alls-well-that-ends-weird:

madgastronomer:

bahoreal:

Men like to believe theyd be great in apocalypse scenarios but they dont even know how to sew

Some male friends of mine were once talking about how useful they’d be in an apocalypse, and I pointed out that as a weaver and sewer and maker of stuff, I’d be pretty damn useful and they tried to tell me they could just loot clothes from WalMart and they’d be fine. As if WalMart has endless supplies without weekly deliveries.

So just last night a friend of mine was talking about who he’d round up in the event of a zombie apocalypse and how I’m his go-to farmer on account of I know how to keep an entire homestead up and running and we’re talking about what kind of resources I’d need to keep a colony of about 50-ish people alive and i bring up what all goes into processing wool for clothing and such and he just kind of stops me like ‘wait, wait, we don’t need to do all of that because we can scavenge for clothes we don’t need to be able to make them’ and i’m just like, ‘dude, that works in the short-term maybe but if this community is going to be sustainable you’ve gotta have people whose job it is to make clothes and blankets and shit’

also cloth rots pretty quickly when left exposed to the elements and after the first few years or so anything we manage to scavenge isn’t going to be wearable anymore and anywho we’ve got to teach the kids everything or they’re not gonna know what to do some decades down the line when everything’s too rusted or rotted out to be of any practical use anymore, etc etc, and he’s reckoning that things like woodworking and smithing and ranching are more important than say, cleaning or cooking or dairying and meanwhile i’m just smh may all the gods have mercy on this poor fool

He also balked when i brought up how to run a laundry and what all was needed to make everyday shit like soap and toothpaste – like dude, you think this is going to be all about hunting and scavenging and being neato manly-man drifters like in the walking dead let me teach you a thing about keeping a village alive and healthy for more than a week man most of it is shit you keep thinking is non-essential on account of it being “women’s work” or “simple chores” that’re actually pretty labor-intensive and take time, training, knowledge, and practice to do successfully, let alone well, and are 100% absolutely necessary work in order for you to have any reasonably good quality of life after the world ends

inkskinned:

at 13 we are already held responsible. if our shoulders show in school, we are sent home on behalf of the boys who are distracted. we grow up like this. by 16 it’s your fault if you wear the wrong skirt, drink too much, make a mistake, what did you think was going to happen. you are responsible for not screaming, for being too much of a tease, for trusting the wrong person. it’s your job to carry the baby to term, to mother it, to suffer for nine months for something someone else absolutely did. but you got yourself pregnant. 

but men. god, it must be nice. nothing sticks to you, does it. when men do terrible things, you shrug your shoulders i’m one of the good ones, though, not all of us are like this. and you can say that because men is a big broad term and it’s unfair to use a brush under which a whole gender might be painted. women are liars, though. women just want attention. women make it up and try to ruin lives and are hysterical and never think about the consequences of their harsh language. and you all can look at each other and know you’re one of the good ones, even if you’re just mediocre, because you don’t think you’ve ever, you know, done something that bad. and it’s fine you’re still friends with that guy you know did do something that bad, but you weren’t at the party she says he raped her at (but you remember his snapchat), but it’s not like you’re him, and besides, it was a year ago and everybody lived. and it’s not your fault, and it’s probably just a misunderstanding, and you’d never say something like “women are whores” but you’d smile, wouldn’t you, and you’d nod because it’s a joke, come on. and it’s a joke, come on.

and when it’s your fault – and god! is it ever? – there’s always an excuse. you were drunk a little bit too. you didn’t know better. you were too young, making a boyish mistake. you were too old, from a different generation, you only know how to treat women in that way. you were angry, you were just fooling around, you were a good guy, not like one of the bad ones, you know, the black men or the brown men or the muslim men or the real problems with this country, amen. you’re a good upstanding citizen, and what, are we going to ruin your life with this simple accusation? no, we’re not, because you aren’t any of those things (if you were, huh, you’d be dead, you’d be shot by a cop or dragged in the street or lynched or kicked out of housing or in jail for weed or a million other things). you’re just a good guy who is being lumped in with the others because women, women are vindictive.

you spend three beautiful months in jail. or one. or a week. or you’re told by a judge the official ruling is no sex until marriage. or buckle down next time and really try harder for your swim team. and this is heartbreaking, god, you cry next to your lawyer while you are found actually guilty with no time served. does she even know the kind of stress you are under. how sad you are. how dare she look at you and ask you to take responsibility. you’re not a monster.

but god forbid you have a uterus and don’t want something growing in it. the judge looks at you from over where he sits. you’re 17 and an immigrant. and you’re going to carry that baby to term because he thinks you’re old enough to have good judgement.

it’s your fault. your responsibility. well, you should have thought about it.

I dreamt an amazing two chapters to madness. They were heartfelt and really hot and Sherlock was massively pregnant and swimming in the ocean and it was lovely. Now I’m awake and there is a blank page in front of me I have no idea where it went. 

lines-and-edges:

autistic-luxray:

i’m

HERE

and i’m

QUEER

and

IT’S MUCH EASIER TO SAY I’M QUEER THAN TO LIST OUT MY ENTIRE FUCKING IDENTITY

Simple post, simple point, and it illustrates something about anti-queer discourse that I think many exclusionists are missing. Because… even if no complex microlabels existed, even if no one was demi-anything, it’s still less complicated to introduce yourself this way than to declare, for example, “I’m trans and also gay.”

People with multiple labels, even when those labels are included in an acronym, have to do additional emotional labor when the word ‘queer’ is banned.

(I don’t mean just formulating a slightly longer sentence; TERFs and transphobes also specifically hate being reminded that gay trans people exist, and so there’s additional vulnerability attached to that conversation.)

And not wanting to use the word for yourself is fine – but demanding extra work and vulnerability from marginalized people is not.