Love. Pride. Positivity.
Check out my side tags for my art, my hedgehog, and quick links to common tags I use.
My main fandoms are Overwatch, Marvel, LotR, Pokemon/Legend of Zelda/Nintendo.
My Battletag is HanzosNipple; message me if you want to play, or say hi if you run into me!
Listen up feminists and LGBT activists! Yes, you who worship the holy trinity of “sex, gender, and sexuality” in your educational literature! Yes, you who suddenly discovered transgender folks sometime during the 1990s and decided that, for their sake, it would be super important to draw a clear distinction between “sex” as a biological, bodily fact and “gender” as a mode of social identification!
You’re doing it wrong.
Sex is not “what’s in your pants.” Sex is not chromosomes. Sex is not hormones. Sex is not biology. Sex is neither a penis nor a vagina. Sex is not breasts, nor is it chest hair, prostates or ovaries.
I’m a transgender woman. For the next few months at least, what’s in my pants is a penis. I have a prostate gland. I have a Y chromosome.
“Aha!” you say. “So your sex is male but your gender is female! That’s what makes you transgender.”
Wrong. Try again! “Sex” is a social decision made at the moment of birth (or earlier if your parent[s] get a sonogram). We only assign children a “sex” because of gender, because we feel the cultural imperative to sort people into two dichotomous populations based on the presence or absence of a tiny bit of flesh. “Sex” is gender in doctor’s clothing: nothing more, nothing less.
Yes, we have bodies. Yes, those bodies have characteristics. Yes, those characteristics have gendered meanings in a cisnormative world. But this “sex” you keep on looking for, that you incorporate into your ostensibly trans-inclusive curriculum? It. Doesn’t. Fucking. Exist.
The only people who need to know details about my body parts are my doctors and my lovers. Do you fall into one of those two groups? No? Then you don’t need to know what’s in my pants! You don’t need to know what my chromosomes are. You don’t need to know my estrogen levels (although they’re quite high, thank you very much).
All you need to know is that my name is Samantha, I use she/her pronouns and I pee behind the door with the dress on it. Guess what? We can teach people all of those things without them knowing anything about my body.
In fact, you should just quit talking about “sex” altogether. Try using “assigned sex” to talk about doctors’ decisions and the ways in which those decisions affect peoples’ lives. But quit trying to act as if we can empirically sort bodies into two categories that pre-exist gender norms. We can’t. And you’re hurting precisely the people that you think you’re helping with your convenient sex/gender split.
“Sex” is gender in doctor’s clothing: nothing more, nothing less.
Why is it cute and trendy for girls to wear men’s flannel shirts and baggy boy’s sweatpants, but when a boy tries to wear anything remotely close to girl’s clothes, they are considered “girly” or “gay”?
Do you know why?
Do you want to know why?
Because our society thinks its degrading to be feminine.
GIVE THIS THING AS MANY NOTES AS POSSIBLE. EVERYBODY MUST SEE THIS AND HAVE IT ON THEIR BLOG. HOLY SHIT.
No its because most boys look ridiculous in girls clothes, but girls look decent in “boyfriend” clothes. Stop trying to make EVERY THING into some form of female oppression.
It’s not “boyfriend” clothes. Clothes do not inherently have gender, they are pieces of fabric and no one cares about your hetero insertions. There was a time when it was normal for young men to wear dresses, clothing was much more gender neutral.
Cute little boys in their boy dresses!
And dresses and skirts look fine on men:
In different cultures around the world different items of clothing are worn that in many countries would be seen as feminine:
And they all look fabulous as fuck, like wow!
The only reason you think so now is because you are socialised differently. Which is ok, that happens, but when you assert things as facts and don’t look at any of the culture behind them you looking like an anal fissure.
Do not project your issues onto other men, men can wear whatever the fuck they want and look fabulous as hell.
MY FAVORITE FUCKING QUOTE
“They’re not ‘women’s clothes.’ They’re my clothes. I buy them.”
If you are upset, angry or uncomfortable with me over the clothes I choose to wear…
I am not the one who needs to change.
But perhaps you need to reevaluate your feelings and why my personal style is contributing to your own dissatisfaction or discomfort.
Do not chastise me because I like to wear skirts and make up.
Do not rebuke my existence because I look damn good in a dress.
Do not reproach me with your concerns over my wardrobe because I do not get dressed for my day with you in mind.
You can berate me as much as you like, but I wont change.
There was a time when I had no choice but to conceal my true self to continue living alongside someone or multiple people. Thankfully, I am past that point in my life.
If you have yet to reach a point in life where you feel 100% free to be yourself, now is the time to figure out how you can change your life in a positive way that allows you such freedoms. For younger individuals, this is the hardest because all you can do is wait it out until you reach an age where your parents can no longer control you and society can’t stop you. I know what that is like, I have been there! Remember, I am only 22 years old! It wasn’t until about 3 years ago when I obtained such freedom for myself.
Never give up on yourself though.
Never forget the person you want to be when you finally get the chance to. I sure didn’t.
“Umm, how can you be ‘semiaquatic’, you either are aquatic or you’re not. Don’t be greedy.”
“So, I get that you’re a monotreme and everything, but do you identify more as a rodent or a bird?”
“Ugh, why do you have to be such a special snowflake. Do you and like three other species need an entire order to describe yourselves that separates you from mammals that birth live young?”
“You needlessly complicate an artificially constructed system of classification. Why don’t you just lose the webbed feet and beak and egg laying ways and become a proper mammal.”
“Ha! You may look like you belong to class Aves, but I know for a fact that birds don’t have fur. You’re such a phony.”
“Why do you insist on appropriating beaks and webbed feet. Like, you admitted you weren’t a bird, stop incorporating them into your anatomy. All you’re doing is making birds look less legitimate as an order.”
“Being mistaken for a man or confronted with my ‘male’ appearance is nothing out of the ordinary for me. It happens all the time. Whether in public restrooms, at the security check in airports, at work or in the waiting room at the gynecologist, at the job center, at the national register, in clubs, bars, shops, on the street, and so on and on. Every time it hurts. Sometimes more, sometimes less.
Two years ago, when a car full of young guys pulled up next to me on the street, shouting and threatening me, because I didn’t match their idea of a woman, I decided I had to start something. I wanted to meet people who like me, identify as women, but who are frequently being mistaken for another gender, and consequently harassed, insulted or humiliated in public or within their families. So far I have photographed more than 50 women, and collected their stories. Some of which you can see and read here.
This is an ongoing project. I want to create an awareness of the multiple ways people can identify with and express their gender in spite of being constantly confronted and questioned and put down by a narrow minded society.” —Goodyn Green (photographer, pictured above in topmost photo)
I love this photo series, and it certainly hits close to home for me. I identify as a woman, but get mistaken for a male pretty frequently because of the way I look and dress. I get “sir’d” quite often. I’m pretty used to it by now, but it always irks me a bit. One particular thing that comes to mind is using public restrooms. Sometimes women come in, see me, then go back out and check the sign on the door to see if they’re in the right bathroom. Sometimes they ask me if I’m a boy or a girl. Sometimes they say to me, “this is the women’s room.” Sometimes they just stare. Once someone said, “oh, I didn’t know they allow boys in here now.” Whatever you identify as, however you look, remember, there is nothing wrong with you. Be exactly who you are, and be proud. And share awesome projects like this to raise awareness!
