#like trans people. even other trans people. SHOCK HORROR. jesus christ

[shopcat]

there is, Obviously, fundamentally a difference between headcanon and an analytical reading of text, and treating the two as exactly the same is not only wrong but devalues both, but funnily, i've found people tend to forget that both of these things are the product of referencing our real life experiences and applying them where we see fit to make a more interesting way to interact with media. and you can't just like, forget that it's not JUST about headcanons and meta analysis and whatever, because people in real life also still matter. and in real life, there are different stakes and EXPERIENCES, and those experiences lead to thinking the way we do because that's how you Be a goddamn person, which is why it's ironic is all 😭

like, saying zuko atla has to be cis in order to be "properly" gay in order to be Truly Compelling narratively is fucking ridiculous. textually, zuko is not actually gay. he never was intended to be, he never will be intended to be, he was never even subtextually. the assumption otherwise is already rooted in fantasy, and the tongue in cheek assertion that it isn't, which means it has more credence, is ... dumb? childish? admitting to at least yourself that the things you talk about wrt character analysis aren't the intention of the creator is literally half the point of doing said analysis – you're MEANT to throw away the intended interpretation in order to give it a new life through different keyholes without entirely divorcing itself from the text. (in the same breath, insisting the creator truly meant One Thing when they absolutely would not have/don't care at all, and ignoring that the people who made the piece are going to put their own biases and experiences and background into the media itself and actually MUST be taken into account for things like this is just ... well. Stop That.)

i've personally never been someone to ever claim that The Writers All Along INTENDED to do something that they obviously didn't, like make a character from a 2005 cartoon lgbt+. this doesn't mean that reading doesn't have any substance or cannot possibly hold any meaning, or that it's wrong. if you can't be objective about your own readings what's the damn point... leaning into it being fiction, which changes just by being observed by a different person, is why it's fun or interesting to do in the first place. and yeah there are some basic cookie cutter headcanons people like to fling around, and there can be criticism for that otherwise, but claiming headcanons themselves AREN'T an offshoot of this way of thinking is fucking stupid. like it's plain wrong.

our own thoughts on why a character acts, what they do, what their presentation is, why their personality is what it is up to and including their sexuality, gender identity, religion, JOB, whatever, are made to fill the gaps the text can't or won't provide, and in the case of lgbt ones as long as it's not actively harmful (as in like insisting a lesbian character is bi or something) it is literally harmless seeing as it is fairly solidly a "won't", along with a whole bunch of other hc material that usually don't see the light of day on-screen nonstereotypically. people seeing themselves in characters isn't new but more than that, saying that you know this but then pushing it aside because The Analysis Means More when it's Realistic And Plausible is fucking dumb. and rude. bc the entire point of drawing the line of connections this way is how WE see them. being all like "oh well, your own personal identity is still valid otherwise, don't get your feelings hurt bc it doesn't matter," is moot if you've already asserted there's only One real way to be... plausible 🤨. which is to be NORMAL ! duh.

like, the read that zuko IS gay (and cis) relies on extracting parts through the lens of our own gay perceptions and is why cishet fans don't pick up on it, but you can ask pretty much any other lgbt fan and they'll agree. zuko's narrative arc IS compelling with the read that he is gay, from the way he is ostracised by his family, neglected and abused, the "punishment" he receives and then continues to become his own warden of, the order of his death and the banishment itself, sozin criminalising homosexuality, his inability to connect with others especially his own age, his inability to seamlessly interact with girls, his literal externalised viewing of seeing himself as someone with Two Sides, them being good vs evil, realising he can change the damn world through love and acceptance, striving for peace, being the face of change for his nation, relearning what it means to be who he is once he is free from his past, the shame and humiliation rituals, the claim of his father that he is worthless as a prince and person, AND MORE... and i cannot express enough here how fucking little it matters if he's specifically gay or WHAT THE HELL EVER 😭.

to claim in no small way that it's impossible for a trans person, or a bisexual person, or anyone else lgbt, could ever line up his narrative with their own personal one is so beyond ridiculous it gives me a headache. no, "plausibly", i don't think zuko is like, transmasc. yes, plausibly, he could be gay. plausibly, he could be amab nonbinary but no one seems to actually give a fuck about that for some reason (i wonder!). nothing would change in both cases, because he's not actually either, so i really don't see the point in making fun of or being frustrated by one to lift up the other because you want cisgender boot soles to brush the back of your throat THAT badly. the implausibility of thinking any way about a fictional character should be taken into account to an extent, sure, but at the end of the day neither of us are doing anything truly worthwhile, and no one is claiming that it's the intent from the beginning to say otherwise, so what's the point here. why are we doing this. let's go skip in a meadow together before i kill someone with this rock.

#🐾 #tldr i am actually just so sick of people saying the word plausible #it's not plausible for this character to be trans. well OKAY. THARS NOT THE FUCKING POINT IDIOT #not every fucking thing people do is for the sake of furthering the fucking plot holy shit what is wrong with you #these people will never know joy or happiness and forever be miserable bc they're just OBSESSED with trying to rationalise.. art?! #LIKE ITS NOT GONNA HAPPENNNN 😭 #even if it is a plausible trans read people will pick it apart. I Know. i've been there. people do not and i hate to break it to you #like trans people. even other trans people. SHOCK HORROR. jesus christ #this is a real torture dungeon of my own creation #also my two cents personally i think the sum of who zuko is as a person is first and foremost autistic and gay. and everything else is as #an abuse victim. and i honestly don't care if he's trans bc it doesn't matter in the way ppl need to be tantruming over #but it still would be just as significant if not more so. acruallg definitely more so what the hell. my family doesn't hate me bc i Like #Boys .. OR GIRLS. #and YEAH sokka does read more trans sure. but he also is the one who got made fun of for at least like matching his belt and bag #or liking shopping or being feminine .. #is this what people mean when they say that... that katara would be transphobic to her own brother 😭 #well probably not. anyway. #if we're being textual sokka literally IS the one with some sort of gay subtext just FOR being the victim of the charming 2000s lightly #homophobic joking. not zuko. no one gives af about zuko #it does not break my arm to say zuko got banished for being too much sowmrbing and not enough something and got to be himself afterwards #in the slow journey that that took. this could mean literlalt anything. so who cares #he's lgbt all at once. There. bitch #also these ppl bc it was a whole bunch ofc. seemed to just mostly be mad bc zuko got the hc more #like how is that everyone else's problem now. just make sokka trans more ... idiot #☆

[a-queer-seminarian]

Today is Easter Sunday. Today is Trans Day of Visibility. Today is day 176 of genocide.

This year the lectionary gives us Mark's account of the Resurrection, with its fearful cliffhanger ending — an empty tomb, but Jesus's body missing. And isn't that unresolved note fitting?

In the face of so much suffering across the world, it feels right to be compelled to sit — even on this most jubilant of days — with the poor and disenfranchised in their continued suffering.

Mark's account:

Just days before, the women closest to Jesus witnessed him slowly suffocate to death on a Roman cross. Now, now trudge to his tomb to anoint his corpse — and find the stone rolled away, his body gone. A strange figure inside tells them that Jesus is has risen, and will reunite with them in Galilee.

They respond not with joy, but trembling ekstasis — a sense of being beside yourself, taken out of your own mind with shock. They flee.

The women keep what they've seen and heard to themselves — because their beloved friend outliving execution is just too good to be true. When does fortune ever favor those who languish under Empire's shadow?

Love wins, yet hate still holds us captive.

I'm grateful that Mark's resurrection story is the one many of us are hearing in church this year. His version emphasizes the "already but not yet" experience of God's liberation of which theologians write: Christians believe that in Christ's incarnation — his life, death, and resurrection — all of humanity, all of Creation is already redeemed... and yet, we still experience suffering. The Kin(g)dom is already incoming, but not yet fully manifested.

Like Mark's Gospel with its Easter joy overshadowed by ongoing fear, Trans Day of Visibility is fraught with the tension of, on the one hand, needing to be seen, to be known, to move society from awareness into acceptance into celebration; and, on the other hand, grappling with the increased violence and bigotry that a larger spotlight brings.

The trans community intimately understands the intermingling of life and death, joy and pain.

When we manage to roll back the stones on our tombs of silence and shame, self-loathing and social death, and stride boldly into new, transforming and transformative life — into trans joy! — death still stalks us.

We are blessedly, audaciously free — and we are in constant danger. There are many who would shove us back into our tombs.

And of course, the trans community is by no means alone in experiencing the not-yet-ness of God's Kin(g)dom.

Empire's violence continues to overshadow God's liberation.

The women who came to tend to their beloved dead initially experienced the loss of his body as one more indignity heaped upon them by Empire. Was his torture, their terror, not enough, that even their grief must be trampled upon, his corpse stolen away from them?

The people of Gaza are undergoing such horrors now. Indignity is heaped on indignity as they are bombed, assaulted, terrorized, starved, mocked. They are not given a moment's rest to tend to their dead. They are not permitted to celebrate Easter's joy as they deserve. They are forced to break their Ramadan fasts with little more than grass.

Those of us who reside in the imperial core — as I do as a white Christian in the United States — must not look away from the violence our leaders are funding, enabling, justifying.

We must not celebrate God's all-encompassing redemption without also bearing witness to the ways that liberation is not yet experienced by so many across the world.

This Easter, I pray for a free Palestine. I pray for an end to Western Empire, the severing of all its toxic tendrils holding the whole earth in a death grip.

I pray that faith communities will commit and recommit themselves to helping roll the stones of hate and fear away — and to eroding those stones into nothing, so they cannot be used to crush us once we've stepped into new life.

I pray for joy so vibrant it washes fear away, disintegrates all hatred into awe.

In the meantime, I pray for the energy and courage to bear witness to suffering; for the wisdom for each of us to discern our part in easing pain; for God's Spirit to reveal Xirself to and among the world's despised, over and over — till God's Kin(g)dom comes in full at last.

"The Empty Tomb" by artist He Qi.

#essays #log #spring 2024 #easter #easter sunday #palestine #tdov #mark 16

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

2020 reading roundup

feat: every book I read this year!

Favorite fiction:

Witchmark (C.L. Polk) 

Kindred (Octavia E. Butler) 

Fledgling (Octavia E. Butler)

The Killing Moon (N.K. Jemisin)

The Shadowed Sun (N.K. Jemisin) 

Circe (Madeline Miller) 

Freshwater (Akwaeke Emezi) 

The House in the Cerulean Sea (T.J. Klune) 

My Sister, the Serial Killer (Oyinkan Braithwaite) 

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter (Alexis Hall) 

Gideon the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) 

The Traitor Baru Cormorant (Seth Dickinson)

Further fun/fabulous/fruity fiction:

The Beautiful Ones (Silvia Moreno-Garcia)

Stormsong (C.L. Polk)

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home (Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor)  

Rat Queens, vol. 1-4 (Kurtis J. Wiebe)

The Deep (Rivers Solomon)  

The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller) 

Gods of Jade and Shadow (Silvia Moreno-Garcia) 

Books that left me furious at death for taking Octavia Butler before she could write another sequel and tell us just what the hell Earthseed was getting up to out there in space:

Parable of the Talents (Octavia E. Butler)

Books that gave me a new appreciation for the short story as an art form:

Falling In Love with Hominids (Nalo Hopkinson)

Books that I didn’t get into right away but then they REALLY picked up and by the time the Big Reveal happened I was screaming like a howler monkey and feeling like a fool for not catching on sooner:

The City We Became (N.K. Jemisin)

Novellas that made me cry in record time, which is entirely unsurprising given the author:

To Be Taught, If Fortune (Becky Chambers) 

Books that frankly took me by surprise and made me think I should be reading more horror, or at least more Stephen Graham Jones:

The Only Good Indians (Stephen Graham Jones) 

Sequels that were good but also made my head hurt because Jesus Christ, oh my god, WHAT is going on:

Harrow the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir)

Books that I LIKED but wanted to like more than I actually did:

The Taste of Marrow (Sarah Gailey)

The Ballad of Black Tom (Victor LaValle) 

In the Vanishers’ Palace (Aliette de Bodard) 

Upright Women Wanted (Sarah Gailey)

The Devourers (Indra Das) 

Sister Mine (Nalo Hopkinson) 

Mexican Gothic (Silvia Moreno-Garcia) 

Axiom’s End (Lindsay Ellis)

Totally respectable literary fiction that I cannot in good conscience lump into literally any other category:

Real Life (Brandon Taylor)

It was fine and I feel bad for not having anything particularly positive or negative or interesting at all to say about it, but it really and truly was just kind of alright:

My Lady’s Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel (Kitty Curran and Larissa Zageris)

Favorite nonfiction:

In the Dream House (Carmen Maria Machado)

How We Fight for Our Lives (Saeed Jones)

An Autobiography (Angela Y. Davis)

Feed (Tommy Pico)

Ace: What Aseuxality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex (Angela Chen)

Black Women, Black Love: America’s War on African American Marriage (Dianne M. Stewart)

Heavy: An American Memoir (Kiese Laymon)

Notable nifty nonfictions: 

The Dark Fantastic: Race and Imagination from Harry Potter to the Hunger Games (Ebony Elizabeth Thomas) 

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? Big Questions from Tiny Mortals About Death (Caitlin Doughty)

So You Want to Talk About Race (Ijeoma Oluo)

A Curious History of Sex (Kate Lister)

Republic of Lies: American Conspiracy Theorists and Their Surprising Rise to Power (Anna Merlan) 

Pleasure in the News: African American Readership and Sexuality in the Black Press (Kim T. Gallon) 

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women White Feminists Forgot (Mikki Kendall) 

Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower (Brittney Cooper) 

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality (Jane Ward)

Other people’s lives that I happily devoured:

Dear America: Notes From an Undocumented Citizen (Jose Antonio Vargas)  

Wow, No Thank You (Samantha Irby)  

I’m Afraid of Men (Vivek Shraya)

The Collected Schizophrenias: Essays (Esmé Weijun Wang) 

Uncomfortable Labels: My Life as a Gay Autistic Trans Woman (Laura Kate Dale) 

Brown Girl Dreaming (Jacqueline Woodson)

When They Call You A Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir (Patrisse Khan-Cullors) 

Poetry & personal essays that I wanted to Get but didn’t quite:

Homie (Danez Smith)

Something That May Shock and Discredit You (Daniel M. Lavery)  

More Than Organs (Kay Ulanday Barrett) 

Junk (Tommy Pico)

Nonfiction that was interesting but also incomprehensible in many places because I don’t have a degree in biology, which I guess is my bad:

Dr. Tatiana’s Sex Advice to All Creation (Olivia Judson) 

Nonfiction that was interesting but also felt lacking in its analysis, perhaps as an inevitable side effect of trying to publish it quickly enough to stay topical:

Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger (Soraya Chemaly) 

Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger (Rebecca Traister)

Sweet graphic novels:

The Prince and the Dressmaker (Jen Wang) 

Shadow of the Batgirl (Sarah Kuhn)

Books that are significant for various reasons and good to read but sort of felt like homework:

Stone Butch Blues (Leslie Feinberg) 

Are Prisons Obsolete? (Angela Y. Davis)

Books I reread during quarantine even though I am not generally much of a rereader:

Her Body and Other Parties (Carmen Maria Machado)

Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) 

A Small Place (Jamaica Kincaid)

Books that weren’t really for me but probably would have rocked my socks if I read them when I was like 14:

Internment (Samira Ahmed) 

The Seven Necessary Sins for Women and Girls (Mona Eltahawy) 

Periods Gone Public: Taking a Stand for Menstrual Equity (Jennifer Weiss-Wolf) 

The Bone Witch (Rin Chupeco) 

Pet (Akwaeke Emezi) 

#bookblr

[crytill5am-blog]

Hell Week

just something nice and small with trans!lance. sorry if it’s a little all over the place, i wanted to type it out while the idea was still fresh in my head and didn’t really read through or plot it out properly

Waking up grumpy in the morning after the blaring alarm of the Castle of Lions was a natural state for the paladins of Voltron by now.

What wasn’t considered normal, was that Lance wasn’t grumpy, he was pissed as fuck. Unlike all the other paladins who had easily jogged into the control room, all dressed and ready for battle with their bayards by their sides, Lance had stormed in with a thunderous look, bayard clenched tightly beside him, but still dressed in sleep clothes.

“Lance!” Allura called out sharply, irritation marring her pretty features as she marched over to the line of paladins, “Why aren’t you dressed in your paladin armour? Don’t you know that the Galra could attack at any moment and that you must be prepared for such attacks?”

Now, everyone there expected Lance to shrug off Allura’s scolding with a laugh and a cheap flirtation, as he usually did. After all, the blue paladin was known for being laid back, if a bit flirty, so it would have been completely normal for Lance to brush off the princess’ ire.

“Oh, fuck off Allura,” The paladins choked, staring at Lance in horror and surprise, Allura’s mouth falling open in her own shock, Coran’s mustache looked like it was about to fly off of his face. Lance, however, was just seething, his posture stiff and an arm wrapped around his abdomen as he hissed in pain.

Allura was the first to recover, her shock replaced with anger at Lance’s disrespect and blatant disregard to her stature, “What did you just say?!”

Lance, kind, patient, relaxed Lance, actually snarled at the princess. The rest of the paladins were frozen in shock, before Hunk seemed to snap out of it and groaned, walking over towards Lance, placing his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Quiznak, Lance, dude, calm down,” Hunk said, voice soft and soothing, “Breathe in with me, ‘kay?”

Lance’s anger seemed to falter, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to relax some as Hunk rubbed his shoulder. Allura still looked like she wanted to yell at Lance, but the blue paladin focused on his best friend, hoping to calm down some to give a sincere apology, even if he didn’t feel particularly apologetic at the moment.

Lance shuddered and felt a wave of disgust come over him when he shifted footing slightly, feeling the sticky wetness between his thighs. He should have kept an eye on the calendar now that he didn’t have his birth control and testosterone anymore. It was bound to happen that his period would reappear after being over three months in space. He just didn’t think it’d be as bad as it was at the moment. The cramps felt like they were trying to force him to eject his intestines and his back ached like he’d just gone a round against an angry wolverine. 

Oh god, and there was blood trickling down his legs now. Great, just freaking fantastic.

A sudden overwhelming wave of self-loathing washed over him, powerful enough to make him tear up and sniffle. He looked up at Hunk, his best bro’s face sympathetic and calm as he rubbed Lance’s back now.

“Anyone care to explain what’s happening?!” Allura snapped, her own anger having not dissipated as she rounded on the paladins. The others all shared a look and shrugged, which made Lance want to laugh and cry at the same time. 

Hunk was the one who tried to calm the princess down, even as he continued to pat Lance’s shoulders. “Sorry, Princess. Lance isn’t feeling too great at the moment due to some biological changes now that he doesn’t have certain medication up here anymore.” 

“What Hunk means is,” Lance huffed, sending his best friend a thankful look, knowing that Hunk was trying to help Lance not out himself until he felt comfortable enough to. But it wasn’t like the team wouldn’t eventually find out anyway, so it might as well be right now, “my body’s flushed out the remainder of my birth control and testosterone. It’s caused me to start my, uhm, my period?” Lance chuckled wetly, still feeling waves of emotions running through him in an endless cycle.

Pidge gaped before grimacing, “Aw, fuck, dude that must suck. D’you need like, pads and shit? Tampons? I think I still have some in my room that I can share.” Lance looked at her as if she had hung the moon in the sky, nodding enthusiastically.

“I should go get some painkillers to help with your cramps. Coran, mind showing me where you keep them in the med-bay?” Shiro asked, his drive to help his team coming out to the front of his mind.

“Righto number one! Follow me please!” Coran called enthusiastically, leading the older paladin out of the control room. 

Allura frowned, confused, “What in Altea is a period?” She asked as Pidge left the control room to go get the products she’d offered, while Shiro and Coran left to go to get the necessary medication from the med-bay, leaving an increasingly uncomfortable Keith, Lance and Hunk to explain human terms for menstruation. 

“Ah, it’s what we refer to the, uhm, bleeding period of a human’s menstrual cycle,” Lance explained some, “People who’re born with uterus’, uteri? I don’t know what the plural is, can’t think right; uhm, they get periods, which is what I have right now, so yeah.”

Understanding came over Allura’s features and she frowned, “I see. Still, this does not excuse your rude behaviour earlier on.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Lance grimaced, that arm that had been clutching his abdomen moving to hold onto Keith’s suddenly offered arm, squeezing painfully, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just... in a lot of physical and emotional discomfort at the moment.”

“oh,” Allura blinked, cocking her head curiously, “Do human... periods, I believe you called them? Cause bodily pain?”

Lance stared incredulously at the Princess, “Well yeah? My uterus is literally ripping and forcing itself out of my body. Do Alteans not get cramps or backaches during theirs?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. There is some discomfort from have blood coming out of your, but it’s quite painless.”

“Jesus Christ, I am so jealous,” Lance grumbled, “Fucking lucky bastards.”

The rest of the team walked back into the room, Lance ignoring Shiro’s disappointed look as he took the two small pills from Shiro and swallowed them back with the water packet Coran had brought along. Fuck Shiro, Lance was in pain; he was allowed to cuss while on his period. 

Pidge tossed a pad in Lance’s direction, who caught them relatively easily, “You should go put these on before you bleed anymore on the floor of the control room,” they grumbled, looking at the few specks of blood trailing down Lance’s legs that dripped to the floor with a grossed-out look.

“Right, thanks, Pidge,” Lance breathed with a sigh, pulling away from Hunk and Keith, not catching the wince Keith tried to hide as he rubbed the feeling into his probably bruised arm. Lance moved to leave the control room, waving off Hunk’s fretting, “I’ll see you all at breakfast. Mind making me something to eat that won’t make me nauseous, big guy?”

Hunk nodded with a small, relieved sigh, “Sure dude, no problem.”

Keith glanced down at the few specks of blood that had dripped to the floor and grimaced, “Anyone want to clean that up?”

“Not it!” Everyone called, making the mulleted red paladin groan, leaving the room to find a mop, ignoring the laughter coming from behind him.

#trans!lance #Lance #Lance VLD #Shiro #Shiro VLD #Allura #Allura VLD #Keith #Keith VLD #Pidge #Pidge VLD #Hunk #Hunk VLD #Coran #coran vl #vld #Voltron: Legendary Defender #menstruation/ #periods/ #blood/

[fuckyeahreligionpigeon]

Long Read. Consider yourself warned.

I Was Trained for the Culture Wars in Home School, Awaiting Someone Like Mike Pence as a Messiah.

Posted by Kieryn Darkwater on January 26, 2017 at 8:40am UTC

I was working the polls on election day, handing people ballots and explaining how to fill them out properly. I made it my mission to come up with interesting uses for the removable tabs and entertain people for the 30 seconds that I had their captive attention. When 7 pm hit, people came in looking grim. “Did you hear about the polls?” they’d ask. “No,” I said, “but don’t tell me, I need to get through the next hour.” I guarded my polling location from news of what was happening because we still had to close – I still had to close – and needed to be able to focus without dealing with the sheer terror of reality.

I checked Twitter as I got in my Lyft back home. Shock bombarded and horror filled me as I scrolled through my timeline. I hoped the panic would vanish once the CA votes were counted. It didn’t. Slowly the new reality set in – the one where I wake up horrified and lose more of my basic human rights every day. The one where I wake up and am reminded that I was prepared for this, I saw this coming, I know what’s happening.

I grew up in the far-right evangelical conservative (Christofascist) movement; specifically, I was homeschooled and my parents were part of a subculture called Quiverfull, whose aim is to outbreed everyone for Jesus. I spent my teen years being a political activist. I was taught by every pastor I encountered that it was our job as Christians to outbreed the secularists (anyone not a far-right evangelical Protestant) and take over the government through sheer numbers. I was part of TeenPact, Generation Joshua and my local Teenage Republicans (TARS).

When the Tea Party rose in 2009, that was my culture. The Tea Party was step one. I was laying the groundwork for those elections in 2006. These people didn’t come out of the blue like it seemed. This plan, this Christofascist takeover of the US government, has been in the works for decades. When evangelical conservatism started becoming popular and more mainstream around the 1970s, the foundation was being laid for the tragedy playing out right now.

Evangelical conservatives started taking over their local republican parties and founding organizations like Operation Rescue, Homeschool Legal Defense Association, Family Research Council and Focus on the Family, just to name a few.

Michael Farris founded HSLDA in 1983 as a way to ensure that homeschooling was legal, but what he’s been striving for is the wild west. His organization is trying to keep homeschooling away from any interference so the children he trains through his sister organization, Generation Joshua, would be able to fly under the radar. Generation Joshua started in 2003, primarily catering to children homeschooled by extremely religious rightwing adults. Its purpose was to train us to fight in what the Christofascists have been calling the “Culture Wars.” It’s a loose and ambiguous term that basically means anything or anyone that doesn’t align with this very specific view of Christianity must not be allowed to continue.

How do you do that? Well, you overturn Roe v. Wade, Griswold v. Connecticut, Brown v. Board of Education and Bob Jones v. The United States. Each of these decisions currently protects reproductive rights or non-discrimination based on race. As retribution, you amend the Constitution to discriminate against queers, trans people, women and people of color. Then, you make laws legislating morality. The only way to do this is to infiltrate the government; so Generation Joshua, TeenPact and other organizations exist to indoctrinate and recruit homeschooled youth who have ample free time to participate in politics. The biggest resources for teaching civil discourse are the National Christian Forensics and Communications Association and Communicators for Christ (since renamed Institute for Cultural Communicators). Through these programs we learned how to argue effectively. As students, we were taught critical thinking skills but given only a narrow view of what was acceptable to argue for. We were, after all, being trained to take over the country for Christ, literally. We knew how to perform logical gymnastics about abortion, Christianity and any evangelical talking point you could throw at us.

When we showed up to city council, local political party meetings and tours of the Capitol we asked intelligent questions, were respectful and had a vested interest in how our local political machine ran. We impressed every government official and staff member with our questions, earnesty and demeanor. In short, we were sneaky and polite Trojan horses; we had an agenda. Yes, even as 15-year-olds. It was forcefully handed to us by the adults in our lives who had been preparing for this since before we were born.

I watched the Tea Party takeover and was surprised no one saw it coming. After all, this was part of the plan. Trump being elected is also part of the plan, although not Trump specifically; the true goal is Pence.

Christofascists have been wanting someone like Pence in the White House and, until now, didn’t have a way to get one in. They know Trump is easily manipulated and will change his mind with the wind if it makes him feel more powerful and famous. Trump couldn’t care less about policy, a fact he’s made quite obvious. The Right has given a tyrant power and fame; he will do whatever they want him to do in order to keep it. This way they can sneak Pence in on a piggyback while filling Congress with even more evangelical conservative Republicans. Compared to Trump’s abrasive and terrifying behavior, Pence seems much less threatening. This is not the case. Pence has a proven track record of legalizing discrimination and acting against women and marginalized people. Those of us who didn’t leave the far Right are being elected to federal positions or are taking over states and cities. With Pence in office, even the reasonable-seeming incumbents – who have been and are still at the mercy of the Tea Party – are growing more bold in their attempts to further the Christofascist agenda: To Take Back The Country For Christ.

This was the mantra we heard. This was our mission. This is how we were to win: Outbreed, Outvote, Outactivate. Every class, every event, every pastor or guest speaker reiterated this, choosing to risk the 501c3 status of their church to push their agenda. To take back the country for Christ, we needed to outbreed, outvote and outactivate the other side, thus saith The Lord.

Meanwhile, mainstream Democrats shake their heads in confusion and fundamentally misunderstand the meaning of grassroots organizing, which is where all of this happens. Republicans have a vast network of homeschoolers that HSLDA and others have given them to tap into as a source of free labor. Republicans in state governments are lax on homeschooling oversight because their Get Out The Vote base is made of homeschoolers thanks to Generation Joshua and Teenpact.

Homeschoolers may make up a small portion of students as a whole, but they are loud, have time and can be activated with one email blast. When HR6 was brought to Congress in 1994, homeschool families realized their power. With an alert from HSLDA, homeschool families flooded the lines of Congress demanding that they exclude private, home and religious schools from the bill. They succeeded. The reach of HSLDA to activate the homeschool community has only grown since then. We are the secret no one knew about and it’s time to come to light. Homeschoolers are a huge reason for the evangelical conservative takeover we’ve seen over the last decade or so; it would be a mistake to write them off.

Self-proclaimed constitutional lawyer Michael Farris, the founder of HSLDA, and revisionist historian David Barton have spent years twisting their interpretation of the U.S. Constitution as some kind of God-breathed document into the minds of parents and their families who will just believe what they say because they’re “Good Christians.” They don’t necessarily practice critical thought, are dissuaded from looking at the Constitution themselves without a law degree and don’t bother to read history from all angles, relying only on the whitewashed Christian versions of the Constitution and our founding.

If you’re thinking that declaring the nation a Christian one and turning into a theocracy is a ludicrous idea that has no basis in our constitution, you’d be correct. However, Christofascists have imbibed this theory and now believe it is their Christian duty to save the country from its secular ways in the name of religious freedom. In this worldview, any non-Christian (including Catholics and Jews) is doomed to eternal torture if they don’t convert. Thus, we are all going to hell in a handbasket if “good Christians” don’t save the country from the liberals who think people should just “do what they want regardless of what God says.” Their religious extremism is worse than any group they fearmonger over, but the irony is lost on them.

Evangelical conservatives are convinced that their agenda will save the country from God-ordained death. Pat Robertsonand many others believe that natural disasters are sent from God specifically to punish America for letting marginalized people have rights and be alive. This motivates them to do everything in their power to “save” the country from the ungodly – even, maybe especially – if it involves stripping others of the freedoms they deem to be against God’s wishes. They don’t care if their war for Christ hurts humans they see as living wrongfully, because they are capital “R” Right and that’s what matters. Their Rightness, they believe, comes from God Himself. Their beliefs are callous and without empathy, prioritizing dogma over people. These beliefs are dangerous. Many of us who have come out as queer, trans, or even merely gone to college, have lost family because of this worldview. A single powerful person who is convinced of their own Rightness with no thought of introspection is dangerous. We now have a government full of them.

It is important to understand that they are coming at this from a place of passion and dedication. They have a fire in their bellies. While it looks like a bunch of backwoods hillbillies playing with guns to anyone outside, they are resilient and in it for the long haul. They want America to succeed, but in their America there isn’t room for anyone unlike them. There’s a reason Trump’s mantra stuck despite his deplorable behaviour. They think America was founded on conservative Protestant ideals because that’s what they’ve been fed, because that’s what aligns with their interpretation of the Bible and they will not go down without a fight.

They are scared of anything newer than the 18th century; you can’t logic the fear of change away from people. If you do no research and are instead predisposed to the belief that older is better, it’s easy to think the Puritans were good and wholesome. People wore funny hats, were conservative and hated science. Church was basically mandatory and women weren’t allowed to speak or be autonomous people. These are all comforting things for people who feel as though the world is against them because of their religion, rather than the fact that their views and actions are bigoted, racist and actively harmful to millions of other humans. You cannot be this version of evangelical and not force your beliefs on others. Failing to convert is a failure on you and your dedication to your faith. This religion is based entirely on fear; you can’t argue away a fear so intense that it hardens you to anyone unlike you or your tribe.

They will not be won over with sit-downs and respectability politics. This kind of dogma cannot be reasoned with; it must be fought against. Trying to convince them to come to the other side is a waste of time unless they’ve already started on that journey themselves. The ones in power, actively harming our lives, are past this point. We can only fight back.

The revolution has come and we are the resistance.

#atheism #christianity #judaism #islam #catholicism #mormonism #baptist #jehovah witness #scientology #Religion

[ecotone99]

[HM] A Girl Named Lucy

Everybody’s had a bad date. But my date with Lucy was definitely the worst date of my entire life. We met online, of course. I don’t think people meet any other way anymore. We really hit it off, she laughed at my dumb jokes and honestly, that’s pretty much all it takes for me to fall in love.

We decided to meet up for drinks and appetizers at Applebees. I was nervous, so I showed up early, had a drink at the bar and waited for her to arrive.

Meeting someone from the internet and finding out they’re significantly less attractive in person brings a uniquely guilty depression. It’s not that the person is necessarily unattractive, but in your mind, you’ve built up the anticipation for how you think the person will look. Expectation ruins reality. Usually this is just a result of normal people trying to look impressive. Which is understandable in the dating world.

But that’s the thing, when I saw her walk through the door, Lucy did not look normal. She looked very far from normal. Her face was too thin and her nose was entirely too big. Freakishly such. She probably knew this because the she covered it up with three or five or nine inches of chunky, pasty white makeup. It could have been Plaster of Paris, who’s to say? That shit was out of control.

She wore a giant green sweater, which in and of itself is not necessarily a bad thing, but it was almost eighty degrees outside, even after the sun went down. At first, I thought this was to compensate for being overweight, but she didn’t seem overweight. She seemed deformed. Like two or three different skinny people squeezing themselves into the same sweater.

She had shredded blonde hair and walked with a wobbly limp, like an ether-sniffing marionette doll at a sobriety checkpoint. Her feet were disproportionally big, as if her shoes were hiding something nasty.

Oh, God. I can’t do this, I thought. This is just too much. But I feel bad, because the expectations were built up in MY head, right? I’ll just turn and sneak out the back, text her saying I had car trouble or something.

“Seth!?” She squawked. Or barked. It was a bark-squawk that was entirely too loud for the public, very unfortunately public situation at hand. Heads turned.

Ah, shit. She saw me. Of course she saw me. I’ve been staring her down slack-jawed and silly. But really, can you blame me? This poor woman looked like a rubber horse mask wearing another rubber mask of Gary Busey’s face.

“Seth! It is me. I am Lucy! The woman you speak to.” There’s no way she’s been using this voice her whole life.

My voice was too dry so I just nodded. We’re already here, might as well have a few drinks and enjoy the food. How bad could it be?

When my mouth finally began producing enough saliva necessary for conversation, we engaged in small-talk. I intentionally kept it awkward and as far from lively as possible. Maybe she’d catch the hint and we could just chalk it up to a lack of chemistry. I started dumping whiskey down my throat like my soul and sanity depended on it. Which, at this point, I was convinced it did.

“So, where are you from?” I asked, hoping another unknown cultural origin could explain this catastrophic misstep in acceptable courtship.

“Lucy is from Wisconsin. That’s normal, right?”

Jesus Christ, whatever they put in that cheese really did a number on this one. Remind me to never drink Budweiser again, either.

“I don-uh, I mean, yes, yes that is normal. Right. Have you ever been in like, a car accident or something?”

She stared at me with big sickly brown eyes. Eyes that were almost yellow. Maybe she has cancer or something? I’m starting to feel bad for her now. Maybe the whiskey is melting the shock and warming my mind to a temperate state of empathy. She’s alone. She doesn’t get out much. Kinda like me, actually. Don’t be a dick, dude. Get it together.

Then she laughs, it’s a coughy sort of laugh. It resonates from a deeper part of the diaphragm and I’m reminded of an alligator. Bet she used to smoke a lot.

“You make joke! You funny man!” She swipes her hand across my forearm the way women do when they’re being particularly obvious about their intentions. Her fingernails are long. Monstrously so, and badly painted in flecks of a dark red. Her skin is entirely too rough for a woman. Maybe she works with her hands a lot?

Oh. Oh, no.

I check the neck. I don’t actually see an Adam’s Apple, but the skin does protrude in a hangy sort of turkey-neck way. I begin to sweat uncontrollably.

Look, I don’t hate anyone. I believe everyone should live their lives and be happy. But I’m just not ready for this. I’m afraid. I feel like I’m waiting for the cashier in a gas station and a cop gets behind me in line. I compensate with more whiskey. That’ll help.

I have to ask. I can’t just not know.

“Look, Lucy. I’m sorry. But are you, like, are you a girl?”

There’s that laugh again.

“Yes! Lucy is girl. Real girl. Clever girl.”

Of course she is. Trans girls are girls, too. It’s just… I’ve already paid for the drinks, she seems very interested in me, persistent even. I just don’t know if I can do this.

Maybe just a blowjob? That’s not gay, right?

I’m gonna need some cocaine for this.

That’s it! Cocaine! I’ll see if she’s down to score some blow, then we’ll just see how it goes. Worst case scenario I get all coked up and can’t get a boner anyhow, sorta solves the whole situation. I can blame the coke, she doesn’t get her feelings hurt. Win-win.

“Hey Lucy….”

“Hey Seth.”

She does the cough/laugh. Maybe the hormones haven’t been balanced yet?

“You uh, you wanna score some coke?”

“What is ‘score coke’?”

“You know, like cocaine?”

“Cocaine? If we score cocaine, can I get your meat?”

Oh fuck. This is happening.

“My…my meat?”

“Yes. I want your meat inside me.”

Not gonna lie, my dick did a little twitch right then. Jesus. Well, I guess you learn something new every day, don’t ya?

“Okay! Um, I’m gonna pay the, uh, pay the tab. Why don’t you? Like, and I’ll then go to the car. Ya know, then we can like, you know. Wanna follow me while-“

“We ‘score coke’ like cocaine!”

“Yes.” I said. Fuck, I kinda like her now. I can get past the face. And the limpy, wabble-walk. And the…uh. Whatever else I find.

After I pay the bartender, we both walk back to my truck. I guess she took the bus or something because she never mentions a car of her own. I call up my buddy Allen, he usually has decent coke.

Allen says to come on over, I open the door for her, she does that little laugh again. It’s kinda growing on me, actually. I can’t believe this is happening.

As I’m driving, she starts purring and licking my ear. And I’m actually into it. Like, really into it. Once again, I can’t believe this is happening.

We pull up to Allen’s place, he sends me a text saying to come on up.

Allen opens the door and jumps back.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, Seth. Who the fuck is this? You told me it was just you, bro?”

“No I didn’t,” I said, “I told you a had a girl with me, Lucy this is Allen. Allen this is Lucy.”

“Hello, Allen.” Said Lucy, “Can I also have your meat inside me?”

“What the fuck?” Said Allen. Then he laughed, and I laughed, and Lucy laughed, we all laughed.

“You didn’t tell me it was like that. Why don’t you both just come on in?”

We all stepped inside and Allen clicked on the light. As he did, Lucy tripped over the doorframe. She didn’t fall all the way to the ground, but she fell just enough to cause her hair to tilt. Like, all of it just shifted to the side.

This caught Allen’s attention.

“Yo, that’s a fuckin’ wig, bro! The fuck is going on here?”

“Allen.” I said sternly, leaning in close to him. “Don’t fuck this up for me, man. I need this.”

But Allen wasn’t listening. Allen was recoiling in horror because he saw what I had been too drunk and horny to see all along.

While Lucy was fumbling with her wig and sliding around the foyer, her tail had slid out of her floppy green sweater. A tail that was long and scaly. Just as scaly as her scalp beneath the wig.

It was now painfully obvious. This was not a foreign woman. This was not a transsexual. This was a sixty-six million year old chicken-lizard stalking it’s prey from beyond the confines of the traditional understanding of time itself. And I, Seth Fox, horny drunkard and idiot extraordinaire, had fallen for it’s schemes.

Clever girl.

Allen screamed the only sensible thing to be said, “VELOCIRAPTOR!!!”

And we both dove behind the sofa for cover.

The Velociraptor Formally Known as Lucy shrieked, “MEEEAAAAAT!!!”

Why? Why me? Why couldn’t she have just had a penis!?

The Lucy-Raptor soars over the sofa with a dancer’s ease because she’s a theropod. An apex predator from the Cretaceous Period and I notice what made her gait so ungainly. Her shoes had been hiding a giant sickle-shaped talon on each foot with which her kinship would disembowel their prey. Unfortunately for Allen, he was this prey.

The Lucy-Raptor was on him instantly, she sliced open his belly with her toe-claws and his intestines flopped out like folded ravioli.

“Nnnnaaaauuuuuggggghhhh!!!!!” Said Allen as the Lucy Raptor chewed on his neck.

I had no patience for this nonsense, so I fled the scene hoping, praying, pleading with any deity merciful enough to hear my cries. I did not want to be eaten by a velociraptor tonight. I just wanted a blowjob. Is that really too much to ask from the universe? One measly fucking blowjob?

But the Lucy-Raptor wanted to feast on the flesh of living prey, and I was still fumbling with my keys when Allen had breathed his last. She came bouncing into the parking lot.

“CAAAUUUOOGGGHHH, CAAAUUUOOGGGHHH!!” Said Lucy.

The truck door clicked open.

Lucy reared back on her hind legs ready to pounce.

I yanked open the door and hurled myself into the driver’s seat, turned the key and started the engine as Lucy sailed through the air like a shark through calm seas.

Her claws barely missed my fender as I sped from my dead drug dealer’s parking lot.

I stomped the gas.

At 20 mph, there she was, nipping at my window.

I turned onto the street.

There she was.

30 mph. 35, 40 mph.

When I hit 55 mph she slowed down and wailed a roar of defeat. I had bested the Lucy-Raptor. Turns out velociraptors can run at speeds of up to 40 miles an hour. But a ’97 Dodge Ram can go up to like, 120 miles an hour, so FUCK YOU, VELOCIRAPTORS!!

Dating is hard, folks. But remember,

“Life finds a way.”

-Ian Malcolm

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