“Transgender people in Uruguay are celebrating after the country’s Congress passed a comprehensive trans law yesterday (18 October).

The law brings in a host of new rights for transgender people.

Most notably, trans people can now self-identify their gender and update their legal name, without approval from a judge.

The new law also creates scholarships for trans people to access education, as well as sets up affirmative action. It also now acknowledges the self-identification of non-binary people.

The comprehensive law also creates a monthly pension for transgender people born before 1975. This is a way of making reparations for trans people who were targeted by the government during the country’s dictatorship from 1973 to 1985.

The reparations are effective of 1 January this year and affect anyone born before 31 December 1975.

The new law also requires government services to employ a minimum of 1% of the transgender population.

62 of 88 senators voted in favor of the new law.”

Read the full piece here

WOW!!! Go Uruguay Go!!!

U.S. readers, register to vote here - in some states you can still register for the November election! This week shows how much we have to gain or lose depending on who gets in office.

as is the case in every cis community, transmisogyny is structurally embedded in the culture of the cis lesbian community, and its getting pretty absurd that we can point this out for straight cis people or even cis gay men without tumblr freaking out about it, but the second you mention that cis lesbians are not exempt from reproducing and enacting transmisogyny a massive contingent of people in here will accuse you of “calling all cis lesbians TERFs” and even of, somehow, being directly responsible for cis lesbians being recruited into the TERF movement, as if our attempts to combat bigotry and oppression against us somehow were so inherently wrong that they justify our oppressors radicalizing themselves into exterminationist politics.

it would appear that this website would rather trans lesbians never speak of the fact that we are, on a very fundamental level, alienated and marginalized within the greater lesbian community, and that this is something that is enacted upon us by the dominant and majority group of the lesbian community, that is, cis lesbians. TERFs are an easy target because they represent a political group of women who have enshrined their own transmisogyny to the point of developing radical exterminationist politics based on bringing transmisogyny to its ultimate conclusion, but this doesn’t change the fact that this group could not exist or be capable of carrying out recruitment without transmisogyny being a largely everpresent factor in the culture of cis women regardless of sexuality. frankly it seems that a lot of you are so hung up on the fact that greater society demonizes cis lesbians that you’ve become so defensive you will refuse to accept any and all criticism towards how cis lesbians as a community behave, even if its coming from other lesbians who happen to be marginalized, excluded, mistreated and oppressed by the people you are so keen on treating as flawless.

links within this thread:

in addition to this great thread, i recommend reading “how the irish became white” by noel ignatiev.  i do expect a lot of fighting against these facts because these lies and myth are so ingrained and now have become a part of the community and the sense of self and pride of irish people. 

Anti-Blackness is such a thing amongst the Irish till this day Black people find it so difficult to get work here in Ireland and if they do get work they often get harassed for being Black. I had a feeling that the ‘Irish slave’ wasn’t a thing, I’m glad to know in fact it wasn’t.

This is why history is so important.  People try to bury this because of shame and some still feel no guilt.  The Irish are not the only ones who have done this.  Everyone who landed on this rock was the new negro on the block and tried hard to exclude themselves.  No matter how many times you check white on an application you will never be white.  You are just a means to an end. 

the funniest thing about the Irish slave myth is that it was started by non irish (norwegian) white supremacists as a trap for Irish people who really didnt know their own history but claimed whiteness. and it worked. 

Cooperatize Jeff Bezos

I was 6 years old when my two older sisters went to Palestine to “visit family.” At least that’s what my mom told me.

I was born in Chicago, like my sisters, but our parents are Palestinian, born in Jerusalem. I was four-months-old when our father died — he worked at a gas station and was shot during a robbery. After that, the four of us moved into the basement apartment of my mom’s mother’s house, where my sisters and I shared a room.

I worshipped my oldest sister growing up. She was rebellious and loved pop music and makeup, which my grandmother and mother couldn’t stand. We were raised Muslim, and while my mom didn’t make us wear hijabs — headscarves — to school, we did when we went to mosque on the high holidays. Every other day, we wore long-sleeve shirts and pants or knee-length skirts.

I don’t have too many memories of my sisters, but I do remember how much my oldest sister loved Usher. She was 13 and she’d sing along to his music on the radio in our room. She bought a poster of him, shirtless, and pinned it to the wall next to our bed.

He didn’t last long. My grandmother saw the poster one day and ripped it off the wall. She was screaming at my sister, and my sister yelled right back — she was feisty! But it didn’t matter; Usher was gone. And a year later, so were my sisters.

My mom said they were “going on a trip” to Palestine, but even as a 6-year-old, I’d heard rumors about a diary entry. Something about my sister kissing a boy behind a tree, or writing that she wanted to. I remember large suitcases and both of my sisters weeping as we said goodbye. I cried too, but I was more mad at them for leaving me. Who would I listen to the radio with late at night?

Still, I assumed they were coming back. So when my mother told me that they wanted to stay in Palestine, I got really upset. I missed them so much.

The only time I got to see my friends was at school.

In 8th grade, our class took a field trip to tour the high school. No one wore uniforms, like we did in middle school! I could even wear my skinny jeans there. Yep, as strict as my mom was, she did buy me skinny jeans that were super popular then. I remember being in the store and pointing them out and being stunned when she nodded yes, then paid for three pairs at the register. They were the only things I owned that made me feel like a normal kid.

But right before middle school graduation, I came home from school one afternoon to find my mother and grandmother rummaging through my closet.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

My mother was holding a garbage bag and my grandmother had scissors. They were cutting my skinny jeans into pieces and throwing them away.

I was so confused — she’d bought them for me! When I asked my mom why, she said, “They’re inappropriate and revealing. You’re too old to dress like this now!”

I was furious. All I had left were one pair of baggy jeans, which I hated. For the first time in middle school, I was relieved to have a uniform.

As soon as I graduated 8th grade, I started pestering my mom about enrolling me in high school. Every time I asked if she’d done it, she’d say, “Not yet.” In July, she said, “I’m signing you up for an all girls’ school.” But there was a wait list, so then it was going to be online school. I even did my own research and had pamphlets sent to the house, but nothing happened.

By September, all of my friends had started school but me. I woke up every day at 10am and watched TV, cleaned the house, and helped make dinner. I was beyond bored. Meanwhile my mom loved having me around. She didn’t work, and always said that it was important for me to learn how to be a good housewife. I cringed every time she said that — that was the last thing I wanted to be.

In fact, I really wanted a job, even if it was just working at my step-dad’s gas station. Anything to get out of the house. I even asked my step-dad if I could get a workers’ permit, which you can get at 15 in Chicago, and he said, “Sure!” But just like with high school, nothing ever happened. It was another empty promise.

My laptop was my refuge.

Facebook was the only way for me to stay in touch with my friends. I made up a random name that my parents could never guess and chatted with friends throughout the day. If my mom walked into the room, I’d switch the screen to a video game. She had no idea. Earlier that year, when I told friends why I wasn’t in school, more than one told me, “That’s illegal!” I kind of knew I had the legal right to be in school, but wasn’t sure who to tell. My parents didn’t care — it’s what they wanted!

A year passed, and the following summer, I was chatting on Facebook with a guy I knew from middle school.

When he wrote, “Want to go to Chipotle this Friday?” my heart skipped a beat.

I was super excited and typed back, “Sure.”

I told my parents that I was going to see my 24-year-old cousin. She was the only person I was ever allowed to visit. She’s also incredibly cool and promised to cover for me. I met her at her house, and then she dropped me off at the mall and told me to have a great time.

I did! He was cute, and super nice. I told him that my parents were strict and didn’t even know where I was. He was like, “No worries!”

It was the most fun I’d had in over a year. At the end of our date, I told him that I’d be in touch over Facebook, and floated home.

The next night, I was in the living room watching TV when the doorbell rang. My mom answered, and I heard his voice ask, “Is Yasmine home?”

I froze.

My mother started screaming, “Who are you and why are you at this house?”

He said, “I’m Yasmine’s boyfriend.”

I could see him standing in front of my mom, her back to me, and was trying to wave to him, like, “Go away! This is a terrible idea!”

She threatened to call the police, slammed the door, and then screamed at me: “Go to your room. You’re grounded!”

The next day, my mom went grocery shopping without me and locked the glass storm door from the outside, which meant I was trapped. For the next two weeks, I was literally kept under lock and key when she left.

And then one day, my mother said, “Pack your bags. We’re going to Palestine to visit your sisters.”

I’d only been there once when I was 10; I don’t even remember seeing my sisters then — all I remember is that it was dusty and dry. No green at all. I hated it. Plus, I speak only very basic Arabic, which is what they speak there.

I was dreading the trip. Saying goodbye to my little sister was painful — she was 8 by then. She was the only other person who knew, besides my cousin, about my date. I fought back tears and promised I’d be back soon.

My mom said we’d be gone for a month, but I didn’t trust her. On the way to the airport, I asked to see my return ticket. I wanted proof that it existed. She was indignant as she showed me the ticket, but it made me feel better.

My mother and grandmother and I landed in Tel Aviv, which was as hot and dusty as I remembered. I felt claustrophobic in the cab, which we took to Ramallah, the Palestinian capital. My grandmother has a house there, and both of my sisters lived nearby.

I was so angry about being there that I wasn’t even excited to see my sisters. I couldn’t believe that they’d left me all those years before. Now, they were both married with kids. But by the end of that first evening, I relaxed with them. I even told them what happened with my Chipotle date, and they started teasing me, like, “You’re such an idiot! With a white guy? Really?”

They thought that if he’d been Muslim, I wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble. I wasn’t so sure, but it still felt good to laugh with them about it.

About two weeks into our stay, my sisters sat me down and started doing my hair and makeup. I was never allowed to wear makeup at home, so I thought it was cool. When I asked why, they said they wanted me to meet a friend of theirs.

Their friend was in his twenties but still lived with his mom, which my sister called “a problem.” I didn’t understand what she meant by that.

He arrived with his mom and uncle and started speaking to me in Arabic. I barely understood anything except for his asking me how old I was.

I said, “I’m 15. I just finished 8th grade.”

He looked perplexed. So was I.

After he left, I asked my sisters what the meeting was about. They explained that the way to meet suitors is through families. When a family thinks a girl is ready to be married — usually she’s part of that decision — they pass word along to other families that they’re looking for a husband. The couple then meets through the parents, and if it is a good match, an arrangement is made.

A week passed, and once again my sisters sat me down and started putting makeup on me. They said that another guy was coming to meet me. When I asked, “Who?”

They said, “Don’t worry about it. Just have fun.”

The doorbell rang and in walked a guy with his parents. I’m 5'8" and he was 5'4", nine years older, and missing half of his front left tooth. Everyone seemed very eager. I was repulsed.

I sat stone-faced the entire time they were there. As soon as he and his family left, my mom and grandmother said that they thought I should marry him. They said, “He has a job and a house.” That’s all it took.

I was furious. By then, I realized that they’d brought me to Palestine to get married and planned to leave me there. Instead of berating them, I immediately started thinking of ways to return home on my own. I had watched SVU. I knew this was totally illegal. I just needed to figure out a way to reach a detective in Illinois who could help me escape.

I also knew then that I couldn’t trust my sisters — anytime I complained to them, they’d just say, “It’s not so bad! You’ll learn to love him!”

He and I met two more times that week and each time, I hoped he’d figure out that I was being coerced. But then, during that third visit, all the men went into one room while the women stayed in another.

My sister, mother, and grandmother were chatting with his mother and sisters when I heard the men read the engagement passage from the Koran, which announces a marriage.

Startled, I said to my sisters, “What are they doing?”

My oldest sister said, “They’re reading the passage.”

I shouted, “No!” and fought back tears.

My worst nightmare was becoming a terrifying reality. I ran into the bathroom, curled into a ball, and dissolved into tears. How could my family do this to me? I thought about running away, but how? My mother had my passport. I had no money. I was stuck. I started thinking about different ways to die. Anything was better than this.

After his family left, I could no longer contain my rage at my mother. “How could you do this to me? I am your daughter!” I shouted. Tears were streaming down my face. I could see my mom was upset, too — she was crying, shaking her head. I think she felt bad about it, but she also felt like it was the best option. I felt so betrayed.

And just then, my grandmother marched into the room and slapped me. “Don’t disrespect your mother!” she said, before turning to my mother and saying, “See? She needs this. How else will she learn to be respectful?’

That’s when I learned that my grandmother had set the whole thing up. She’d met this man’s family at a mall the same week I met him! His parents owned a restaurant and spotted us shopping. They approached her to see if I was an eligible bride for their son. She told them yes, but that I had to be married before she flew back to the States. He had no other prospects, so they were excited I was one.

I never liked my grandmother, but I didn’t hate her until that moment.

The wedding was planned for September 30th, a week and a half away. I was still desperately trying to figure a way out of it. I told my mom, “I’ll find a way to leave.” She replied, “Either you marry him or someone way older who won’t be as nice.”

My sisters said the same. “You’re lucky.” As much as I dreaded what was happening, they made the alternative sound even worse.

A few days before the wedding, my oldest sister finally revealed that she was also married against her will. “I was kicking and screaming the whole way,” she told me. “But I learned to love him. You will too.”

I don’t remember the ceremony — everything is such a blur — but I do remember pulling away when he tried to kiss my cheek and my mother hissing, “Kiss his cheek!” I refused.

At the end of the wedding party, both of my sisters were so excited about my first night with him. They even said, “Text us afterwards!”

I hated them.

The first night was awful. The only thing I’m thankful for is that my husband was not a violent or aggressive man. It could have been so much worse. I get terrible migraine headaches brought on by stress, and I used them to my advantage in the weeks that followed.

He took that first week off of work and we spent most of it with his family. I did the best I could to tolerate being around him and his family while I tried to figure a way out of this mess. To do that, I needed to get on the internet.

When he went back to his job as a mechanic, he’d be gone by 9am. I’d get up, have breakfast and go to his mom’s house to help her clean and make dinner. She had a computer, so one day, I asked if I could use it to talk to my mother and she agreed. Instead, I logged onto Facebook and messaged a friend from 3rd grade and told her where I was and what had happened.

She wrote back immediately, “That’s illegal!”

Once again, I knew that, but I didn’t know what to do.

I had another friend I met through Facebook who lived in Texas. He was Muslim. I told him what happened, and he wrote, ‘You need to call the embassy!’ He even sent the number.

My heart was pounding as I wrote it in a piece of paper and shoved it into my pocket.

On October 14th, I was in our apartment in the afternoon when I finally worked up the nerve to call. I used the Nokia flip phone my husband gave me to talk to him and my sisters.

An American-sounding man answered the phone and I blurted, “I’m a U.S. citizen. My parents brought me here against my will to marry a man. I want to go home.”

After a moment of silence, he said, “Wow, this is a first. Hold for a moment.” He connected me to a man named Mohammed, who asked me for my parents’ names and address in the states.

I gave him all the proof I could think of that I was a US citizen. I didn’t know my social security number and didn’t have my passport. He said that was okay, but he needed proof that I was actually married. He asked for the marriage certificate. I had no idea where it was. Then he asked me for my husband’s last name, and I realized, I had no idea what that was either.

Mohammed told me he’d be in touch once he verified all my information. He called me several times over the next two months. During that time, I learned my husband’s last name, which was legally mine as well.

As I waited for news, I got lots of migraines.

On December 3rd, Mohammed called with the number for a taxi service and the address of a hotel. He told me to be there the next morning at 11am.

The next morning, I waited for my husband to leave and shoved all of my belongings — including the traditional wedding gold my husband’s family gave me — into my suitcase and called the number. That’s when I realized that I didn’t even know my address. I told the driver the name of the closest big store and then stayed on the phone with him, telling him when to turn right or left. He still couldn’t find me, so I ran down to the main street to flag him down praying no one would see me.

I held my breath for the entire 30-minute ride to the hotel. There, in the parking lot, I spotted a blond woman sitting with a guy in a black van.

“Are you with the US embassy?” I asked.

They said yes, and then she patted me down, explaining it was for security purposes, to make sure I was not strapped with any bombs.

I said, “Do whatever you need to do!” I didn’t care — I was so close to freedom.

When they put me in the back seat, I pulled off my headscarf and fought back happy tears: There, with these two strangers, I felt safe for the first time in forever.

We went to the US Embassy in Jerusalem where I spent the day filling out paperwork in order to enter into the foster care system back in the States. I had no idea what that meant other than from this one cartoon show called Foster Home for Imaginary Friends, but agreeing to enter foster care wasn’t hard — at least it was a new start.

That night, a diplomat accompanied me to the airport with two bodyguards, and I was placed on a plane to Philadelphia.

On my next flight, I flew from Philadelphia to Chicago O'Hare and sat next to a 20-something guy on his way to his friend’s bachelor party who asked me how old I was.

I said, “15.”

He said, “You’re too young to be on a plane by yourself!”

If he only knew.

At O'Hare, I had twenty minutes to kill before I was supposed to meet two state officials in the food court, so I went to a computer terminal and logged onto Facebook. I had two accounts at the time: one for friends and one for family. I wanted to see what my family was saying.

A three-page letter from my second oldest sister was the first thing I read. She said she never wanted to see me again, that she hated me, and that if anyone asked her how many sisters she had, she’d say two instead of three. I was devastated.

Then I read a group chat between my two sisters, my mom, and my mom’s sister.

It started, “Yasmine ran away.” “What? Where?” And then someone wrote, “She’s ruining our reputation!” Not one of them wondered if I was okay.

My aunt asked if I had taken my gold. When my sister said yes, my aunt replied, “She could have gotten kidnapped or robbed!”

That was the only mention of concern for my wellbeing.

As painful as it was to read those words, it made me realize that I had made the right choice.

The people I then met in the airport food court introduced me to a woman from Illinois’ Child Protective Services, who took me under her wing. It was 11am, 24 hours after I ran for my life into the streets of Ramallah to escape my forced marriage.

I first moved in with a woman who fostered several kids, and stayed there for six months. It wasn’t ideal — she was very religious and made us go to her Baptist church with her on Saturday and Sunday. But it was still better than what I’d left. This was confirmed when I had to face my mother in court to establish that I should remain a ward of the state, which is what they call kids whose parents aren’t fit to take care of them.

The first court date was two weeks after I arrived. When I saw my mom, I froze. She was sitting in the waiting room and refused to acknowledge me. She didn’t make eye contact; it was as if I didn’t exist. I felt an awful mix of hurt and rage.

A few months later, I had to testify in a courtroom. My mom was there with her lawyer. He showed photos from my wedding and said, “You look happy! And your mom said that you wanted to be married.”

I had to explain to a room full of strangers that I was faking that smile to survive and that my mom knew the entire time that I didn’t want to marry that man. On the stand, I said, “My mom is lying.” That was so painful to have to say — I wept in front of everyone. All the feelings I’d kept inside just poured out.

After that hearing, I officially became a ward of the state of Illinois.

By then, I’d already started ninth grade. I didn’t like my foster mom much. I stopped going to church on the weekends, but she wouldn’t let me or my foster brother stay in the house alone so we were locked out until she got home every weekend and weekdays too. It was hard in the Chicago winter, but the agency didn’t think I was in immediate danger, so I stayed put. Teens are hard to place.

By January 2014, at 16-years-old, I’d been in and out of three foster homes. My strategy was just to survive foster care until I was 18, when I would finally be on my own. So when a couple called Carrie and Marvin came to meet me one weekend, I didn’t hold out any hope.

Carrie and Marvin had two biological teenagers, both with developmental delays. They understood kids and were super warm, but it still took me a while to open up. I really wanted to make it to 18 living with them, but I never dreamed what actually happened next.

When I hit my one-year anniversary with them, they asked me if I wanted to be adopted. I was shocked! I figured I’d leave at 18 and just be on my own — I never thought there was an alternative. But they told me that they wanted me around forever. I cannot tell you how good that felt — to be wanted, by an actual family. I said yes.

No more waking up at 6am to someone saying, “Pack your bags — you’re out!” For the first time in my life, I could put things up in my room and it was okay. It was the first time since being in that van with the people from the embassy that I felt safe.

I saw my mother one last time in court, at the final termination of parental rights. Carrie had asked her for childhood photos of me, and amazingly, my mom handed them to me there.

It was a cold exchange. She was expressionless. At first, I was insulted. It all seemed so easy, her giving me up. But it was really nice to get the photos. She didn’t have to do that.

Now Carrie has them around the house. It makes me feel like I’m really part of her family, like I’m her kid.

I finally reconnected on Facebook with my sister a few months ago, the one who’d said she hated me. She admitted that she wished she’d had the nerve to do what I had done. Now I understand why she was so upset: I got away. She didn’t.

I just graduated from high school — the first in my biological family to do so! In September, I’m going to Illinois State University and just learned that I won a full scholarship, which means my tuition will be waived for the next five years. I plan to study mass communications, and may want to do something with computers, considering they are literally what saved me.

Regardless of what I end up doing for a living, the thing that makes me the most excited is that I get to choose — what I want to wear, who I want to date, or even marry, and ultimately, who I want to be.

Wow.

Incredible

This is such an incredible story and hits home for so many reasons. I can’t stop crying..

Since this is starting to get quite a few notes, I’m going to signal boost some information on the subject and some organizations that do a lot of good work in this area. 

Forced and child marriages are not limited to any single race, ethnicity, nationality, religion, or place of residence. The US is no exception: while forced marriages aren’t something you think of as happening in the States, there were at least 3,000 forced and underage marriages that took place in the United States between 2009 and 2011. A national survey found that forced marriage occurs among families of a variety of religious backgrounds, including individuals from Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist, Jewish, and other faith traditions, so again, there is no singular group of people being affected by this practice. While the majority of forced marriages involve girls who are minors and older teenagers, there are a lot of women in their early and mid-20s that become victims as well; men are also victims, though in smaller numbers. One of the (many) complicating factors in the US is the presence of ‘parental consent’ marriage laws, which allow 15, 16, and 17-year-olds to get married with a parent’s consent; the problem being, of course, that the parents consent to the marriage but the child does not.

If you are facing the prospect of a forced marriage, suspect your family is trying to take you overseas to get married against your will, are in the process of being forcibly married off, are currently in a forced marriage, or have a friend who is in any of the aforementioned situations, here are some resources you can utilize:

Some articles discussing the problem in greater depth:

If you want to get involved in tackling this problem, each one of the organizations I listed above have amazing ‘Get Involved’ pages that detail several ways to help end child and forced marriage. You can also get involved by contacting local organizations focused on helping human trafficking victims (whose clients sometimes overlap with forced marriage victims), contacting your state representatives to help get marriage laws changed, and raising awareness and educating people about the issue.You can also get involved by volunteering or interning for one of the organizations: Tahirih in particular has a great internship program that I highly recommend for anyone interested.

#JusticeForNkosinathiKhomo I just thought I should leave this here.

I wonder how many other things white people have “invented” after disposing of a black body…

Millions. Black History ~

Every day I learn something new about queer history.

“At least I don’t beat you” is a threat.

Normalizing abuse is what abusers do best. They will convince you that however brutal their behaviour toward you, they could be worse to you and it would be justified because of your own flaws.

When someone who scares and controls you brings up a different way they could hurt you, and suggests that you should be grateful they aren’t taking that option, they consider it a viable choice.

It is a threat, a reminder that they are willing and able to treat you even more violently if you don’t behave the way they wish. Only someone who wants to terrify you into compliance would bring up the posibility of beating you like it’s a real option.

Pyramid of White Supremacy In a pyramid, every brick depends on the ones below it for support. If the bricks at the bottom are removed, the whole structure comes tumbling down. Source: Adapted from Ellen Tuzzolo and Safehouse Progressive Alliance for Nonviolence’s diagram

A snippet on what German reunification would mean for trans rights that appeared in Lou Sullivan’s FTM Newsletter in June 1990.

one day i’m gonna write a veeery long post about what the reunification meant for lgbt people bc I have talked to many lgbt ossis about it and it’s SOOO interesting. like for example in the cities the young “queer scene” is very… americanized if that makes sense? like using almost exclusively english vocabulary for lgbt related things, focusing on a western/ american centric line of lgbt history etc - it’s very alienating for many people who grew up with russian as their main foreign language… or like look at charlotte von mahlsdorf, probably east germany’s best known trans woman, who was attacked by neo nazis in the early nineties (the east german neo nazi culture started directly after the reunification) and then left germany for sweden because of that… there’s just so much stuff like this and it’s SO super interesting but it’s rarely talked about

a friend of mine is a science educator. not a classroom teacher - he does the kind of programs you see in museums, fun experiments with lasers and dry ice and shit.

yesterday, a young girl asked him why he was allowed to pour liquid nitrogen all over his own arm but he didn’t want her doing it. I braced myself for some dumb “well I’m an adult so I’m allowed” non-answer, but instead he surprised me by giving some of the best science (and life) advice I think you can give a young person:

“well, it’s one of those rules designed to keep you safe. and following the rules really can help you stay safe, but they’re not perfect. sometimes, usually because they’re too simple, the rules let you do things that aren’t safe, or don’t let you do things that are safe if you know how to do them. one of the reasons I’m good at what I do as a scientist is I try to understand how things work so I can figure out my own rules for keeping myself safe. and sometimes my rules are little more complicated than what I might hear from other people, but they work better for me. like, I let myself play with liquid nitrogen, but only in really specific ways that I’ve spent time practicing. you should follow the rules you’re given at first, but if you take the time to understand how things work, maybe you can make your own, better rules.”

I loved this response. it’s a great encapsulation of two really important things I think people need to learn and re-learn all the time: on the one hand, listen to genuine authority figures; when someone knows more than you about a subject, don’t treat their expertise as “just another opinion” and act like your ignorance is just as good as their knowledge. but on the other hand, don’t obey anything or anyone blindly. recognize that rules and systems and established ideas are never perfect. question things, educate yourself, question things more.

and then, of course, a parent had to butt in and spoil this wonderful lesson by saying:

“but not the rules mom comes up with!”

everyone in the room laughed. except me. I gave her a death glare I’m pretty sure she didn’t notice.

because no. no. your rules are not above reproach if you’re a parent. the thing about the dictates of genuine authority figures - people who deserve to have power, and to have their positions respected - is that they are open to question. genuine authority figures are accountable. governments can be petitioned and protested and recalled. doctors must respect patients’ right to a second opinion. journalists have jobs terminated and credentials revoked if they fail to meet standards of integrity and diligence. scientists, to bring us back full circle, spend their entire careers trying to disprove their own hypotheses! you know who insists on being treated as infallible? megalomaniacal dictators, that’s who. oh, and parents.

I’m beyond sick and tired of this “my house my rules, this family is not a democracy, I want my child to think critically and stand up for themselves except to me ha ha” bullshit. my friend gave this kid the kind of advice that doesn’t just help people become good scientists - if enough people adopt the mentality he put forth to that girl, that’s the kind of advice that helps societies value knowledge and resist totalitarianism. and her mother shut it down because, what, she didn’t want to deal with the inconvenience of having someone question her edicts about whose job it is to wash the dishes on Mondays?

we already know you’re more likely to be a Trump supporter if you’re an authoritarian parent - and that this is a stronger predictor of your views on the current president than age, religiosity, gender, or race. I’ll say this another way in case you didn’t catch the full meaning: people who believe in the absolute, unquestionable authority of parents are more than two and a half times as likely to support Trump as people who don’t, and that’s just among Republicans. we can’t afford to treat the oppressive treatment of children or the injustice of ageist power structures in our society as a sideshow issue any longer. the mentality that parents should be treated by their children as beyond reproach and above dispute is a social cancer that has metastasized into the man currently trying to destroy the foundations of democracy in this country.

in short: parents, get the hell over yourselves before you get us all killed. and kids, learn as much as you can, and then make your own rules.

My mother is fond of quoting something that happened once at work (she’s the director of tourism for the neighboring county).

She was on the phone with my brother, who wanted to do something (I forget what, I think he wanted to go camping with some friends and she was worried it was going to be too cold that weekend or whatever)

And finally she got off the phone and sighed and said, joking, “When I taught them to question authority I must have laid it on thick, because now they’re questioning mine.”

And it got really quiet in the office. And then her secretary pipes up with “You taught your kids to question authority???”

Like she couldn’t believe that you would.

“You didn’t teach yours to?” Says mom, equally incredulous.

“No of course not!”

And mom says that right there in that moment she realized what was wrong with a huge part of the world.

Teach your kids to question, people.

For a short while as a child I had sanctuary from an abusive home in a lovely home with good parents. One of the things that completely shocked my taraumatized little soul was how deeply the adults respected children’s thoughts, feelings, needs and wants.

Whenever a kid thought something was unfair, the adult would ask why it felt unfair and talk to them about it. Sometimes the reason for the rule or decision was immovable, like, “this isn’t safe” or “this isn’t possible with the time we have and the responsibilities that fill it”, or “homework has to be done even if it’s boring, because it helps you practice skills you will need later on.”

In those cases, the rule wouldn’t change but the child would understand why it was a rule, and feel listened to and respected. And best of all, sometimes even if the rule didn’t change, an adult might help the child brainstorm ways to make it easier to follow the rule, or find alternatives to the thing they couldn’t have.

Sometimes, the rule or decision was for more flexible reasons, like “We can’t do this because you need supervision, and I have work to do which means I can’t supervise”, in which case a child’s suggestions, like, “What if I call a grandparent and see if they’re interested in supervising?” were encouraged and listened to. 

This taught the kids, me included, so much more than we ever could have learnt by being shut down by, “I’m an adult and I said so.” The system was designed to teach us to make good decisions and to give us as much information as possible about how to do that before we went out into the world. Teaching us the reasons for certain rules helped us respect them and to understand how to make good rules for ourselves going forward.

In my original household, the central rule was “Do whatever will keep you from getting hurt by the person with the most power.” From this we learned to make choices based solely on fear of consequences, no innate ethical system, so we learned to misbehave without getting caught.

We learned that if you can force someone to do something they don’t want to, you’re allowed to, because that’s how rules are decided, the most powerful person always gets their way.

We learned that asking questions of someone with power over you is dangerous and you have to figure everything out on your own. We learned to keep secrets about how badly we were hurt. There was no oppenness, no conversation, no negotiation or questions or teaching, just fear and hatred and a lot of pain.

Which household do you think taught me the best lessons, the ones I can use to build a healthy and responsible life for myself?

My older son (almost 8 now, god) said to me in a conversation this year, “You can say no to anyone, even grown ups,” and I almost cried with relief.

Just to go back to tdf’s bit: “Whenever a kid thought something was unfair, the adult would ask why it felt unfair and talk to them about it. ” Y'know, after I ran away from home, if an adult had started a conversation like that with me, I would’ve thought it was a trap and clammed up. I’m not sure exactly what I think needs adding here, but there’s something about abusive parents training their children to not trust the absence of power abuse.

the lesbophobia thing

Lesbophobia is real. It’s the prejudice, bigotry, and oppression that exists at the intersection of homophobia and misogyny. Let me say it again: Lesbophobia is real. Hate for lesbians is real.

However, it is essential to acknowledge and understand that the term lesbophobia has been co-opted by a loud and growing contingent of LGBTQ women in communities that share troubling ties and ideology with factions that exist inside the alt-right movement — worse, the dangerous dogma that’s attaching itself to word the lesbophobia has found a new home at AfterEllen.

I first encountered the word lesbophobia in response to the post I wrote called Queer Women Take Over The 2016 Emmys. Her Story got a revolutionary nod for Outstanding Short Form. Kate McKinnon took home a trophy for Saturday Night Live. Sarah Paulson won for The People vs. O.J. Simpson. And Jill Soloway scored another victory for Transparent. On social media there was a small outcry that I hadn’t chosen the headline “Lesbians Take Over the 2016 Emmys,” despite the fact that Kate McKinnon was the only winner who explicitly identifies as a lesbian. (In fact, Sarah Paulson is on record saying, “I refuse to give any kind of label just to satisfy what people need.”) The reasons the handful of dissenters gave for my decision to call the Emmys queer was that I am a lesbophobe, an espouser and executor of lesbophobia.

To be very honest with you, I shrugged it off. The most unwinnable battle we have at Autostraddle is labeling LGBTQ people in a way that satisfies everyone. It’s such a constant struggle, we laid out an explanation about labels in our official comment policy. Recently on a Pop Culture Fix, I wrote about the new queer characters coming to The Good Wife spin-off. One of them will be a lesbian, according to the show’s writers; the other’s sexuality has not been labeled. So, I said, “The Good Wife spin-off will prominently feature two lesbian, bisexual, gay, homosexual, or otherwise queer-identified women.” Just to cover all my bases because it was almost Christmas and I was tired and I didn’t want to have to argue about labels. And yet, the cries of lesbophobia came in again. I got a couple of emails, a dozen or so tweets. Essentially: “Lesbian is not a dirty word! Saying queer is lesbophobic!”

So, on December 26, I tweeted something I think is a true, fair, and accurate analogy:

A couple of days later, AfterEllen’s official Twitter tweeted at me and said: “@theheatherhogan oh, agreed. It’s like yelling “biphobia!” and “transphobia!” when someone says lesbian.“

To which beloved Autostraddle cartoonist Dickens replied:

Dickens was, of course, correct. And her point was proven once again the very next day when an article blasted out to the 125,000 followers of AfterEllen’s official, verified Twitter account cried: “Lesbian Spaces Are Still Needed, No Matter What the Queer Movement Says”. It suggests that trans women and bisexual women’s desire to be included in queer women’s spaces is to blame for the decline of lesbian-specific spaces, which lesbians need to stay safe from trans and bisexual women.

That kind of rallying cry feels very much like the “Save Our White Neighborhoods” rallying cry of the alt-right, so I went on a deeper dive to try to find the origins of what I called “the lesbophobia movement” on Twitter. And what I found was more horrifying than I ever imagined.

A few weeks ago AfterEllen — which everyone presumed dead after the company that owns it effectively fired everyone, including longtime editor in chief Trish Bendix — announced it had acquired a new editor named Memoree Joelle. In October, Joelle, tweeted a Change.org petition that she’d signed called Take the L Out of LGBT. The petition is a direct response to a previously failed petition that called for GLAAD, the Human Rights Campaign, HuffPo Voices, The Advocate, etc. to Drop The T from LGBT. The most popular supporter of the petition is a guy you might know called Milo Yiannopoulos. He signed it, tweeted about it, and dedicated 3,000 words to it in a post on Breitbart. Thanks to Milo’s urging, Matthew Hopkins, one of the main perpetrators of Gamergate, wrote a post called “Why #GamerGate Should Help the ‘Drop the T’ Campaign” on his personal blog. Hopkins called it “one of the most politically important campaigns of our generation.”

In addition to signing and tweeting about the petition, Joelle commented her approval. When former AfterEllen writer Elaine Atwell brought Joelle’s support of the petition to light, Joelle’s comments disappeared from the petition, and so did Elaine’s byline from the hundreds of articles she wrote over the last five years at AfterEllen.

The comments on the Change.org petition mention lesbophobia multiple times and equate it with trans activism, as do the subreddits that discussed Joelle’s contribution to the petition. “Part of lesbophobia is hating us for our same-sex attraction, but another very big part of it is hating us for our rejection of men,” one user wrote on /r/GenderCritical/. (Trans women are almost always referred to as men on this particular subreddit.) Another Redditor on /r/actuallesbians decried the “male entitlement and lesbophobia” of protesting the petition. “The moment we talk about your rape culture or your male violence we’re ‘transphobic’ or ‘biphobic.’” (The men in this comment are actually trans women and “rape culture” refers to the constantly espoused idea in TERF communities that trans women are male predators.) The lesbophobia tag on the blog GenderTrender is a deeply disturbing trip down an anti-trans rabbit hole. The lesbophobia tag on the website 4th Wave Now is horrifying; it equates allowing trans kids/teens to come out and live openly as their true gender with child abuse, ideas that are — again — shared with Breitbart and Milo Yiannopoulos. Reddit and Tumblr are absolutely flush with lesbians using the word “lesbophobia” to back up the ideas presented in these “Drop the T”/“The L Is Leaving” petitions.

These spaces that use the word “lesbophobia” to attack trans and bi women or people who use the word queer share more than than an ideology with Breitbart. You’ll find them saying things like “trans women want to colonize the lesbian community.” You’ll find them using the phrase “SJW” (meaning Social Justice Warrior), a pejorative term coined by the Men’s Rights Activist movement. And you’ll find a lot of talk about how the correct “biology” is the thing that allows people access to the protections of the majority. And lots and lots and lots and lots of just truly sickening propaganda leveled at trans and bi women. It’s very much about creating an in-group and scapegoating an out-group through tried and true tactics that have been — I’m sorry — utilized by Fox News and the alt-right for years.

I wrote about these things on Twitter, and you can read Dickens further unpacking them here and here. (You should read that last thread before you jump in here and call her “my black friend.”)

Look, we didn’t just wake up one day with an openly racist, openly sexist, openly xenophobic, openly ableist, openly anti-semitic president in the White House, appointing the leader of the most dangerous white supremacist website in history to his top advisor position. We watched blatant and unabashed white supremacist language and ideas slowly take over the movement from the inside. We watched the most powerful scapegoat the most vulnerable. We watched Fox News make heroes out of the white men who murdered unarmed black children and terrify people with their whole War on Christmas bullshit and equate all Muslims with terrorists. A Nazi didn’t walk into the West Wing and have a seat; the slow creep of white supremacy laid the path for him.

Vox did a fascinating interview with former conservative talk show host Charlie Sykes earlier this year. He quit over Trump. But the whole interview is him agonizing about how, to him, the GOP had always been about fiscal conservatism and states rights and he believed in that ideological purity so deeply that he fooled himself into believing that’s what the GOP was about to everybody, despite the fact that he saw the white supremacy and fascism slowly gaining power and momentum until it took over.

To me, what we’re talking about with lesbophobia is a similar thing. Is lesbophobia a term some lesbians have rallied around to protest the prejudice and bigotry that exist at the intersection of homophobia and misogyny? Yes, of course. Absolutely. HOWEVER. I had to go searching for people using the word lesbophobia like that because my entire experience with the way the word kept popping up in my timeline and in my comments and in the comments sections of other websites was to decry the use of the word queer and to espouse anti-trans and anti-bi ideology. And that includes every single person who landed in my mentions on Twitter when I started talking about this. I did not click on a single profile without finding anti-trans, anti-bi language; or ask a single person if they believe trans women are women and have them say yes.

If you are a woman who is using the word lesbophobia to NOT do those things, and you’re more angry at me for pointing out that it’s happening than you are at anti-trans/anti-bi people who have hijacked its meaning, I … I truly don’t understand. What’s happening at AfterEllen is terrifying me. Maybe the website is technically dead, but it still has clout and power and it’s using it to push some really dangerous ideas about lesbian exclusivity, and those ideas are shared by a very loud group of people who use the word “lesbophobia” on their blogs, social media, Reddit, etc. to vilify the people (like me) who stand against them.

I don’t want to cause anyone pain. I don’t want to make anyone feel unsafe or unloved or unaccepted. I DO NOT BELIEVE LESBIANS ARE NAZIS. I AM A LESBIAN. If you truly think that’s what I was saying when I unpacked these ideas on Twitter, I’m sorry. It was not my intention.

I do think, however, that it’s imperative for you to open your eyes to how the word lesbophobia is being used to persecute and oppress trans and bi women in very vocal and influential spaces that have direct ties in ideology and language with the alt-right.

An incredibly important read.

Via Crystal; language in propaganda is important, and often subtle.

Lesbian trans woman here and I appreciate this post, and I really hope TERF infiltration stops sometime soon

Doing something with “"good intentions”“ does not excuse you from the shitty consequences of your actions. If you meant no harm, but caused it anyways, owe up to that, ESPECIALLY if your help wasn’t wanted in the first place

the thing is, that, like, no one really questions you if you say, “i was bullied in school for being gay,” even if you didn’t know you were gay at the time, we accept that people, even by the time they are children, have a sense for those differences which make someone an acceptable target.

and yet. when trans women say that they were victims of misogyny before coming out, suddenly people throw up their arms and insist that they cannot possibly understand how that would be the case, even though it’s explained by a model of behaviour they already readily accept in another context.

Being a Trans woman complicates everybsingle social interaction 1000% and there’s no way to explain this to cis people.

Literally every single aspect, legitimately. Going out for groceries, applying for jobs, working your job, everything. And you try to explain this and I usually hear back something along the lones of “well fuck em! They dint matter u just gotta be u!!1!1” and like yes, sure totally in theory, you’re so right, but in the real world where people have very bigoted and violent prejudices,,, when almost every1 u interact w/ looks like they’re about to burst ot laughing @ u, when people just look so straight up grossed out by you,,,,,like shit it gets so fucking rough and it’s every day

It’s so bad most of us avoid going out at least part of the time if not most

That’s true, when I first started getting involved with the Trans community I was surprised by how many people just stayed at home all the time, but now that’s how I am, I hate being outside my apartment with strangers staring at me.

this is going to be a very long post. it has to be, because i know a lot of people are going to disagree with it, and i dislike arguing so i am trying to lay out everything, pre-empt all possible questions and challenges, right from the beginning. i am sorry if you have trouble reading it. i will probably not explain much. it’s about a difficult subject, one I do not enjoy talking about it. 

it’s about genital preference, which for those of you out of the loop, is the idea that in addition to only dating people of certain genders, some people will only date people with certain genital configurations, or in other words, of a particular coercively assigned sex. if you havent figured it out by now, this usually means they dont date trans people. or sometimes that they date based on coercively assigned sex at birth, regardless of gender. this post is going to focus on trans women and cis lesbians because that is my experience. if you find anything i say rings true for other groups, great, but if you want to talk about that further then make your own post.

the discourse is this: some people think this is an apolitical stance, just a quirk of human sexuality - some people like their partners with X genitals and thats just the way it is. others believe this is a product of the way society encodes meaning into bodies - its not really about the shape of the genitals, its about what they represent. if the second one is true then we would have to understand this preference as being influenced by transmisogyny, because transmisogyny is present in the way society encodes meaning into bodies.

when i talk about transmisogyny like this, i mean it in a material sense. i mean that something has a measurable, negative impact on trans women, on our quality of life, on our access to community, on how we are treated, and regarded, and talked about, or that it is a consequence of these things. i am not talking about an ideological transmisogyny i.e., one that is merely about how people feel. i think that a lot of the people who express this preference probably dont hate trans women. i think they think of us as women, they think of us as an oppressed and exploited minority, i think a lot of them want to be good allies to us. i dont doubt that. but i think they also think of their sexual preferences as unrelated to that, which is where we disagree.

so that’s the subject matter, and just a few of the disclaimers i feel i have to make before diving into this. now here’s my take -

if a cis lesbian knows that she is uncomfortable with trans women’s genitalia, acknowledges that this is probably a product of the way patriarchy coercively assigns meaning to bodies and, although potentially also a product of her own traumas, is ultimately a result of transmisogyny, and not an innate biological urge or otherwise something that trans women have no right to question, but is still actively committed to materially supporting and defending trans women in her life, then like, whatever. we can probably still work together.

now i want to be very clear. this is not about sex. this is not about me, or any other trans woman, wanting to have sex with anyone. im mostly interested in other trans women anyway. i am dating one cis woman currently, and i hope to be with her for the rest of my life, but if we break up i consider it very unlikely i will date a cis woman again. so it’s not about sex. it isn’t about that. but it’s still important.

since we know that there is a clear and measurable exclusion of trans lesbians from lesbian spaces, communities, organisations, that there is a clear and measurable lack of friendships between and social circles that include both cis lesbians and trans lesbians, compared to what you would expect given our shared lesbianism and relative numbers. given that lesbian groups and women’s groups generally, where they exist, are by and large hostile to the inclusion of trans women, not always openly hostile, but materially hostile -

then who would deny this is a consequence of transmisogyny? you cannot argue that is just biology or innate preference. and yet, when it comes to who cis lesbians date, we are supposed to believe it has nothing to do with who we can see they would rather be friends with? or who they would rather organise with, or live with, or talk to, or, like, play sports with? that is an absurd claim. an unsupportable claim. if the trends the previous paragraph describes are undeniably transmisogynist, and genital preference is undeniably both a consequence of those trends and a contributor to them, which it is, then genital preference is transmisogynist. it’s transmisogynist because it has both the effect of and is a consequence of isolating and othering trans women. it’s transmisogynist because it’s a product of the way patriarchy coercively assigns meaning to bodies. it’s a product of transmisogyny. it’s by definition transmisogynist. intent doesnt come into that. cis lesbians’ internal experience of it doesnt come into that. if your preference is traumatic in origin then it is a trauma shaped by transmisogyny. our traumatic responses are not immune to criticism.

even supposing some individuals might still possess this preference in a genderless society, since we cannot know this, assuming this and basing your politics around it is not a position you can possibly defend as materialist since we already know that patriarchy and transmisogyny are also shaping even our most private responses. to pretend like that’s not the case - to pretend like you can know that’s not the case, is to live in a transmisogynist fiction.

but the question this raises then, presumably, is does this reaction by cis women not in fact betray something deeper, that they must not really believe trans women are women, or care about us, or some such. and i would only say that wanting to fuck us does not rule out this possibility either. all it really tells us is that they, like all cis people, has internalised the value system that is transmisogyny. but we already knew that. that’s a given. we havent acquired any new information.

what i find really condemnable is defending this position as value-neutral, or demanding trans women reassure you about the way you see our bodies. what is also obviously unacceptable is pretending that trans women’s objection and discomfort with your preference comes from a place of “pressuring lesbians to have sex with trans women,” and not in fact from a place of trauma and exhaustion with the way we are seen and treated across all facets of our lives, not just sexual. if you tell a trans woman about your preference and she reacts badly, she does so because she is upset with you, not because she wants to fuck you. get over yourself. all of this is a mark of far greater transmisogyny than your initial reaction to our bodies. 

like, here’s the thing. i have never seen a justification for genital preference by a cis lesbian that did not misgender trans women and our bodies (with words like dick, vagina, male & female, see this post for clarity), that did not subtly demonise us, that did not portray us as sexual aggressors, that was not patronising, that did not show a supreme lack of empathy for us, or that showed any attempt to understand how this is a traumatic subject for us as well. if it was not already deducible from the nature of genital preference that it was a transmisogynist position then it would still be obvious from the way cis lesbians talk about it. 

to act like all these trans women, for all these years, offering all these analyses of this situation are all wrong, or misguided, or irrational or over-emotional or predatory,  that is what betrays your real feelings towards us. that is not a defendable position. not without denying transmisogyny, not without denying the power cis women wield over trans women and trans women’s position as an oppressed and exploited group, not without denying our humanity, our subjectivity, our basic ability to understand and talk about our situation.

and if you do feel this way, and you recognise its origins in transmisogyny, and you’re just not sure how to change it or if you can, the correct thing to do is to keep it to yourself. no public confessional, no “i feel like i should tell you this to be accountable.” you literally just dont tell us. if you keep your sexual preferences private, like you should be doing anyway, and commit yourself to combatting transmisogyny in all other respects, including in yourself, then your preferences become irrelevant. in that situation i literally dont care. 

this includes making posts on your blog about it. this includes talking privately to other cis lesbians about it and sharing how you think we are being unreasonable. (this does not necessarily preclude the possibility of any discussion on the subject between cis women, cis women should, after all, talk about transmisogyny and combatting transmisogyny amongst each other, as well.) 

and oh my god does this ever include tagging or replying to this post with some shit about how it applies to you and you want to do better. dont do that! i dont want to know. if you really want to change then all of the above advice is probably how you do that. the way to unlearn the dehumanising responses you have to trans women is to treat us like human beings, and that includes not exposing us to your harmful beliefs about us and that especially includes not asking us to process those feelings for you. if you can do that, and treat us that way, maybe change is inevitable consciousness follows material events.

if you think any of that’s unreasonable, consider that this is how you should be approaching any oppressive attitude or reflex you recognise in yourself. you dont make it the problem of those people the belief hurts. you commit yourself to the struggle and deal with it privately.

and like, i do not want you to feel ashamed. i dont want that. shame doesnt help me. shame doesnt allow change, or growth, or healing. it actually hurts me. it hurts me the same way it hurts trans women when people feel ashamed *because* they’re attracted to us. shame leads to lashing out. shame leads to the kind of diatribe against trans women from up-til-then good allies i have seen too many times already. none of us are trying to shame you. we’re not doing that. we’re not in a position to do that. you’re doing that. it is cis people’s ideas about who and how trans women are that produces the shame you feel about how you relate to us, however that might be. stop blaming us.

anyway that’s like, literally the most compassionate take i can offer on this. anything else would demean myself.

and, can i add, finally, that as a trans woman, who has not always known she was trans, who did not always know trans women even existed, but who has never the less always been a lesbian: i’ve been there? i grew up thinking i was only attracted to cis women too. even after transitioning i had to learn to look past the ingrained responses i had to trans women’s bodies. like, you aren’t that special. you’re not having some secret lesbian reaction that only cis women will understand. i’ve been there. i unlearned it. it wasn’t innate. there’s a reason this “preference” is so common among cis lesbians but virtually non-existent among trans lesbians. its not a lesbian thing. stop hiding behind that. we’re lesbians too. stop forgetting we’re lesbians too. not less lesbians. not lesbians with any other qualifier. lesbians as much as you are, exactly the way you are.