Hi, I’m James, he/him pronouns and cisenough, and I’m horrible at reading people and have obscene amounts of nervous energy. College dropout twice over trying to figure out how to move through life when you're queer and have chronic mental health issues, you know how it goes.
"My response to the “I am not a feminist” internet phenomenon….
First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”
But here is what I think you should know.
You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.
You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.
You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).
You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (It is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.
In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.
In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.”
— Libby Anne (via oatmeal47)
All I want to do right now is to smoke a bowl and go hiking in the woods for a couple hours.
So one time, one of my guy friends said, “I’m pretty sure I’m straight but I’ve never slept with a man so how do I know for sure if I’m not bisexual or gay” and so he actually went and picked up a guy, had sex with him and after ward he said, “Well that was fun but I appear to be straight.” and just went on with his life without making a big deal about his dip into homosexuality and really, I think everybody should be this relaxed about sexualities
wanna know what’s funny about transgender jokes?
Chicks with dicks, dudes with boobs?
That’s not the funny part.
The funniest part is
The fact we get up in the morning and get too scared to look in the mirror in case we get overwhelmed with dysphoria, OBSESSED with looking like the gender we are inside but irritated because we feel like we can’t, to the point where we hide from our own reflection.
The fact that we barely want to leave our house sometimes because we don’t want to answer the daily pestering questions. “Are you a boy or a girl?”
The fact that needing to use to the bathroom in a public place is like waking a sleeping dog.
The fact that we have to be ashamed of our own natural bodies and wonder why a God would ever do this to us.
The fact that your options are: coming out and swearing that you were born with the same sex as your gender, or locking it away and not telling a soul.
The fact that we have to hide from the world, one way or another, because people aren’t ready for the “diversity” we bring.
The fact that my friend thought ‘transgender’ meant I was born with no genitals.
The fact that I am notorious in my town, and I can’t walk out the door without being asked why I want to be a boy if I’m really a girl? Why I don’t just identify as lesbian and move on.
The fact that shower time equals to “put a towel over the mirror just so you don’t have to look at yourself” time.
The fact that sometimes, I feel okay. Sometimes I accept that my body is my body. That I was born like this. Sometimes I can respect myself, because I know that one day, I’ll become who I need to be. There’ll be no more questions. No more insults. No more misunderstanding. No more mis-pronoun-ing. No more suicidal thoughts. No more self loathing. No more of people looking at me like I’m some sort of freak. No more complicated relationships with people who can’t help putting someone’s body before their everything else. No more cutting. No more worries.
But as the day progresses, I remember that people already do look at me differently.
I remember that, if I ever fall in love, I’ll have to find someone who doesn’t care that I don’t have the “parts” to be a man- someone who can understand that I AM TWICE THE MAN as the guy who just told me that I’ll never be one, so why don’t I just give up? I remember that I’ll never have kids of my own. I remember that having a sexual relationship will be near impossible for years to come. I remember that I’m too weak and feminine to fight. I remember that I am still my birth-name to every register I’m in. I remember that I look twelve years old and I will still look twelve years old when I am 19. I remember that I am PATHETIC without my masculinity. I remember that people will never understand how worthless I feel- how much i’d rather be anyone else.
wanna know what’s funny about transgender jokes?
"Trans Jokes"- Cody Woods (via immakinggingerbreadcookies)
The problem with Transgender “jokes”.
how many of us, as children, have had creeping thoughts of “i think i have a crush on somebody of my own gender” or “i wish i were another gender” and dismissed them so swiftly and so effectively because those ideas were unnatural and unconscionable that they never had the chance to grow into our identities? how many more of us, when finally told from childhood that queerness is a real and good option, will be queer and will love it?
i like boys in theory and then one gets too close to me adn im like nah
I think a lot of people don’t understand that when we talk about these issues—blackface, rape jokes, the appropriation of marginalized cultures, and so on—we are having an ethical conversation, not a legal one. There is no thought police. No one’s coming to your house and carting you off to Insensitivity Prison. But you, as a person living on this planet, get to make a choice whether you want to hurt people or help people. Whether you want to listen or shut people out. I can’t imagine why you’d choose “defensive shithead” over “nice lady capable of empathy,” but okey dokey.