invisible identities

  • Queer people: So since a lot of us identify as queer, we're going to create a separate community of just people who identify as queer.
  • Queer people: Could you please not call our identity a slur? There is nothing wrong with how we identify ourselves. We're aware that some people don't feel comfortable with this label, but as we've reclaimed it and identify with it, it's hurtful to refer to our identities in such an extreme derogatory way.
  • Queer people: Telling kids about invisible identities helps them better understand themselves and others. Also, it's 100% okay to be vague, unsure, or even hyper-specific.
  • Queer people: Some of us believe that MOGAI is a better and more inclusive acronym, which is much easier to say and type than a fluctuating set of letters.
  • Queer people: I know you enjoy representation, but could these few canon bi/pan/ace/poly(am) characters please not have their various attractions be erased? Also, would you mind letting us headcanon more ambiguous characters as less visible orientations?

anonymous asked:

What might cause an unconscious bias?/ what would you regard as likely causes of an unconscious bias being formed?

There are many possible causes of unconscious bias:  Cultural influences, influences from society, media images (who we see and do not see on screen, television, invisibility of certain identities and experiences,  etc.) societal influences, influences from others.  We know that these biases can also be exacerbated by stress, time constraints, etc.   Our brain’s processes help us make sense of the world, and sometimes the ways in which we might put things into categories, or determine value, can be impacted by our unconscious biases.  Here is an interesting podcast that talks about this.

One theory is that biases are built on the way neurons fire in our brains.  From birth we are constantly bombarded with images and associated words.  For example, when we are told we are looking at a “chief of police” (whether on tv, in ads, at school, in real life, based on what our friends and family say), that person is often male.  Hence, the pathway in our brains between “chief of police” and a picture of a man become more frequently traveled.  This means the next time we hear “chief of police”, our neurons will follow the path that has been followed most frequently in the past and we’ll unconsciously think “man”.

On this point - I took the implicit association test and it said I am biased against women in science.  How can that be?  I AM a woman in science.  Then I thought about it.  In undergrad I was one of 22% women.  In grad school I was one of 18% women.  In cyber security I was one of 12% women.  As a technology CEO I am one of 3% women.  Of course, the neurons in my brain said “scientific environment = lots of men” - because that was what I had lived!  That doesn’t mean I think women can’t or shouldn’t be in science careers, but it means my mind goes to men when it thinks of who is more frequently in science.

The Promise

Summary: Moving is always sad when you leave things behind. When you have to leave Beacon Hills, you’re more than demolished. You force yourself to forget to be able to move on, but you regret forgetting the day you come back to town, years after your departure. What did you forget? And why does it seem so important for Scott?

Word count: 2070

Requested? Yes, by @5sospoplikerock

Pairing: Reader x Scott

A/N: Wow this took long. Sorry for the wait! I hope you like it! Thanks to @maddie110201 who helped me with this story as well!!

Forever tag list: @rosecoloredshawn @multilovee (you can still ask to be in this tag list!)

“Promise me!” You asked, crying, your little fist constantly wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“I promise you, one day I’ll marry you, Y/N.” His voice rang against your ear. You can’t help the little laugh that escaped your mouth.

“I’ll come back. I’ll come back, I swear, I promise, Scott, I’ll come back and make you hold your promise.”

“I can’t wait. I miss you already,” Scott mumbled, passing his hand on your soaked cheek and then on your ear to replace a lock of hair behind it.

And then, even if you two were young, you knew what to do. You mouth already closed as you keep getting closer until your lips collided gently for a deep and painful goodbye kiss. You didn’t know if you were going to see him again.

But you made a promise. And he made one too.

It’s been years. Years since you left, left Beacon Hills behind because your parents had to move for work. You had been so sad, demolished, cried for weeks over this city, all your friends, and especially him, your best friend. Scott. You had missed him so much, especially at the beginning. His absence was worse than a hole in your chest; you had so much trouble making new friends. But you had succeeded, over time.

And now, 18 years old, your parents were moving again.

To Beacon Hills.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I know you had a post about LGBT Slytherins so do you have any specific headcanons about how the other Slytherins react when a fellow Slytherin comes out as nonbinary?

They do the only rational thing, of course. They ask the house elves to make a cake in the NB colours.

The Slytherins have a third dorm room for all the non-binary Slytherins, and the sign on the door says ‘THEY/THEM’.

A particularly intelligent 7th year worked out a charm that the correct pronouns will appear over someones head if you accidentally misgender them. (No one purposefully misgenders because if anyone knows what it’s like to feel invisible due to their identity and something they can’t do anything about, its us)

They use whichever bathroom they want, of course.

During notorious Slytherin girls vs boys prank wars, they are the ultimate weapon. Not only can they choose which side they want to be on, but they are also double-spies, as well as being able to enter the opposition’s bathroom, meaning no place is sacred anymore.
Hey, Young Queer Women, Baby Boomer Lesbians Are Not the Enemy

Dyke Culture and the Disappearing L

By Bonnie J. Morris

My generation of lesbian activists, who honed our identity politics and confronted racism and classism in the spaces of women’s music events and women’s bookstores, are approaching a cultural expiration date. Having achieved many of the radical goals we pursued through the late 20th century—same-sex marriage, antidiscrimination laws, openly lesbian celebrities and politicians—we are indeed celebrating new opportunities to be out and proud. Yet having been permitted to be “out,” many of us are now spending the energy of our menopausal years pushing back against encroaching disappearance; our own invisibility. Dyke identity, that specific nomenclature of the fierce woman-identified woman, has been replaced by the more inclusive queer, as a new era of thoughtful LGBT activists proclaim their disidentification with the categories woman and lesbian.

The recent, ongoing interrogation of those categories in academic theory and cyberactivism clashes with concurrent efforts to preserve, as historically meaningful and valuable, the past 40 years of lesbian cultural spaces. Yet making peace with the radical separatist past is an important historical step for those charting the progression of LGBT visibility, rights, and power. The present impasse, in the LGBT movement, is over how to frame lesbians’ successful construction of an autonomous subculture that was not G, that was not T, but L.

My concern is that as we advance further into the 21st century, we are witnessing the almost flippant dismissal of recent, late 20th-century lesbian culture, particularly the loss of physical sites such as women’s bookstores and women’s music festivals and their material legacies (books, journals, albums, tapes, magazine interviews with artists). This was a specific performance culture: a movement through which fresh ideas about woman-loving were transmitted via song, speech, and the written word and marketed to a like-minded audience at quasi-public but distinctively lesbian-feminist spaces. At its peak, lesbian performance culture in the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s was every bit as unique as gay male drag, punk rock, Seattle grunge, and other genres, particularly because it put a new face on the tradition of grassroots American folk. However, because most women’s music recording artists earned very little money, and not only neglected but rejected commercial male approval and participation, their contributions are difficult to place on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame timeline.

Despite so many gains in LGBT rights, sexism and sex discrimination have not been vanquished, and scholarly support for examining women’s lives and communities remains contested. The traditional academic canon, with its focus on male achievement and leadership, embeds many contributions by gay men through the ages, whereas lesbians have had barely a generation and a half of scholarly scrutiny (corresponding to how recently women were allowed to attend college at all). Although women’s studies programs have always been charged with pushing a lesbian agenda, or just being controlled by man-hating lesbians, this was never true and is even less true now. In fact, as women’s studies programs expand to attract male and trans-identifying faculty and students, many administrators are backing away from the word women altogether, striving for inclusion by renaming departments gender studies.

Although various woman-identified, lesbian separatist platforms and events that characterized a self-proclaimed dyke subculture throughout the 1970s–’90s still exist, they aren’t yet popular subjects of historical inquiry. Instead, these remaining activists and institutions have become popular subjects of criticism and contempt. Despite a wealth of feminist scholarship on aging, elder abuse, and the intersectionality of ageism and sexism in older women’s economic vulnerability, far less work has been produced on the aging lesbian, who (whether activist veteran or not) offers a wealth of generational tales and insights.

The disappearance of lesbian spaces is also one aspect of the aging baby-boomer generation. Many, though not all, of the most creative, visionary, and accomplished lesbian activists from the 1970s and ’80s were born in the late 1940s and early ’50s, their politics informed by childhoods spent crouched in Cold War air raid drills, McCarthy hearings on new television sets, and the civil rights movement.  It’s not coincidental that the lesbian-feminist movement included intense scrutiny of militarism and racism and turned politics into a musical stance. Although younger women (and men) may feel that Americans born between 1945 and 1961 have been studied enough, have indeed monopolized cultural attention for decades, are a tiresomely overcredited American demographic, with lesbians it’s a different story. Despite our national fascination with the 1970s, most historians still fail to inscribe the accomplishments of that decade’s lesbian pioneers in our national textbooks. Right now, it’s imperative that we find better ways for the vanishing ideas, sites, and inherited stuff of late 20th-century lesbian culture to be valued, preserved, and known by future generations. Later, we’ll wish we had these feisty dykes in front of us to explain what they did—and what it meant—and how they did it with no internet.

Who’s still willing to bat for Team L? Once an empowered statement of out and proud, it’s now an identity buried within the topical hierarchy of queer studies, gay marriage, gender identity. The disappearance of the L may be due in part to mainstreaming LGBTQ civil rights issues into one catch phrase, but it’s also an intentional disruption of what the aging “flannel shirt lesbian” stereotype signifies: a person who symbolizes folk guitar at festivals in the woods; politically correct potlucks attended by crystal-wearing numerologists in Birkenstocks and bi-level haircuts. These images are all white, as well as derisive. If the L-defined woman and her separatist cultural spaces are troubling remnants of an exclusive, retroactive essentialism, why would anyone want to interview her now? Lost in the stereotype is the backstory of unlearning racism workshops, disability activism, drum circles, and poverty activism, which characterized events of the 1980s and ’90s.

Generational change is inevitable, healthy, and necessary to progress. What I am living through right now is a painful transitional moment in which some of those older lesbian institutions are still going strong, and seeking participation and funding, while a current generation of activists are distancing themselves from such events, or even demonstrating against them. Younger, queer activists were vocal in opposing the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival; right-wing religious groups once eager to shut the festival down had moved on to bigger targets. This dynamic—a next generation of feminists attacking earlier lesbian institutions and disparaging their participants as less evolved—is not unique to the 21st century or the United States; it is embedded in Jill Gardiner’s powerful book From the Closet to the Screen, which describes a 1970–71 Gay Liberation Front “zap” against London’s Gateways Club bar. As this generational shift grinds on, how should the most recent decades of cultural production be interpreted, understood, and preserved? How will we use the tools of history to examine something we know existed as an investigable community?

For veterans of a certain kind of lesbian activism, who poured time, energy, and resources into sustaining alternative spaces when other doors were closed to us, the triumph of civil rights is a bittersweet victory if our tremendous efforts and contributions are to be written out of the record. The fearless Amazon generation that built an entire network of lesbian music festivals, albums, bookstores, bars, presses, production companies, publications, and softball teams is teetering on the brink of oblivion, just gray-haired enough to be brushed aside with an impatient “good riddance” by younger activists, yet too recent a movement to enjoy critical historical acclaim.

The mainstreaming of gay rights and gay marriage, the end of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, the elevation of Ellen DeGeneres to talk show mogul and cosmetics cover girl on billboards in every mall, and the gradual inclusion of same-sex couples by institutions of faith was inconceivable when I first came out as a lesbian teenager—on the eve of Ronald Reagan’s election, in 1980. There were few youth support services, no anti-bullying programs in schools, no LGBT studies conferences in academia. In fact, at age 19 I attended my first lesbian concert less than half a mile from the gates of Georgetown University, then in the midst of its costly legal battle against its own gay students, who simply wanted to form a campus group. Thirty years later, this same Jesuit campus now hosts an annual Lavender Graduation, as well as funding a well-staffed LGBT Center and paying me a handsome part-time salary to lecture on lesbian history. Today we see far greater representation of LGBT families and couples on prime time television and in commercially successful films. Thankfully, across global entertainment networks there are also more and more heterosexual artists willing to speak out for equality (and/or to play LGBT roles). This gradually LGBT-friendly media is redefining who “lesbian stars” are.

But while it is a victory to see lesbians gaining acceptance into the mainstream of American culture—due to stronger civil rights protections, informed political allies, and other successful advocacy—recent media validation has been limited to those lesbian couples with “successful” roles or individual women who are beautiful, able-bodied, affluent, and white. Less often depicted is working-class lesbian culture, which thrives in small towns and urban bars; in house parties and social events where women still meet as they always have. And the politically engaged lesbian activist is portrayed as dressed for Congress. For better or for worse, the stereotype of the angry radical lesbian marching with fist raised against the patriarchy has been replaced by the embossed wedding invitation to Megan and Carmen’s nuptials.

This shift in media representation idealizes lesbians’ participation in the American dream: settling down with a partner, marrying a beautiful wife, raising children, being active in the local school PTA and church community. It’s a wholesome, nonthreatening participation in middle-class values by women who just happen to be gay. This is the image mainstream LGBT groups have promoted since the late 1990s: lesbians as soccer moms, as consumers, as participants in faith, nuclear family, and military service. Vanishing from this landscape are the many large-scale gatherings once typifying dyke subculture, where talking points included some very tough critiques of church, state, family dynamics, and military imperialism.

We’re still here. But there we were. And we remember.

Adapted from The Disappearing L: Erasure of Lesbian Spaces and Culture, by Bonnie J. Morris. Reprinted with permission from SUNY Press.

anonymous asked:

What are your thoughts on bi men?

What does my opinion on bi men matter ? I’m just some guy

Anyways most of y'all don’t know this but I do consider myself to be bisexual/pansexual - I just usually call myself gay because I am not often attracted to women and because I want to be in a relationship with a man. I actually was part of the leadership in a club that centered on bisexual/pansexual identity specifically. My ex is bisexual too - it took him a long time to realize he was also attracted to men

Bisexual/pansexual men get it rough because a lot of people dismiss them as gay men trying to shield themselves from stigma by lying about their identity. They’re invisible. In some ways coming out as bi or pan as a man can be even harder than coming out as gay because people may just assume they’re lying - like my parents did.

Support bi/pan men! They need it!

Butterfly, Star Butterfly (Kingsman Au part 1)

hello everyone, Mr.E here after a seriously long time of not writing full stories. Sorry, life has been pretty chaotic for me and draining. I’m fine but it’s been hard to sit down and actually write a story but here I am with my newest story and letting you know despite the fact Halloween is over, I am still going to write a few stories for starcoween (a totally silly event I made up forever ago) After that i might do a part 2 to this, might give out some birthday gifts I owe. Not really sure yet but we shall see. 

Story Prompt: Star Butterfly is a young woman that works for Disney, a humble yet successful shop located in her hometown of Mewni that sells various merchandise based on their popular retellings of classic fairy tales. At least that’s what they want you to think. In truth, they are an agency operating at the highest levels of discretion, protecting the world from any and all threats but this time Mewni’s the target and the secret organization is going to need some help.   

I absolutely love the film Kingsman. For those who don’t know it is a British spy film that’s kind of a mix of my fair lady, James Bond and some playful satire of genre. and I couldn’t resist making an au of it. that being said, it is a rated R film so don’t watch it if you’re not supposed to! Seriously just read this story and wait. Oh btw there is some cussing in this story but that’s it really I didn’t follow the plot of the movie one to one and it’s more on a personal level than it was in the film. and Yes I totally poked fun at the codenames and Disney. 

so that’s it for me. Have an amazing week! I will try to finish either Monster Hunter Marco or the corpse bride au this week along with the next two nova chapters. I was also thinking of putting up some au ideas I came up in case somebody needed some ideas or inspiration for drawing or writing and the spiderman homecoming au notes that me and my good friend @hains-mae came up with if anyone is curious. Not sure yet. oh btw she’s taking commissions if anyone is interested. I hope you enjoy the story and have a good one!

notification squad: @nerdymetalhead @hipster-rapunzel @artgirllullaby @ladyxgilex @thefandombytes @minthia-ren @burstingamerworld @isolated-frequencies

Keep reading

Writing Bisexual Characters

Queer identities are gaining more and more ground in written and visual media. While this is splendid, portrayals often seem limited to gay people. Bisexuality is, in many ways, still an “invisible” queer identity. Way too often, I hear people who don’t know what it is, doubt its existence, or just plain don’t consider it when telling a story.



About the author: I am a bisexual woman in my mid-twenties who has studied gender and queer theory non-professionally for a few years. I’m by no means an expert on anything, but I do have an interest in seeing my sexuality represented well.

Let me start with a disclaimer: There is no one way to be bisexual. This doesn’t describe everyone by a longshot. The best way of learning is to go out there, listen, ask and listen some more. This article is just a starting point for knowledge and questions.

With that in mind, let’s start!


Frequently Asked Questions

What is bisexuality?

Being bisexual means you are able to be sexually, romantically and/or emotionally attracted to more than one gender. Some people make a distinction between being attracted to both genders (bisexual) or being attracted to all genders (pansexual), but for most intents and purposes, bisexual is the term you want.

For some bisexuals, gender is a factor in the attraction, some are genderblind, some fluctuate between genders, some have a preference, etc. Point is, there are many different ways to be bisexual. The one thing they all have in common is the sexual attraction to more than one gender.


Isn’t it just a phase?

While it’s true that some gay people identify as bi before coming fully out, and that some straight people identify temporarily as bi, bisexuality is a completely legitimate orientation. Bi adults tend to stay bi.

Part of the “phase” idea comes from the fact that most bisexuals indeed settle down with a person of a specific gender. This doesn’t make them non-bisexual though. It just means that their perfect match happened to be male/female/whatever.


How and when does a bisexual person know that they are bi?

That differs a lot. Some have known all their lives, some figure it out through experimenting, some only realize when BAM they’re in love with someone unexpected. Personally, up until my early twenties I just figured everyone was a little gay until I realized that hey, maybe it’s just me.


How do bisexuals choose?

The same way as everyone else. We meet someone fantastic, and we decide that we want a relationship with them.


Aren’t you just greedy?

No, no and also no. Bisexuals are not attracted to everyone. We can be attracted to anyone regardless of gender, but we still have taste and standards. The specific standards depend on the bi individual, just like libido, faithfulness, etc. - all things that have nothing to do with the orientation and everything to do with the individual.


Writing a Bisexual Character

The top 6 most important things to remember while writing a bisexual character are as follows:

  1. “Bisexual” is not a personality trait, nor does it say anything distinctive about the character apart from their shipping potential. Sexuality informs personality, sure, but just like you can’t base a character around their hair color, you can’t base a character solely around their sexuality. Flesh ‘em out.

  2. Bisexual people face discrimination from both straight and gay communities. Bi girls are seen as flaky teases or “drunken straight girls”. Bi guys are seen as equally flaky, unable to settle down, or as gays in denial. All bi people are seen as more promiscuous and less trustworthy. Many people will avoid serious relationships with bi people because of this.

  3. Since bisexuals are regarded as more sexual, bi characters (especially female) can skirt the line of Mr./Ms. Fanservice. It’s not fair, but know that a same-sex couple kissing will often be seen as shocking and/or pandering.

  4. Most (Western) bisexuals live happy, well-adjusted lives at peace with our sexuality. The media has a tendency to depict queer characters in a very dramatic and traumatised light, and there is some truth to this (e.g. the suicide rate among bisexual teens is higher than for both straight and gay teens), but the angst is currently overexposed in media. The angsty queer story needs some spotlight, but it isn’t groundbreaking or edgy anymore.

  5. Related to this, be careful about killing off one half of a same-sex couple. It has been done. A LOT. I’m not saying it can’t be done well, but it leaves me a bad taste in the mouth to see just how many storytellers don’t believe I deserve a happy ending.

  6. If your bisexual character is the only non-monosexual person in the story, be prepared for extra scrutiny and criticism (as this character will stand as ambassador for your view on bisexual people). Avoid this by having a broader selection of LGBT+ characters.


How to Out a Bisexual Character

It can be tricky to out bisexual characters, especially if they’re uncoupled by the time of writing. Here are some easy ways:

  • Casual outing. Mention same-sex partners/exes in passing. “Yeah, my ex always did so-and-so. S/he was crazy!”. Date stories are also good fuel here. This is the most casual way of coming out.

  • Sexy outing. Let the character join in on “that person is so hot!” conversations, or have them hit on someone of the same gender. This type of outing may be at little ambiguous, at least to the other characters, and it emphasizes the sexual aspect of the identity. But it can be a fun way.

  • Explicit outing. Let the character explicitly and directly out themselves. This may be in response to some bigoted speech (“whoa dude, you know it’s me you’re talking about, right?”), during a relevant conversation point (“Actually, since I’m bi, I know so-and-so”), or it might be a bigger gesture (“Since you’re my friend, you deserve to know”). There are lots of reasons one might bring it up.

  • Forced/accidental outing. Someone else outs the character. This might be an enemy throwing it in your character’s face, a friend who slips up and mentions it, someone who comes across old love letters, etc. Depending on setting and other characters, this can be quite the drama fuel.

In real life, most bi people are acutely aware of how we mention our dating lives. We have made active decisions about whether we’re out or not, and who we’re out to. Very few bi people are careless about this.

That said, please out your bi character to, if no one else, then at least to the reader. Representation only matters if it is, you know… represented.


Tropes and Caricatures To Avoid

There are lots of weird and harmful tropes and stereotypes regarding bisexuals. Namely:

  1. The sex fiend. Yes, some people like sex a lot, and sometimes those sex lovers are bisexual. But there’s nothing inherently promiscuous about bisexuality, and the world doesn’t need any more sex-crazed bi characters.

  2. The straight-then-gay. A person who has genuinely enjoyed sexual relations with the opposite gender, then starts dating someone of the same gender, is probably bi. Don’t erase their identity, and the genuineness of their previous relationships, by proclaiming them suddenly gay. Or vice versa.

  3. Crushing on the straight person. While this can make a compelling story, and it certainly happens in real life, it has been done to death. It also tends to cast queer love as inherently more tragic than straight love. Maybe not avoid outright, but certainly tread with caution.

  4. Too Good For This World. While it is a nice gesture, killing off your queer character to make a point about the world’s cruelty has been done. To death, if you’ll pardon the pun.

  5. The Tease. Especially common with female characters. It’s a bisexual person, often very sexy, but her orientation is never stated outright. It’s played with, alluded to, flirted with, but she never crosses the line of plausible deniability. Almost always overlaps with the sex fiend or Ms. Fanservice. Just… just don’t.



The most important part is: It’s not hard! As long as you build an interesting, three-dimensional person not relying on stereotypes (the way all characters should be written), you can’t mess it up. And the world sorely needs good bi characters, so you will be doing both the queer and the writing community a solid by including us.

Also: Please remember that there are as many ways to be bisexual as there are bisexuals on this planet. Sexuality is fluid, and complex, and just a small part of one’s identity.

If you’re interested in reading more, here are some good starting points:

I will also be delighted to answer questions through my own blog or this post’s notes.


Now go forth, and write great bisexual characters!

at this point i honestly couldn’t give less of a shit about being told i’m ~*~fetishising myself~*~ or whatever the hell, but feeling like i was finally allowed to start writing about dudes with bodies like mine being confident and loved and extremely sexually desirable 100% helped me to come to terms with a whole lot of body image stuff and helped me to work on some dysphoric hard points that affect/ed me considerably irl

if your own body and your own identity is invisible in The Media at large, or only exists as a punchline to a homophobic and transphobic joke, then being ballsy enough to make something that /does/ feature yourself - in an analogue, as an autobiography, whatever - is good as hell.

real 4:53am honest posting hours, no embarrassment, we let our insomnia make earnest but incoherent posts like men

anonymous asked:

"tumblrs not a source", they say. so you cite the very very few actual studies that have been done to them, and... "omg, dont you know that (a bunch of things that are literally standard practice for doing studies) being in this study mean that this is completely worthless? weve debunked this SO many times"... like no shit a near invisible identity thats only getting any attention very recently doesnt have a lot of scientific and academic literature on it!? shocker!

its weird that people demand scientific sources for something thats not a scientific concept. Same with when terfs and truscum are like “learn basic biology” in regards to gender like hi im a bio major and im here to tell you that gender is  a sociological concept, not a biological one, and any attempt to prove or disprove the existence of trans people with science is just bad science. 

Shout out to all the more invisible identities in the queer community.

To all the a-spec identities.

To all the m-spec identities.

To all the nonbinary and nongender identities.

You’re all super cool.

I don’t think I’ve seen a lot of posts like this before, so here it goes; I want to give a shout out to all of my fellow agender aces:

Shout out to the agender aces who feel like they have to hide their gender and sexuality offline because they are “invisible identities”.

Shout out to the agender aces who do not feel a need to be out, and shout out to the ones who do.

Shout out to the agender aces who feel like one part of their identity is used to invalidate the other by discoursers.

Shout out to the agender aces who hate being called trans because they feel like it erases their identity.

Shout out to the agender aces who embrace the label trans, as well as the ones who feel like they have to because they feel like at least they’re being recognized as non cis.

Shout out to the agender aces who are accused of being “transtrenders” or cishets wanting to be “special snowflakes”.

Shout out to the afab agender aces who are told they are just cisgender straight girls trying to escape accusations of homophobia.

Shout out to agender aces who ever felt like they don’t belong anywhere because they don’t have a binary gender and don’t feel sexual attraction.

Shout out to the agender aces who ever felt like they were less human because they don’t have a binary gender and don’t feel sexual attraction.

All of my fellow agender aces, both your gender and your sexuality is valid. There is nothing “absent”, and you are not broken. You are not invisible and you are not broken; you are alive and wonder and here.