fun fact. it literally doesn’t matter if your trauma “wasn’t THAT bad” compared to other peoples. its still trauma and it will affect you the same way. it doesn’t matter how “bad” it was, its something you went through and are continuing to live with the aftermath of, and, no matter what, everything you feel is completely justified.
You know, if I was a parent, it would be at this point that I’d rip the game from his hands, stash it in my backpack, and force him to enjoy history goddamnit. This vacation cost a lot and the game is only for the hotel and travel time.
imagine trying to force someone to think that stonehenge is fun
take your kids places they actually want to go instead of getting mad when they quietly self-entertain, he’s not hurting nobody. me & my shitbag siblings would be climbing that fucking thing, gameboy kid is doing alright
Some small child: does not yet have the mental development or contextual understanding to appreciate why these particular rocks are extra interesting.
Some adult: God I hate that children don’t think like adults! I would force them to pretend they do because I interpret child thought patterns as a personal insult!
Child: *looks at rocks for approx. 30 seconds, listens to vaguely interesting story about them for another minute or so, glances at the rocks again, is Now Done.
Parent: I understand that your attention span has done all it can with the stimulation provided. Here is your gameboy to keep you entertained while the adults talk about things you don’t find interesting, like the history of very large rocks.
Child: *quietly squats down and plays with the gameboy, allowing adults to enjoy their rocks*
Parent: I am very glad that I understand to some extent how children’s minds work, or this holiday would be a miserable experience for both of us. How fortunate that I planned ahead to allow my child periods of rest and quiet entertainment during excursions that are primarily for my benefit and enjoyment.
Being a trans woman can be so irritating when it comes to how people talk (in english at least) like people calling you “dude” or “bro” and referring to groups you’re in as “guys.” It’s something cis women have taken issue with at times, but I think it’s undeniable how directly it affects trans women.
Either we’re the bitch who has to ruin everybody’s fun and ask not to be referred to with these words or we say nothing and wonder if we’re being viewed as men, or if they really are one of those people who “just call everybody dude” because often times we aren’t able to verify that.
Then you’ll have people who will undermine you when you choose to be that bitch, who will suggest you let it go, that you make the favorable assumption every time. You already took a risk in standing up for yourself and now they’re making you seem wrong for it. It hurts. It hurts even more when it comes from someone you considered an ally, or even another trans woman.
Just, if you’re one of those people who talk that way, or have/have wanted to tell us to let it go, consider what experience(s) we’ve been through that has led us to not be able to let it go.
I try my best but I am very guilty of calling people “dude” or “bruh” (if I know them and I am trying to be funny). If at any point this bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, you are NOT that Bitch to say so! Tell me and I will gladly course correct.
SAME I DO THAT tell me if I call you the wrong thing!!
See the problem here is you are still putting the trans woman in the situation where they do have to be That Bitch. The reason I said to consider why we do this was in hopes of people understanding the situation using those words puts us in (one where we are taking a risk and often feel like a bitch, even if you don’t think so) and understanding why some of us feel we need to stand up for ourselves in that situation despite that.
If you really want to make a change, stop referring to women with these words. Some trans women may not mind but continuing to treat these words as gender neutral negatively affects the rest who then get put in these situations by you. Find alternatives to use instead.
“Body Horror,” as an official designation, is a term that comes from horror cinema but its literary origins can be traced back as far as Frankenstein. It is a trope that springs from primal fears—from the knowledge of oneself as a physical object and the consciousness of pain—and its roots wind through the Gothic, to the fin de siècle and the birth of science fiction. As a sub-genre, it broadly encompasses the concept of bodily violation, whether that be via mutilation, zombification, possession, or disease, but arguably one of its most pervasive themes is that of transformation. From Ovid to Cronenberg, transformation occupies an anxious corner in so much of film and literature that it more or less forms a tradition all its own. Folklore and myth are littered with metamorphosis—Daphne twisting into a bay tree, Alice in Wonderland with her Eat Me’s and Drink Me’s—and its impact is frequently an unsettling one. It is a fairy-tale punishment, a warning to naughty children, a reminder of the body’s unreliability.
[…] I think that writing about women goes hand in hand with horror writing. The female body is a nexus of pain almost by design, but it is also potentially monstrous—an object traditionally subjugated, both for its presumed weakness and its perceived threat. The mutations and transformations of horror writing are uniquely qualified to evoke this: the difficulty and unreliability of the female body, its duality as an object both to be feared for and to fear.
When Daphne transforms into a bay tree, the moment is one of both horror and deliverance. She is no longer what she once was, but the metamorphosis frees her from the unwanted attention of Apollo. This duality of horror and emancipation sits, I think, at the core of female transformation. Within the horror genre (and arguably everywhere else), bodies read as female are always subject to pain, and to the threat of violation. Becoming something else—a tree, a freak, a monster—preempts this pain and reduces the risk of harm. It may even, if the transformation is the right one, allow you to cause harm in return.
— Julia Armfield, “On Body Horror and the Female Body”
“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free. (…) I want, I think, to be omniscient… I think I would like to call myself “The girl who wanted to be God.” Yet if I were not in this body, where would I be—perhaps I am destined to be classified and qualified. But, oh, I cry out against it. I am I—I am powerful—but to what extent? I am I.”
— Sylvia Plath, Letters Home
Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu/ 昭和元禄落語心中/ Showa and Genroku Era Lover’s Suicide Through Rakugo, and Ba Wang Bie Ji/霸王别姬/Farewell My Concubine parallels. With extra irony of the two stories taking place in the same turbulent time period from pre- to post-war Japan and China respectively.
In the West, plot is commonly thought to revolve around conflict: a confrontation between two or more elements, in which one ultimately dominates the other. The standard three- and five-act plot structures–which permeate Western media–have conflict written into their very foundations. A “problem” appears near the end of the first act; and, in the second act, the conflict generated by this problem takes center stage. Conflict is used to create reader involvement even by many post-modern writers, whose work otherwise defies traditional structure.
The necessity of conflict is preached as a kind of dogma by contemporary writers’ workshops and Internet “guides” to writing. A plot without conflict is considered dull; some even go so far as to call it impossible. This has influenced not only fiction, but writing in general–arguably even philosophy. Yet, is there any truth to this belief? Does plot necessarily hinge on conflict? No. Such claims are a product of the West’s insularity. For countless centuries, Chinese and Japanese writers have used a plot structure that does not have conflict “built in”, so to speak. Rather, it relies on exposition and contrast to generate interest. This structure is known as kishōtenketsu.