight? Because you’re not straight if you want to be called Alex. You’re obviously gay or bi or something because straight people don’t switch genders. And you say it’s ok and you know it will take time and you don’t correct them even when they misgender you through the years and they call you the wrong thing in front of new friends or in front of your partners. And you apologize for picking such difficult pronouns and for putting them through this and asking them to switch over.
You apologize when you throw the gender ratios off in class and if only you were a girl you could be divided by gender and both groups would have the same amount of people. But, I mean. You don’t mind being with the girls, right? You understand them! Here, ehm, Rob. We promise we still think of you as a guy. But it will be so much easier if you just do us this favor and let us put you in the girls’ group. And you apologize for putting them through this.
You apologize for holding up the line at a gay club because the bouncers are convinced that your ID is a fake. And when you get out at the end of the night and they’re still there, you ask them why they thought it was fake, since it’s brand-spanking-new and you just got it, with the right name and gender, this past month. And they ask you if you’re trans. Oh, you are? Well, that explains it. It just didn’t look right, you know. The font is too thin.
You apologize when you wear a dress and grow your hair out and wear make-up and they still call you Andrew because it’s so hard for them because you will always be “he” to them.
You apologize for going into the right bathroom.
You apologize for mentioning that not all men have deep voices.
You apologize for knowing about periods.
You apologize for having a period.
You apologize for not having a period.
You apologize for being tall.
You apologize for being short.
You apologize for passing.
You apologize for being read.
You apologize for fucking existing and taking up space that you have no right to because you’re a filthy trans person and should just let cis people go ahead and walk all over you.
You apologize for wanting the same rights everybody else has.
And then? Then you have to apologize for not speaking up, because it’s not like cis people could have guessed that you were having issues with housing, or with pronouns, or with the bathroom, or with surgery, or with anything at all. Because you should be both unnoticed and a banner child. Because you should let everybody know you are here in case you make them uncomfortable, or in case they do something that’s fucked up and that screws you over. Because it’s not like you were supposed to see that. If they had only known you were there, they wouldn’t have done it. But oh my gods stop talking you’re always talking about how hard you have it why aren’t you just thankful about the stuff we’ve given you.
So you apologize for being.
It’s making the rounds again.
my favorite term is “practicing homosexual” like why yes, i am in training to be the best gay ever
"I don’t have to practise anymore. I’m good at it. Now I’m a concert homosexual."
Anonymous asked: If the protagonist is queer, and the story doesn't revolve around romance, then why is the protagonist queer in the first place if it's largely irrelevant? I'm simply curious .
Because our lives are not defined by romance and sex and we deserve better and more diverse stories than that.
I think that’s why it’s really difficult for girls. For me. We follow narratives and our fingertips trace the contours of the stories we love and we long to escape within the confines of our own lives. Meet your boyfriend in the pouring rain and yank down his mask and kiss him upside down. Run with your boyfriend to the front of the ferry and throw your arms out to the side and scream, “I’m king of the world!” If you are a girl in love with a boy, your possibilities are infinite.
If there is a special girl in your life, you love her as a friend. You love her as a friend, but she becomes less important to you as you grow, and you leave her behind for a boy. She might even stand next to you when you marry the boy, and she might catch the bouquet of flowers that you throw to her. You’re giving her permission to move on, move away from you. It’s a ceremony of separation.
But if you should fall in love with a girl - and loving and falling in love are two very distinct things - the first kiss is the end. You’ve all seen the movie. Or the television show. Or the after-school special, or you’ve read the book that was banned from your school’s library for containing Sexual Content. The point of your story is not to fall in love. The point of your story is to struggle. Your story begins with a lie and climaxes in a truth and ends with a kiss. In the movie of your life, forty-five minutes are devoted to you figuring out how to say that you want to kiss girls, and another half-hour is devoted to people’s objections, and maybe the last fifteen minutes is you kissing the girl. Maybe you don’t even get to kiss the girl. Maybe she tells you that she’s flattered, but she doesn’t bat for your team.
The critics swoon; it’s realistic, they say, so realistic, to depict the struggle of the modern teen, the heartbreak of irresolvable incompatibility. Isn’t that always what celebrities cite in their divorces? “Irreconciliable differences.”
And so you’re lying on the floor of your bathroom, your knees curled to your chest, or you’re on your sofa with a pint of ice cream, or you’re in bed watching your favourite sad movie on Netflix, and the collective weight of all that you consume settles on your shoulders, leans in, and whispers, “You were never meant to fall in love.”
You were never meant to fall in love. Your story ends in tears or it ends in death. Jack Twist was bludgeoned to death with a tire iron and Ennis Del Mar was left alone in his closet to dance with an empty shirt. Alby Grant found Dale Tomasson swinging by a noose in the apartment that had been their safehouse, their respite, and he sank to his knees and cradled Dale’s bare feet and he cried. The Motion Picture Association of America axed Lana Tisdel and Brandon Teena’s sex scenes, but they didn’t have a problem with the extended shot of Lana cradling Brandon’s corpse in her fragile arms and falling asleep next to his body.
Love and intimacy are ours only in death, or so it would seem.
I don’t want to die. Isn’t that a very human experience? Not wanting to die? When does anyone who looks like me get to grow old and raise grandchildren and hold her wife’s hand as the skin wrinkles, turns translucent?
Sometimes my father asks me if I’ll ever date a man. Sometimes he doesn’t ask. “You are attracted to men, and you dream about falling in love with men,” he says, as if he can will his imaginary daughter into existence merely by speaking about her. Or maybe he is just looking out for my safety.
He’s seen the movies, too.
He loves me.
He doesn’t want me to die.
Oh, my God, this is beautiful, and now I’m nearly crying. This. ALL OF THIS OMG.
When my best friend and I were in high school, trying desperately (and usually failing) to either not be gay or at least not hate ourselves for being gay, she once confessed to me, crying, that one of the reasons she didn’t want to be a lesbian is that lesbians aren’t happy in love, that their relationships can’t last, that she’d never seen happy lesbians in stable relationships. This shit matters so hard y’all.
I know I already reblogged this but the added commentary is necessary and important so I’m doing it again.
To all the clueless assholes who say it doesn’t matter when lesbian characters are mistreated, abused, hurt and left alone and heartbroken, never getting to have happy relationships
And to all the asshole writers who think it doesn’t matter if they show lesbian characters being abused and suffering and not being able to have happy relationships with the women they love…or who think that it doesn’t matter if they don’t portray lesbian characters and relationships at all
IT FUCKING MATTERS
We’re sick and tired of having to make do with ‘subtext’ and ‘hints’ and teasing…and sick of the only lesbian representation we DO get always having things end horribly for them
this is why I tend to stay from most LGBTQ+ YA novels
because they are always sad and everyone ends up depressed or without their family or friends support or somewhere tragic
I DONT WANT THAT
I want to read books where the girl has her family and friends support and she meets another girl and they are kickass lesbians/bisexuals/pansexuals in love and it isn’t a tragedy
I want to read books where we in the lgbtq+ community are seen happy and healthy without the whole ‘come to terms struggle’ that seems to follow us in the media
I don’t want to have to keep expecting the person like me to lose everything just because she happens to love a girl
I am crying
When trans women are pressured into being silent, rarely offering their opinion, and refusing leadership roles for fear of being seen as male or accused of having male privilege, that’s transmisogyny.
When trans women are afraid to analyze or discuss the role of male privilege in their life because of the way accusations of male privilege have been used as weapons to silence, shame, and misgender trans women, that’s transmisogyny.
When trans women do analyze and discuss the role of male privilege in their lives and come to different conclusions than the dominant cis feminist perspective and are told it is because they simply don’t understand privilege or are ignorant of feminism, that’s transmisogyny. Tobi Hill-Meyer, “What Transmisogyny Looks Like”