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i was thinking the other day since the mass exodus of users from this site that Tumblr isn't "the autism website" or "the queerest place on the internet" anymore it's the place where insular online social circles exist in 2 different camps, one being "CG/L means you're a pedophile" and the other being "pedophiles are a marginalized group actually," which means Tumblr is the website that makes you want to die

#op #child welfare #site culture #csa -

long skirts have been appealing to me lately bc a silhouette less defined by the body? yayy. but it sparked a dumb residual worry abt "giving in" to the gender expectations of my family, the weird we'll fix u psychologically via pygmalion makeover bc THAT is the big concern here. and i scoffed at myself, does every decision have to be made in defiance or avoidance of memories they infected me with. can i just like things.

and then i remembered a maxi dress i had as a teen that actually got me a good deal of criticism from family. bc i often wore it was a cardigan or flannel and so my abuser + enabling women would go why are you hiding your body? are you afraid of being beautiful? (even "oh you think all women should dress like that?" from the one self-described feminist) it came off as more defiant than like, wearing jeans

and so i realized that i might just be the most subversive woman i mean person of all time

#grooming -#csa -

i don't think i've seen claudia's mortal childhood is pointed out as a factor in her grief for her body and desire for adult relationships. it's especially vital to her as a csa victim that she get to have new experiences- including but not limited to sex- in a new, grown body, to put space between the memories of her abuse. instead her body is frozen at that time in more than just memory. it would all stay fresh to her. "how are you gonna fix it? which one of you is gonna fuck me?" has so much behind it. she's been there before and the way out was taken from her

#iwtv #csa -#incest -

funny moment where i almost revealed the rube goldberg machine in my cptsd mind palace: friend at old job n i were commiserating abt our joints, n i said ugh i gotta stretch more. he said that he stretches in the shower. i immediately thought well i can't do that, bc i need to cover myself while showering and not move more than necessary." i was hit with embarrassment for thinking that; for not responding out loud more than "uh huh" bc i wasn't great at masking that day; for the millisecond of awkward silence as i looked down meekly like some sorta scandalized mormon who can't exist around men; and for the fear i felt for acknowledging that i shower to a man, in a public space filled by a few other men, all of who could undress me in their heads. i worked through these feelings mostly, but cannot recount this to a therapist or irl friend who could potentially visualize that. i could make sex jokez but not acknowledge the fact that i dress/undress or shower or similar kinds of quote vulnerability unquote. those bastards (affectionate) didn't know that me like, eating in front of them was exposure therapy

#csa -

also having the audacity to link ageplay and cnc and the like to a high-profile case of genuine child trafficking like the epstein's island situation is like, massively insensitive and should get you socked in the throat at best, but here we are, where conjecture about certain kinks/fetishes gets taken more seriously than discussing how these things actually occur

i mean anyone, again, with a verifiable track record of trivializing csa so much that he's called trans women pedophiles using the most tenuous logic ever ("reblogged a post one time from a guy MONTHS BEFOREHAND that got outed as enabling predators later"), shouldn't be speaking on anything to do with csa, like that should kill your credibility immediately even if it happened years ago and you've demonstrated zero change

#op #neotrances / anglaised #child welfare #sexuality #csa -

There have been attempts to read the facts of the abuse backward into [Alice] Munro’s fiction, pointing out all of the ways the stories are about repression and thwarted confession and the abuse and maiming of children. What I find remarkable is that what so many of us love in Munro’s fiction is the way she reveals how common and small we all are, how at bottom, we are capable of true ugliness and viciousness, that this is not the province of sneering villains but the woman on the corner or the man in the fast car or the quiet old lady in her house in the woods—what amazes me is that we can acknowledge this and yet be confused when confronted with a real-world example of someone who seemed remarkable but who is simply selfish and small. I have read a lot of confused tweets and articles, trying to figure out “how could she do this?” as though it is some grand mystery. It is not. At least not to me. She had a choice to believe and protect her daughter in the face of the revelations, even after her daughter, decades later, took [Gerald] Fremlin [Alice Munro's second husband] to court and won, but she chose to stay. And people seem amazed by that. What kind of mother? What kind of person? What kind of woman? etc. Well, any kind of mother. Any kind of person. Any kind of woman. She made a choice and justified it to herself through any number of inversions or self-delusions, who can say. But is this really so shocking? People do this every day. My own family did this. I saw it play out first hand. People are capable of justifying anything. Being a brilliant writer does not elevate one above the common smallness of being a person. To grasp for some justification as though there must be some brilliant dark inner turning of the mind that will explain it as opposed to accepting it as the everyday course of life, I mean…that, to me, betrays a lack of understanding of human nature, particularly the one advanced by Munro’s work. Undoubtedly in the weeks and months to come, people will say “it’s complicated” and “it’s complex” and “separate the artist from the art.” I disagree. It is not complicated. It is not complex. Alice Munro stayed with the man who molested her daughter. Not only that, but she stayed with a man who, when confronted with his information, wrote the family letters explaining how the child victim was in fact a “homewrecker” and seducer. Not only that, but she expressed a justification in choosing her own happiness because after all, what had been done had been done. This is the most characteristic thing Munro could have said. In her stories, epiphany and revelation often take the form of accepting the crude and brutal terrain of the past for what it is and setting one’s shoulder to wheel to get on with living. What I love about her stories is that they come with an aftermath. They dare to offer the reader a glimpse into that rarely seen world to come. When the choice has been made and one has to get on with it. I was told too late. I loved him too much. Is that not the most Alice Munro thing you have ever read? Furthermore, it’s a kind of thinking I was raised among. It’s how I got through much of the abuse and trauma of my own life. Well, that’s that. Anyway. Not a shrug. But a setting the shoulder against the stone and pushing onward. It is a kind of thinking common to the rural poor and the working poor, among whom and by whom I was raised. I have struggled for a long time in trying to explain it. It is a world without history. Not a world without a past. But a world without a history, which is a story we tell ourselves about the past. Among my people, the rural and working poor, to make a history out of the past is taboo. To speak of a thing done is to make too much of it. To be fishing for sympathy, and for what, when there’s nothing to be done about it anyway.

— Brandon Taylor, what i'm doing about alice munro: why i hate art monster discourse (10 July 2024)

#brandon taylor #alice munro #csa -#mdsa #abuse -