haircut one

anonymous asked:

I honestly love your metas so much, they're always so well written and thought out without dragging on (plus they give me hope for some of my favourite characters *cough* Mutsuki *cough*), you deserve more recognition for them, you're honestly one of my favourite TG blogs

Originally posted by myspaceglitter

Seriously, thank you (everyone’s being so nice today I love you all!) I try not to ramble but I do fall into that sometimes, I confess. But hooray meeting another Mucchanko fan! I think there’s plenty of hope for Rank One Mushroom Haircut. I worry sometimes but if I think logically/narratively, I’m really not worried. 

Choose your stylist: Jojo edition

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when you are standing in the middle of the crowd at a concert for the band you love the most, and you feel the drum beat vibrate under your feet and through your body, and it feels like the drum beat is your heart beat… that is you. you are alive. you are there, and you are what you listen to. the beat of the drum is truly the beat of your heart. WE live for the MUSIC.

I think we need to talk about what “Bodily Autonomy” means.

 You see this phrase thrown around a lot, especially in the abortion debate, but I think a lot of people don’t really understand what it means. 

Bodily Autonomy, sometimes called Bodily Integrity, is the idea that a person has an inviolable right to determine what happens to their physical body, and that a violation of a person’s consent in matters concerning their own body is unethical, immoral, and possibly criminal. 

This does not mean “you are allowed to do whatever you want.” It isn’t comparable to property rights or taxation or laws regarding public health that impact whole communities. 

What it does mean is that your body should always be under your control. You can chose or deny what things involving your physical body are at stake. Some examples:

  • You can choose to donate your organs but, No one can steal your organs 
  • You can choose to get a haircut, but no one should chop off your hair without permission. 
  • You can choose to get a tattoo, but no one should hold you down and forcibly tattoo anything onto you. 
  • You can choose to have sex with another consenting person, but no one should sexually violate you. 
  • Doctors should ask permission from you (or someone you have given permission to speak on your behalf) before administering drugs or treatments 
    • This previous point is important in many capacities, but one very relevant on to reproductive rights is that doctors should ask and respect choice made regarding birth- whether to have a c-section, whether to have an epidural, etc.  
  • Infants should not undergo circumcision, as they are unable to consent. (If adults want to undergo circumcision for whatever reason, they can do so.) 
  • You should not be forced to give blood for any reason (including donation to save another person, OR for drug testing. These actions may be volunteered, but should not be mandatory) 
  • Intersex infants should not be subjected to genital surgery unless there is a pressing health need (such as a blocked urinary tract or exposed internal organs) at which point, the parents need to be consulted. 
  •   And YES, a person should not be forced to carry a pregnancy to term if they do not want to, no matter how they became pregnant in the first place. 

And the list goes on. We have to start with the understanding that in matters concerning the physical body, you should be the final authority, and you should always be given the information, resources, and opportunity to make the best possible choice for yourself. 

How Dan and Phil probably broke up #33
  • Phil: ChiCKEn

so there’s a story from my life that i think a lot of inclusionists would benefit from hearing.

this story starts about four years ago, when fifteen year old me still thought i was bi and knew fervently as hell that I Am Trans. i had a terrible, terrible shoulder length haircut, and i decided one day i was going to go to my school’s gsa meeting.

now at this point i’m out to one person in the whole world, and i’m fucking shaking as i walk into this shitty public school classroom that hasn’t changed pretty much at all since like 1962. that first time, i sat on a desk in the back row shaking like a leaf and didn’t say a word to anyone.

but that year, our gsa’s president was aj, who was nonbinary and awesome, and they smiled at me and wore batman boxers and went to glsen meetings in the city on the weekend, and slowly i learned that not only could it be ok to be trans, it could be amazing.

but that is not the point of this story.

the point of this story is that that year, i felt safe. there were gay adults there who made sure we were all safe, and other gay kids who had fought tooth and nail and carved out this club from the highschool that didn’t want to give it to them. sure, there were one or two straight kids, but it didn’t matter, and they sure as hell were never excluded. they didn’t feel the need to take up extra space, or make sure everyone knew they were Straight. they were there because their friends were there, or they really believed in the cause, even if it was just giving a group of suburban gay kids a safe room.

and much like the exclusionist/inclusionist discourse, there was never a concentrated effort on either part to other each other- until there absolutely was.

my junior year, our gsa president was a cishet guy. in case anyone i know reads this, i’ll call him harry. harry was a great guy, and he really believed in lgbt rights. he shouldn’t have been president, though. because once we made the “face” of the lgbt movement in our school a straight guy, it suddenly became cool to come to gsa meetings if you were a straight kid. and believe me, you knew who was gay and who wasn’t when you walked in that room.

the straight kids would stumble in in packs of four or five, and always sit by the window, eating most of the food and laughing and whispering to themselves. they talked over us, and when i (one of the two vice presidents) ran the meetings, you could feel the giant question mark in the air. more than once, i had people misgender me, flounder about with their hands even though i had already told everyone my pronouns, and on one memorable occasion, had someone actually ARGUE with me when i said i used he/him. in the gsa. the one club in the entire school for lgbt kids. someone told me i was straight up wrong- that i wasn’t a guy.

and of course, it would be disingenuous to not talk about my own bully joining the gsa. joining maybe isn’t the word- he was there before me, and left before i joined- but he came back. he was pretty much the one kid who was the face of gay people in our school, and he was a terrible face to have. he leered at guys in the changing rooms, and watched rupaul like a religion. he was transphobic and thought being a drag queen made you trans. he thought being bi was fake, and was loud and open and vocal about all those things. he also made sure that if we were talking about trans news, everyone knew that he ‘didn’t blame that woman for freaking out that there was a trans woman in her gym’s changing rooms, because after all, trans women are just bad drag queens.’ or that 'lesbians really didn’t matter, because no one really cared about them.’ that made a difference in the tone of the room.

(edit: i rewrote this paragraph because it originally sounded homophobic. that wasn’t my intention, and i’m very sorry about that. to be clear, i am a gay trans man, but obviously that doesn’t excuse me from having to think clearly about the way i represent other gay men in my posts.)

walking into that room became more stressful then almost anything i did. i had two eating disorders, worked 25 hours a week, organized our club fundraiser, did tech and acting, and had to deal with my abuser all weekend, and walking into that room was the one thing that made my shoulders hunch in on themselves.

because in that room, everyone knew i was trans, and nearly everyone either thought i was wrong, or thought that was a fun party trick. you can imagine how welcoming it felt for 14 or 15 year old lgbt kids.

slowly, the actual gay kids left, including one of the co-presidents. she was a lesbian of color in a school of almost all white straight kids. in what should have been the one place in school where she could talk about that, she instead had to bottle it up and trade it in for leaving and never talking about it.

the next year, it was even worse. the president was cishet; the vice president was cishet. the cool gay adults who had cared about us and tried so hard to make us safe had hung up the towel, and instead two cishet teachers sat in with us. one of them refused to allow any gay interpretations of her curriculum, and actually gave one of my friends a bad grade on a paper because she argued there were gay undertones in a seperate peace. the other thought that my bully’s jokes about mexican people clamoring to marry americans at the airports (a joke that left my friend in tears when they heard it) was hilarious. the room was full of straight people. occasionally, a few of my friends would come with me, but mostly we would leave early. the cishet freshmen got into fights with the lgbt freshmen, and the lgbt freshmen stopped coming.

it took less than three years for a safe space to become an almost all straight club, all of them piling into a room to laugh at the racist gay kid’s jokes, or to gawk at the rest of us.

some of you might say “that was a small highschool club,” and you’re right!

but this isn’t a small problem.

when you let cishet people into the lgbt community as anything other than staunch, serious allies, you start taking away lgbt people’s voices. and we’ve seen this already. cishet aces got representation at pride this year, while lgbt poc couldn’t talk about how they’re being abused, assaulted and murdered at higher rates than any other part of our community. online, tumblr posted pictures of the ace flag, but excluded the lesbian flag.

i understand that you think you really do belong in our community, but you don’t. you deserve your own community, where you feel safe. where you don’t have to argue with us, where you can talk about the issues you face. but that isn’t with us, clearly.

and taking away our voices isn’t going to make yours any louder.

peter’s daddy’s name is tony.

he’s the one peter goes to first when he’s feeling sick or upset or tired, because daddy has the best hugs and he knows just exactly how to stroke peter’s hair and rock him, and his neck is nice and soft and safe and smells like daddy.

papa is awesome too though. papa’s name is steve, and he also gives really good hugs, and he’s really, really big and strong and he can pick up daddy and peter both at the same time and hold them. he keeps them all safe.

papa is the one who plays catch and baseball and things with peter while daddy watches and does stuff on his tablet. papa always leans down to get a kiss from daddy before they start playing, for luck, and peter gets one from daddy too, on the top of his head. ‘have fun, pudding,’ daddy says - that’s his special name for peter.

peter’s too small for the big bat, but papa has a little one just for him, and he shows peter how to hold it and sometimes peter even manages to hit the ball. when he gets tired of the game, papa swoops him up to sit on his shoulder, and brings him back to daddy.

peter jumps into daddy’s lap and puts his arms round daddy’s neck, and daddy laughs his nice soft laugh that peter likes, and puts his tablet down, cuddling peter into his shoulder. he smells nice, clean and comforting. ‘tired, bunny?’ he says.

‘mm,’ peter yawns. ‘hungry.’

‘let’s go find some lunch for you two, then,’ daddy says, and he’s smiling a gentle smile up at papa.

papa’s face is open and happy and he puts an arm round daddy’s shoulders. daddy leans back against papa’s tummy, looking up at him upside down. ‘hey there, soldier mine,’ he says to papa, and papa bends down and kisses daddy’s nose.

‘hey, sweetheart,’ he says softly, and daddy reaches for papa’s hand and holds it against his face for a moment.

peter sighs contentedly and presses his nose into daddy’s neck, smelling his nice warm smell. papa’s hand comes down to smooth gently over his hair, and daddy holds peter close, and everything’s safe and good.

(because peter has the best family ever.)

~

(more ficlets under the ‘stevetony ficlet’ tag on my blog)