Right, David Mitchell can have his own category.
In some ways, I've grown up into a slightly shorter replica of my dad. In this particular, minor, way, we both pour a great deal of bile and contemptuous scorn into the word "football" - enunciating both its syllables, Foot. Ball.
Though my dad was actually on a school sports team, which would have been pretty much unthinkable for me. I can't quite look back at school P.E. and laugh yet - it's more looking back and screaming "Nononono make the memories stop I beg for a swift death".
And remember, I played with the girls! Well... I'm not sure that you can call them "girls", more "enraged she-beasts from the Book of Vile Darkness who've been handed blunt instruments and then cheered on in their bloodshed". If I'd had to share sports lessons with the other boys, I wouldn't be alive to write this.
Menstruation? It does rather jar with my sense of self, but I'm glad that the sports teachers never kept track of my menstrual cycle. Eight periods a month is probably not the ordinary number.
I guess the attendant anaemia would have explained my height and weight...
Anyway, come on, people. Give me a positive view of sport. One that doesn't recall me having my head trodden into freezing mud.
Saturday, 25 October 2008
Friday, 24 October 2008
It's going to look like YOUR FACE.
Hey, real people have been commenting on this here thing. And I hadn't noticed. Ahoy there.
And I got my first insulting anonymous comment a few posts back, w00t.
Anyway, I has mostly been... worrying, because my marks this term have to be decent. And wondering if I ought to improve my idiosyncratic French, because I have just got to go and study some Upper Palaeolithic cave art in the flesh... paint... at some point.
Anyway, my rant of the day. I'm aware that we're having a global economic recession, sorry, "downturn" and that there are bigger issues out there, but this is my blog.
People who meet a tattooed individual, then trot out the cliche: "What's that going to look like when you're 80?"
Now, that doesn't annoy me because I've got tattoos. Nor does it annoy me on the behalf of others who do. The general response is a lighthearted "Fuck off, when I'm 80 I'll probably be in a wheelchair or dead; if a blobby tattoo is my biggest worry, my whole life is gonna be one giant party."
Of course, I'd say the same - but the topic, in all seriousness, is upsetting. I'm insulted, on the behalf of every 80-year-old in the country who finds themselves with another new physical disability every day, and every 80-year-old in the country who is in constant, debilitating pain.
The people asking that question are never, ever elderly themselves. And they're able-bodied enough to wander the streets being rude to people. They've never, ever considered what life might be like for the very old - they prefer to make jokes about their possible appearance.
Here's a classic case - my own grandfather, though something similar will happen to every one of us:
My grandfather can't walk any more. Because he had to have one leg amputated, an operation that had to happen under local anaesthetic, because a general anaesthetic would have killed him (yes, I realise that many women have caesarean sections under local - and that's just another type of bodily trauma that these appearance-obsessed people, who seem never to have encountered it, can ignore). He's blind in one eye, but has to lie with the working eye facing the wall because the appropriate side of his body gets too painful (he can't sit for long, for the same reason). He can't wash or dress himself, and has to use a catheter. Imagine how dignified that must make him feel.
So... in answer?
AWFUL. It's going to look awful. So, because tattoos start fading from the very beginning, I'm going to hide in a hole for the rest of my life, because my precious, precious looks are irreversibly damaged - because unattractive things and people shouldn't be seen in public. And when you're 80, and you still meet every stupid standard of beauty in the world and are also perfectly physically fit, because that seems to be what you're expecting, you can drop by my hermit-cave and laugh at me.
Edit: That's odd: I was thinking about tattoos and unconscious ageism, and don't have time to rant about the sexist vitriol directed at tattooed women - an awesome blogger read my mind and wrote one for me, today.
And I got my first insulting anonymous comment a few posts back, w00t.
Anyway, I has mostly been... worrying, because my marks this term have to be decent. And wondering if I ought to improve my idiosyncratic French, because I have just got to go and study some Upper Palaeolithic cave art in the flesh... paint... at some point.
Anyway, my rant of the day. I'm aware that we're having a global economic recession, sorry, "downturn" and that there are bigger issues out there, but this is my blog.
People who meet a tattooed individual, then trot out the cliche: "What's that going to look like when you're 80?"
Now, that doesn't annoy me because I've got tattoos. Nor does it annoy me on the behalf of others who do. The general response is a lighthearted "Fuck off, when I'm 80 I'll probably be in a wheelchair or dead; if a blobby tattoo is my biggest worry, my whole life is gonna be one giant party."
Of course, I'd say the same - but the topic, in all seriousness, is upsetting. I'm insulted, on the behalf of every 80-year-old in the country who finds themselves with another new physical disability every day, and every 80-year-old in the country who is in constant, debilitating pain.
The people asking that question are never, ever elderly themselves. And they're able-bodied enough to wander the streets being rude to people. They've never, ever considered what life might be like for the very old - they prefer to make jokes about their possible appearance.
Here's a classic case - my own grandfather, though something similar will happen to every one of us:
My grandfather can't walk any more. Because he had to have one leg amputated, an operation that had to happen under local anaesthetic, because a general anaesthetic would have killed him (yes, I realise that many women have caesarean sections under local - and that's just another type of bodily trauma that these appearance-obsessed people, who seem never to have encountered it, can ignore). He's blind in one eye, but has to lie with the working eye facing the wall because the appropriate side of his body gets too painful (he can't sit for long, for the same reason). He can't wash or dress himself, and has to use a catheter. Imagine how dignified that must make him feel.
So... in answer?
AWFUL. It's going to look awful. So, because tattoos start fading from the very beginning, I'm going to hide in a hole for the rest of my life, because my precious, precious looks are irreversibly damaged - because unattractive things and people shouldn't be seen in public. And when you're 80, and you still meet every stupid standard of beauty in the world and are also perfectly physically fit, because that seems to be what you're expecting, you can drop by my hermit-cave and laugh at me.
Edit: That's odd: I was thinking about tattoos and unconscious ageism, and don't have time to rant about the sexist vitriol directed at tattooed women - an awesome blogger read my mind and wrote one for me, today.
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
Friday, 17 October 2008
Masculinity fail
The comments for my fieldwork last term pointed out that "Oliver found the physical aspects of the work demanding, and he had some absences through illness" - egad, can I get a disclaimer already, for all the eminent archaeologists that see them and mock what they assume to be a particularly wussy cis boy???
"Incidentally, Oliver has XX chromosomes and weighs less than 120lb whatever he eats, and YES WHILE HIS CATEGORY IS CERTAINLY WITH THE BLOKES, doesn't feel that the comparison of physical strength that people are now going to make is necessarily fair. Many of his absences were owing to migraines, which he gets at certain points in his menstrual cycle, OK??? He has the body and constitution of a consumptive Georgian romantic heroine or an elven princess, all right? If you want to fight over this issue, he'll gladly... erm..."
Also, if you're trans masculine at all, you really don't want to come out to my supervisor - his attitude isn't the problem, he's been bloody wonderful - but he might make you feel rather inadequate. "Hello, Oliver, I'll be with you in a minute. I've got to move fifty pianos with my left hand, demolish a skyscraper with my right, father two children (with the obvious parts) and open some beer bottles with my teeth."
OK, he might never have said that in so many words. But his superhuman strength is admired throughout the department, and he really doesn't understand the concept of illness. I reckon he thinks it's a fiction invented by heartless capitalists.
Anyway... I think I'll post a more light-hearted take on the toilet issue, as the only other option is to stab people in the head with rage.
So, I use the Gents, unless I'm in a dodgy place where it seems less than safe to do so. I miss the cameraderie of the Ladies'. WHY don't other men talk while they're having their pees?
And WHY do they always go alone? It's not just homophobic men not wanting to seem gay, or gay men not wanting to be stabbed - men in gay bars do it too!
It's not a secret mission. Everybody can guess where you're going.
"Incidentally, Oliver has XX chromosomes and weighs less than 120lb whatever he eats, and YES WHILE HIS CATEGORY IS CERTAINLY WITH THE BLOKES, doesn't feel that the comparison of physical strength that people are now going to make is necessarily fair. Many of his absences were owing to migraines, which he gets at certain points in his menstrual cycle, OK??? He has the body and constitution of a consumptive Georgian romantic heroine or an elven princess, all right? If you want to fight over this issue, he'll gladly... erm..."
Also, if you're trans masculine at all, you really don't want to come out to my supervisor - his attitude isn't the problem, he's been bloody wonderful - but he might make you feel rather inadequate. "Hello, Oliver, I'll be with you in a minute. I've got to move fifty pianos with my left hand, demolish a skyscraper with my right, father two children (with the obvious parts) and open some beer bottles with my teeth."
OK, he might never have said that in so many words. But his superhuman strength is admired throughout the department, and he really doesn't understand the concept of illness. I reckon he thinks it's a fiction invented by heartless capitalists.
Anyway... I think I'll post a more light-hearted take on the toilet issue, as the only other option is to stab people in the head with rage.
So, I use the Gents, unless I'm in a dodgy place where it seems less than safe to do so. I miss the cameraderie of the Ladies'. WHY don't other men talk while they're having their pees?
And WHY do they always go alone? It's not just homophobic men not wanting to seem gay, or gay men not wanting to be stabbed - men in gay bars do it too!
It's not a secret mission. Everybody can guess where you're going.
Thursday, 16 October 2008
Welcome Week
According to Sarah and D, two Warwick freshers have died this week. Of alcohol poisoning.
Up here, our teetotal SU president is trying to make introductory events less like compulsory drinking contests.
And people are COMPLAINING. Apparently all the fun!!! of Freshers' Week!!! (now renamed Welcome Week) is all gone!!!
FUCK OFF.
That is all.
Up here, our teetotal SU president is trying to make introductory events less like compulsory drinking contests.
And people are COMPLAINING. Apparently all the fun!!! of Freshers' Week!!! (now renamed Welcome Week) is all gone!!!
FUCK OFF.
That is all.
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
We won't inherit the Earth, whatever my bumper sticker said. The Earth is full of twats.
Battybattybats' writings on the fabulousness that is the Goth subculture makes me want to write an elegy for my other much-maligned cultural family - that of the geek.
However, I'm feeling snarky, rather than poetic - or, indeed, elegiac (?). So, I'm going to start by aggressively debunking the main myth that is associated with geeks/nerds/whatevers - as suggested in this week's copy of our student rag, Vision.
Apparently, our freakish hobbies and interests exist only to soothe our troubled souls - troubled, because we simply don't get laid enough.
That latter part might, indeed, be the case - until our sample geek reaches 18 and leaves high school!
After that, ze gets laid ABSOLUTELY ALL THE TIME. If ze so wishes - a fairly large proportion of us are on the asexuality spectrum somewhere - meaning, O Vision writer, that they're not trying.
Oh yes - and in my sample of geeks, i.e. those at my university, threesomes/foursomes/etc. seem to be more common than average.
We rarely get laid out of our tribe, yes - but the thought of sleeping with the average person generally leaves us cold. Bear with me, said Vision writer, and say we're in a parallel universe in which every "normal" student suddenly WANTS US BADLY. Let's try it with both sexes -
Male Student: Let's have sexual intercourse (yes, I realise that non-geeks are less direct, but I can't replicate what they actually do).
Geek: OK, but we'd better have at least half a conversation first. What do you think of (insert obscure film/book/mathematical equation)?
Male Student: I am amazing. Listen to my immense sense of entitlement and vastly inflated sense of self-worth. I like football.
(In the unlikely event that Geek is still horny, ze wanders off and masturbates).
Female Student: Let's have sexual intercourse (see disclaimer above).
Geek: OK, but we'd better have at least half a conversation first. What do you think of (insert obscure film/book/mathematical equation)?
Female Student: I am amazing. Listen to my immense sense of entitlement and vastly inflated sense of self-worth. I like shoes.
(In the unlikely event that Geek is still horny, ze wanders off and masturbates).
Sorry about the binary examples, there - but most of the genderqueers I've met are fellow geeks. Heck, "geek" is a gender.
Incidentally, we also build more lasting relationships. Take a look at the average online forum dedicated to Dungeons & Dragons, MUDs, Terry Pratchett, whatever (No, someone is not a geek just because they play bloody World of Warcraft. They might simply be emulating the worst aspects of the subculture).
Anyway, you'll see so much evidence of marriages, civil partnerships, and every other kind of committed relationship.
I'm an autistic geek, so I am one of those few that do have problems getting laid (see my last post but one). But even I've managed it a respectable few times, and I'm in a great relationship.
I believe it's fitting to end with a Discworld quote.
Vision writer, and all your ilk; I think you have something wrong with your head.
I think it's stuck up your bum.
(I know I've let the side down by not finding the exact quote, but tough.)
However, I'm feeling snarky, rather than poetic - or, indeed, elegiac (?). So, I'm going to start by aggressively debunking the main myth that is associated with geeks/nerds/whatevers - as suggested in this week's copy of our student rag, Vision.
Apparently, our freakish hobbies and interests exist only to soothe our troubled souls - troubled, because we simply don't get laid enough.
That latter part might, indeed, be the case - until our sample geek reaches 18 and leaves high school!
After that, ze gets laid ABSOLUTELY ALL THE TIME. If ze so wishes - a fairly large proportion of us are on the asexuality spectrum somewhere - meaning, O Vision writer, that they're not trying.
Oh yes - and in my sample of geeks, i.e. those at my university, threesomes/foursomes/etc. seem to be more common than average.
We rarely get laid out of our tribe, yes - but the thought of sleeping with the average person generally leaves us cold. Bear with me, said Vision writer, and say we're in a parallel universe in which every "normal" student suddenly WANTS US BADLY. Let's try it with both sexes -
Male Student: Let's have sexual intercourse (yes, I realise that non-geeks are less direct, but I can't replicate what they actually do).
Geek: OK, but we'd better have at least half a conversation first. What do you think of (insert obscure film/book/mathematical equation)?
Male Student: I am amazing. Listen to my immense sense of entitlement and vastly inflated sense of self-worth. I like football.
(In the unlikely event that Geek is still horny, ze wanders off and masturbates).
Female Student: Let's have sexual intercourse (see disclaimer above).
Geek: OK, but we'd better have at least half a conversation first. What do you think of (insert obscure film/book/mathematical equation)?
Female Student: I am amazing. Listen to my immense sense of entitlement and vastly inflated sense of self-worth. I like shoes.
(In the unlikely event that Geek is still horny, ze wanders off and masturbates).
Sorry about the binary examples, there - but most of the genderqueers I've met are fellow geeks. Heck, "geek" is a gender.
Incidentally, we also build more lasting relationships. Take a look at the average online forum dedicated to Dungeons & Dragons, MUDs, Terry Pratchett, whatever (No, someone is not a geek just because they play bloody World of Warcraft. They might simply be emulating the worst aspects of the subculture).
Anyway, you'll see so much evidence of marriages, civil partnerships, and every other kind of committed relationship.
I'm an autistic geek, so I am one of those few that do have problems getting laid (see my last post but one). But even I've managed it a respectable few times, and I'm in a great relationship.
I believe it's fitting to end with a Discworld quote.
Vision writer, and all your ilk; I think you have something wrong with your head.
I think it's stuck up your bum.
(I know I've let the side down by not finding the exact quote, but tough.)
Sunday, 12 October 2008
Prophecies
Hagrid decided that, today, we would go and visit Mother Shipton's Cave in Knaresborough. The borderline-illiterate signs and museum displays were filled with spookiness and lots of "ooooh... some of her prophecies came true... ooooh" which was thoroughly enjoyable.
Sadly, the Internets tell me that they've been fairly selective, so as to heighten the atmosphere. Here's the big one that wasn't mentioned anywhere:
The world to an end shall come
In eighteen hundred and eighty-one.
FAIL. You really have no idea how disappointed I am.
Sadly, the Internets tell me that they've been fairly selective, so as to heighten the atmosphere. Here's the big one that wasn't mentioned anywhere:
The world to an end shall come
In eighteen hundred and eighty-one.
FAIL. You really have no idea how disappointed I am.
Friday, 10 October 2008
I became a geek...
So that I wouldn't have to talk to people. I could talk to dragons and things instead. In my head.
But what's the most common geek pastime nowadays? Online multiplayer RPGs.
So you have to talk to fucking THOUSANDS of people! A normal person's social life actually involves fewer of 'em.
I'm off to drink alcohol! in a place of revelry! with fellow humans! then.
Edit - oh yes, people at university are fairly accommodating of my autistic self. Someone who knows about our stance on extra-marital shenanigans, and about my communication difficulties, came up to me yesterday and just said "I would like to have sex with you."
Good! I understand that! If you'd flirted with me for hours, I just would have stared at you like an anthropologist witnessing a tribal ritual that ze finds utterly foreign, then I'd have wandered off.
"Now?" I asked, because the statement wasn't specific enough.
"Not now, because I'm busy, but at some point in the next few months."
Ladies, gentlemen and genderqueers, we have conversation with no subtext, no hidden agenda and no idioms! Yes, I know I'm Mister Subtext and Idioms when the communication is written, my Literature A-Level marks attest to that... but I need a bit of time to figure them out in speech. By "a bit of time" I mean "two solid minutes to sit with my mouth open in a foolish way".
I know that my pathetic tally of sexual conquests could be because I'm ugly as fuck, but there is this aspect as well - I have only slept with people who gave a statement exactly like the one above.
And, of course, most of the people willing to be that blunt are random creepy drunk men covered in vomit stains, or similar, who, y'know, I've turned down. Apparently, nice people don't tend to be so direct.
I mean, I've ignored lines like "Shall we have sex?" because... well, how should I know? I'm just getting this "theory of mind" thing, so I've only just understood that your thoughts aren't the same as mine... and now you want me to read them?
Anyway, I met another person last night, who also seemed to speak without any of the peculiarities that make up normal conversation. When something bad was mentioned, he said "Oh dear," in a heartfelt way. At every "Oh dear," Hagrid and I simultaneously thought "We love you. We damn well hope you're gay, because we want you to have our babies and live with us forever".
More insights into the world of autism, that eeevil disease that eats away YOUR CHILD leaving an EMPTY SHELL, no, wait, it doesn't.
Final edit (info from Lisa Harney) - Apparently Stonewall (you know, that charity supporting rich white cisgendered gay men, yes?) is honouring Julie FUCKING Bindel. Yup, that Julie Bindel. Not a different Julie Bindel, who isn't a crazed raving fucking bigot, but the more well-known one... who is.
I'm going to write a piece for the Mail that says "Well, the Pakis and the spastics should all be shot, but the gays... they're lovely!" and see if I get honoured too.
But what's the most common geek pastime nowadays? Online multiplayer RPGs.
So you have to talk to fucking THOUSANDS of people! A normal person's social life actually involves fewer of 'em.
I'm off to drink alcohol! in a place of revelry! with fellow humans! then.
Edit - oh yes, people at university are fairly accommodating of my autistic self. Someone who knows about our stance on extra-marital shenanigans, and about my communication difficulties, came up to me yesterday and just said "I would like to have sex with you."
Good! I understand that! If you'd flirted with me for hours, I just would have stared at you like an anthropologist witnessing a tribal ritual that ze finds utterly foreign, then I'd have wandered off.
"Now?" I asked, because the statement wasn't specific enough.
"Not now, because I'm busy, but at some point in the next few months."
Ladies, gentlemen and genderqueers, we have conversation with no subtext, no hidden agenda and no idioms! Yes, I know I'm Mister Subtext and Idioms when the communication is written, my Literature A-Level marks attest to that... but I need a bit of time to figure them out in speech. By "a bit of time" I mean "two solid minutes to sit with my mouth open in a foolish way".
I know that my pathetic tally of sexual conquests could be because I'm ugly as fuck, but there is this aspect as well - I have only slept with people who gave a statement exactly like the one above.
And, of course, most of the people willing to be that blunt are random creepy drunk men covered in vomit stains, or similar, who, y'know, I've turned down. Apparently, nice people don't tend to be so direct.
I mean, I've ignored lines like "Shall we have sex?" because... well, how should I know? I'm just getting this "theory of mind" thing, so I've only just understood that your thoughts aren't the same as mine... and now you want me to read them?
Anyway, I met another person last night, who also seemed to speak without any of the peculiarities that make up normal conversation. When something bad was mentioned, he said "Oh dear," in a heartfelt way. At every "Oh dear," Hagrid and I simultaneously thought "We love you. We damn well hope you're gay, because we want you to have our babies and live with us forever".
More insights into the world of autism, that eeevil disease that eats away YOUR CHILD leaving an EMPTY SHELL, no, wait, it doesn't.
Final edit (info from Lisa Harney) - Apparently Stonewall (you know, that charity supporting rich white cisgendered gay men, yes?) is honouring Julie FUCKING Bindel. Yup, that Julie Bindel. Not a different Julie Bindel, who isn't a crazed raving fucking bigot, but the more well-known one... who is.
I'm going to write a piece for the Mail that says "Well, the Pakis and the spastics should all be shot, but the gays... they're lovely!" and see if I get honoured too.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Manga Ollis
OK, so a couple of years ago, I looked like this:
Now, I look like this:
Hagrid has pretty much continuously looked like this (which is, of course, how he gets the pseudonym - particularly from the small child that pointed and yelled "Look Mummy, it's Hagrid"*):
I guess that for him, as a pansexual (who has never been entirely out, in case his mother goes OH NO, I RAISED *TWO* OF THEM**??? and cries, but I'm very sure she doesn't read this), the variety has been pleasing. He's had the depressed femme and the comparatively cheerful androgynous man: now he just needs someone resembling an Uruk-hai for balance.
No can do, I'm afraid.
Well, making those was some time I'll never get back...
*Actually, he resembles Hagrid in personality, too - yup, entirely. You guys, I'm doing Hagrid!
**My queer-theory-sense is tingling... his (out) sister is bi- rather than pansexual, because she only likes men and women.
Now, I look like this:
Hagrid has pretty much continuously looked like this (which is, of course, how he gets the pseudonym - particularly from the small child that pointed and yelled "Look Mummy, it's Hagrid"*):
I guess that for him, as a pansexual (who has never been entirely out, in case his mother goes OH NO, I RAISED *TWO* OF THEM**??? and cries, but I'm very sure she doesn't read this), the variety has been pleasing. He's had the depressed femme and the comparatively cheerful androgynous man: now he just needs someone resembling an Uruk-hai for balance.
No can do, I'm afraid.
Well, making those was some time I'll never get back...
*Actually, he resembles Hagrid in personality, too - yup, entirely. You guys, I'm doing Hagrid!
**My queer-theory-sense is tingling... his (out) sister is bi- rather than pansexual, because she only likes men and women.
Surprise!
I think, in a few months' time, I'm going to surprise Hagrid.
I hope he likes the surprise - if not, I'm screwed.
O yes, my mum reads this - NO, I'm not bloody pregnant! Not as far as I know, anyway. There are no twins (she always says "is it twins?" whenever I look the least bit worried).
I hope he likes the surprise - if not, I'm screwed.
O yes, my mum reads this - NO, I'm not bloody pregnant! Not as far as I know, anyway. There are no twins (she always says "is it twins?" whenever I look the least bit worried).
Entrenched stereotypes
Obviously, people see what they expect to see. Obviously, if someone has been fed the stereotype of black men being scary, dangerous, criminals, etc. they will remember and recount the ethnicity of the mugger when a young black man steals their wallet, and forget about race altogether when they're recounting their other three muggings by young white men.
And obviously, they won't remember the race of the black man who holds the door open for them, smiles nicely at them in the street, etc.
(I was thinking of that particular example because I've had too many accounts like that from white people, recently - "This BLACK man assaulted me" vs "These men assaulted me" and "I thought he was going to attack me because he was black, and then he did" - well, yes, but also NO! logic FAIL! you eejit.
Anyway, this insightful post reminded me that, in the case of stereotypes about trans people, the need for many of us to pass as non-trans adds an extra layer of difficulty.
The post points out the doublethink inherent in social attitudes to trans women - that all trans women can somehow be hilariously obvious "men in dresses", AND "deceptive" enough in their exact "portrayal" of femininity to "trick" nice young men.
The second concept is more dangerous than the first, of course - it ensures that trans women are murdered, and their killers get off with a slap on the wrist. It gives an excuse to deny trans women employment, etc.
However, the first stereotype ensures that trans women are mocked and ridiculed.
Of course, if a trans woman passes as non-trans, it's impossible to tell that she is trans. That's... kind of the point. So, the first stereotype continues - the average person has only noticed trans women who, in their eyes, look "humorous."
We need to get rid of this concept that a male-assigned person in female-assigned clothing is inherently funny. I'm not sure how, in real terms, we manage that - ban humourous drag shows? Banning things is generally not the way to go...
But anyway, less seriously, it made me laugh how tenaciously stereotypes, particularly this one, hang on. I went on a trip, to an undisclosed location, with a cis male friend and a friend who is a trans woman. This cis male friend has been known to act with even less tact than myself. Therefore, a while before the trip, I said to him "You might notice that my friend is trans. Please, please don't say anything incredibly appalling. Kthx."
Although this particular trans woman passes as non-trans, she didn't seem too bothered about people knowing on this occasion, or perhaps she just assumed that everyone did. So when we were in our little group, she talked about her obstinate stubble, not being able to take off her trousers because she hadn't packed more forgiving undergarments, how she'd been on hormones for enough time to compete in the Olympics, had she wanted to do so... And throughout the trip, my cis male friend, indeed, said nothing incredibly appalling.
On the final day, I was with that friend, and I was talking about something to do with trans... ness, I forget what. "It's like this for me, but for some trans women like *name of trans woman friend*, it's..."
Whereupon, my cis male friend stared with eyes like saucers. "She's trans???"
She just didn't look enough like a hairy lumberjack in a frock, it seems. Thus, the evidence of his own ears could be discounted.
And obviously, they won't remember the race of the black man who holds the door open for them, smiles nicely at them in the street, etc.
(I was thinking of that particular example because I've had too many accounts like that from white people, recently - "This BLACK man assaulted me" vs "These men assaulted me" and "I thought he was going to attack me because he was black, and then he did" - well, yes, but also NO! logic FAIL! you eejit.
Anyway, this insightful post reminded me that, in the case of stereotypes about trans people, the need for many of us to pass as non-trans adds an extra layer of difficulty.
The post points out the doublethink inherent in social attitudes to trans women - that all trans women can somehow be hilariously obvious "men in dresses", AND "deceptive" enough in their exact "portrayal" of femininity to "trick" nice young men.
The second concept is more dangerous than the first, of course - it ensures that trans women are murdered, and their killers get off with a slap on the wrist. It gives an excuse to deny trans women employment, etc.
However, the first stereotype ensures that trans women are mocked and ridiculed.
Of course, if a trans woman passes as non-trans, it's impossible to tell that she is trans. That's... kind of the point. So, the first stereotype continues - the average person has only noticed trans women who, in their eyes, look "humorous."
We need to get rid of this concept that a male-assigned person in female-assigned clothing is inherently funny. I'm not sure how, in real terms, we manage that - ban humourous drag shows? Banning things is generally not the way to go...
But anyway, less seriously, it made me laugh how tenaciously stereotypes, particularly this one, hang on. I went on a trip, to an undisclosed location, with a cis male friend and a friend who is a trans woman. This cis male friend has been known to act with even less tact than myself. Therefore, a while before the trip, I said to him "You might notice that my friend is trans. Please, please don't say anything incredibly appalling. Kthx."
Although this particular trans woman passes as non-trans, she didn't seem too bothered about people knowing on this occasion, or perhaps she just assumed that everyone did. So when we were in our little group, she talked about her obstinate stubble, not being able to take off her trousers because she hadn't packed more forgiving undergarments, how she'd been on hormones for enough time to compete in the Olympics, had she wanted to do so... And throughout the trip, my cis male friend, indeed, said nothing incredibly appalling.
On the final day, I was with that friend, and I was talking about something to do with trans... ness, I forget what. "It's like this for me, but for some trans women like *name of trans woman friend*, it's..."
Whereupon, my cis male friend stared with eyes like saucers. "She's trans???"
She just didn't look enough like a hairy lumberjack in a frock, it seems. Thus, the evidence of his own ears could be discounted.
Sunday, 5 October 2008
A very short Sexism 101
This is Professor Ben Barres, a neuroscientist at the prestigious Stanford University.
According to a colleague, "His work is much better than his sister's."
Professor Barres, oddly, doesn't have a sister who is also a neuroscientist at the prestigious Stanford University. If he does, she hasn't been seen since he turned 40, when he started injecting the testosterone...
According to a colleague, "His work is much better than his sister's."
Professor Barres, oddly, doesn't have a sister who is also a neuroscientist at the prestigious Stanford University. If he does, she hasn't been seen since he turned 40, when he started injecting the testosterone...
Friday, 3 October 2008
Right, left, upper and below.
My book on Palaeolithic art considers scrapping a hypothesis about cave art's educational use, because some of its scenes "can't" have been observed or copied properly.
Why? Because animals that are "quite clearly male" are depicted trying to initiate sex with other males.
You obviously don't need observational skills to get your doctorate, anyway.
1) How heterosexist.
2) How divorced are we from the natural world nowadays??? This "fully heterosexual bison" dogma is one step away from the famous piece stating that "a cow has six sides - right, left, upper and below".
Why? Because animals that are "quite clearly male" are depicted trying to initiate sex with other males.
You obviously don't need observational skills to get your doctorate, anyway.
1) How heterosexist.
2) How divorced are we from the natural world nowadays??? This "fully heterosexual bison" dogma is one step away from the famous piece stating that "a cow has six sides - right, left, upper and below".
The 8-year-old anorexic
My uni has a new timetabling computer system. Tasty. Sadly, it's *completely fucking incomprehensible*, so I now have even less idea where I'm supposed to be when. It's reached new heights of incomprehensibility. It's like... a po-mo theoretical archaeology book, THAT'S what it's like.
Ha, mildly damning insult.
We've got a new telly, and I'm still ill. Channel 4 is my friend.
I watched "Dana: The 8-Year-Old Anorexic". Here is a comprehensive list of all the people I now want to stab in the eyes:
1) The child's dimwit mother, who managed to learn absolutely nothing about anorexia despite having an anorexic child. Ah, the child has said she is better and there's nothing to worry about. That's OK then, I can go back to ignoring her. Anorexics? Devious? ...oh, never mind.
She also moaned about how hard it would be for her to constantly watch what Dana ate, and to constantly ensure she was getting enough. Oh, she's 8 and has a debilitating often-fatal psychological disorder, how hard for meeeee! (And don't most parents pay attention to their 8-year-olds' food?)
2) We didn't see much of the father, but apparently both parents blamed the (non-anorexic) teenage sister, because "teenagers go on diets". Apparently, a lot of shouting at the sister went on.
Yes, because anorexia is *just like* a fad diet. Though I'd be surprised if the older girl didn't have a psychological problem of similar severity, with parents like that.
3)EVERYONE in the programme who gave a variation on "How horrible, a child has an adult illness!" as if an adult woman having anorexia was practically fine, because adult women are supposed to be skinny, don'tcherknow.
Children will always copy adults. We've had about 150 years, out of several million, with this "childhood innocence" concept - and, frankly, children anywhere but the privileged West have never had carefree, innocent childhoods.
How about we work for a society where women don't feel they have to starve themselves? That would have the nice effect that fewer 8-year-olds would do the same. But, y'know, the adult women are just as important as the 8-year-olds.
Ha, mildly damning insult.
We've got a new telly, and I'm still ill. Channel 4 is my friend.
I watched "Dana: The 8-Year-Old Anorexic". Here is a comprehensive list of all the people I now want to stab in the eyes:
1) The child's dimwit mother, who managed to learn absolutely nothing about anorexia despite having an anorexic child. Ah, the child has said she is better and there's nothing to worry about. That's OK then, I can go back to ignoring her. Anorexics? Devious? ...oh, never mind.
She also moaned about how hard it would be for her to constantly watch what Dana ate, and to constantly ensure she was getting enough. Oh, she's 8 and has a debilitating often-fatal psychological disorder, how hard for meeeee! (And don't most parents pay attention to their 8-year-olds' food?)
2) We didn't see much of the father, but apparently both parents blamed the (non-anorexic) teenage sister, because "teenagers go on diets". Apparently, a lot of shouting at the sister went on.
Yes, because anorexia is *just like* a fad diet. Though I'd be surprised if the older girl didn't have a psychological problem of similar severity, with parents like that.
3)EVERYONE in the programme who gave a variation on "How horrible, a child has an adult illness!" as if an adult woman having anorexia was practically fine, because adult women are supposed to be skinny, don'tcherknow.
Children will always copy adults. We've had about 150 years, out of several million, with this "childhood innocence" concept - and, frankly, children anywhere but the privileged West have never had carefree, innocent childhoods.
How about we work for a society where women don't feel they have to starve themselves? That would have the nice effect that fewer 8-year-olds would do the same. But, y'know, the adult women are just as important as the 8-year-olds.
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
I have no idea why...
The national media persist in describing the titular family in The Family as "dysfunctional".
They're more functional than my family, Hagrid's family, and far more so than the families of the vast majority of my friends, many of which have been *actually* dysfunctional, what with the beatings and the abuse and the parental addictions and all.
So either those journalists had idyllic family lives, or... they're not admitting something.
I know of one, 1, family more "functional" than the one on Channel 4. And, frankly, that makes them freaks. And they're enormously rich, which oils the wheels of family life somewhat if there are few problems already.
Though the Hugheses are pretty damned rich - a PS3 and a Wii? In my day...
They're more functional than my family, Hagrid's family, and far more so than the families of the vast majority of my friends, many of which have been *actually* dysfunctional, what with the beatings and the abuse and the parental addictions and all.
So either those journalists had idyllic family lives, or... they're not admitting something.
I know of one, 1, family more "functional" than the one on Channel 4. And, frankly, that makes them freaks. And they're enormously rich, which oils the wheels of family life somewhat if there are few problems already.
Though the Hugheses are pretty damned rich - a PS3 and a Wii? In my day...
Kitteh Blogging - the inferior acquaintance of baby blogging
Now, when we chose this here kitteh, we were assured that she was used to adults, children and other non-human animals, and would happily play and socialise with an organism that fitted in any of those categories. However, we’ve hit upon a problem – she’s decidedly not used to computers.
She goes absolutely mental whenever there’s a screen in front of her, with its moving cursor or scroll bar - jumping up and down on the keyboard with all four feet, attacking the screen with claws and teeth and, in fact, making a decent effort to eat the whole thing. She can’t be dissuaded – the only thing to do is to shut her in another room, which feels mean as she’s only a baby.
Hagrid is a professional computer nerd, who spends a decent chunk of his time working from home. Is this an insurmountable problem, the only solution to which is the hire of a small child to amuse her while we work?
Also, she feels the need to tell me whenever she makes use of the litter tray – not just half-heartedly, either. I’m meowed at and bitten for as long as it takes to get me to view the poo. I just have to see it for her to be gleefully happy again.
Is that normal feline behaviour?
As you can tell, I’m at home with the kitteh. I’m also so ill that it’s an immense effort just to get up for the Viewing of the Excrement, and as for cleaning it out… bending down makes me very dizzy.
Also, I thought I’d sorted out an issue of mine, of the sort with a capital I… but, it seems, I haven’t. I think I’ll take some preventative measures to stop me from going so utterly mental again. To the outside observer, they’ll be both hilarious and peculiar – but, sadly, I can’t tell y’all what they’ll be.
OK then, imagine that I’m the bloke that went on Trisha with his phobia of scotch eggs (yes, he did). No, say it was only a phobia of a particular brand of scotch eggs, made in minuscule quantities in a Northern Scottish cottage industry. A scotch egg of this brand tastes much better than the average supermarket fare. It is more pleasing to the eye, the palate and the soul.
Would it be fair for me to ask my friends not to eat them, to avoid triggering me? (I know “trigger” shouldn’t be used lightly, but say that I have, like most people, had experiences to which the concept “should” apply, but I’m still affected more by the eggs). Do I ask them to stick to Tesco’s Finest or M&S for their daily proteiny goodness? Or is that entirely unfair? Does it matter, if they’re unlikely ever to travel to the single town in the North of Scotland wherein those particular, terrifying eggs are available?
I have a serious case of Analogy Fail, here – but it’s intentional, so that no-one has any idea what I’m talking about. As usual, haha. Give me your answers.
I was actually around several other trans guys / female genderqueers on Friday. It was weird, like looking in several mirrors at once – though the binary trans guys had all obviously gone through transition the “regular” way, living as butch dykes beforehand, and ending up straight guys rather than, say, *giant fairies*.
There are supposed to be the same number of trans people, of every variety, in the world as there are French people (so says my little book on the subject, though I’m sure that’s a conservative estimate). The problem is, if you’re French, you can take a wild guess as to the location of another French person – and, y’know, it’s not common for French people to deny, and hide, that they are French, “Cette baguette? Il n’est pas ma baguette! Je les déteste! J’adore le pain grillé! Est je ne sais pas pourquoi la baguette est dans mon pantalon!” (that’s an FtM in denial about his nation, see? But he’s speaking Franglais, because it’s a while since I applied myself to irregular verbs etc.).
And whatever the reason, you do tend to see more trans women / male genderqueers out and about.
So, anyway, it was nice to be in a space where a lot of people looked like me.
She goes absolutely mental whenever there’s a screen in front of her, with its moving cursor or scroll bar - jumping up and down on the keyboard with all four feet, attacking the screen with claws and teeth and, in fact, making a decent effort to eat the whole thing. She can’t be dissuaded – the only thing to do is to shut her in another room, which feels mean as she’s only a baby.
Hagrid is a professional computer nerd, who spends a decent chunk of his time working from home. Is this an insurmountable problem, the only solution to which is the hire of a small child to amuse her while we work?
Also, she feels the need to tell me whenever she makes use of the litter tray – not just half-heartedly, either. I’m meowed at and bitten for as long as it takes to get me to view the poo. I just have to see it for her to be gleefully happy again.
Is that normal feline behaviour?
As you can tell, I’m at home with the kitteh. I’m also so ill that it’s an immense effort just to get up for the Viewing of the Excrement, and as for cleaning it out… bending down makes me very dizzy.
Also, I thought I’d sorted out an issue of mine, of the sort with a capital I… but, it seems, I haven’t. I think I’ll take some preventative measures to stop me from going so utterly mental again. To the outside observer, they’ll be both hilarious and peculiar – but, sadly, I can’t tell y’all what they’ll be.
OK then, imagine that I’m the bloke that went on Trisha with his phobia of scotch eggs (yes, he did). No, say it was only a phobia of a particular brand of scotch eggs, made in minuscule quantities in a Northern Scottish cottage industry. A scotch egg of this brand tastes much better than the average supermarket fare. It is more pleasing to the eye, the palate and the soul.
Would it be fair for me to ask my friends not to eat them, to avoid triggering me? (I know “trigger” shouldn’t be used lightly, but say that I have, like most people, had experiences to which the concept “should” apply, but I’m still affected more by the eggs). Do I ask them to stick to Tesco’s Finest or M&S for their daily proteiny goodness? Or is that entirely unfair? Does it matter, if they’re unlikely ever to travel to the single town in the North of Scotland wherein those particular, terrifying eggs are available?
I have a serious case of Analogy Fail, here – but it’s intentional, so that no-one has any idea what I’m talking about. As usual, haha. Give me your answers.
I was actually around several other trans guys / female genderqueers on Friday. It was weird, like looking in several mirrors at once – though the binary trans guys had all obviously gone through transition the “regular” way, living as butch dykes beforehand, and ending up straight guys rather than, say, *giant fairies*.
There are supposed to be the same number of trans people, of every variety, in the world as there are French people (so says my little book on the subject, though I’m sure that’s a conservative estimate). The problem is, if you’re French, you can take a wild guess as to the location of another French person – and, y’know, it’s not common for French people to deny, and hide, that they are French, “Cette baguette? Il n’est pas ma baguette! Je les déteste! J’adore le pain grillé! Est je ne sais pas pourquoi la baguette est dans mon pantalon!” (that’s an FtM in denial about his nation, see? But he’s speaking Franglais, because it’s a while since I applied myself to irregular verbs etc.).
And whatever the reason, you do tend to see more trans women / male genderqueers out and about.
So, anyway, it was nice to be in a space where a lot of people looked like me.
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