#its been a while since i’ve written anything like this so please forgive any rustiness

[affiesque]

So Ai Di x Chen Yi has essentially taken over my brain, which led to a late-night writing session that resulted in this little thing. Note that it’s really just PWP and definitely NSFW. If that’s your thing, please enjoy! 🖤

Once again Ai Di found himself in Chen Yi’s room, his bed. Weeks of push and pull, teasing and understanding led him back - this time both of them sober and mostly clear-eyed. Things are quiet, probably too quiet - the eye of the storm, no doubt - with no one injured, no one missing, no one beating down the doors, at least not today. Ai Di has noticed something different in Chen Yi’s expressions of late, something hard and gentle at the same time - sure, there’s that same desire, the look that says he might devour Ai Di entirely if given the chance. But there’s something else lurking underneath, and Ai Di wants nothing more than to tear it out of Chen Yi and pull it apart and get his hands dirty with the feeling of it, the promise of what it might be.

Right now, though, Chen Yi’s hands are in his hair and anything he might want to say is swallowed up by Chen Yi’s teeth tugging at his lips. Ai Di melts into the kiss, sliding their tongues together and pressing himself against Chen Yi so hard he almost feels like he could disappear. They stay like this for a long while, Ai Di breathing in the heady scent of Chen Yi, the deep woodsy smell of his cologne and something darker underneath, tasting each others mouths until Ai Di can’t bear it any longer and starts tearing at their clothes. Ai Di pushes Chen Yi onto his back, peppering his jaw with kisses, then moving down to nip and suck at the sensitive skin of his neck, drawing out tiny sounds of pleasure. Ai Di continues lower, his hands roaming freely over Chen Yi’s naked body, enjoying the tremors under his fingers when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s so absorbed in his explorations that he’s caught off guard when Chen Yi grabs him by the waist and tosses him on his back, letting out a huff of indignation that Chen Yi just laughs at.

Chen Yi leans in to offer a kiss of apology, then trails his lips up to Ai Di’s ear and whispers oh so softly, “Wanna taste you.” Ai Di hums in appreciation as Chen Yi takes him in his mouth, carefully at first and then with more and more insistence, sucking him in deeper and deeper until Ai Di’s hips start lifting off the bed of their own accord, his dick slamming against the back of Chen Yi’s throat. Another minute of this and Ai Di knows he won’t last much longer. As if reading his mind, in one fluid motion Chen Yi pulls off his cock and flips him onto his stomach.

“Fuck, Chen Yi!”

Ai Di is turned on and pissed off at the same time as he feels the full weight of Chen Yi on his back, the insistent press of his hard-on against his ass. Before Ai Di can do anything about it, Chen Yi is back at his ear, his voice pitched even lower this time, dripping with intention: “Wanna taste all of you.” The sound that escapes Ai Di’s lips is one that only dogs can hear, and before his brain can fully catch up to what’s happening, Chen Yi has buried himself face-first in Ai Di’s ass, tongue lapping and pressing insistently at his entrance. It doesn’t take long until Ai Di’s legs are shaking and he’s reduced to humping the bed, trying to get any friction he can for his aching dick. He vaguely wonders where the hell Chen Yi learned to do this, a tiny flare of jealousy that he might have been doing this with someone else while Ai Di was gone those four years erupting, only to be pushed aside by the overwhelming sensations radiating from the core of his body.

“Please, Chen Yi - I need you - ah, please, just fuck me already,” Ai Di stutters out, craning his neck to see Chen Yi pull back with a triumphant smile.

“Such an eager boy,” Chen Yi teases, pressing tender kisses to Ai Di’s spine.

Ai Di buries his face in the pillow beneath him, listening to the sounds of Chen Yi slicking up his fingers, barely able to contain himself as Chen Yi works him open slowly but intently. By the time Chen Yi gets a third finger inside of him, Ai Di’s head is swimming and his breath is coming in short, hard bursts. Another flip onto his back and suddenly Chen Yi is above him, inside him, overwhelming him. They cling to each other, Chen Yi’s hips snapping into Ai Di at a steady pace, his head tucked into Ai Di’s shoulder. Ai Di moans Chen Yi’s name again and again, then pulls him back by the hair to press a brutal kiss to his lips. When Chen Yi finally breaks away his eyes stay locked on Ai Di’s face, and when he speaks his voice is filled with emotion: “Tell me you’re mine, Ai Di. Tell me.”

“I’m yours, Chen Yi, I’m yours.” Ai Di whispers it like a holy mantra, tears pricking the edges of his vision. Chen Yi’s eyes flutter closed and he lets out what sounds to Ai Di’s ears like a sigh of relief. But all of a sudden Ai Di feels that ugly flare of envy arise in him again, thoughts of Chen Yi’s desperate crush on their boss rushing to the front of his mind. He needs to know once and for all that Chen Yi only has eyes for him, needs to have the wildfires of his jealousy extinguished for good.

“Tell me you’re mine, Chen Yi - I want to hear you say it.” Ai Di’s hands travel up to caress Chen Yi’s neck. When he presses experimentally, Chen Yi’s eyes fly open, dark as obsidian.

“I’m yours Ai Di,” he gasps, leaning into the pressure. Ai Di tightens his grip just a bit more.

“And no one else’s,” Ai Di demands.

“And no one else’s,” Chen Yi repeats. Ai Di releases his neck, his hands caressing Chen Yi’s face as Chen Yi begins to pick up the pace even more, his cock finally reaching the spot that makes Ai Di arch up off the mattress, a loud moan escaping him. He can feel his orgasm building, and before long he’s coming untouched, spilling all over his stomach. Chen Yi follows soon after, filling Ai Di and collapsing into his arms. Ai Di sighs happily, running his fingers through Chen Yi’s hair, scratching a soothing rhythm into his scalp. A minute of comfortable silence passes, after which Ai Di feels a strange hitching of breath coming from Chen Yi. He pushes himself up a bit, forcing Chen Yi to lift his head, and can’t understand why he’s seeing tears staining Chen Yi’s face.

“Hey, hey - what’s this?” he asks, concern evident in his voice, but Chen Yi can only shake his head. Ai Di gently shifts them around so he can better tuck Chen Yi into his arms, comforting him as he cries.

Eventually Chen Yi looks up at him, choking out the words: “Please - please just promise you’ll never leave me again.”

Ai Di lets out a deep breath and pulls him closer, thumbs brushing away his tears. “I’m not going anywhere, Chen Yi. I’m yours - I’m yours.”

#kiseki: dear to me #kiseki dear to me #ai di x chen yi #ai di #chen yi #my fic #its been a while since i’ve written anything like this so please forgive any rustiness #it’s kind of angsty #but i promise they are actually happy

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

#the year 2020 #2020: star trek #2020: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

[dr-jb]

Here’s my first Bechloe fanfic. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything so I’m a bit rusty. Because of that, there’s bound to be mistakes. Be gentle with me, please? Okay, I’m done rambling. Enjoy, nerds!

The room is dark, still, as though she‘s the only one here. But she knows she isn’t. The rest of the Bellas are looking for her, hoping to take a shot at their captain. All of her senses are on high alert as she navigates the iridescent maze in front of her.

Beca wouldn’t be in this situation, or stupid getup for that matter, if it wasn’t for a certain redhead and her need for more team bonding. They literally just got back from the retreat four days ago. How much more bonding do they possibly need?!

Goddamnit, Chloe, Beca thinks to herself, taking a cautious step to her left before ducking down behind a massive pillar. Why laser tag?

The bonding exercise had started out relatively well and, actually, kinda fun. Something that surprised the short brunette.

It’s also something that didn’t last very long.

What was once a 5 vs. 5 battle is now the Bellas vs. Beca. Which is why she now finds herself scared shitless in a corner with bulky laser tag gear on and a whole lotta Bellas closing in on her.

A creak to her right her forces her to spin around, gun raised, eyes frantically searching for their target. But there’s nothing there. More importantly, there’s no one. She takes a steadying breath, attempting to calm her pounding heart.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She should’ve never agreed to this. But when Chloe has an idea, there’s no stopping her. Especially when she gives Beca the big ‘ol puppy eyes with those baby blues of hers.

She could never say no to Chloe.

Her eyes dart to her left then to her right and back again, watching for any signs of the Bellas. Still nothing. Not a peep.

How are they able to be fucking ghosts now, but they’re loud as all hell at 2 in the morning?! She thinks.

Footsteps and small giggle just to her left grab Beca’s attention. She’d know who that was anywhere.

Chloe.

Her lips curve upwards in a mischievous smirk. The fear she felt just a few seconds ago is gone, vanishing in an instant, and in its place is pure hunger. With a new surge of confidence, Beca leaves the comfort of her hiding spot and steps out into the open. A flash of neon red immediately catches her eye. So she follows it.

The smile never leaves her face as she inches closer and closer to her co-captain. As soon as Beca is in reach of Chloe, she does what any normal person would do during a game of laser tag... she pounces.

“Gotcha!”

Before Chloe can let out a squeal of surprise, she feels the weight of Beca at her back and a hand flies to her mouth, silencing her. Beca flips the redhead around so she faces her, then gently backs Chloe into a small opening, hand still on her mouth.

“Thought you could sneak up on me, huh? Well, give me your best shot, Beale,” Beca says in a low, intimidating voice, face mere inches from Chloe’s. She drops her hand from Chloe’s mouth to her upper arm, and waits for a response.

“Becs, it wasn’t me,” Chloe whispers. “Amy corralled the girls together and pitted them all against us. I’ve been trying to find you.”

“Wait. Are you — You mean I’ve been hiding like a coward this entire time when we could’ve been cowards together?”

Chloe scrunches her face in guilt. “Yeah... Sorry.”

“I’ve been scared out of mind, Chlo! We need to make a plan. Like now.” Chloe nods in agreement. “But what? At this point we’re probably surrounded.”

Beca grumbles a quick “shit” while glancing behind her to make sure they’re still alone. Beca turns back to Chloe, but what sight awaits her makes her stomach drop. Uh oh. 

“What are you...?”

A bright red flash and a high-pitched sound come from Beca’s vest. She releases Chloe, mouth open, eyes wide with betrayal.

“You just shot me,” she gasps, looking down at her blinking vest before turning her gaze back up. “I-I don’t... um, what just happened?”

“You just got played!” Chloe cheers, arms raised in the air in victory.

Beca simply stares at the woman before her. “I — wh-what...l,” she stutters, searching for the right words but not finding any.

The smug, yet adorable, redhead before her is beaming. “Consider this payback.“

“Payback?! For what? What’d I’d do?”

With a shit-eating grin on her lips, Chloe takes a few steps forward so she’s now toe-to-toe with the brunette. She doesn’t speak right away, letting the silence wash over them as she sees the realization hit in Beca’s eyes when she figures it out. And it only makes Chloe smile that much more.

“You set all of this up as a way to get back at me for not telling you about the internship? Are you kidding me?!” Beca’s starting to get upset, and a bit pissed off if she’s being honest. “Dude, we literally talked about this less than a week ago. I thought things were cool?”

Chloe nods. “Oh, they are. I just wanted to give you a little taste of your own medicine.”

Beca rolls her eyes and doesn’t say anything as she begins to pace back and forth.

“Are you mad at me?” Chloe asks after what felt like minutes of grueling silence, when, in reality, it had only been like 10 seconds.

When Beca still doesn’t respond, Chloe shortens the distance between the two of them once again and tilts her head to the side to get the pouting woman to look at her.

“Hey,” the redhead says in a soft voice. “Look, I’m sorry I made you feel bad about the internship, and for putting you through all of this laser tag-team bonding stuff. I know it’s not your thing, and I’m sorry.” Chloe takes a deep breath, “Can... can we just call it even?” More silence greets her. “Please? Come on, don’t make me beg.”

When Beca’s blue eyes meet Chloe’s, she rewarded with a pretty adorable sight — Chloe’s got her bottom lip sticking out, eyes wide, in her best pouty face. It makes Beca laugh.

“There it is. There’s that beautiful smile,” Chloe beams, clasping their hands with a single squeeze. “Forgive me?”

Beca nods with a sigh. “Only if you forgive me.”

“Deal!” She then brings her friend into a hug. 

Beca smiles into the other woman’s shoulder, not ready to let go just yet. “And hey, thank you for this. It was ridiculous and I will never do it again. But ... thanks. I needed it more than I thought.”

The two pull apart, hands clasped together.

“Great way to relieve stress, huh?”Chloe asks, giving Beca’s hands a squeeze.

“It, uh, definitely helped me forget about the damn internship and worlds. But no. How was any of this not stressful? I’ve been running for my life for the last, oh — 50 minutes, while you and Amy and everybody hunted me down like a friggin’ dog.”

Chloe merely laughs at her friend’s dramatics. “Okay, A) we’ve only been playing for 15 minutes, you big baby. B) the girls all left about 10 minutes ago, so it’s just been the two of us in here. And C) just admit you had fun!”

She gives Beca a poke in the side for good measure. Then continues to do so until Beca caves.

“Okay, okay. If I admit it, what do I get in return?”

It’s meant to be playful and lighthearted, but oh, how the mood quickly shifts.

Chloe smirks, all smug and serious, and it makes Beca immediately regret asking the question. Her heart begins beating faster and louder in her chest as the distance becomes basically non-existent between the two of them.

The air is thick, making it harder for Beca to breathe. She audibly gulps, watching with wide eyes as Chloe takes agonizing step by step until they’re chest-to-chest. 

The bulky laser tag gear clanks at the contact, but neither woman is paying any attention to that. 

No. Their sole focus is on each other, and more specifically, on each other’s mouths.

Chloe slowly, oh so slowly, brings her face right up to Beca’s, and smirks inwardly as she feels the younger woman tense up. Her mouth is now at Beca’s ear, and the hot air from her breath sends tingles down her spine.

Finally, finally, Chloe talks.

“Oh, Mitchell. I’m not sure you’d be able to handle it if you tried.” Well, fuck, Beca thinks. As soon as Chloe pulls back, Beca’s hands fly up and hold her still. “Wait,” she breathes.

Now it’s Chloe’s turn to freeze.

“Try me,” Beca says, doing her best to keep her voice as level as possible.

It’s all the invitation Chloe needs, and soon, their mouths are pressed together, moving and dancing as they kiss for the first time.

Beca kisses Chloe back with all of the want and lust that’s coursing through her veins. Her hands grip the other woman’s hips in a vice lock, tugging her closer – like that was even possible.

They eventually pull apart, both breathless as they open their eyes and stare at one another in amazement.

Holy shit.

Beca feels her mouth curving upward in a smile that matches Chloe’s. It’s takes her a moment to get her heart rate under control, but then she says, “Okay, I’ll admit that that was fun... I’m still a little iffy on the whole laser tag part though.”

Her comment makes Chloe laugh. “You’re impossible,” she chuckles.

Beca, feeling bold, yanks Chloe back to her and whispers in her ear, “Am I? Why don’t you prove me wrong then, Beale?”

Beca plants a brief kiss on her lips then walks away, leaving a flustered Chloe behind. Only, she doesn’t get very far because her vest suddenly flashes, signaling she’s been shot... again.

Son of a–

Turning in a whirlwind, she finds that Chloe is no longer there. “It’s so on! You’re gonna regret that, Chlo!”

“I highly doubt that!” She hears somewhere in the maze, only to be followed by, “You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna come find me?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do so much more than that,” she calls back, tightly gripping the plastic gun as she sets off in search of the feisty, hot redhead. 

Maybe laser tag wasn’t so bad after all...

Annnd there you have it, folks. Like I said before, this was the first time I’ve written a fic in a very long time -- I’m talking years here -- so go easy on me.

Much love, DR-JB

#bechloe #bechloe fanfiction #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #dr-jb #fanfic #laser tag

[stonecoldhedwig]

Et puis, épuisée // And then, exhausted

This article was posted in the summer of 2019 by Pauline Harmange, but it’s something that has resonated with me ever since I read it in August 2020. I find myself returning to it, thinking about it.

There’s one phrase that hums around in my head a lot from it: J’aurais pu faire sans toutes les micro-agressions d’un quotidien qui n’a pas de place pour les doutes. J’aurais pu apprendre dans la douceur. // I could have done without all the micro-aggressions of a daily life that has no room for doubt. I could have learned gently.

I’ve translated it into English below (thank you, trusty French dictionary), trying to keep the tone of the original piece in mind. Numbered footnotes are the author’s, asterixes are mine.

Tw: abortion; pregnancy; sexism

For several weeks, I’ve been trying to write this article, and I can’t find the right angle. I want, or even need, to talk about the questions I’ve been posing to myself for months now about femininity, about what it is to be a woman at the moment, but how do I talk about all this without falling into an incredible pathos? I feel so out-of-touch with Insta accounts and the warrior-witch-superwoman trend, I don’t know how to articulate these intense, almost negative emotions that come over me as soon as I start to think about it.

Because I’m going to be very honest: right now, I’m exhausted by being a woman.

Before I became a feminist, I was a girl, and that was enough*; it didn’t cause me any headaches. Once I became a feminist, I had to question a lot of things: why I denigrated girls more feminine than me, why I forced myself to wax when I didn’t like it, why I let men comment on my appearance and didn’t stand up for myself, or why I was scared when I was out on the street by myself. It was tiring, but I didn’t feel myself being overwhelmed by the weight of a burden too heavy for me. The truth was that I needed to take breaks. To create sacred rituals that celebrated my period, or to read books with hypernormative gender representations, so as to forget for a few seconds the numbers that made me feel sick (which numbers? Simply put, all of them, because they are all horrible).

And then, I was betrayed by my own flesh. I got pregnant when I had an IUD. (1) I experienced a heartbreak that it is illusory to want to put into words: the heartbreak of ending a pregnancy that should never have occurred, even though I’ve wanted a child for a long time. I nurtured, and still nurture, a black anger towards this life (this society, too) for forcing me to make a choice I don’t regret. How complicated life is.

And ever since that moment, I have had the feeling that life is becoming even more complicated. I feel like I’m suffering. Suffering because my body has struggled to recover from its tiny 5 weeks of pregnancy. Suffering because of my Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, which ruins my life, as well as suffering from my contraception because no matter where I look, there’s no ideal solution. I am suffering the after-effects of an anorexic adolescence, strewn with bad people, which has crippled the way I look at myself. I suffer that mental load, always so strong, when my IUD is removed and I have to calculate the risk, and deal with the terror of getting pregnant again, the reminders on my phone not to forget my pill, waiting for the next period. I suffer the mood swings, the water retention, the irritability, I suffer that sticky feeling every month before I bleed, of not being able to do anything, especially of not being able to create.

I am even more affected than before by what I already felt: that I am a woman, socialised as such, and that if I want to exist in this world, I must constantly do violence** to myself. In a utopian version of life, I wouldn't need to force myself to speak louder, I wouldn't need to fake it till I make it, I wouldn't have to take on more masculine ways and a self-confidence that I don't have. Because in a utopian version of life, doubts, fragility, sadness and uncertainty would be respected, and I would not be encouraged to be someone other than myself. My body betrays me there again (unless it’s just too faithful this time): whenever I’m confronted with a situation where I don’t want to have to pretend, I sweat a bitter sweat that confirms to me I’m going against what I am. I was going to say “against my nature”, but that’s not it; against my culture, perhaps, or against what I was educated to be. (2) 

I'm exhausted by being a feminist, but then again, what can I do about it? I cannot take a vacation from my downtrodden condition, nor from my empathy for the horrible things happening all over the world. I am exhausted though, and angry too, for being a permanent spokesperson for my cause but speaking in an echo chamber. Writing those feminist articles that only women will read. Reading those feminist books and talking about them with other women. I don't listen to any feminist podcasts, by the way, because I'm fed up with content that doesn't teach me much (3) and I'm sickened to see so few men taking their place (silent and humble) in the discussion. What good are all these podcasts and all these articles and all these books, if it's women who buy them, consume them and then regurgitate them to the men around them? Who compensates for the time spent, the energy wasted in teaching men too lazy, too selfish and too vain to educate themselves? (4)

Maybe that's why I don't identify at all with movements of self-gratitude or of celebrating femininity. Being a woman and realising it has made me harder on myself and on others (for example, I really don't have any patience with men anymore, and I’m not ready to apologise). Certainly, I'm stronger, too. I know better how to say no, I know my body better, I have much better tools to manage conflicts than the ones I started with, I let myself do less and I pretend better. But I am convinced that I could have acquired all this knowledge without the violence inherent in a society that does not really want us, we who are not able-bodied, old and wealthy cis-straight white men. I could have done without all the micro-aggressions of a daily life that has no room for doubt. I could have learned gently.

There are, of course, unexpected joys that being a woman brings me. When I read an excellent book written by a brilliant woman, I am overcome with the emotion of being inspired, and I also allow myself (which I never would have done before) to include myself in the circle of these creative women, I allow myself to feel close to them. When I think of the women around me, incredible in their strength, their refusal to compromise, their talents, I am filled with incredible gratitude, because I finally know how to recognise that the work, the luck and the happiness of my sisters do not diminish the value of mine.

But I’ve never had the courage to be a role model, an “inspiring” woman. To exist, women must either fit into boxes (do we really exist then?), or get out of them in a total, radical and claimed way. So much work, once again. I was thinking about this issue this summer as I considered my body hair: to shave? not to shave? I realised that as soon as I went out with visible hairy legs, I tended to dress better, do my hair, and even put on makeup, thus carrying the image of an assumed feminist, whose hair is a message, a standard. Actually, I'm just a big slacker with hyperpilosity, but without my drastic disguise, I was afraid I would simply portray an image of a neglected woman.

It makes no sense, it's not even a liberation anymore. I am discouraged.

I know that it's my fault too, it’s up to me to take a step back and let go, and that my anger and exhaustion are symptoms to deal with, not necessarily emotions from which I will draw positive things in order to move forward. (5) Still, I am where I am today. At war. Feeling like I’m not very far from losing, by the way.

I'm going to take a vacation (from the internet, from life, and from myself) and put things back in an order that makes sense. Who knows, maybe if I put my head deep enough in the sand, when I bring it out in September, the patriarchy will have been abolished? We can but dream.

________________________

(1) Yes, it does happen, but no, it’s not common. Whenever I mention it, women around me who have an IUD look at me in horror and I feel compelled to reassure them, as if I was the only one in the world to whom this could happen. This is not the case, and I do not have the energy to reassure, I’m afraid.

(2) You might call it “stepping out of your comfort zone”, but listen, after a while staying in your comfort zone doesn’t strike me as a delusion-like desire***.

(3) I'm not saying that to brag; it's just that after almost 10 years of feminism and a passion for reading, I'm relatively familiar with a lot of the topics that are now more mainstream.

(4) You don’t need to write to tell me “not all men”. Thank you in advance!

(5) We could talk forever about the idea of “positive”, about how it is often a way of silencing our anger and sweeping away injustices, and that it is a new, fashionable way of policing women, but hey... we need another article for that, and this is not it.

________________________

*the term used in the original article is basta; the Italian for stop. I've treated it as an equivalent of ça suffit, or “that’s enough”.

**I was a bit iffy on whether this should be do violence to or violate so French speakers who are less rusty than me, please forgive me xoxo

***It honestly took me about twenty four reads to work out what this sentence meant, but I did learn the verb “to strike”, so there we are.

#tw abortion #tw pregnancy #tw sexism #feminism #french to english