#intersexphobia

Reminder that if you think people can’t become intersex/perisex through medical transition you believe to the TERF/GC conception of sex as an immutable thing and/or that you are defined by your natal characteristics and not by your present material characteristics (again a GC/TERF thing) you basically align yourself with their beliefs.

It’s important to note that believing Intersex is immuable, knowing that intersex is relative to male and female also imply male and female are immutable things.

Sex & intersex aren’t static, unchangables but rather things that can be modified with our consent or not. Refering to medically transitioned trans ppl who were born perisex as perisex is materially false and sex-statism (GC/TERF belief) and imply for a trans woman that she is still a male and for a trans man that he still a female.

Medically transitioned trans ppl no loger have their perisex privilege since they no longer have sexual characteristics that corresponds to typical binary definitions of male or female.

Cry about it.

Sex can be fluid just as gender can be fluid.

Short Fic: Ma’zurah tries to get a promotion in House Hlaalu. Rated M. Content warning for sexual harassment and trans/intersexphobia.

—

“First, I want to see who I’m dealing with. Show Uncle Crassius what you have to offer. Don’t be shy!”

Ma’zurah stared horrified at the Imperial man in front of her. He couldn’t possibly be serious… right? She glanced behind her at the Dunmer loitering in the doorway.

The Dunmer sidled up behind her. “Does he mean…”

Julan’s whisper trailed off as Ma’zurah flapped a hand at him to get him to shut up.

“Come on, dumpling, don’t be shy,” the Imperial encouraged with a smile that Ma’zurah suspected was supposed to be charming, but only came across as creepy. “Just do this one little favor for Uncle Crassius.”

Ma’zurah’s whiskers twitched. “Must Ma’zurah?”

The Imperial shrugged. “Well of course you don’t have to, sweetie, but if you want my sponsorship…”

Ma’zurah suppressed a grimace. The man didn’t need to finish the sentence. She knew he was likely her only chance for sponsorship in House Hlaalu. Without his backing, she would be unable to obtain any more work, and her rising career in House Hlaalu would stall.

She put on her best winning smile. “One moment!”

She backed out into the hall before the Imperial had time to respond, pulling the Dunmer after her.

“Look, just say the word, and I’ll punch him,” Julan muttered as they walked up to the Redguard and the Bosmer waiting in the next room. “Unless you want that honor?”

Ma’zurah shook her head and gestured all three of them out of earshot of the open doorway.

“How did it go?” asked Jasmine.

“I think he wants her to take her clothes off,” Julan explained. He balled his fists. “I mean it, just say the word.”

“The pig!” Constance’s voice was shrill, and Ma’zurah hurriedly shushed the indignant Bosmer.

Jasmine gave Ma’zurah a penetrating look. “What are you going to do?”

It wasn’t that Ma'zurah cared overmuch about her modesty. No, given the opportunity, she wore clothes with as many sheer panels as socially acceptable to show off her black and white stripes. It thrilled her that she could so easily break the taboo of displaying torso fur outside of Elsweyr with so little comment, or even the knowledge of the oblivious people around her.

But the Imperial’s smug entitlement, his patronizing attitude, and blatant objectification galled her. He probably thought he could get away with whatever he liked because Ma’zurah was Khajiit. And in Morrowind, he would be right. The Ordinators wouldn’t care. The House guard wouldn’t care. The average Dunmer on the street wouldn’t even care. The only people who really cared about her wellbeing in all of Morrowind were the three standing next to her.

She looked at them. Two outlander women and an Ashlander. Great. Not an ideal defense against a Councillor from House Hlaalu. The man could probably do what he wanted with impunity even if she had been Dunmer.

The Imperial’s reaction if she did strip for him didn’t even bear thinking about. Her previous experiences with Imperial men warned her that it was generally dangerous to reveal her atypical body configuration to people who weren’t Khajiit. They either reacted with disgust, sometimes violently, or they saw her as an exotic encounter. Ma’zurah suspected that Curio was likely to be the latter, but still, the potential was there. Ma’zurah’s first sexual experience after leaving Elsweyr flashed through her mind. The Imperial boy had been nice, eager–that is, until she had stripped for him and his eagerness turned to anger, and Ma’zurah’s arousal had turned into humiliation and fear. She was Khajiit and clever and knew the use of invisibility spells, but the experience had left an impression.

“You’re not seriously considering…?”

Ma’zurah’s focus snapped back to the present and she glared at Julan. She was in an awkward position. She had joined House Hlaalu as a haven against the xenophobic sentiments of the native Dunmer only to discover that their acceptance of the Empire was more complex than she had been led to believe. House Hlaalu had not turned out to be the open-minded, cosmopolitan organization with readily available work for anyone of any background that she had hoped it would be. They merely appeased the Empire, and still exploited the Empire’s grudging tolerance of slavery. She had turned to the Thieves Guild to supplement her income, but she had hoped that if she could just prove herself worthy, just gain enough prestige, enough recognition, she could rise above it all. She might even be able to gain enough influence to change things for the better.

And here was this infuriating Crassius Curio, this lecher, this… Imperial, standing in the way of her ambitions. What was he even doing in a Dunmer Great House? Of course, if she thought about it, she knew. This was more appeasement of the Empire. They had put the fool in power to exploit him as a symbol of their cooperation with the Empire, or because he had powerful connections, or something along those lines. It didn’t matter why, it merely mattered that he had a great deal of power, and she could either take his sponsorship and everything that entailed, or she could leave.

She didn’t want to leave. She had done so much to try to prove herself. She had worked so hard with the scraps they had given her. She didn’t want it to have been a wasted effort. She considered her options again, mentally reviewing the information Hibasi had given her. The two female Dunmer councillors were in the pocket of the Camonna Tong. They would be no help. Approaching them at all might even be dangerous. The Nord councillor was supposed to be an even greater fool than this Curio man, and by all reports, lived up to the name of Half-Troll. No one could even find the last councillor, and with the Morag Tong after him, he would likely be a short lived sponsor even if he did accept her. Curio was the only viable option. Without sponsorship, she couldn’t advance, without advancement, nobody took her seriously. If nobody took her seriously she didn’t have a future in House Hlaalu.

Strip, or leave? Strip, or leave? Her friends were giving her worried looks. The decision was harder than it should have been. Expose herself to humiliation, further harassment, and potential violence, or abandon her ambitions in the House? The Mages Guild could only give her so much social influence in this land of Telvanni mages and distrustful natives. House Hlaalu had so much more to offer, but if this was the price…

“Ma’zurah?” Constance’s voice sounded worried.

Ma’zurah sighed. “Come on. We are leaving.”