counter identity

On community fracturing

It seems like there’s two frameworks for what the queer community is and how it functions: the oppression model and the possibility model.

The oppression model says people are queer because they are oppressed for certain behaviors and that oppression takes a certain form. It says that the queer community was formed specifically to respond to a certain form of oppression. The activism in this model tends to focus on specific actions to benefit specific groups, which means that priorities must be made for who is prioritized over whom.

Under this model, you need receipts to prove that you belong. There is gatekeeping because the main function is to separate the oppressed from the oppressors and give the oppressed resources to fight the oppressors, as well as to provide spaces entirely free of out-group members. It empowers those who are best represented to act as gatekeepers, deciding who does and doesn’t belong. This provides what I am sure is a profound sense of safety to in-group members. It also means that those who cannot produce those receipts – including many gnc, m-spec, and a-spec people – are entirely excluded.

The possibility model says that people are queer because they embrace gender and interpersonal structures that run counter to the mainstream. Under this model, the boundaries of the community are nebulous and include people who aren’t necessarily directly harmed but who feel a disconnect and conflict between their internal sense of who they are and what society dictates as proper self-expression and behavior. 

Under this model, receipts are not required, just a sense that your personal identity runs counter to what the mainstream accepts and acknowledges. There is activism under this model, but the activism tends to focus on changing the culture to make room for all possibilities, not on championing for one specific group or another. Gatekeeping cannot coexist with this model, because of the nebulous and ever-changing nature of self-definition.

Clearly, I favor the latter model. But the point of this post isn’t to raise one above another. It’s to point out that the fracturing of the queer community seems to come down to which model an individual has accepted. Which is why arguments on one side often fall on deaf ears on the other side. We literally don’t want the same things.

I honestly don’t know how to bridge this divide, but I imagine it has to do with pulling back from these intra-community flights to figure out what we are actually trying to accomplish. If your goal is to make a safe place for lesbians, for example, it makes sense to exclude non-lesbians. And it may also make sense to define what a lesbian is, so that it is easier to make that determination. But if you’re looking to actually achieve cultural acceptance for non-straight individuals, I cannot understand how it benefits anyone to keep throwing different groups under the bus.

I’m trans. During the gay marriage fight, I was told time and time again that this had to come first, before the community addressed my issues. Well, we have gay marriage now. And what did it do for the trans community? It redirected queerphobes’ energy onto us, in the form of bathroom bills. Conservatives know they can’t challenge gay marriage anymore, so they’re going after more vulnerable parts of the community.

Except that these groups hate all queer people, not just trans people. And when gay people tacitly allow the rest of the community to be demonized, that is creating space to maintain hatred for the whole community. Because queerphobes don’t care how someone identifies. They hate anyone that is non-straight. So saying that it’s ok to hate certain parts of the community is really just maintaining hatred for the whole of the community.

So what are you trying to accomplish? A temporary sense of safety that only encompasses those who can and will provide receipts for others – information nobody should ever have to divulge – or a true cultural change that will make the world safer for everyone, not just those who belong to the in-group?

This is an important time. We need to come together to push for full equality – and maybe it’s just me, but I don’t know how we can do that when we’re still distracted by who is and is not allowed to belong.

Because I’ve known a lot of straight people. Even some who could claim queerness if they wanted to. But guess what? People don’t do that. Maybe online, because you can be anyone online, but not in the real world. Who is going to increase their chances of death if they don’t have to?

So maybe we can shift our energy from hypothetical out-group members infiltrating our groups – as if allies weren’t allowed anyway – and focus on, you know, not dying.

[ And no, I will not stop using “queer”. I’ve been using it for two decades without issue and I’m not going to stop just because it’s suddenly considered a slur. If you don’t like that word, there are many many extensions out there to prevent you from ever seeing it. ]

MariChat May Days 26, 27, & 29: The Stray, Baking, and The Argument.

I’m back, guys!  And playing catch up.  I managed to incorporate three prompts into this one update, so woohoo for that!

For anyone who is curious, my grandmother passed late Friday night, and I spent the weekend with my family.  I am grieving her loss, but I am relieved that she’s at peace now.  I am dedicating this chapter to her, she who loved to cook and bake and care for the people around her.



“Now, we just have to wait for them to bake.”  Marinette set the timer on the stove with a flourish, and turned to see Chat Noir regarding her with interest.  “It’ll only take about 8 minutes, so I’m going to get started on clean up.”

“Only 8 minutes, really?”

“Well, it depends on the recipe,” she shrugged, beginning to run hot water into the sink.  “But cookies don’t usually take very long.”

“Huh.”  He shifted his gaze to the oven.  “I never knew that there was so much chemistry in baking.”

“Do you want to watch?”

He looked surprised.  “Can I?”

Smiling, she dried her hands and crossed back to the oven, flipping a switch on the panel to turn on the oven light and giggling at the delight on his face as he crouched in front of the oven.  She went back to the sink, and began washing up the bowls and measuring spoons they’d dirtied. “I guess it is kind of cool, the way all of the different ingredients come together.  Tweaking the quantity of one thing, or changing the temperature of another, or even the order in which things are added can really change the way the cookies turn out.”

Chat nodded, watching in rapt fascination as the cookies puffed up in the oven.  “It’s really just chemistry.”  Marinette giggled again, and he looked back at her in confusion.  “What’s so funny?”

“You.  You’re such a dork.”

He stood, looking highly offended.  “Excuse me, I am a nerd, thank you very much!”

“Dork.”  She nodded decisively, hands still in the soapy water.  “Definitely a dork.”

“No, I am an anime-watching, video-game-playing, science-loving nerd.”  He crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.”  Marinette placed the last bowl on the drying rack, and toweled off her hands, leaning into the corner by the sink.   “Because these cookies are only for dorks.”

Chat sputtered.  “But I helped make those!”

“Sorry, we’ve got a strict ‘dorks only’ policy when it comes to stray cats.”  She shrugged helplessly.  “House rules.”

“I see.”  He wandered over to lean thoughtfully against the counter next to her, and smiled shyly.  “What if I wasn’t a stray cat anymore?  I could be a lost boy, instead.”

She straightened in surprise, and darted a nervous glance at her parents, who were engrossed with the TV in the living room.  “But, my parents, they don’t know—”

“Yes we do, dear,” Sabine chimed in without taking her eyes from the screen, and both teens whirled in shock.  “We’ve just been waiting for him to be ready to share it with us himself.”

“What??”  Marinette shrieked.

“I—er, what?”  stammered a flustered Chat Noir at the same time.  “You know who I am?”

“Of course, Adrien.”  Tom paused the TV with a chuckle at their flabbergasted expressions, and Sabine flashed him a grateful smile.  “We figured it out the night that you tried to make hot cocoa for Marinette.”

The oven timer began to beep, but it didn’t seem to register for either of them.  They just stood at the counter with identical expressions of shock.

Sabine smiled knowingly, and gestured for Tom to un-pause their movie.  “Marinette dear, your cookies are going to burn.”

Marinette shrieked again, and ran for the oven mitts.

Never Home (or How Lila Rossi Tased Chat Noir)

A (somewhat) late addition for Week 2 of TOTLS Month. Balcony scenes may not be canon (yet) but here’s a Lilanoir remix of a Marichat staple!


From the moment Lila step foot into her apartment, she knew that she wasn’t alone.

This was largely because she had come home to an empty apartment every day for the last several months, and having grown so used to the empty feeling associated with it, she knew something was just a little off. There was an indescribable presence lingering in the air as she made her way into the kitchen, setting a bag of groceries down and reaching for the small, electric taser she kept in her purse at all times. Her parents would have never let her live alone without protection, and though she had never had the opportunity to use it, she had seen enough horror movies at one in the morning to know how to turn it on whenever the floorboards creaked awkwardly.

Powering the taser on, she made a great show of pretending to be oblivious to the intruder’s presence, stretching lazily as she turned on an Italian news station and made her way from room to room, making a quiet sweep of the small apartment as she went. Humming a tune under her breath, she made sure the bathroom and her wardrobe room were clear before heading into her bedroom, stepping out onto the balcony and breathing in the cool evening air.

After a moment, she turned around, heading back inside with a small sigh, about to slip out of her school clothes when a pair of glowing green eyes caught her attention.

The intruder froze, hand clutched around a can of water that was trickling into the potted plant next to Lila’s desk. It was too dark to see anything but the intruder’s eyes, and Lila wasn’t exactly in the mood to give strange men in her home the benefit of the doubt. As the bandit opened his mouth to say something, Lila’s survival instinct kicked in, prompting her to lunge at the assailant, taser crackling as she launched herself at the intruder like jungle cat. The man dropped the watering can with a clanging splash as Lila threw him to the ground, taser pressed against his neck as she realized she had just threw one of Paris’ resident superheroes to the floor of her apartment.

And not even the one she didn’t like.

“What…the hell are you doing here?!” Lila spluttered.

“Your…fichus…was…dying,” Chat panted.

Keep reading

Drabble: Two Pink Lines

You and Chris Evans, your significant other, sit side by side on the floor of your master bathroom listening to a kitchen timer tick away the seconds.

You’ve suspected, for a couple days, that you might be pregnant, but you didn’t want to take a test until Chris could be there with you. He finally got back from his promo tour last night, but you waited until this morning to tell him your suspicions.

He had waited in the bedroom for you to take the tests, but then had come into the bathroom when you’d started the timer.

1 minute down. 2 to go.

The wait is nerve wrecking for both of you as you sit there. You both desperately want kids and you’ve been trying to get pregnant without officially “trying to get pregnant”. That’s changing now that is contract with Marvel is up. He has several movies coming out this year, but knocking you up is the only job he says he is signing up for.

2 minutes down. 1 to go.

Dread fills your stomach. What if you aren’t pregnant?

As if sensing your fear, Chris squeezes your hand three times, a wordless way of telling you he loves you.

You were up front with him when you met and fell in love that your mom and sister had difficulties getting pregnant, but that didn’t change his mind about you. Becoming a dad was important to him, but he insisted that the manner in which he becomes a dad (naturally, sergeancy, or adoption) doesn’t matter to him.

The timer’s shrill bell rings through the otherwise silent room.

“Get up and look,” he says.

“I can’t. You do it.”

This goes on for another minute or so, before he says, “We’ll both do it. Close your eyes and stand up. We’ll count to three and then open our eyes.”

You nod and close your eyes before standing up. You face the counter where the identical pregnancy tests sit.

“One,” Chris says, after getting up.

“Two,” you echo.

There is a pause, but Chris finally says, “Three.”

You peek through one eye to make sure he opened his eyes and find him peeking at you through one eye.

Laughing, you both open your eyes and turn your gaze in unison to the counter top. A gasp rips through the bathroom as your eyes see a pair of pink lines on not one, but both of the tests.

Tears spring to your eyes as you turn and bury your face in Chris’s chest. You can hear him crying as his strong arms hold you close.

When the sniffling and the tears stop for both of you, you pull out of his embrace at smile at him. “We’re having a baby!” you say in a whisper.

With tears threatening to spill out of his eyes again, he nods his head. His eyes drop to your stomach and his hands soon follow. After pushing your shirt up, he runs his hands over the currently flattish skin under which your baby is developing.

A random thought

This could easily be meaningless, but I thought I’d throw it out anyway since I haven’t seen anyone else mention it. If nothing else, maybe it’ll spawn some interesting fan theories.

I’ve seen various posts from other fandoms talking about how a lot of times in fiction a person wearing gloves means they have something to hide. That may not necessarily be true in all fictional series, but it is interesting.

So we all make fun of know that Keith wears fingerless gloves. And then as of season 2, it is confirmed that Keith is half-Galra. He, of course, was completely unaware of it until he started noticing little clues and then finally, the big reveal.

And then we have Shiro. If you look closely, he wears fingerless gloves too. And he has that missing year when he was a prisoner of the Galra. He (and by extension, us) has been getting little flashes of what all happened, but there is still a lot that we don’t know.

But who else wears fingerless gloves?

(Counter-point could be that Pidge does not wear gloves of any kind and she was hiding her identity, but counter-counter-points, 1) whether she goes by Pidge Gunderson or Katie Holt doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on the plot, and 2) She was/is aware of her secret whereas Shiro and Keith are/were not aware of their secrets.)

For You

Wonwoo is one of my svt biases omg
-Admin A

Originally posted by jeonswonwu

You yawned as you glanced at the clock, it was late and your eyes kept trying to close by themselves and it took everything you had just to stay awake. You took a cold shower, exercised, even slapped yourself in the face a few times, anything to keep you from falling asleep before Wonwoo got here. You downed your third shot of coffee in the last hour as a knock sounded at your door and you all but ran to open it, launching yourself into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Took you long enough!” you exclaimed and he laughed as he caught you against his chest. Wonwoo held onto your waist, walking you backwards back into your apartment so he could close the door behind him.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me, Jagi. You look tired,” Wonwoo smiled down at you as he lightly pushed you down onto the couch, sitting beside you.

“You said you had something for me?” you fidgeted in his arms, “what is it?”

“You’ve had too much coffee,” he sighed, frowning as you bounced up and down on the couch, “It’s bad to drink coffee this late, Y/N,”

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “gimme the goods” you reached for his gym bag and he pulled it out of your reach.

“I don’t have anything for you,” he laughed at your pouted expression, reaching out to smooth his thumb across the worry lines on your forehead.

“Don’t lie to me,” you protested but he was already pulling something out of the bag, placing it on your lap. You ran your hands over the top, it was a soft light blue fabric, and you unfolded it to find it was one of Wonwoo’s sweaters.

“You’re giving me your sweater?” you raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he countered, pulling an identical, though slightly faded, sweater from his bag, “I’m giving you your sweater,”

You grinned at him, pulling the soft fabric of your head. It smelled like Wonwoo, and you turned to smile sheepishly at him.

“I may have worn it for a while,” he blushed and you hugged him, pushing him backwards so he was lying down on your couch. You wrapped your arms around his neck, settling in beside him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sighing as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt Wonwoo chuckle below you.

“Jagi, I smell can I go shower,”

“Shh, I’m sleeping,” you whispered and Wonwoo sighed.

You kind of liked the way he smelled anyway.

Ficlet “Clarification”

Note: Prompted by  @grgiapeach‘s post here.

Summary: Post “Knots Untie.”  It bothers the F outta me that we don’t get to see Michonne and Carl together.  But I do think there will be a flashback of somekind in the season finale.  In short, here’s a fill in the blank.  Rick and Michonne bring boxes of groceries into their house…

“Carl,” Rick greeted with a nod of his head.  “Where’s Judith?” he asked, setting a box down on the counter.  Michonne placed an identical one next to his, and began to unpack jarred goods.

“She’s taking a nap,” Carl replied, watching both of them carefully.  “We have groceries now?”

“Yep.  Vegetables, seeds, and even a cow.  Well, the cow’s coming,” Rick explained.  Michonne took a jar from his hand, giving him a small smile.

“Rick, why don’t you go upstairs to shower and change.”

“What?”  Rick looked down to where her eyes had traveled–there were still blood stains on his shirt and coat.  “Oh yeah.  I’ll be back in a bit.”  He gave her hand a squeeze, smiling at her, lingering for a bit, then headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Michonne alone with Carl.

“You gonna help me with these groceries or not?” Michonne asked, turning her back to him, resuming what she was doing.  Though he didn’t answer, Carl walked over next to her, taking items out of the box.

“So…you’re not avoiding me,” he said, putting a big jar of pickles in the cupboard.

“Why would I do that?” Michonne replied, though she didn’t make any eye contact with him.

Carl sighed.  “Michonne, you haven’t looked at me once since this morning in the hallway.”

Slowly, Michonne turned to him, and looked at him straight on, unwavering, chin held high.  Then she wavered, looking away again, leaning heavily against the back counter.  “I just…That wasn’t the plan.”

“What was the plan?” he asked, a joking tone coloring his voice.

Michonne shrugged.  “I don’t know what the plan was, but it wasn’t that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Carl–”

“No, really.  When I asked Jesus what he was doing, he said he was waiting for my mom and dad to get dressed.”

Michonne, visibly embarrassed, turned away from him.  Carl stepped in front of her, making her look at him.

“It didn’t jar me–not him referring to you as my mom. The getting dressed thing was confusing, but only for like five seconds.  Honestly, I thought, ‘About time.’”

Michonne looked at him, curious.  “You did?”

“Well, yeah.  You guys have always…I don’t know.  I just wasn’t surprised.  And, it felt right.  I mean, this is…it’s not temporary, right?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Michonne said, shaking her head.  “I…we…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Carl said with a nod, satisfied, resuming putting the items away.  Then he added, “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“Oh?” Michonne said lightly.  “Figure out what?”

Carl gave a casual shrug.  “That you’re a Grimes, too.”

Being Black—but Not Too Black—in the Workplace

Being a person of color at a predominantly white workplace creates its own special kinds of stress. 

To be a black professional is often to be alone. Most black doctors, lawyers, journalists, and so on—those in white-collar positions that require specialized training and credentialing—work in environments where they are in the racial minorityThis comes with challenges. Beyond outright discrimination, which many still face, there are psychological costs to being one of just a few black faces in a predominantly white environment. In a study of black professional workers in a number of different occupations, I found that these employees worked to carefully manage their emotions in ways that reflected the racial landscapes they inhabited.

In particular, black professionals had to be very careful to show feelings of conviviality and pleasantness, even—especially—in response to racial issues. They felt that emotions of anger, frustration, and annoyance were discouraged, even when they worked in settings where these emotions were generally welcomed in certain contexts—think litigators interacting with opposing counsel, or financial analysts responding to a stressful day on Wall Street. Interestingly, this often played out at trainings meant to encourage racial sensitivity. Many of the black professionals I interviewed found that diversity trainings—intended to improve the work environment for minorities—actually became a source of emotional stress, as they perceived that their white colleagues could use these trainings to express negative emotions about people of color, but that they were expected not to disclose their own honest emotional reactions to such statements.


One of the most interesting recent contributions to this area of research comes from legal scholars Mitu Gulati and Devon Carbado. In their book Working Identity, they argue that while everyone needs to create and put forth an “appropriate” workplace identity, for members of minority groups—women of all races, racial-minority men, LGBTQ people—this becomes particularly taxing because their working identities must counter common cultural stereotypes. For example, black men may feel compelled to work longer hours as a way to repudiate stereotypes of a poor work ethic among blacks. To make matters more complicated, such strategies can backfire, reinforcing other stereotypes: Working those long hours may lead colleagues to assume that the workers lack the intellectual preparation needed for high-status professional jobs.

Carbado and Gulati also note that minority professionals tread cautiously to avoid upsetting the majority group’s sensibilities. Put simply, they can be visibly black, but don’t want to be perceived as stereotypically black. As Carbado and Gulati write, a black female candidate for a law firm who chemically straightens her hair, is in a nuclear family structure, and resides in a predominantly white neighborhood signals a fealty to (often unspoken) racial norms. She does so in a way that an equally qualified black woman candidate who wears dreadlocks, has a history of pushing for racial change in the legal field, is a single mother, and lives in the inner city does not.


The same is true for professional workers who are members of other racial minority groups. For instance, Latina attorneys may be able to advance further at work if they take pains not to speak with any trace of an accent. These are challenges in addition to the more well-known ones—the difficulties finding mentors of the same race, coping with racial stereotypes, being treated as a representative for one’s entire racial group.

So what does this mean for black workers in professional environments? First, it’s indicative of the degree to which race shapes occupational outcomes. In many circles, people feel more comfortable reducing racial issues to class-based ones, assuming that poverty explains much, if not all, of the differences between minorities and whites.

But for blacks in professional positions, issues of poverty are not the problem. Poverty does not explain biases in hiring, the need for particular types of emotional management, and the careful self-presentation that minority professionals engage in at work.

Second, all of this ought to encourage a rethinking of some of the existing efforts to create more diverse work environments. Do diversity and inclusion initiatives take into consideration how minorities placed in those environments feel? How can policies create not just more equitable hiring processes, but address the emotional toll of being a racial minority in a professional work setting?

In the current political climate, there is generally support for solving race-related employment challenges by focusing on job training and education—in other words, increasing human capital to improve access. Given the research, it’s also important to consider how to create better workplaces for the minority professionals who are already in these jobs.  


Source:TheAtlantic


American Eagle cartridge counter Luger

Only 50 produced. extremely rare 1902 DWM Luger that has been fitted with the unique “Powell Indicating Device”, commonly called a “Cartridge Counter” on the left side of the grip. Produced on order from the U.S. Board of Ordnance circa 1902-1903, the Cartridge Counter model is nearly identical to the 1900 Model Test Luger, with the addition of the Powell Device, which consisted of a magazine configured to have a cutout and guide screw extending through the left side, and a 3 ¼" long slot in the left grip, aligned to match the magazine, with a guide numbered one through seven and a celluloid window to protect the internals. The screw, connected to the magazine follower, rests at the “7” position when loaded, advancing upward with the follower as rounds are discharged, permitting the soldier to determine his remaining rounds by merely looking at the grip. 

notveryproductive  asked:

I was mildly surprised but mostly just dismayed to find many anti-LGBT comments on the Crash Course Psychology lesson about sex being thumbed up to the top. Would you be interested in doing a sort of follow-up on the subjects of sexual orientation and gender identity, to counter accusations that you guys put forward baseless arguments?

It isn’t a case of them being thumbed to the top, it’s YouTube promoting them because they have caused a discussion and YouTube likes discussions (this is an algorithmic failing that I am not fan of.)

You can only thumb up a YouTube comment, not thumb it down. We all know that there are bigots in the world, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that some of them leave comments about how homosexuality is a disease or whatever bullshit they’re spewing these days. And it also shouldn’t be a surprise that a few people come along and agree. Those people exist, we shouldn’t pretend they don’t exist. 

Of course, by promoting the comments that cause discussions, and not allowing people to vote comments down, they’re giving undue air-time to controversy rather than validity. If you look, the first reply to every one of those comments is a rebuttal, and each one of those has five or ten times more upvotes than the original comment.

I don’t think a follow-up is necessary, I think we said exactly what we intended to say in that episode, and it’s being received well by the vast majority of people. The rest of them well…it’s more about their identity and their worldview than it is about reality, and that’s not the kind of discussion we have at CrashCourse.

youtube

Don’t know why but I’m hooked to both the op and the song..

See, the thing about this is that [East Asian] fetishists aren’t interested at all in knowing about Asians, and that can’t be made more obvious by the fact that they’re 100% happy to ignore or rigorously defend themselves against Asians who tell them to stop. All their supposed respect goes right out the window as soon as we demand agency over how our cultures and histories are treated a.k.a. as soon as we become real human beings instead of objects for them to use as ornaments to decorate their houses or feed some self-gratifying ideal of counter-cultural identity.
—  qyn (broratio)