redders: (maka maka - bwee!)
So I decided to wisely spend money on fine art, care of [ profile] froggie. And... and everything turned out EVEN BETTER THAN EXPECTED.

The following el jay cut contains art that is perhaps ludicrously NSFW. And that is ludicrously hot. And contains FISTING? Hello everyone! :D

Cut for dudes! Hot dudes! Amazing fisting hot and trans dudes! No really this is so NSFW it's silly. )
redders: (vila - sittin' time)
Step one: write an article on parents who choose to raise their kid a bit unconventionally regarding gender.
Step two: post to internet.
Step three: allow a million comments from slightly trained monkeys.
Step four: ???
redders: (bored lou reed)
Those of you following any mainstream news (well, "mainstream" in a broad international journalism sense, not an "American television" sense) have likely already read about the Malawi couple sentenced fourteen years with hard labor for "gross indecency." And those of you doing any following of trans news/media-analysis blogs have likely already read about the severe problems with the international coverage of this case.

Almost without exception, all the media reports the couple as being two men, no-questions-asked; on the few occasions where gender identity comes up, it's almost as an off-hand comment: this BBC article has the glancing paragraph, Our correspondent says Mr Chimbalanga, 20, who dresses in women's clothes, acknowledged the crowd with a wave as they shouted: "Aunt Tiwonge, Aunt Tiwonge", and the NY Times has the particularly stroke-inducing line, He said he considered himself a woman and had been eager to dress as a bride. The Guardian at least seemed to put forth a vague attempt at mentioning that this horrific human rights violation might involve something else than a cisgendered gay male couple.

But it's always male pronouns, no matter Chimbalanga's perception of her own gender identity. More about this case and the media representation thereof is here and here (and likely elsewhere) by those much more talented at actual blogging than I. What I'd like to be annoyed about (and as a result type ceaselessly) is a sentiment I've seen blog comments, and in this February NY Times article--that Chimbalanga's claims regarding gender identity are merely "the imagined claim of a gay man in a repressed society desperate to think himself a woman."

Gender, objectivity, and those pesky societal influences: or, You're Only Real if You're in a Void. )
redders: (utahraptor - gender)

Dude, okay, Internet and society! Thank you for amping me up to think I would have more hoops to jump through and more gatekeeping to deal with, because I went to that appointment--complete with hacking cough--thinking "oh it'll be fine, I don't need to schedule the mandatory t-day party anytime soon. I will surely need two office visits for the doctor to even think of giving me anything."

And then he basically said "so... what's your story? Oh, therapy for two years? Okay, go take this paper to the lab, they'll do a blood draw and help you self-inject."

WHAT. It was kind of confusing. I felt like writing a strongly-worded letter: "Dear physician: things are not supposed to go that well in my life! I demand for more thwarting of my hopes and dreams. Thank you."

I still almost can't believe it. Maybe it was all a Theraflu-induced dream. I'm vaguely bummed I got my first jab when so under-the-weather--I'd always thought it'd be fun to make a huge party-that-day deal out of it--but really, it's just like the rest of this process for me. Even though I get plagues and all, things have been rolling along fairly organically: it just felt like the right time to start testosterone, so it happened. Hardly fair to put on hard breaks just for insufficient lung function. And besides, I didn't want to pay for an extra office visit. When faced with the possibility this all might wind up out-of-pocket, you just gotta roll with it!

At any rate, despite hacking it up, I still got a bit of celebration in--aced a test (okay I suppose that is not actually celebrating, but I thought it was fun), went out for vegetarian barbecue with a few pals, and bought a houseplant I've been ensured is "nearly immortal" in some sort of "I suppose I should have something commemorative... like a houseplant???" moment. The rubber tree has survived thus far, I have high hopes for this... whatever the shopkeeper said this was. It's green, if that helps.

My pals have already been asking if I feel any differently, and it's true that a lot of guys do feel something right off. For me, it's hard to say. I'm ill, so I just feel wonky in general, but after the first shot I did feel better. I'm a bit of a skeptic and think it's just psychosomatic, though. I also felt VERY VERY HUNGRY about an hour after the shot. And then I remembered... oh yeah, my stomach only contains two shots of espresso and some hot water. My friends also gave me shit for saying "wait... is this about the final? Can you start again, I wasn't listening to you at all," because I was sort of hyper-focused on vegetarian barbecue at the bar. I, however, felt it was a natural reaction for any gender. Come now, we are talking about barbecue here!

Apologies for the wonky entries lately, I'm not brain work so good currently. But dude, life is good. March is starting with lung-rot, but at least it's still promising to be a great month. Testosterone! Nimoy! Arizona!

...Actually, it looks a bit crazy when I type it all together like that, but still.
redders: (jarvis cocker)
I usually don't pay this date much mind. But on thinking about yesterday's therapy, and on gearing for this post, I did notice that today is, coincidentally enough, National Coming Out Day.

And it gets a little long in here. Thoughts on therapy, mom, my ability to have multiple heart attacks over nothing, and where I'm at right now (and for once I mean 'in life,' not 'in Devil Survivor') )
redders: (house - red converse)
Sorry I've not been updating as much. Busy being driven nuts by school and having my therapist leave me (seriously! Private practice! The nerve!) and maybe pretending going to barbeques = working on writeups.

But I have had time to get to school and catch up on INTERNET VIDEOS, two of which I have to share. One was stolen from [ profile] rikoshi. The other was stolen from somewhere on my mid-study angstathon about deciding which bathroom to use at the library, as my campus Does Not Believe in Unisex At All and I'm at the awkward duckling phase of "could maybe use the right bathroom if everyone was drunk and it was very poorly lit in there." I'll leave you to decide which is which!

Bathroom Gender Benders: All Signs Point To Androgyny - The most popular videos are a click away
redders: (utahraptor - gender)
We'll see how cohesive this post gets--and perhaps, as ever, it won't be at all. At any rate, as I said in the last post, my somewhat lackadaisical and mostly-useless developmental psychology course has at least served one purpose: to remind me of what I so easily forget, namely, the manner in which greater American society seems to view gender, and the importance thereof.

I imagine that some (if not most) of you inhabit a world somewhat like my own--if you're a friend of mine, you're probably progressive, probably a bit of a nerd (and I mean that in the kindest manner!), and certainly you know the difference between sexual orientation and gender identity. Like most people, I choose to associate with those with like views, which made yesterday's class fairly interesting. Out of thirty people in the class, only ten seemed aware of the difference: everyone else was all "but surely lesbians just want to be men!"

That's hardly memorable enough on its own--although it certainly is some small bit of commentary on how easy and convenient it is to a) forget about Society, and b) isolate oneself, thereby leaving Society to continue with the usual misconceptions--but soon, the conversation moved on. Happily, the instructor was good at hammering in the difference between GI and SO, but unhappily, he continued to repeat the usual line I've been discontentedly listening to for my whole life, that our gender identities are quite simply an A-or-B (okay, more aptly, X-or-Y) distinction.

And, HOMG. How did I type this much about nothing at all? )
redders: (kazuma jackfrost)
Oh man! I'm back at the home fort before work, because I owned today's chem test so hard, I finished it in ten minutes. And it was supposed to take an hour. I feel full of win. Okay, so almost no sig fig questions, and most of it was stuff a five-year-old could get, but, uh. Win?

I have to run to work soon, but I'd like to share some links in my joy:

-[ profile] metron_ariston sent me this: a wine ad 1000 times more sexy than anything ever should be. Seriously. watch it. I don't know what country it came from, as I don't think androgynous people are ever protrayed in such a sexy light in the States, but... Wah, I just want to do them! At once, plz?

-And this is from not-on-el-jay awesomesauce writer/fellow Lovecraft-fan Pythoness (and yes, I know I need to post it on [ profile] tws_support, but here's your sneak preview): Shope's papillomavirus makes real-life jackalopes.

Alright, work...
redders: (kazuma - snake)
Ah, summertime. The months of sun, college students yelling in the streets at all hours, and leaving the windows open.

And spiders.

Last year, I told everyone about the tiny spiders that choose to inhabit our apartment during the summer months. I believe I neglected to write about the huge ones. For the sake of science, I risked my right arm to bring you the following:

Spider vs. penny. )

I left the thing alone. Despite the fact that it was clearly big enough to eat me alive, I still have a sort of live-and-let-live-and-holy-shit-it-might-jump-for-my-face attitude to these things. However, when the SO came home and the spider suffered a strange newspaper-related accident, I did not protest too much.

In non-spider but still-heebie news, waiting for the bus to work (my schedule has me taking one bus from class to the district I live in, and then catching another to take me to work) yesterday, two drunk middle-aged men started milling around beside me. One of them approached me, and began rambling about how I should be at the beach, because, "It's such a pretty day, and all the pretty girls like you are there." I very nearly retorted with "I'm not a girl," but such would violate my policy of just pretending I'm completely deaf whenever intoxicated hobos talk to me.

I don't know--I didn't feel so much threatened (although perhaps I should--I weigh in at a mean 110 lbs, and have a great flailing technique) as I did confused. Inasmuch as I think of myself as female (which I often don't) I certainly don't think of myself as a "girl." I don't think of myself as a "lady" or a "woman," either, but I certainly don't think freaking "girl" is the word I'm looking for.

And granting that I'm biologically female, I absolutely do not think I am pretty. This isn't to say I have a bad body-image. I think I look pretty okay, and downright foppishly handsome from time to time. But I don't look pretty. I don't wear skirts, or make-up, or even shoes that aren't less than four years old.

Perhaps I shouldn't bristle so much at the word "pretty"--lord knows, I apply it to many a lovely boy. But it just seems so out-of-place applied to me.

Wow. This post certainly wound up being a two-for-one special. Spiders and body-image, oh my!


redders: (Default)

October 2016

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