Meet Trans activist Jacob Tobia : a typical male
He has appeared in numerous popular medias as a spokesperson for trans people’s rights such as Cosmopolitan, Allure, Buzzfeed, NBC News, The New York Times, The Guardian, Forbes, The Huffington Post etc.
He also wrote this shit :
In my academic and feminist training, I’ve been told over and over again that sexual objectification is bad. The thinking goes like this: women around the world have been treated as sexual objects instead of people. Yet, here’s the rub: if sexual objectification is so categorically awful, then why do I want it so badly? The idea that being seen as a “sex object”–at any time, ever–is universally a bad thing is too simple, like many tenets of straightforward, non-intersectional feminism. As a gender nonconforming person, I’m sexually objectified basically, well, never. I want to be sexually objectified and it never happens. I want people to appreciate the time and effort that I put into my body and my look. I want people to look at my perfectly applied lipstick and want me because of it. I want my long legs to give people feels. I want to dance on the bar and leave boys breathless, panting, and desperate to talk to me.
As a trans person, some days it feels like this is just too much to ask of the world. Trans people never get the sexual attention that we deserve. We are so hot, so sexy, so beautiful. We are skilled, compassionate, ferocious lovers. So how do we create spaces and social norms where we can safely consent to objectification? How do we assert our right to desire objectification while maintaining our ability to deny it if it feels like too much? How do we foster a feminism that allows those of us who enjoy objectification to get it without subjecting others to objectification who’d rather not? I want to be objectified in certain circumstances and in certain places. I want to be objectified at a gala when I’ve spent five hours on my makeup and weeks picking out the perfect dress. I want to be objectified when you’re looking at my picture on Tinder. I want to be objectified at a friend’s intimate cocktail party, when I’m lounging on the couch with my legs intentionally positioned just so. I want to be objectified in a nightclub when I’m dancing on the bar, and I want you to continue to objectify me when I’m back on the dancefloor. I’m even okay being objectified in the grocery store (but only when there’s comedic value, like when I’m shopping for bananas or cucumbers or vegan sausages or something). In a feminist future, we stop saying that all objectification is categorically bad. In a feminist future, all trans people, people of size, people of color, and people with different abilities have the chance to get the types (if any) of objectification that we crave. So boys (and girls and everyone in between), I’m consenting to being objectified. Next time I’m on top of the bar, I want you to look at me. I want you to take in every inch of my towering legs. I want you to drink in my sexual energy and charisma. And after I put on a show for you, when I get off of the bar, you should feel free to come up and say hello. Any takers?”
source is an interview he gave to…. Playboy
As a gender nonconforming femme, I’ve always had conflicting feelings about #internationalwomensday. I look around a room full of Women’s March supporters and I wonder to myself, “Do they understand me as a woman? Do they really get how much I belong here? Or do they just think that I’m some sort of cute ally?” I look around a room full of celebs proclaiming time’s up and I wonder if they really see me in their movement. I listen to Oprah talking about “every woman who chooses to say, ‘Me too.’ And every man who chooses to listen” and I wonder: What does she mean by “woman” and “man”?
And then I wonder: what if we don’t just say “women” anymore?
The Women’s Movement Doesn’t Always Include Me — But It Should.
I’ve found myself struggling to communicate with feminist allies, organizers, colleagues, and friends about something that’s been putting me off: the word “woman” itself. I don’t want to be difficult or anything, but I’m just not sure that the word “woman” can hold all of the political weight that we need it to in 2018.
I want to start telling people that I don’t have a sex life.
How many years has it been since I’ve last had penetrative sex? How many years has it been since I’ve last given or received a blowjob?
This is just the reality of my life. This is the reality of my gender. This is the reality of being gender-nonconforming and transfeminine and predominantly attracted to dudes and masculine-of-center folks. And if I don’t overshare about it on the internet, how will it ever change?
Of course, no person is obligated to be sexually attracted to me. But it’s important that people consider their attractions and “preferences” and question why they are generally so averse to dating gender-nonconforming femmes.
The reality is that I am not “unfuckable.”
The reality is that my gender does not make me “ugly.” The reality is that there are dudes out there, dudes who I would absolutely fuck, who see me and get turned on. But those men are made to feel so ashamed about their attraction to me that they never say anything. They keep their feelings pent up, channel them elsewhere, remain in the closet instead of claiming their bisexual/pansexual/fabusexual truth.
People are often so scared of their desire for me that they avert their eyes.
Long, perfectly polished nails signal to the world that I can afford the time it takes to make them look that way, and that I don’t have to engage in the kinds of physical labor that would make maintaining them impossible. I am proud of my long nails. To me, they are not only beautiful: They signify my right to express my genderqueer identity on my own terms in the face of a patriarchal and transphobic world. Last week, I managed to seriously break multiple nails while opening up the cabinet below my bathroom sink. At first I was livid: My gorgeous nails were ruined and I’d have to grow them out all over again.
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