"When you’re boxing, the jab is a distraction from the cross, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore the jab." -- this is such a good analogy, I'm going to pass it on.
Thank you for your writing, I always look forward to reading your essays when they come out.
If we can acknowledge that its Big F Fascists and little f fascists and the underlying death trip of the extractive economy...then of course we can all migrate from our separate street corners into one big solidarity fish (to cite the protagonist of "Swimmy") and get over ourselves and each other to collaborate better than all them fascists (who are, of course, bound to lose).
The opening of this piece is one of the best descriptions I've ever read of what it's like to be trans. What are my pronouns? Me and you. I identify as someone who is in line at the grocery store. Did you just assume my gender? Yeah, that'll happen.
And I say all of this as someone who maybe has a noisier gender presentation alarm in my head than Margaret. I've transitioned medically, including a major surgery, which implies that on some level it matters to me how the rest of the world perceives me. I have some pronoun pins around here somewhere. But it always feels like my gender is something closer to the smell of my own breath than anything else. If I'm thinking about others' perception of it, it's much most likely as a source of anxiety.
"When you’re boxing, the jab is a distraction from the cross, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore the jab." -- this is such a good analogy, I'm going to pass it on.
Thank you for your writing, I always look forward to reading your essays when they come out.
FUCK YEAH, fuck yeah.
Fuck. Yeah.
If we can acknowledge that its Big F Fascists and little f fascists and the underlying death trip of the extractive economy...then of course we can all migrate from our separate street corners into one big solidarity fish (to cite the protagonist of "Swimmy") and get over ourselves and each other to collaborate better than all them fascists (who are, of course, bound to lose).
Damn, I love you a lot. Keep doing your thing.
THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL AND HEARTFELT AND RIGHT THAT IT MADE ME CRY
The opening of this piece is one of the best descriptions I've ever read of what it's like to be trans. What are my pronouns? Me and you. I identify as someone who is in line at the grocery store. Did you just assume my gender? Yeah, that'll happen.
And I say all of this as someone who maybe has a noisier gender presentation alarm in my head than Margaret. I've transitioned medically, including a major surgery, which implies that on some level it matters to me how the rest of the world perceives me. I have some pronoun pins around here somewhere. But it always feels like my gender is something closer to the smell of my own breath than anything else. If I'm thinking about others' perception of it, it's much most likely as a source of anxiety.
I fly the flag for more than just pride. It also makes sure other trans people know they are not alone.
I hate to think of the number in the area that probably think they are.
"There is no justice. There is just us." Terry Pratchett
I feel this! Not a fan of flags in general or the, yes, very baby coloured one, but flags have their uses