Quotes from a new Rolling Stone cover story just make explicit the themes she’s been shredding about for years.
This will be familiar territory for many of you (and that’s great!), but for anyone who isn’t as well-versed, let the learning begin!
Make a note on the back of your hand or the back of your girlfriend’s hand or write this on your cat for all I care: Jogger pants. Jogger pants are the future.
We talked with Teagan Widmer about her new site for transgender, intersex, and gender noncomforming folks, and how YOU can help develop the app even further.
Sfé Monster’s webcomic Kyle & Atticus tells the story of a young genderqueer kid making their way through school and life. Also they have a robot friend that speaks in Braille.
So why can’t anyone seem to talk about her the right way?
The grammatical is political.
I’m a hairy short-haired sonuffabitch in plaid and denim that by that boy’s definition, and so many other definitions I’ve heard, is considered by society to be one of “those ugly lesbians”. And honestly, I ain’t even mad.
Emily lives in Canada and went to A-Camp 3.0, and she shared her feelings about being biracial, getting into roller derby, and having a cat named Barbra Streisand. Also it’s Canada Day so you basically need to shower her with love and maple leaves.
Okay, I’ll say it: I have trouble making butch friends. Actually, I have trouble feeling like I am a part of the butch community, period.
“This past year of my transition, 2012, has been one of road travel with many miles revisited across numerous American states… Not the least of my concerns was driving my friend Xene’s unfamiliar Prius. Yet, my larger concern was driving solo as a woman.”
There is something strange about the street harassment I receive as a butch in that it is often terrifying and extremely triggering, but something about it makes me feel justified. I am glad these men see me as a threat.
From California to Maine, June means Pride. We’ve got a spread that’s full of some handsome dapperQs wearing every color of the rainbow.
Sometimes I am proud as a stone of my genderqueer identity. But sometimes I miss womanhood with a fierce hot ache that feels an awful lot like missing my mother, or my grandmother, or my ability to sit at their table for family meals.
Camp is family, after all.
I have every faith in you, baby butch. I know you will be careful with this word and its legacy. It looks like a badge but it feels like a battleaxe, and I need you to know that it’s five times as difficult to earn and ten million times more dangerous.
“It would have been nice to share my entire truth with her, but because of the Standards of Care, I didn’t; I feared my story would be seen as diverging from the typical trans* narrative too much.”
Why is it that time and time again, people act like they can’t make me uncomfortable? That as a butch — as well as a queer person, a top, someone who likes to flirt and be sexual just like most human beings — it’s impossible to sexually harass me?
She looked me up and down, shook her head like she was clearing her ears, and then turned to check the sign on the door. Ah, I thought.
“It’s easy for us to say that we don’t participate in the patriarchy because we are women, or because we have been women, that we have known what it’s like to be objectified, oppressed, fetishized. The thing is that we queers can perpetuate rape culture just as much as the next frat boy…”