Feminist hat, engage.

Now, I look a heck of a lot like my dad. This pleases me, because he was my role model when I was younger (he can't be now, as it's plainer every day that I have inherited none of his skills and talents!).

But the point is, I don't have delicate, feminine features. I have an androgynous body shape. I wear, surprisingly, men's clothing. There is nothing, nothing whatsoever about me that suggests, to someone raised on stereotypes, that I'm into men in any way - unless, of course, they're thinking of me as a man, in which case I might as well have HOMO tattooed on my forehead.

But I still, still, get unpleasant attention from straight cis men. I don't mean attention from unpleasant men, either violence/aggression or suggestive remarks calculated to make me uncomfortable (though, obviously, I've always been different and have always got that). I mean completely inappropriate remarks from men who might be OK as people, or men who I even know are quite nice. Men who are neurotypical and should know better, who have still completely swallowed the dominant meme of THE MOST IMPORTANT THING ABOUT YOU IS WHAT YOUR VAGINA AND MY PENIS CAN DO TOGETHER KTHX.

I can't fucking win, as I'm certain that a few of those men have thought, aha, a "woman" who is really weird - "she" must be kinky/a slut/not mind me being rude by some reasoning process that I have not yet perfected or, actually, begun.

(Of course there's nothing wrong with being kinky, a slut or both. Both are often fabulous. I'm merely replicating the "reasoning" process).

So... I absolutely can't imagine what female-assigned individuals who are conventionally pretty, or even beautiful, or simply have large breasts etc. go through every day. In fact, I've seen them deal with it, not committing multiple murder on an hourly basis through acts of sheer willpower and/or resignation.

During my brief femme phase as a teenager (I felt uncomfortable during every second of it, but I felt the social pressure. I thought for a while I'd have to keep it up to keep Hagrid, ha, ludicrous notion in the light of his homosexualist tendencies eh?) some adult male acquaintances were particularly bad. I'd WALK INTO A ROOM that contained them and, say, my parents - I wouldn't have a chance to say or do anything - and there would be a remark about my looks. They really, seriously thought it was "complimentary".

And even lately, some (straight and cis) men have managed to instantly lose all my respect, going from my default of 100% respect to about minus 10%, by a similar immediate "compliment" - even interrupting what I am saying to ensure the "compliment" is immediate.

It's really not so bad for me, as I can say I'M A GUY HAHAHA YOU MUST BE A GAY LOL! and mysteriously watch the "complimentary" tally drop... but for beautiful femmes (of all orientations, obviously) what the hell must it be like?

I guess it's a feminist point, really - even if the sense of entitlement of the men around a woman isn't completely and totally obvious to anyone, in a "yes, rape, fine," way... It can still be very, very destructive to her sense of self-worth.

Hooray, Oliver states the obvious!

Now, my particular problem... because I have the stereotypical autistic grasp of social skills, my current thought often leaves my mouth without my brain interfering. If I think that a woman is attractive, I really DON'T care to act in that creepy fashion, because, logically, she has to deal with more creepy than she'd like, all the time.

I'm sure I often don't get it right, and I'm very, very sorry.

But if I remember to go through that logical process, I decide that the advisable option is that of complete silence until an unrelated thought enters my head.

Y'know, normal men should try that option sometimes.*


*I realise that the rule means I can't make any attempt at flirtation, but I'm REALLY REALLY sure the women of the world can live without me, my poor interpersonal skills and my uninspiring looks (they suit my dad better).

How to make an autistic obsessive-compulsive cry...

We organised skeletons today, which is a pleasing thing to do. If respectful treatment of human skeletal material is organised from the outset, one rarely has to consider its previous use inside humans (disrespectful treatment means one would have to consider it, to rectify the problem). I just like arranging things correctly, bones included.

I was wrestling with the worst preserved skeleton of the lot. Many of the bones were unrecognisable at first glance, appearing just as bony lumps. And a mean trick was played upon me.

"This is a ball and socket joint. It plainly doesn't belong to a pelvis, but the scapulae are both there."

While someone else was muttering... "This foot has six and a half toes..." I wasn't really paying attention. I was stuck, stuck and unhappy with my outlying chunk of scapula.

It was, finally, the three lower legs that clinched it (and I mean finally, we'd been so desperate to sort the damn thing that the third bone disappeared from our vision entirely for about half an hour).

When I'm in Hell, they'll make me sort things that cannot be sorted.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to make a brief, unrelated public service announcement:

If someone has a female-assigned vagina, and intact "female" reproductive organs, and you have a male-assigned penis and intact "male" reproductive organs, and you place the latter genital into the former with no heed to safer sex...

Small humans can be made.

The gender identity of the vaginaed partner is not important. Neither is their exposure to testosterone. Small humans can still be made.

I'M NOT PREGNANT BTW, this is for a man I spoke to recently, and those like him... I quote.

"I fucked him up the fanny! What? He could WHAT?"

The New Doctor!

On the day the new Doctor was announced, I asked the nearest person - a ten-year-old girl - "Well, who is it then?"

"A man." said she, then after a pause, "Who is ugly."

After learning that Steven Moffat would be running the show, I didn't much care who played the lead - it could be a turnip. We'd still watch religiously.

But my curiosity was piqued, so I got the name out of her - well, several names - "Mark Smith or Matt Brown or something" - and consulted Google.



It is Matt Smith, a man... who is no, not at all ugly. In any way.

He's got that slightly chiselled/poncey/geek look that, in men, makes me want to introduce them to Mortimer Wheeler (if you don'k know, don't ask, no, really. That's the most delicate euphemism I got).

If we'd known they were considering actors with extensive stage careers but little previous TV stardom, I'm sure a lot of the actors I know would have gone for the job (and their jealous rivals wouldn't have stuck pins in a Doctor Who doll conveniently placed on the agency desk for the purpose, oh no...).

And all the people going OH NOES, how will we believe that a 26-year-old is a 900-year-old Time Lord???!1...

...

...

...oh, never mind.

Either I do more laundry than before...

Or I own more clothes. I haven't run out of clean stuff and thus had to go to uni in an ancient miniskirt and a pink strappy top labelled "age 11-12" for months now (NOT FUNNY NOT FUNNY AT ALL HONESTLY) ... nor a pyjama top and swimming trunks... nor in regular clothes apart from boxer shorts belonging to Hagrid that have to be held up with several safety pins (he's called Hagrid for a reason) nor with no underwear or socks at all.

However, I did butter my bread with a ladle this morning, having run out of knives... then forks... then spoons... yes.

Now I've systematically dashed all hope in our ability to feed, wash and dress ourselves - because the process can take years and years and years, and we fully expect to come across opposition that is NOT based on our ability or inability to take care of a child, we're probably going to get ourselves on the adoption register by the end of 2011.

Exciting eh, this future planning lark?

More on that dreaded grammatical element...

A good while ago, I was in a bar with various people, including the first trans woman I had knowingly met. I knew she was trans because someone had told me - no-one would guess from just looking at her. She was tall (but not that tall) thin and pretty.

So there was I, in the same bar, talking with some guys about the different cocktails.

"I like that one, and he likes that one," said one guy, pointing in the woman's direction.

"Who?" said I, completely confused.

"Oops, sorry, she."

There were no bodily cues whatsoever about the woman that might cause a slip of the tongue. Nor was this bloke intending to say something hateful. It's just that he'd known her since before her transition two years before, and was too lazy to pay attention to pronouns.

Now, I've seen the same thing happen to other trans people, and read various accounts online in which the person complains "I transitioned TEN YEARS AGO, I have all the physical characteristics generally assigned to my gender, and people are STILL getting it wrong. When I point it out, they go "Oh, but it's really hard to get it right"!"

So... those hypothetical* non-op transsexuals I mentioned before , who go through the unpleasantness of hormone treatments and surgery just so other people will get it right, not because they have to... well actually, they're screwed, aren't they?

And all those people who say that non-op/no-hormones transsexuals, and transgender people, and genderqueer people, should just make some EFFORT to "pass" and it's UNFAIR!! to expect everybody else to respect them even though they haven't had some surgical procedures...

Well, we knew they were complete morons, but now we have some concrete evidence to prove it, in that what they're suggesting doesn't work.

And another rehash of the "but it's so hard!" thing... It'd odd how I've rarely spoken to a trans person who hasn't had that phrase thrown at them when it comes to pronouns.
Surely it just can't be hard to substitute one small word for another, when both of which are equally pronounceable with the human mouth (or hands)? Here are some uses of the word "hard" that I don't find completely puzzling (the word does have a wide range):

It's hard to complete this piece of academic work that is appropriate to, or higher than, my level of study.
It's hard for me to fix a car engine, because I only have the faintest idea how they work.
It's very hard for someone with depression to complete everyday tasks.
It's extremely hard for someone whose family have all been blown up by a bomb to complete everyday tasks.

Is this an autism thing, where I take a word or phrase too literally? Or am I right, and is the usage truly peculiar?

(A confession - they're not so hypothetical, actually. I might be one of them, I might not. Anyway, I bet the poor bastards exist)