- J used to bind with tape or bandages because whilst he’s one fancy motherfucker he really has no sense of self preservation and has way too much pride to steal some binders and have people find out he’s trans
- He does, however, get Harley to loot drugstores for painkillers and period products, and shark week is the only time that Harls is allowed to look after him (J gets real bad cramps and sickness and shit when he’s on his period)
- Bruce finds out long before they start dating; Batman bursts into the Jokers hideout, ready to arrest the clown, and is thoroughly confused to find his arch nemesis curled up on a warm armchair, crying and whimpering. At first Batsy thinks joker is ill, but J can’t help but make the empty threat of “I started my day in a pool of my own blood, is that how you’d like to end yours?” And everything sort of clicks in place for Bruce
- J is kinda scared because Fuck, now batsy knows and if he already had slim chances of his enemy ever respecting him, then now he had no chance whatsoever
- as much as Bruce hates joker (well he should anyway, but he can never manage to want the clown gone forever) he’s not a total dick. He decides to let J off for a week, and a couple days later Harley comes home with a package containing two binders and a tub of painkillers, claiming Nightwing had awkwardly handed them to her in the Narrows
- Once Bruce and J start dating (I really need to come up with a backstory for their relationship tbh) Bruce pays for his boyfriends T and binders, and later his surgery too. At first J felt a little annoyed that he’d never managed to pay for these things himself, but it wears off after he gets top surgery and walks around the manor shirtless for weeks until Alfred reminds him it’s winter
- J getting emotional when everyone in the batfam is accepting of him (gender wise anyway, not so much about the “murderous clown dating Bruce” thing)
- Joker being trans but that not meaning he can’t be feminine or wear dresses
- Joker being trans and still smashing the gender binary
- Joker being trans and Bruce still loving him completely and cutting off anyone who claims J isn’t a real man
I think they realized that trans theory makes no fucking sense, because woman =/= female but trans women are female but cis women are also female so what’s the difference between the two, why is one trans in the first place, and gender identity is innate and based on stereotypes like pink and submissiveness but also that’s sexist, gender =/= gender stereotypes, it’s based on some ~magical woman feeling~ but transition always somehow includes wearing high heels and getting dolled up, but trans women are “more woman” than cis women because they chose to be women, which means it’s not innate, but most trans people know they’re trans because they were drawn to the opposite gender role, but being transgender is smashing the gender binary, but also genderfluid people wear dresses on the days when they’re girls and pants on the days when they’re boys, but gender isn’t a binary it’s a spectrum,
so they literally just gave up and said “woman has no definition”
lol i wonder why this type of scrutiny never happens to the definition of “man”
When she says “LOL FRAGILE MASCULINITY” what she means is “It’s so pathetic that you have to signal masculinity instead of being inherently masculine enough to credibly countersignal masculinity!”
what she means is “It’s so pathetic that you’re visibly trying hard to be manly instead of effortlessly exuding manliness from your mere presence”
what she means is “you’re not manly enough”
what she means is “you’re a faggot.”
Doctor Nerdlove is a former Pick Up Artist.
Hugo Schwyzer is a practically a statutory rapist.
This is something redpillers don’t understand. They want to call male feminists pansies. They’re not.
They’re Alpha-Male Assholes who also happen to be misandrists.
What do contemporary feminists want from men? They want us to be like Nerdlove and Schwyzer. Sociopathically stoic, but with a sensitive facade, frantically countersignaling machismo.
Men who break with masculinity and actually look unmanly while doing it
are raked over the coals by feminists. Bronies are misogynist. Drag
Queens are transphobic. Hikkikomori are rapists. Any man who likes
feminine media is steeeealing it from women.
The only kind of man a feminist respects is one who is so overwhelmingly
manly that you can dye his hair pink and drape him in flower crowns,
and he STILL looks like he could kick your ass.
Whether you are in makeup or not, wearing cute clothes or regular clothes or no clothes, whether you are a big fatty or a smaller fatty, you are helping people reclaim their own bodies and learn to see themselves as attractive. Therefore, all of you are part of our overall cultural recovery from our collective cultural
sickness. You are helping people, you are helping society..
Special shoutout to those of you who smash the gender binary, who are black or brown, who have less-than-flawless skin, who are disabled, who are not healthy, who are any of a hundred things besides fat that our culture tells us is unacceptable.
Another special shoutout to those of you who don’t feel the love for yourself but do it anyway because you are trying to learn to love yourself and a very important part of that is just being visible.
You are heroes. For real. You were an enormous part of my (mostly) recovery from an eating disorder that was making me so fucking miserable and sick.
Next time someone gives you hate for putting yourself out there, next time someone tells you that you shouldn’t “make” people look at you, next time you get told to stop having the body you have, remember that. Remember that what you do helps people. If it makes people angry, that is because they are ignorant, childish, and/or afraid of what you represent: confidence in the face of undeserved social stigma. You represent a hundred broken rules. That makes fools very, very angry.
So listen up.
What you do is real and valuable and you matter so much.
I want you to stop and think about that. And I want you to give yourself a thumbs up. Because you are a superstar.
"You're only __, how do you know that you're bisexual?!"
It all started on a cold wintry night. It was midnight. I jolted up out of bed with a strange feeling in my stomach.
‘I must be hungry’ I thought to myself. I went downstairs and had a snack. The feeling is still there. I took an Advil and went back to sleep. I woke up to the sound of a glorious harp. I look outside my window and I see a centaur. But it wasn’t a normal centaur. It had a blue, pink and purple unicorn horn. The horse part of him was purple.
“You, young one, have been chosen to be a Holy Bisexual. Now, you must come with me to the land of Spectrumus to live among other bisexuals, pansexuals, asexuals and etc.” he said, flipping his long luscious golden blonde hair.
He waved a wand and cast a spell on me. That damn centaur got glitter in my hair.
“What did you just do?” I asked.
“You are now officially bisexual” he said, “Now get on my back, young one.”
I got on his back and we rode to a strange planet that was full of color.
“What is this?” I asked, full of curiosity.
“This is the land of Homo. The land of the gays and lesbians. Here, a little further to the right, is the land of Spectumus, full of people who have been exiled from the land of Homo, because they are not homo enough. Here, they live without TVs, with a few books and they survive solely on cupcakes. The people you’ll be living with are the Bisexuals, their hobbies include smashing the gender binary and waging war on biphobic rad scum”
As soon as we landed, my clothes turned blue, pink and purple. The people welcomed me with open arms and I’ve been living here ever since.
We haven’t mentioned this in a while - we collaborated with artist Chaos Lindsay to create a binary-smashing colouring and activity book called Finding Gender. The cover looks a little something like…
It’s a great resource. It’s accessible, free of jargon, and designed to help young kids explore gender and affirm their own agency. We made a post in June outlining how to talk to little kids about gender, and this book affirms a lot of those principles.
In early June we ran a colouring contest, using one of the pages of Finding Gender, and the results were pretty frickin’ adorable.
Finding Gender is a great resource for youngsters and for trans-friendly households. You can order yourself a copy through our Kickstarter - check out the $25 and $60 reward levels!
The New York Times last Friday launched a new print section dedicated to men’s fashion. Megan Garber over at The Atlantic thinks this signals something important. After years and years of journalists writing about “metrosexuals” and “man bags” (it’s European!), The Grey Lady’s adoption of a full men’s style section shows that the idea of men caring about clothes is no longer weird.
But there’s also a more complicated cultural proposition at play in a section that reports on the renaissance of gold watches and promises winky tips on “how to scrub your body like a man.” It used to be that “fashion,” as both a commercial idea and an epistemological one, was, by default, a lady thing. There’s the widespread assumption that the Style section (its wedding-related content, in particular) is the “women’s sports pages.” There’s the notion of journalism’s “pink ghetto.” There’s the sitcomic mainstay of the schlubby husband, dragged to the mall by his wife. There’s the fact that producers of Project Runway regularly troll their contestants by making them create menswear—a task that the designers, almost uniformly, detest.
Those assumptions and tropes, however, are rapidly changing. Men’s fashion—because of a combination of factors that have to do with politics and economics and the fact that polka dots are way more fun to wear than basic black—is ceasing to be a contradiction in terms. “Fashion” itself is quickly shedding its default femininity. Which is evidenced not just by the fact that both skinny jeans and normcorewear are unisex propositions, and not just by the rise of “peacocking” as a term, but also by the fact that men’s clothing itself is now being treated as a proposition worthy of cultural attention in the country’s paper of record. When it came to menswear, the Times’ Emmrich told me, “it felt like there was more energy than there had been in previous years.” And “there was a sense that there was more going on than we were actually covering.”
That’s not to say that things are fully egalitarian, of course. Men’s Style is ultimately meant to sell luxury goods to wealthy people. (As The New Republic’s Phoebe Maltz Bovy put it, dryly: “Adding style pages aimed at men, as a counterpoint to the ones primarily aimed at women, isn’t going to smash any gender binaries, but those awaiting that revolution might need to look to places that aren’t propping up luxury ads.”) The section also revels in an aw-shucks tone that is typical of classic sitcomic Daddery. The editor Jim Windolf, introducing it, referred to Men’s Style as “a guide to men, the boneheaded things they do, and cool watches.” (It’s hard to image any other group being discussed in terms of its “boneheaded” behavior.)
But there’s something nice, in the end, about the basic idea—and the basic existence—of a section that takes as a core assumption the fact that men, just like women, care about their appearances. And about being, in their distinct way, stylish. The Menaissance is upon us; with one reminder being the fact that “men’s style,” as a term, is quickly becoming redundant.