every time I see LGBTQ discourse I think about that post that said masc cis lesbians get kicked out of bathrooms as cruelly as trans people do so why the fuck are some lesbians transphobic , and I think about how homophobes won’t check for your sexuality before calling us slurs and I think about how my local dyke March considers anyone who identifies as a dyke a dyke because fuck rainbow capitalism we are here to fight for our lives and I think about how my best friends are bisexual and I think about how lesbians have been loving each other in ways that the gender binary has never been able to understand(and never will) and I think about that post that says the worst thing the right did was convince queer people other queer people were the enemy
We’re keeping up great momentum! 28 days left in the campaign and we have already hit the halfway mark for our funding goal! Would love for you to consider donating to the production of this monograph. Myself and the great folks at Aint–Bad are so proud of the book that we have designed and put together. If you have the means, I would greatly appreciate your donation!
When people try to give me crap when I say I use they pronouns I always respond:
“I’m a linguist. I’ve studied how language works thoroughly in Spanish and Latin as well as English and I assure you, there is nothing grammatically incorrect about shifting the use of the singular they (something that has been in use since before shakespeare!!) from the indirect to the personal – language is not bound by rules but a fluid thing we can measure with patterns!”
The first marked instance of the indirect singular they is from some time in the 1300s. Then at the start of the 1800s grammarians of the prescriptivist variety (the kind who think they can make a language do their bidding rather than simply recording what they observe real live humans doing with language) decided that no way could “they” be correct, we must use something else! And came up with “he” as an indirect pronoun.
“If anyone is cold at night, he should put on a blanket.” “Someone’s left his books; I hope he returns for them.”
Thankfully many people ignored that crap so in the nineteenth century we can witness the singular they living on through some authors (such as Jane Austen) and more informal writing while the sticklers did use he.
And then the feminist movement came around in the 1900s, rightfully declared using “he” as the indefinite pronoun to be sexist, and changed it to that clunky “he or she” – “if anyone is cold at night, he or she should put on a blanket.”
But the indefinite singular they lived on and thankfully is regaining widespread use and legitimacy even among the most esteemed grammarians.
And in the meantime the singular they has also been adopted by the trans/nonbinary community, because for goodness sake we need something that frees us from the gendering garbage of this society and when we go for neopronouns like xe/xem or fae/faer people complain those are “"made up words”“ (as if any word sprung fully formed into being without being made up at some point??) so “they” is what many of us select instead. But, shockingly (/sarcasm), transphobes don’t give one shit about all this explanation – they’re going to keep right on denying our pronouns.
Therefore, for another pronoun that works in both the singular and plural, simply direct these people to “you are” – you can even use it in a sentence for them! “You are a transphobe.” “You are transphobes.” Amazing!
Team/caretaker rescue whumpee, but are not sure what happened to them, as whumpee won’t/cant tell. They dig around the place where they found whumpee and find surveillance video of what had happened to whumpee. They watch it in quiet horror and are left with the ugly truth, not knowing what to do with it.
Yass sifjjajcjw just wjchsjchwhchja
Whumpee’s agonal screams echoing in their heads LONG after the tape ends.
Flinching. Flinching while watching. Covering their faces.
One of them turning around in the middle of the video or leaving the room “I can’t. I can’t do this”
The silence. They just stand speechless and stare at the black screen.
And they don’t know how to act around Whumpee anymore
That one teammate who accused Whumpee of betrayal before (selling Whumper the info) THE GUILT!
“Why do you look at me with such a pity? Wh- ………You watched it, didn’t you…? I… I asked… I asked you not to-!”
Whumper on the video mocking him “Looks like your precious friends abandoned you. They won’t come for you. Oh, they will? Where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY?!”
“Kill me! Anyone! Please! PLEASE kill me!”
Or Whumper talking directly to the camera “And how do you like that, Leader/Caretaker?” before purposely leaving the tape for them to find.
It’s 1952 in Oxford University, and Susan Pevensie is leaving the Lady Margaret Hall library for the last time.
Her classmates will be sorry to see her go - ask any of them “Who’s the young woman with dark hair and a blue coat?” and they’ll say “what, you don’t know Susan Pevensie? You must be new.”
But most of her friends don’t actually know that much about her. They’ll agree that she’s compassionate and charismatic, “and brighter than you’d think she’d have a right to be, with looks like hers - how come she gets beauty and brains?” but nobody knows anything about her childhood. Or her family.
“She’s lost someone,” says a first-year student with a permanent air of exam-induced panic, “she came here on an inheritance from somebody, and I’ll bet anything it’s her parents because she never talks about them, but we’ve all lost someone, you know? From the war or not, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to make her talk.”
She’s graduating head of her class with a degree in Politics, Philosophy, and Economics; she wants to change the world, but really who expects her to do that? There’s a Queen on the throne and a dozen-odd women in Parliament, and many think that’s enough. She’ll make the perfect wife for some politician or businessman, at least while she’s young and pretty enough to be seen and not heard.
The shadows are chilly and long this time of year, so she almost misses the older woman leaving the Principal’s office, but the other woman steps directly into her path.
“Hello, Miss Pevensie,” she says. “I’m Agent Peggy Carter. How would you feel about a job in America?”
