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.
Showing posts with label archaeology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label archaeology. Show all posts
Friday, 24 October 2008
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.
Thursday, 28 August 2008
In which we learn that trans people can't use mattocks
I'm trying to write an email to my supervisor at uni, so that I can go full time trans-wise in my department – and also so I can get help with the stupid name thing; I guess if the staff know me as Oliver, the bureaucrats will be more likely to accept it.
I tell a lie – it says that they might accept a letter from a GIC, if no GRC exists.
Incidentally, what's the waiting list for a first appointment at the GIC I could be referred to? More specifically, how long is the waiting list in years?
At least two, is the answer.
But that is, in fact, beside the point.
I'm also mates with our very LGBT-friendly students' union president – I wonder if he can pull strings. I'll be extremely nice to him, shall I? Though I think the nicest thing I could do would be to relieve him of the presidency somehow (he's a freelance creative genius normally, and not really cut out for a 9-to-5).
Anywho, what shall I say to my supervisor? I've done nothing but stress him out over the past year, mainly because I spent a lot of it ill in bed, failing to reach deadlines; I'm not sure that I'm imagining the look of slight horror whenever he sees me. AND I'll need help with my coursework from him soon. By “help” I mean that I'd like the whole thing to have a single reference: “Steve Roskhams, pers comm”. I'm sort of stuck.
If I was a cynic, I would list the few things he might be pleased to hear: he's turned me into a nascent Marxist archaeologist (he's an established one)? I recently read one of his books, and thought it was awesome? The way he wields a mattock makes me jealous (him: Str18/Dex17, me: Str7/Dex9, an extra -2 to mattocking owing to back problem)?
As does his ability to have millions of biological children without going through hell (he's rarely seen without some small carbon copies of himself – and, see, that's trans-related!)?
Nah. I think I'd just better say O HALP HALP. Again.
I tell a lie – it says that they might accept a letter from a GIC, if no GRC exists.
Incidentally, what's the waiting list for a first appointment at the GIC I could be referred to? More specifically, how long is the waiting list in years?
At least two, is the answer.
But that is, in fact, beside the point.
I'm also mates with our very LGBT-friendly students' union president – I wonder if he can pull strings. I'll be extremely nice to him, shall I? Though I think the nicest thing I could do would be to relieve him of the presidency somehow (he's a freelance creative genius normally, and not really cut out for a 9-to-5).
Anywho, what shall I say to my supervisor? I've done nothing but stress him out over the past year, mainly because I spent a lot of it ill in bed, failing to reach deadlines; I'm not sure that I'm imagining the look of slight horror whenever he sees me. AND I'll need help with my coursework from him soon. By “help” I mean that I'd like the whole thing to have a single reference: “Steve Roskhams, pers comm”. I'm sort of stuck.
If I was a cynic, I would list the few things he might be pleased to hear: he's turned me into a nascent Marxist archaeologist (he's an established one)? I recently read one of his books, and thought it was awesome? The way he wields a mattock makes me jealous (him: Str18/Dex17, me: Str7/Dex9, an extra -2 to mattocking owing to back problem)?
As does his ability to have millions of biological children without going through hell (he's rarely seen without some small carbon copies of himself – and, see, that's trans-related!)?
Nah. I think I'd just better say O HALP HALP. Again.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
Shame in the Park
London Pride and Manchester Pride get some of the biggest musical names in the country.
York Pride? A covers band called Jesus and the Felchmonkeys.
(The several over-fifties readers I know of might not understand the full implications of the name; to them, I suggest a nice cup of tea instead of brooding about it.)
Now, York University Students' Union, us, happened to have the largest banner, near the entrance. It really looked as if we were running the whole show, and people behaved accordingly.
So, when Jesus (an astoundingly wobbly man) of Jesus and the Felchmonkeys came onstage in a frilly bikini and a sink plunger, we laid our heads in our hands and cried.
When he mooned the audience, we died a little inside.
If I were allowed to choose a representative of the LGBTQI community, to wave about at the straight/cis passers by, I might choose... well, not him....
Anyway, we handed out some leaflets. They were good leaflets, if a little EXCITABLE!!! because one of our officers loves the humble exclamation mark, and the underline tool, and Caps Lock, a little more than is healthy. QUEER!!! Hooray!!!!
Anyway, Hagrid and I filled out some surveys about our sex life (which is astonishingly dull, if the questions are anything to go by - have YOU ever used poppers while receiving anal intercourse? I thought that was oddly specific, too).
Here are the first question, verbatim.
1) Are you a) a man, or b) a woman? This survey is for men only. If you are a woman, do not complete this survey.
The second question was "Are you a trans man?" which was nice. Of course, the rest of the questions demonstrate that they'd forgotten about trans men altogether, but meh.
------------------------------------
Incidentally, he's now on the phone to Kim, who works in Jorvik Viking Centre. Not Eboracum Roman Centre, say, but Jorvik Viking Centre, with all the big Vikings on the side and all the Viking stuff in it.
One of the visitors to Jorvik, in Jorvik, while Kim was wearing her Jorvik Viking costume, asked, sincerely, whether she was a Roman.
This was because she is female, and Vikings were all men.
Someone else complained that there were only two Viking re-enactors. There were four. Two had vaginas.
But... the Vikings were all men, godsdammit, and I with my Massive Penis of Saxon-Bashing will tell you so!
------------------------------------
I just wrote an ending to this post explaining that I now want to be a fireman when I grow up, with astonishing illogic.
I have the spine of someone sixty years older. I don't remember a life without constant back pain.
Career plan fail.
York Pride? A covers band called Jesus and the Felchmonkeys.
(The several over-fifties readers I know of might not understand the full implications of the name; to them, I suggest a nice cup of tea instead of brooding about it.)
Now, York University Students' Union, us, happened to have the largest banner, near the entrance. It really looked as if we were running the whole show, and people behaved accordingly.
So, when Jesus (an astoundingly wobbly man) of Jesus and the Felchmonkeys came onstage in a frilly bikini and a sink plunger, we laid our heads in our hands and cried.
When he mooned the audience, we died a little inside.
If I were allowed to choose a representative of the LGBTQI community, to wave about at the straight/cis passers by, I might choose... well, not him....
Anyway, we handed out some leaflets. They were good leaflets, if a little EXCITABLE!!! because one of our officers loves the humble exclamation mark, and the underline tool, and Caps Lock, a little more than is healthy. QUEER!!! Hooray!!!!
Anyway, Hagrid and I filled out some surveys about our sex life (which is astonishingly dull, if the questions are anything to go by - have YOU ever used poppers while receiving anal intercourse? I thought that was oddly specific, too).
Here are the first question, verbatim.
1) Are you a) a man, or b) a woman? This survey is for men only. If you are a woman, do not complete this survey.
The second question was "Are you a trans man?" which was nice. Of course, the rest of the questions demonstrate that they'd forgotten about trans men altogether, but meh.
------------------------------------
Incidentally, he's now on the phone to Kim, who works in Jorvik Viking Centre. Not Eboracum Roman Centre, say, but Jorvik Viking Centre, with all the big Vikings on the side and all the Viking stuff in it.
One of the visitors to Jorvik, in Jorvik, while Kim was wearing her Jorvik Viking costume, asked, sincerely, whether she was a Roman.
This was because she is female, and Vikings were all men.
Someone else complained that there were only two Viking re-enactors. There were four. Two had vaginas.
But... the Vikings were all men, godsdammit, and I with my Massive Penis of Saxon-Bashing will tell you so!
------------------------------------
I just wrote an ending to this post explaining that I now want to be a fireman when I grow up, with astonishing illogic.
I have the spine of someone sixty years older. I don't remember a life without constant back pain.
Career plan fail.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
Education
My mother always said that I could do an English Literature degree with both hands behind my back. She is my mother, so has to say such encouraging things, but now I'm thinking that Gareth (whom I may henceforth refer to pseudonymously as Hagrid) could do the same.
Well, if he was less dyslexic and could therefore spell "literature".
Perhaps that's because we are utterly perverted.
Come ON, I got 100% in an A-level paper on One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - and what did I write about, for four and a half pages?
Sodomy! Between the characters! In graphic detail! Explaining how I knew that the characters had been thinking about those graphic details.
I'm assuming that, at degree level, you get on to more complicated sexual acts. Like the Reverse Cowgirl, or whatever else you get in Cosmopolitan. Remember that I live my day-to-day life as an (insert derogatory term for homosexual male here) so I wouldn't know about that sort of thing.
Anyway, I'm convinced that Hagrid has significantly more grey matter than I. If I'm absent-mindedly deconstructing a novel at him, or if someone's talking about an author, or whatever, he'll look utterly bored... then come out with a comment of such relevance, perspicacity and insight that I can't quite believe that here is the man that tortured himself for an extra year to get an English GCSE.
I ought to have put my foot down when his parents said "He's going to university in October, despite having appalling A-levels", and he said (looking distinctly unenthusiastic) "My parents want me to go to university in October. They think I'll do well." But, I was only 15 and didn't want to interfere, so I kept my mouth shut.
How much absolute bollocks is this belief that kids with no obvious academic aptitude in school, where you're spoon-fed, will suddenly do OK at university? Seriously, fuck middle-class social acceptance. I knew he'd fail. Everyone knew - but him. He'd been told he'd do well, because... Because what?
He failed. He's got a student loan to pay back, and had no confidence in his own intellect.
He needed to be working. His job now gives him continuous confidence - he's good, and he knows it - he's even got a bit of smugness going on.
I think that what he does is a freaky arcane art. He thinks what I do is even more occult than that. He thinks Crowley would be proud.
This was, originally, going to be some adjectives to describe an archaeological degree, for those unfamiliar with the discipline:
The rest of us will end up knowlegeable and physically fit - to the extent that someone who can't afford food can be physically fit.
What other graduates live on minimum wage forever, and get real, actual trench foot?
Srsly, folks. Don't let your children do it! They have so much to live for!
It's like being a crack addict. Archaeology graduates are poor, whey-faced, and just living for their next fix of obscure pottery types.
Better do my coursework now.
Well, if he was less dyslexic and could therefore spell "literature".
Perhaps that's because we are utterly perverted.
Come ON, I got 100% in an A-level paper on One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - and what did I write about, for four and a half pages?
Sodomy! Between the characters! In graphic detail! Explaining how I knew that the characters had been thinking about those graphic details.
I'm assuming that, at degree level, you get on to more complicated sexual acts. Like the Reverse Cowgirl, or whatever else you get in Cosmopolitan. Remember that I live my day-to-day life as an (insert derogatory term for homosexual male here) so I wouldn't know about that sort of thing.
Anyway, I'm convinced that Hagrid has significantly more grey matter than I. If I'm absent-mindedly deconstructing a novel at him, or if someone's talking about an author, or whatever, he'll look utterly bored... then come out with a comment of such relevance, perspicacity and insight that I can't quite believe that here is the man that tortured himself for an extra year to get an English GCSE.
I ought to have put my foot down when his parents said "He's going to university in October, despite having appalling A-levels", and he said (looking distinctly unenthusiastic) "My parents want me to go to university in October. They think I'll do well." But, I was only 15 and didn't want to interfere, so I kept my mouth shut.
How much absolute bollocks is this belief that kids with no obvious academic aptitude in school, where you're spoon-fed, will suddenly do OK at university? Seriously, fuck middle-class social acceptance. I knew he'd fail. Everyone knew - but him. He'd been told he'd do well, because... Because what?
He failed. He's got a student loan to pay back, and had no confidence in his own intellect.
He needed to be working. His job now gives him continuous confidence - he's good, and he knows it - he's even got a bit of smugness going on.
I think that what he does is a freaky arcane art. He thinks what I do is even more occult than that. He thinks Crowley would be proud.
This was, originally, going to be some adjectives to describe an archaeological degree, for those unfamiliar with the discipline:
- Difficult
- Very difficult
- Epic-level
- Hardcore
- Financial suicide
The rest of us will end up knowlegeable and physically fit - to the extent that someone who can't afford food can be physically fit.
What other graduates live on minimum wage forever, and get real, actual trench foot?
Srsly, folks. Don't let your children do it! They have so much to live for!
It's like being a crack addict. Archaeology graduates are poor, whey-faced, and just living for their next fix of obscure pottery types.
Better do my coursework now.
Friday, 8 August 2008
Pants Down Friend
A post whose component parts are entirely unrelated. Yup, I'm back from Wacken, and my face, pimply at the best of times, looks like someone has puked on it (from my living on grease and mud).
Just thought you might like to know that.
1) I'm supposed to be reading the archaeological reports on Christ Church, Spitalfields. They are quite comical* - it's one disaster after another: Active smallpox virus has been discovered! A coffin has fallen on someone's head! Someone has caught a skin disease whose variety we have been unable to ascertain!
2) I might email my department and suggest that, before next term, they send round a message detailing the differences between a compliment and sexual harrassment. I'm treated perfectly well by the Hooray Henrys in my year, because I happily don't register on their radar as "girl" - but the pretty GTA last term was decidedly *not*.
It wasn't just feminist me and the girls that were cringing at their behaviour - it was a few of the other boys, too - the ones who hadn't been educated privately, incidentally.
Now, do we see how it's a *bad* idea to shut pubescent heterosexual boys up in a building with nothing but themselves and FHM for company? Then to unleash them on a world containing real females? Boys from families so wealthy that they feel entitled to "own" whatever they wish?
3) Ladies, gentlemen, &c. I give you (as we saw at Wacken)...
Corvus Corax!
I thought they were Corpus Corax to start off with... which also translates nicely.
*Runs off to start a band called Corpus Corax*
4) I'm gonna be harsher about the new Nightwish this time. Anette Olzon appears to be the exact opposite of Tarja Turunen. Turunen had apparently no personality, and an amazing voice. Olzon takes pains to demonstrate that she has a personality...
But she's not my housemate, my girlfriend or even an acquaintance. She's the lead vocalist in a famous band - incidentally, a band whose older music requires A SOPRANO. Someone who can hit high notes, at least approximately. Not a special new definition of "soprano", meaning "someone I would quite like to boink" - looking at YOU, mister keyboard-face.
If they weren't going to have one, if any vocal range would do, they might as well have given Blaize Bailey some employment.
5) To *sort of* tie together my comments about continental Europeans putting us to shame, and sexual harrassment (in this case, a lack of), I present to you: the most adorable proposition ever made to anyone, EVER.
Man: Vould you be interested in being my pants-down friend?
David: No.
Man (with expression of bitter disappointment): Oh.
Man (wanders off in another direction, waves): Vish me luck!
If you don't acquiesce to that, you must have a heart of stone.
I might do a SRS POST OF SRSNZ later. OK, I'll do a baby trans one now, as people seem to be actually interested in my haphazard Trans 101.
1) You can be as nosy as you generally are about the identity and history of a trans person that you know and like (no, not a random one off the street). Ask all the questions you like - as long as you make sure that person understands that their answers will not alter your perception of their identity. The average woman wouldn't mind telling you that she had a ginger beard once, if she really knew that your only, brief, thought on the matter was "That's Susan. She used to have a long ginger beard".
2) However, don't talk loudly about a trans person's trans "issues" in public. Talk about trans stuff, yes, sing a song about it if you like, but don't suggest that it's connected at all to your acquaintance. If you are talking about hir own trans stuff, keep your voice very low.
This is simply a safety issue. If you were sitting in a "white" bus during any apartheid, you wouldn't say to your companion "Well GOSH! Shall we talk about how you're hiding your BLACK SKIN?"
(n.b. the analogy doesn't work in any other way - it's just a point about personal safety).
*Maybe my definition of "comical" differs from yours, then.
Just thought you might like to know that.
1) I'm supposed to be reading the archaeological reports on Christ Church, Spitalfields. They are quite comical* - it's one disaster after another: Active smallpox virus has been discovered! A coffin has fallen on someone's head! Someone has caught a skin disease whose variety we have been unable to ascertain!
2) I might email my department and suggest that, before next term, they send round a message detailing the differences between a compliment and sexual harrassment. I'm treated perfectly well by the Hooray Henrys in my year, because I happily don't register on their radar as "girl" - but the pretty GTA last term was decidedly *not*.
It wasn't just feminist me and the girls that were cringing at their behaviour - it was a few of the other boys, too - the ones who hadn't been educated privately, incidentally.
Now, do we see how it's a *bad* idea to shut pubescent heterosexual boys up in a building with nothing but themselves and FHM for company? Then to unleash them on a world containing real females? Boys from families so wealthy that they feel entitled to "own" whatever they wish?
3) Ladies, gentlemen, &c. I give you (as we saw at Wacken)...
Corvus Corax!
I thought they were Corpus Corax to start off with... which also translates nicely.
*Runs off to start a band called Corpus Corax*
4) I'm gonna be harsher about the new Nightwish this time. Anette Olzon appears to be the exact opposite of Tarja Turunen. Turunen had apparently no personality, and an amazing voice. Olzon takes pains to demonstrate that she has a personality...
But she's not my housemate, my girlfriend or even an acquaintance. She's the lead vocalist in a famous band - incidentally, a band whose older music requires A SOPRANO. Someone who can hit high notes, at least approximately. Not a special new definition of "soprano", meaning "someone I would quite like to boink" - looking at YOU, mister keyboard-face.
If they weren't going to have one, if any vocal range would do, they might as well have given Blaize Bailey some employment.
5) To *sort of* tie together my comments about continental Europeans putting us to shame, and sexual harrassment (in this case, a lack of), I present to you: the most adorable proposition ever made to anyone, EVER.
Man: Vould you be interested in being my pants-down friend?
David: No.
Man (with expression of bitter disappointment): Oh.
Man (wanders off in another direction, waves): Vish me luck!
If you don't acquiesce to that, you must have a heart of stone.
I might do a SRS POST OF SRSNZ later. OK, I'll do a baby trans one now, as people seem to be actually interested in my haphazard Trans 101.
1) You can be as nosy as you generally are about the identity and history of a trans person that you know and like (no, not a random one off the street). Ask all the questions you like - as long as you make sure that person understands that their answers will not alter your perception of their identity. The average woman wouldn't mind telling you that she had a ginger beard once, if she really knew that your only, brief, thought on the matter was "That's Susan. She used to have a long ginger beard".
2) However, don't talk loudly about a trans person's trans "issues" in public. Talk about trans stuff, yes, sing a song about it if you like, but don't suggest that it's connected at all to your acquaintance. If you are talking about hir own trans stuff, keep your voice very low.
This is simply a safety issue. If you were sitting in a "white" bus during any apartheid, you wouldn't say to your companion "Well GOSH! Shall we talk about how you're hiding your BLACK SKIN?"
(n.b. the analogy doesn't work in any other way - it's just a point about personal safety).
*Maybe my definition of "comical" differs from yours, then.
Friday, 11 July 2008
For a Ginger Lady
The incidents I'm about to describe happened over a month ago, but still infuriate me - and I want to examine why.
I also want to make myself feel better by posting a passive-aggressive rant about someone I don't like - well, why do y'all think they invented the blogosphere?
So, I have a good friend whose name is Kim (she's doing the best she can with Kimberley Leeanne - and no, I'm not giving her a pseudonym, because she has nothing to be ashamed of, and is awesome in every way).
In many ways, she is an ideal of 21st-century womanhood. Both attractive and smart, she refuses to take shit from anyone - but she's still nurturing and caring (yeah, personally, on that coach trip, I would have moved seats away from the girl whose face threatened projectile vomit, not looked after her...). Kim also has a strong County Durham accent and insatiable curiosity.
Most of the people doing my degree don't have regional accents. The department - heck, the university - is full of public school alumni, who seem to specialise in saying clueless things about people outside their arenas of experience.
Anyway, the godly Martin Carver (eminent archaeologist is eminent) was talking about the African Burial Ground in NY. It seems that some authorities fought some rather more ethical authorities over the remains therefrom, and the remains themselves got moved around quite a bit. They even spent a while stored in the World Trade Center.
When this was mentioned, Kim asked (I remember this verbatim) "But the whole thing over the bones was quite recent, wasn't it? Were they still there during 9/11, confusing the firemen?"
Whereupon one girl took it upon herself to tell everyone, loudly, how OFFENSIVE that remark had been and how HORRIBLE and OFFENSIVE she found it.
After the lecture, when she wasn't *supposed* to be sitting silently, she strode up to Kim and shouted at her. Whereupon, I said (verbatim) "Who is it offensive to?"
She then said, "*my old name* I wasn't talking to YOU!"
Having realised that I was dealing with a person who thought she could choose who replied when she spoke I started shouting back :-D
Then she proceeded to tell Kim that, by disagreeing with her, Kim was removing her freedom of speech.
During the next few days, I heard this girl
1) Call someone a "retard"
2) Sit there saying nothing while someone else used "retard" repeatedly
3) Laugh when someone compared his fieldwork experience to "a concentration camp"
And I spent as little time with her as possible. I wonder what else she found funny?
So, y'know, it becomes crystal fucking clear that this girl's vendetta against Kim doesn't come from a desire to uphold standards of decent human behaviour. It comes from her DARING to be working-class and wanting to make something of herself, DARING to have a regional accent and to STILL WANT HER VOICE HEARD, and DARING to argue with her "betters".
I wouldn't be upset if this girl was just one lonely asshat. In fact, however, we found Kim crying that next Monday - it seemed that everyone on the course found her offensive.
Not everyone, exactly - everyone with the same level of privilege in their background, who had never heard somebody from the ACTUAL REAL WORLD say ACTUAL THINGS before.
And they still laugh at her when she doesn't know a long word, at a dyslexic woman who grew up on a council estate.
And they talk about her in terms designed to denigrate all "mouthy" women. I wish I could revoke all their rights when they do - guess what, "gobby" women, women who weren't nice, "appropriate" young ladies - earned them.
Kim had tried so, so hard to come to university. She had worked more than any of them could even imagine. She is as strong as anything. And these people had reduced her to tears - something all kinds of abuse rarely managed.
I was angry at these people for another reason, too. Hasn't anyone who knows anything about American politics noted the reason for their national oversensitivity? Their ridiculous insistence that everything said, everything, has to be beautifully patriotic?
Their politicians want us to forget the children without health insurance; the elderly people, many veterans, starving in their homes; police and other official brutality towards people who have dared to be poor or black; the fact that millions of people are living in third world conditions in a First World superpower. Yes, actual third world conditions. Where running water is an unobtainable luxury. Those kinds of third world conditions.
How about they stop contributing to that culture of silence? No, but as I know by your treatment of Kim, those people are obviously less than people to them.
Hmm. I guess I know why I'm angry now.
edit: this post seems to be mainly about teh womens - I'm not letting the other guys get off scot-free. I was the only guy chivalrous enough to stand up for a woman who was very obviously being bullied. I don't care how many rugby medals and penises you have, I might revoke your right to self-define as men...
I also want to make myself feel better by posting a passive-aggressive rant about someone I don't like - well, why do y'all think they invented the blogosphere?
So, I have a good friend whose name is Kim (she's doing the best she can with Kimberley Leeanne - and no, I'm not giving her a pseudonym, because she has nothing to be ashamed of, and is awesome in every way).
In many ways, she is an ideal of 21st-century womanhood. Both attractive and smart, she refuses to take shit from anyone - but she's still nurturing and caring (yeah, personally, on that coach trip, I would have moved seats away from the girl whose face threatened projectile vomit, not looked after her...). Kim also has a strong County Durham accent and insatiable curiosity.
Most of the people doing my degree don't have regional accents. The department - heck, the university - is full of public school alumni, who seem to specialise in saying clueless things about people outside their arenas of experience.
Anyway, the godly Martin Carver (eminent archaeologist is eminent) was talking about the African Burial Ground in NY. It seems that some authorities fought some rather more ethical authorities over the remains therefrom, and the remains themselves got moved around quite a bit. They even spent a while stored in the World Trade Center.
When this was mentioned, Kim asked (I remember this verbatim) "But the whole thing over the bones was quite recent, wasn't it? Were they still there during 9/11, confusing the firemen?"
Whereupon one girl took it upon herself to tell everyone, loudly, how OFFENSIVE that remark had been and how HORRIBLE and OFFENSIVE she found it.
After the lecture, when she wasn't *supposed* to be sitting silently, she strode up to Kim and shouted at her. Whereupon, I said (verbatim) "Who is it offensive to?"
She then said, "*my old name* I wasn't talking to YOU!"
Having realised that I was dealing with a person who thought she could choose who replied when she spoke I started shouting back :-D
Then she proceeded to tell Kim that, by disagreeing with her, Kim was removing her freedom of speech.
During the next few days, I heard this girl
1) Call someone a "retard"
2) Sit there saying nothing while someone else used "retard" repeatedly
3) Laugh when someone compared his fieldwork experience to "a concentration camp"
And I spent as little time with her as possible. I wonder what else she found funny?
So, y'know, it becomes crystal fucking clear that this girl's vendetta against Kim doesn't come from a desire to uphold standards of decent human behaviour. It comes from her DARING to be working-class and wanting to make something of herself, DARING to have a regional accent and to STILL WANT HER VOICE HEARD, and DARING to argue with her "betters".
I wouldn't be upset if this girl was just one lonely asshat. In fact, however, we found Kim crying that next Monday - it seemed that everyone on the course found her offensive.
Not everyone, exactly - everyone with the same level of privilege in their background, who had never heard somebody from the ACTUAL REAL WORLD say ACTUAL THINGS before.
And they still laugh at her when she doesn't know a long word, at a dyslexic woman who grew up on a council estate.
And they talk about her in terms designed to denigrate all "mouthy" women. I wish I could revoke all their rights when they do - guess what, "gobby" women, women who weren't nice, "appropriate" young ladies - earned them.
Kim had tried so, so hard to come to university. She had worked more than any of them could even imagine. She is as strong as anything. And these people had reduced her to tears - something all kinds of abuse rarely managed.
I was angry at these people for another reason, too. Hasn't anyone who knows anything about American politics noted the reason for their national oversensitivity? Their ridiculous insistence that everything said, everything, has to be beautifully patriotic?
Their politicians want us to forget the children without health insurance; the elderly people, many veterans, starving in their homes; police and other official brutality towards people who have dared to be poor or black; the fact that millions of people are living in third world conditions in a First World superpower. Yes, actual third world conditions. Where running water is an unobtainable luxury. Those kinds of third world conditions.
How about they stop contributing to that culture of silence? No, but as I know by your treatment of Kim, those people are obviously less than people to them.
Hmm. I guess I know why I'm angry now.
edit: this post seems to be mainly about teh womens - I'm not letting the other guys get off scot-free. I was the only guy chivalrous enough to stand up for a woman who was very obviously being bullied. I don't care how many rugby medals and penises you have, I might revoke your right to self-define as men...
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