
Product Placement

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$LAYYYTER

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@fabuzaz
i wish somebody looked at me like the way he looked at that onion
im so tired of "feminist" art revolving around uteruses and shit like regardless of how transphobic it is it's just completely trite and unimaginative
Whenever I study historically mysoginistic societies (medieval europe, rome, etc.) that talk shit about women being witches and hosts to demons and slaves to their flesh etc., they always mention that their one redeeming aspect is their ability to bear children. Even the most hardcore of mysoginists, past and present, will at least value women for their ability to bring more men into the world, even if thats all they value them for.
To respond to that history with an art piece implying that you also see the part of your body that allows you to bear children as your most important feature...
If the point of feminist art is to challenge patriarchal ideas then I'm sorry but you're not challenging anything with that stuff
meanwhile in magaland
A cute guy likes me on a dating app. After chatting with them for weeks, we decide to go on a date. They are very flirtatious and forward over the app, but not when we meet in person. He admits he thought I was transmasc like him, we laugh about it because his mistake is funny and means I'm not passing but in a silly backwards way. I think his sudden awkwardness in person may be nervousness and flirt with him in ways less forward and aggressive than he'd been flirting with me earlier, and they become cold and distant for the rest of the date. By the time I get home they've blocked me on the app we met on. This case of being mistaken as a transmasc on a dating app will happen 3 more times, and in 2/3 times it results in a similar sudden lack of interest where once they were coming on to me. None of these people will be cis.
I am in a self defense class for queer people, learning hand to hand combat as a community. I have been here months. I notice I'm the only transfem in the classes but there are other trans people there so I don't think much of it. Today I have some stubble as I did not have time to shave before the early morning class. When discussing unrealistic action movie and anime fight scenes I describe on of my favorites, quoting the lines as I pantomime the goofy moves. They smile and laugh along until the word bitch leaves my lips in one quote, then the bisexual woman who only ever they/thems me glares at me like I've committed a grevious crime, and the rest of the class looks at me like a freak in awkward silence for a moment before moving on. I learn bitch is not a word a clocky bitch can "reclaim". I am quiet in classes now, and when I go I focus primarily on the training, when I see other trans women try it out they often give me a sad look and do not return for a second class. I get a sinking feeling that if I ever use this training to save my life one day I'd be branded a violent man instead of a strong woman.
I am texting with a good friend of years who was one of the people who helped me realize I was trans like them and even the one who helped pick out my name loves talking about our shared interests and sharing their favorite smut with me. We bond over favorite stories, artists, characters, and kinks as well as our trans experience. Yet they constantly tell me they could never date someone who's AMAB because of the trauma of being "female socialized" and their genital preferences for vulvas. Every compliment they have ever given me on my appearance or outfit is followed up by "but in a non-sexual way, I could never date you". Today I finally have the courage tell them they don't need to say that every time. They ignore this response. We keep talking for awhile, but they start taking months to respond to my messages and respond with a short sentence at most. They no longer share details about their life and shut me out when I ask or share details about mine, even the most mundane and chaste details. I stop talking to them. A birthday gift I bought them months before this falling out happened looms at me in my closet. I cannot use it as it doesn't fit me but can't bring myself to throw it away, just in case we reconcile one day. I feel pathetic for craving friendship with someone who sees me as "abuser-bodied", that so much of my early stages would've been impossible without their help. I feel a little more lost without them.
I am at a queer/trans/enby kink dance party with some friends. I am scantily clad and wearing a skirt and high heeled boots. I do not pass well so this space is one of the few places I feel safe and free dressing like this. It is packed with queer and trans people just like me engaged in delightful debauchery and wearing very little. The music hurts my ears but I'm happy to be here, I feel overstimulated but alive and authentic. I am approached by a beautiful stranger from across the dance floor, she is graceful and stylish, like some modern Galadriel clad in leather, white lace, and industrial piercings with impeccable voice training. She compliments my outfit, I compliment hers. She tells me I need to shave my armpits if I want to look like a real woman. My two friends stand up for me and yell at her. They assure me she was just being an asshole, that women were supposed to be hairy, but I can't help but notice how both of them have hairy armpits and yet the "advice" targeted me. The wide range of bodies that people here tonight find desirable on cis women don't seem to apply to the women like me. I am the only one of us that doesn't go home with a hookup at the end of the night. I realize now she likely spoke from experience. I am still hurt by her words, but realizing the kinds of experiences she must have had herself to feel her words were kind advice hurts far worse.
A local queer photographer who's work I follow is looking for women & non-binary models for a photoshoot. I have become comfortable with getting photos taken of me for the first time in my life since my egg cracked, and had a few small time modeling gigs under my belt. With something like this I could actually have the beginnings of a portfolio. I reach and am told that they are not looking for trans women models, "only women and AFABs". Getting the same line I get from agencies from an independent queer photographer repackaged in "woke" terminology stings. I see many queer and nonbinary models I looked up to take part in the shoot. I have to wonder if they knew that the photographer's definition of woman didn't include trans women, or if like me in my martial arts class they noticed no transfems were there but didn't think much of it because there were other trans people there.
It is years ago and I am still an egg. I am with my partner of 4 years. I am exhausted after a long day. She asks me for sex in the voice that I know means saying no will hurt her. I learned from her long ago men have high and insatiable sex drives, therefore saying no meant I wanted to have sex, just not with her. So I say yes. The sex is painful and unsatisfying, and I simply do my best to thrust through the discomfort until she cums. I feel numb and hurt. She enjoys herself but seems sad I did not cum. I assure her I love her. When we hold eachother after my obligation has been met and I finally feel comfortable and safe. We begin talking. She talks about the trashy women she saw on the street today, describing their cringe outfits and ugly styles and bad hair. All the styles and clothes and hair I yearn to try myself in my deepest and most repressed desires. I change the subject and ask her about work and family. She asks if I'd still love her if she were a man and I say yes. She says she would still love me if I were a woman. Something in that statement feels like a lie. It is months later when we break up and I move out. Now that I am a woman I look back and know from our years together that if I were a woman then she'd hate the kind of woman I'd become. That if I were a woman she'd still have the same expectations of me as a man, that her refusal of sex equated an impersonal not being in the mood but my refusal of sex equated a cruel refusal of love.
A lesbian group begins organizing a queer woman's strip night event. A safe place for amateur performers to shine and women to perform and enjoy sexuality away from the male gaze. I see no transfems in the promotional material or leadership team, and I've learned not to think nothing of it just because there are other trans people there. I do not go.
I am talking with my therapist. They are trans too and an amazing therapist, often providing insights and advice only someone else with the lived experience of being trans can. I express distress and suicidal ideation at the fact I feel like I need to pass before I can dress the way I want. That until I get expensive hair removal procedures and FFS I can never feel safe and welcome presenting authentically. I lament how these things are expensive and may never be accessible to me. They tell me I need to deal with my "internalized transphobia", as if these feelings aren't a result of constant rejection and othering by external forces even within queer spaces. As if the scrap of womanhood others sometimes acknowledge in me does not rely on their perceptions of me.
There is a publication accepting works from trans people of all stripes to document trans experiences. It gets flamed for not having a single transfem as a contributor. The people behind it apologize profusely, they say didn't notice no transfems had sent work in and would do a sequel publication that was transfem-centric. I wonder if anyone had noticed there were no transfems but didn't think much of it because there were other trans people there. I think about the kinds of spaces I've seen like that, and the implications it has about how they treat transfems, and I am unsurprised no transfems submitted.
One of my closest friends for years is very supportive of me when I first begin crossdressing and experimenting with they/them pronouns. She gives me suggestions on cute clothes to wear and takes me shopping as well as asks for pictures. We had helped eachother discover we were both queer as young teens, come to terms with it, and navigate it in a hostile environment, so I have complete trust. We are close enough we are frequently asking eachother advice on serious life choices & relationships, sending nudes for critique + tips before sending them to our partners, and sharing our most secret and vulnerable moments. She often asks me for tips on getting her straight boyfriends into pegging and crossdressing that make me slightly uncomfortable but I don't mind, she is a loyal friend I would endure a great many discomforts for. I host a lunch for us one day, and come out to her as a trans woman. I tell her my new name, say I no longer use he/him pronouns, and thank her for her support on my journey thus far. She launches into a monologue about how by changing my name I am throwing away all our memories together and spitting in the face of my family. Taken aback by her sudden heel turn after being so supportive of me being nonbinary and GNC, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom to get a break and give her some time to process. When I am in the bathroom trying not to cry, she is on the phone. I overhear her misgendering me as she is talking about me being bisexual in a frightened voice. She sounds truly afraid that I intend to be sexually violent towards her. When I leave the bathroom and sit back down I pretend not to have heard. She gets off the phone, saying she was just chatting with her boyfriend. We talk a bit longer, she explains how "the surgery" is dangerous and experimental and she hopes I won't get it. I assure her I won't and do my best to change the subject and hope she comes around after some time to process things, hurt and shocked that what I saw as a natural shift in the path I was already on marked me as frightening in her eyes after knowing eachother for over a decade. That a fellow bisexual suddenly saw my bisexuality as dangerous now that I was asserting myself as a trans woman. I say goodbye to her, and she says goodbye to me using my deadname, I do not risk an argument to correct her. It is months after the meeting we have not seen eachother since and she has not responded to any messages I sent. After reflecting on her reaction further I decide that I don't really want to spend time with someone who thinks these things about me for my own safety and mental health, regardless of our history. A friend of 14 years who supported my queerness and transness gone the instant I crossed an intangible woman-shaped line that marked me as a predator and invader in her eyes.
I log online and day after day see trans women getting banned and harassed. Seeing baseless callout posts calling them groomers and abusers getting taken seriously by other queer and trans people. Seeing proof that deep down so many people I consider kindred spirits see me and people like me as worthy of intense scrutiny and policing to keep "the queer community" safe and united. The blocklist grows but everything stays the same. I treasure the people in my life who don't take part in this and would do anything for them, but it seems they get fewer each time.
I'm not making this post to seek sympathy, I am used to this kind of shit and far worse has happened to myself and others. I just make this to illustrate transmisogyny is not some "online-only" issue like people claim. Even if online issues weren't "real" (as healed is fond of saying, "online is real") this has tangible effects in the way trans women are treated offline as well. By communities, friends, partners, colleagues, systems, etc. That's why we talk about it.
So much of the discussions people have paint transmisogyny as some online oppression olympics maliciously trying to divide the community, smear transmascs, and "reinvent bioessentialism". That is not what it is about. Discussions about transmisogyny is about how we are treated for being what we are, and while related to transphobia and misogyny it is seperate because it often represents doors other trans people and women can walk through that transfems cannot. It has affected me in my most intimate moments when I was with other trans and queer people I felt safe around, and taught me that I need to carefully manage my persona and presentation at all times lest my authenticity be branded "male socialization". I am even terrified to express attraction to people who express attraction towards me because I'm so used to being treated like a predator upon reciprocating or being used and abandoned by people I trusted. I am terrified to be too excited about shared interests with friends lest I be too loud or talkative about it and branded with aggressive male socialization. So I make myself quiet and small, and shrink from the community and people I care about, and become more and more isolated.
Anyways, stop platforming anons who spread lies about trans women, stop hopping on TERF harassment campaigns because the trans gal they're smearing "gave you bad vibes", and maybe consider carefully if in your own life where you draw the line for a transfem's behavior is any different from where you'd draw the line for anyone who's not one.
October 2025 - Palestinians in Gaza are returning to the ruins of their homes and starting the process of rebuilding after the immense and deliberate destruction of civillian homes and infrastructure by Israel (which, like most things Israel has done since it was founded, is a war crime).
Groups of Palestinians scavenged materials for rebuilding by dismantling the abandoned "aid sites" where American war-profiteers GHF and IDF distributed UN food aid, and killed more than 2000 desperate Palestinian aid seekers.
You can donate to the Gaza municipality [here], to help pay for the reconstruction of critical infrastructure like roads, water and sanitation. [video]
my kid has started to write stories and like, no lies, they’re funny as fuck
actual dialogue:
“to your battle stations, boys! it’s time to line up and see who’s tall enough for the roller coaster to hell!! some of us may not survive this, but the ones that do will get the ultimate reward.... paid.”
“here’s a penny for your thoughts, and a quarter to not tell me them”
B A B E
“everyone knows those quiet girls. the ones who never say anything at school unless a teacher makes them. the ones who you see every day but don’t know what they sound like when they laugh. lindsey is not one of those girls, but the teacher wishes she was.”
“lindsey was always loud, especially when she was being kind. she didn’t smile at people to make them happier, she screamed all the reasons they shouldn’t be sad. it was hard not to listen.”
i can’t wait to read this book tbh
My Blorbo In Hesh
Your kid is going places
My parents are getting ready to sell the house which may prove difficult due to the following
The padlocked basement door that leads nowhere and doesn’t unlock
Claw marks on the inside of the crawlspace like room upstairs
Several ghosts
The false back in my sisters closet leading to another crawlspace with melted candles and newspapers we were too afraid to move
Claw marks on the inside of the old computer room door
A third carpeted crawlspace
Popcorn ceilings
YES all of these things were there when we bought the house
YES my family is white
and YES I did grow up in a horror movie thank you for asking
Everyone hating on the popcorn ceilings instead of literally everything else is valid that was truly the worst part of living there
There is still popcorn ceiling where I’m living. Shit is a damn nightmare.
What do y’all got against stucco???
I got stucco ceilings and I could stare at that shit for hours
i think i used to be afraid of touching my friends ceiling cuz it was like that
It will shed on you if you touch it. It’s far far worse than glitter if it so much as touches your hair
Also, popcorn ceilings are made of asbestos, and therefore literally toxic.
I’m my house that’ sort of the least concerning or dangerous thing. The tire skid marks on the ceiling are probably more concerning
My house wasn’t built until the 90s, asbestos was banned in texture paints in the 70s, so I think I’m good on that front
But also... tire skid marks?
Me and my brother used to throw mini tires around (yes in the house). That is until a hornets nest was in one and swarmed my brother. Mom had to whip him with a towel to get them all off.
here's a new story for more context:
Residents of a small Michigan community stood side by side to help a local bookstore move 9,100 books — one by one — from its former site to
Part of me is in awe at the beauty and whimsy of life while another part is saying "surely there was a faster way to do this with fewer people?"
I'd fuck up the process by trying to read so many books
Ah, but now you know where to buy those very books. 😏
My parents are getting ready to sell the house which may prove difficult due to the following
The padlocked basement door that leads nowhere and doesn’t unlock
Claw marks on the inside of the crawlspace like room upstairs
Several ghosts
The false back in my sisters closet leading to another crawlspace with melted candles and newspapers we were too afraid to move
Claw marks on the inside of the old computer room door
A third carpeted crawlspace
Popcorn ceilings
YES all of these things were there when we bought the house
YES my family is white
and YES I did grow up in a horror movie thank you for asking
Everyone hating on the popcorn ceilings instead of literally everything else is valid that was truly the worst part of living there
Look crawlspaces that may or may not have weird beasts Locked in them can pretty much be ignored unless one is truly in desperate need of extra storage, and ghosts can usually be placated, but popcorn ceilings are both horrible generators of dust /and/ really expensive to get removed. I know ministers that will do a house blessing for free, but Contractors cost money.
Plus, depending on how old it is, that popcorn might have asbestos in it, which is hell to fix or change.
"Getting into this hobby is actually super cheap and easy!!!! First, start with a section of land and a house that you own and can mess up at your discretion"
The original inspiration for this is that I've looked up a lot of basic woodworking stuff multiple times to try and make better and better tortoise enclosures, and ended up in this trap every time lmao
"It's much cheaper to just buy this size of wood and take it to your table saw" WHAT FUCKING TABLE SAW
the secret is that people who have a garage with a table saw are constantly looking for reasons to justify that use of space and money. so if you find somebody with a table saw and ask if you can use it, you're actually doing them a huge favor by justifying the saw continuing to take up space. "of course I need a table saw. what if somebody needs to upgrade a turtle enclosue."
#1. go to local gay bar 2. find group of 50-60 yr olds. 3. ask if anyone has a table saw 4. watch eyes light up
With this four step plan you get a place to practice woodworking with optional sex with some older men
For anyone wanting it, they can cut your material for you at most Home Depots if you need it
But can I have sex with older men there
I am never leaving this site
I was going to mention that you should check if there's a makerspace or something similar in a nearby community college if you have one, but then I thought that well you can't pick up queer sex partners that way, but then I remembered the demographics of every makerspace I've ever seen or heard of.
dan and phil publicly forgiving their audience for ripping their private life apart. chronically closeted dan following that up by asking "phil do YOU forgive me for years of dealing with my bullshit?" and phil saying he doesn't need to forgive him. literally peace and love on phanet earth
anchorage lol
repeat urgent request more diphtheria antitoxin lol
nome in grave danger lol
please help lol
I can be shaped by more than the things that hurt me