What is the branch of science that explores the causes or origins of diseases?
Etiology, derived from the Greek words "aetia" meaning cause and "logos" meaning study, focuses on unraveling the complex interplay of factors that lead to the onset of diseases. These factors can range from genetic predispositions and environmental influences to lifestyle choices and infectious agents. By understanding the etiology of a disease, researchers can identify risk factors, develop targeted interventions, and ultimately improve patient outcomes.
One of the primary goals of etiology is to identify the specific causes of diseases. This involves investigating the underlying mechanisms that trigger the development of a particular condition. For example, in the case of cancer, etiological research aims to uncover the genetic mutations, environmental exposures, or lifestyle habits that contribute to the initiation and progression of malignant tumors. By identifying these causes, scientists can develop strategies to prevent or mitigate the impact of these factors on disease development.
Etiological research often involves conducting epidemiological studies, which examine patterns of disease occurrence and distribution within populations. These studies help identify associations between certain risk factors and the development of diseases. For instance, epidemiological research has revealed a strong link between smoking and lung cancer, leading to widespread public health campaigns to reduce tobacco consumption.
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Depending on who you ask, the trans woman sex worker might be a mere stereotype. Or her job might be an unfortunate product of deprivation, as it often is in anti-sex-work feminism. Trans women would do a wide range of work, according to such arguments, but they cannot because transphobia in the labor force remains an obstacle. In this view, sex work is perhaps a last resort for trans women, just as it's seen as the last resort of all women down on their luck. These anti-sex-work answers all presume that doing sex work somehow degrades or sullies trans women from lives they otherwise were destined to lead. Trans womanhood is, accordingly, made respectable when it's stripped of labor and money. Yet people still line up to pay trans women for sex, or to watch them in porn. Those two transactions are widely perceived to be how many non-trans people, especially straight men, form their first relationship to trans womanhood.
When it comes to answering these questions, trans women themselves aren't nearly as evasive as the men who jerk off to them under the covers at night or who pay them for blowjobs in their cars—or as the liberal feminists who want to rescue them from sex work to prove their value. Many have spoken with great sophistication when asked. In ethnographic research with Black trans sex workers in Chicago, Julian Kevon Glover stresses that they "have numerous work options and engage in sex work by situating their labor in the sexual economy alongside, rather than outside, other types of work." Adding sex work to other kinds of labor, these Black trans women were most like the non-trans Black women in their lives, rather than standing apart from them. Taking up sex work as a form of "self-investment," Black trans women may have a higher price tag than many attached to their needs and desires, but they refused to exceptionalize their situations. "I look at everything in my life as customer service," explained Shayna, one of Glover's informants. "Because if you want me to do anything for you, I'm giving you my customer service." [...]
For Europeans or Americans contemplating living as women in the nineteenth century, giving up recognition as a man meant transition was primarily a loss of status and wealth. On the female side of the gender line, neither of the two prevailing contracts available to non-trans women—marriage or unskilled labor—were there to cushion the dramatic fall. Both demanded a degree of passing that was difficult to maintain over a lifetime. Besides, as wage labor came to dominate the global economy, simply to be an unmarried working woman was already an impoverished life. Little remained for unmarriageable trans women other than the lowest-paid service work, whether dancing in a bar, performing onstage, or selling sex. These services were patronized by growing populations of working men with a little money to spend. From the perspective of moral reformers, or the police, "public women" were all guilty of prostitution, regardless of what they did for money. Understanding trans womanhood as a way of life built into the modern service economy goes a long way toward explaining its enduring relationship to sex work.
A Short History of Trans Misogyny, Jules Gill-Peterson
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Etiology - Chapter Two: Agoraphobia
Wooo, I finally updated Etiology! Now that the pre-story stuff is over we can start getting into the Arkham storyline in the next chapter.
Read it on AO3
Jester sat with his head on the filthy table as Dr. Crane fiddled with the ‘super important’ vial of chemicals. As much as he and Eddie claimed that they were completely different, they had one thing in common. They weren’t very interesting to be around. Jonathan had told Jester they could talk in ‘one minute’, which was about fifteen minutes of silence ago. Jester glared at the old man pouring one vial into another with shaky hands.
He slammed his hand down on the table loudly, causing Dr. Crane to jump.
Jester snickered and covered his mouth with his hand while Jonathan simply rolled his eyes and put down the vials. “What?” he asked in a tired, raspy voice.
Jester smiled and finally sat up. “I need advice.”
“Isn’t that Edward’s job?” Jonathan asked, getting up to wash his hands in the lab sink.
“Well, yes. But he’s giving me bad advice!”
“Ah. So you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”
Jester shot the older man a frustrated look. “Eddie is forbidding me from talking to Red Hood. Honestly, I think it’s way uncool. It’s like he thinks I’m just gonna deliver all of our secrets on a silver platter right to Batman! And according to Red, they aren’t even that close.”
Jonathan shrugs and leans back in his desk chair. “Edward is afraid of losing what little influence in this city he has left. He’s lost his touch, you and I both know that.”
“But that’s my point. All Eddie cares about is his stupid reputation. He just HAS to be better than everyone else. When’s the last time he cared about ME?”
“He took you in, didn’t he? He’s given you his home, food and safety.”
“Eight years ago. I just… want him to pay more attention to me. Instead of his stupid toys.”
Jonathan sighed and pushed his glasses further up his crooked nose. Jester pretended like he didn’t notice him jotting down notes in his notebook under the desk. “You want him to be your father.”
Jester felt a pang in his chest. He and Eddie had known each other since he was a child. Eddie had taught him everything he knew. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not a bad thing… just an unrealistic one. I can’t change Edward’s behavior or his… apathy towards others. However, if it’s freedom you want, perhaps it’s time to move out. You’re an adult now. Edward can’t look after you forever.”
Jester thought about Jonathan’s words while staring at the ceiling in bed that night. Being on his own again was a horrifying thought. He had no education, despite Eddie’s best efforts, no marketable skills, no money and no future planned. He’d be useless in the real world. Eddie couldn’t help him anymore… Maybe Red would have some ideas.
The next morning, Jester rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he walked down the stairs. Jonathan always made bacon in the mornings he visited, but the smell hadn’t reached him yet.
As soon as he reached the bottom stair, the sound of Eddie’s voice caused him to stop in his tracks.
“You’re not exactly one to talk when it comes to emotional vulnerability, Jon.”
“I’m just telling you what he told me, Edward. You’ll never admit it, but you love that boy and if you don’t tell him you’re going to end up just like you and your-”
“Don’t.”
“-and your father.”
Jester’s breathing stopped. Eddie’s dad was a forbidden topic of discussion. Any talk about Eddie’s past at all was, actually. He could hear a glass bottle slam down against a table, and Eddie’s upset voice. “You’re not his psychiatrist, Jonathan and you’re sure as hell not mine! I never signed up for having a kid! I should’ve spent the last eight years working on what really matters! Not making mac and cheese and playing Mario Kart!”
Tears filled Jester’s eyes. He’d had his suspicions about how Eddie felt about him for years, but to hear it said directly was a knife to the heart.
“And killing Batman… that’s what really matters to you? You don’t think that maybe you have a responsibility to that boy? He doesn’t remind you of you at all?”
“Fuck off, Jon. Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.” After a moment of silence, Eddie sighed. “I know I’m responsible for him. Which is why I’m so frustrated that he’s about to ruin everything I’ve worked for because he wants to fall for a vigilante that’s gonna send him to Arkham the second he screws something up. And knowing Jester, that’s inevitable.”
Jester couldn’t hold back the sob that racked through his body. His fingernails dug into the meat of his arms, and both of the voices in the kitchen silenced. Jester quickly grabbed his bag and ran for the front door. Eddie and Jonathan quickly ran into the living room, Eddie with a guilty look on his face. “Riley, stop-”
“NO!” Jester screamed through his tears. The use of his real name only made him tense up more. His fists shook, and he held his teeth together so tightly it felt like they were going to crack. “I get it. Loud and fucking clear!”
Eddie stepped closer, only for Jester to pull the pistol out of the holster on his hip. His whole body shook, and the dark makeup around his eyes began to streak with his tears. Eddie stilled while Jonathan slowly reached his hand for the toxin grenade on his belt. “Jester, it’s alright.” he muttered softly. “You can leave. No one’s gonna stop you.”
Eddie’s shoulders sank and he looked the younger boy in the eye. “I’m sorry. Please, we… we can talk.”
Jester scoffed and used his free hand to turn the doorknob. “I don’t wanna talk to you anymore. I think you should just leave me alone!” He quickly left, slamming the door behind him and running out of the Gotham suburbs and into the bustling city. Jester knew he couldn’t go back home, but being on the Gotham streets on a rainy night was always a losing battle. He did the only thing he could… he texted Red.
JES: I need help.
RH: You okay?
JES: No. I got in some trouble.
JES: Don’t tell anyone. Meet me at the docks.
RH: What kind of trouble?
RH: Anyone hurt?
JES: Just meet me there. NOW!!
____________________
Jester shivered as the rain poured down on his smaller frame, seeping into his clothes and hair and smearing his makeup. He wished he could’ve picked a few things up from Eddie’s. His guitar, some clothes, his makeup.
The sound of boots wading through the puddles made Jester jump and turn to see Red walking towards him fast, the rain beading off of the shiny helmet. Jester sighed in relief and ran up to meet his friend, wrapping his arms around him quickly. Red held him for a moment before pulling back and holding him still. “What happened?”
Jester sniffled and blinked back his tears. “I… got in a fight with Eddie. I can’t go back. Red, I don’t have anywhere else to go I… I need help.”
Red sighed and shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Jes, you gave me a fucking heart attack. I thought you…”
Jester narrowed his eyes. “Thought I what?”
“Nevermind. I… you don’t have any other friends or family? No one who will take you in?”
“No, I only know Eddie and Jon… and you. Red, I know it’s a lot to ask but I need to stay with you tonight. I can’t go back out on the street, I can’t!” Jester said through sobs, holding onto the dark camo print of Red’s jacket for dear life.
Red stood still for a moment. “Jes… I can’t bring you back to my place.”
“What?”
“I live with… with everyone. If I brought you there… I’d be putting everyone in danger. You have to understand that you can’t know where I live.”
Jester furrowed his eyebrows and pushed Red away. “No. I don’t understand! I thought we were friends, I thought we were… I’ve let you crash at my place before without Eddie’s permission. I’ve patched up your scars and bought you food and I need your help!”
A loud ‘whoosh’ was heard behind the pair, and Jester quickly reached for his gun, only to have Red grab his hand quickly, muttering “shit” under his breath as he walked in front of Jester. “It’s fine, he didn’t hurt anyone. I can handle this.”
Jester looked over Red’s shoulder, only to freeze in place as he looked into the white eyes of Batman.
Jester kept his grip on Red’s jacket, his breathing beginning to quicken. “You called him?!”
Red’s helmet turned to look at him. “Your text was vague. I thought.. Something might have happened.”
“You thought… I hurt somebody?”
“Hood, I’m taking you off this mission. You’ve gotten too close. Go back to the cave while I handle this.” the older man’s deep voice boomed through the loud rain, causing both of the younger men to still.
A million thoughts ran in Jester’s head. ‘You’ve gotten too close’ and the word ‘mission’ played over and over as Red tried to explain himself to his mentor.
“It was a misunderstanding. He hasn’t done anything wrong. C’mon, B, he’s just a kid.”
Jester pushed Red away as everything began to catch up to him. “You… you set me up.”
Red turned to him, guilty. “We… We knew Riddler had a kid. He asked me to investigate, that’s it! I was never gonna turn you in-”
Jester began to hyperventilate, and for the second time today, he pulled out his pistol, shooting Red point blank in the chest.
And in a flash, Batman was on him.
A punch to his temple knocked Jester to the ground immediately, his head ringing. He felt sick. Still, he attempted to stand up and land a punch, only for it to be caught in the Bat’s gauntlet. His hands were quickly held behind his back, and he was forced to his knees. Red and blue lights flashed as the cars approached, though he couldn’t hear the sirens through the pain in his head. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Red Hood standing up, pulling the bullet from his chest plate as he ran towards Jester.
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