I truly, TRULY do not know how to say this, because the fact that I have to say it makes me feel like I am losing my grip on reality. But no, in the post-capitalistic anarchist utopia, I will not be relying on “autistic minecraft girlies” to be building inspectors because - and this may shock you - one of those occupations takes years of education in how to read and interpret hundreds of thousands of lines of regulations based on complicated math and physics that were the result of decades of tragedy and death, and the other one involves playing a children’s video game.
Trans men and women tend to get viewed as either disgusting male freaks or perfect feminine female goddesses based entirely on identity and vibes alone, forcing trans men to either detranstion to talk about the issues faced, or shut up and hate themselves and grovel at the feet of their "betters", and trans women are forced to preform the highest standards of femininity or be shunned and live in fear of being cast out and not being "woman enough" facing the constant need to prove themselves to avoid being seen as interlopers.
these things are similar, these problems overlap, and yet people go on to pretend that one is the most victimized victim and the other is the "subjector and oppressor" (Interchangeable) and neither can truly understand the other. these ideas being perpetuated by others within and outside of these groups. It drives me up the wall that there are people pretending this helps anyone, that either benefits from the others oppression in anyway.
Personally, from what I've seen a lot of it comes out as like gender insecurity, from the inside groups, which is pretty sad, but also extremely frustrating to be lashed out at for being unwilling to accept this gender essentialist false binary
about eddie coming home, ranting and raving about how incredible his new campaign went. he’s gesturing wildly with his hands and his cheeks are flushed and his mouth is running a mile a minute. and you want to pay attention, you really do — you love when he gets like this, all childlike joy and wide brown eyes and rambling sentences — but you’ve been waiting for him since your shift ended five hours ago and you’ve been thinking about getting his cock in your mouth for at least the last two-
and he’s trying to tell you about the twist that really threw the hellfire crew for a loop but you can’t help but push him back until his legs hit the couch. you’re dropping to your knees and pushing between his thighs before he’s even regained is balance enough to straighten up. his dark jeans are yanked down his thighs, cute little patterned boxer shorts pushed down only a moment later.
you get his cock in your mouth, still soft but so warm and his skin so silky on your tongue. eddie’s words cut off and you pull away to give him a sweet doe-eyed look of confusion.
“why’d you stop talking?”
“i- what?” he babbles dumbly.
“wanna hear about your campaign.” you urge, soft and earnest. you lick a long, fat stripe up the length of his slowly thickening cock, puckering your lips and giving a couple of soft, suckling kisses to the silky skin.
“but, baby- shit. baby.. sweetheart, i can’t think when you’re-”
you give the warm skin of his cock another sweet kiss before murmuring into the soft pudge of his tummy and happy trail.
“please?”
and so the next several minutes are filled with his breathy recount of the evenings campaign, through the sounds of his gasps and groans and the quiet slurps and gags of your mouth around him.