Icon by @ThatSpookyAgent. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
I think I already reblogged this but im gonna do it again because this is a good reminder on how toxic gatekeeping it.
I’m reblogging this for the amount of thought that was put into figuring out the necessary configuration for a mertaur wheelchair.
MMMMM, the LAYERS to this.
She’s technically a monster too. She might not look it at first glance and seems mostly human, but it isn’t deniable even despite her looks compared to the other monsters.
But she realizes that she is still not like the rest of the monsters either and may not have entirely the same experiences as them, which is why she feels that she might not belong to or deserve to go to the support group. By sometimes passing as human, she feels she isn’t worthy of the space.
The sad reality though is even though she’s mostly human in appearance, that tail she has undeniably would still cause her some struggle. Humans are still gonna look at that tail and think she’s a freak. There are probably still accommodations she needs because of the tail that she may still struggle to have access to. Even if it is just the tail, that tail is still enough to other her from humans and cause her problems and discrimination.
She should get to belong in that support group even if she gets told she’s not monster “enough”. She still shares some of the same struggles as them that are caused by being a monster, and needs support.
This is an excellent demonstration of the flaws in the concept of passing privilege. Bravo to the artist.
NOW I will reblog this.
Image description: A comic in seven panels
Panel 1: A wolf man wearing a pale blue polo shirt and dark blue pants faces the viewer. He is saying, “Uh… I’m sorry ma’am, but this is a support group for monsters only.” With his right hand, he gestures to a group of monsters sitting around a table in the background. The monsters are a giant bat, a gorilla, and a dragon. They are facing away from the viewer.
Panel 2: A white woman with blonde hair wearing a pink striped shirt and dark capri pants says with a smile, “Well, actually, I AM a monster.” The wolf man replies, looking skeptically, “… How?”
Panel 3: The woman responds, while looking at the viewer, “Well, you see, my mother was a mermaid and my father was a minotaur.” Above her head, there is a thought cloud depicting a mermaid in a tank holding hands and looking lovingly at a Minotaur who is standing outside of the tank.
Panel 4: The wolf man, still looking dismissive, says, “Riiight. And let me guess: You got the human half from both of them.” The woman responds, “Exactly!” The wolf man says, “Gotcha. Hardy har har.”
Panel 5: The wolf man points and makes a snarling face at the woman, saying, “Ya know, it’s insensitive mockery like this that makes us need these groups in the first place.” The woman holds up her hands defensively, leaning away and looking surprised. She says, “Huh?”
Panel 6: The woman says, “Listen sir, I’m just here to drop off my brother and I’ll be on my way.” She still has a worried expression and gestures to her brother behind her. Her brother has a Minotaur upper half and a fish lower half. He is riding a mobility device. He says, “This guy buggin’ you sis?” while raising an eyebrow.” The wolf man looks astonished.
Panel 7: The woman is shown walking off-panel to the left. She says over her shoulder, “I’ll be back to pick you up at seven.” Since her back is to the viewer, we can now see that she has a tail. Her brother says, “Sounds good, thanks.” The wolf man continues to look astonished.”
End ID
Thanks for the image description!
This comic really sums up how I feel as a white passing mixed person
this comic is how I feel as a white passing mixed person, how I feel as an invisibly disabled person, and how I feel as a queer people with complicated/contradictory labels
Damn it. I’m supposed to be watching a TV show and now I’m crying.
This is how I feel as a dynamically disabled person.
I’ve never had the words to describe this like the comic described this.
“Here’s my life. My husband and I get up each morning at 7 o’clock and he showers while I make coffee. By the time he’s dressed I’m already sitting at my desk writing. He kisses me goodbye then leaves for the job where he makes good money, draws excellent benefits and gets many perks, such as travel, catered lunches and full reimbursement for the gym where I attend yoga midday. His career has allowed me to work only sporadically, as a consultant, in a field I enjoy. All that disclosure is crass, I know. I’m sorry. Because in this world where women will sit around discussing the various topiary shapes of their bikini waxes, the conversation about money (or privilege) is the one we never have. Why? I think it’s the Marie Antoinette syndrome: Those with privilege and luck don’t want the riffraff knowing the details. After all, if “those people” understood the differences in our lives, they might revolt. Or, God forbid, not see us as somehow more special, talented and/or deserving than them. There’s a special version of this masquerade that we writers put on. Two examples: I attended a packed reading (I’m talking 300+ people) about a year and a half ago. The author was very well-known, a magnificent nonfictionist who has, deservedly, won several big awards. He also happens to be the heir to a mammoth fortune. Mega-millions. In other words he’s a man who has never had to work one job, much less two. He has several children; I know, because they were at the reading with him, all lined up. I heard someone say they were all traveling with him, plus two nannies, on his worldwide tour. None of this takes away from his brilliance. Yet, when an audience member — young, wide-eyed, clearly not clued in — rose to ask him how he’d managed to spend 10 years writing his current masterpiece — What had he done to sustain himself and his family during that time? — he told her in a serious tone that it had been tough but he’d written a number of magazine articles to get by. I heard a titter pass through the half of the audience that knew the truth. But the author, impassive, moved on and left this woman thinking he’d supported his Manhattan life for a decade with a handful of pieces in the Nation and Salon. Example two. A reading in a different city, featuring a 30-ish woman whose debut novel had just appeared on the front page of the New York Times Book Review. I didn’t love the book (a coming-of-age story set among wealthy teenagers) but many people I respect thought it was great, so I defer. The author had herself attended one of the big, East Coast prep schools, while her parents were busy growing their careers on the New York literary scene. These were people — her parents — who traded Christmas cards with William Maxwell and had the Styrons over for dinner. She, the author, was their only beloved child.
After prep school, she’d earned two creative writing degrees (Iowa plus an Ivy). Her first book was being heralded by editors and reviewers all over the country, many of whom had watched her grow up. It was a phenomenon even before it hit bookshelves. She was an immediate star. When (again) an audience member, clearly an undergrad, rose to ask this glamorous writer to what she attributed her success, the woman paused, then said that she had worked very, very hard and she’d had some good training, but she thought in looking back it was her decision never to have children that had allowed her to become a true artist. If you have kids, she explained to the group of desperate nubile writers, you have to choose between them and your writing. Keep it pure. Don’t let yourself be distracted by a baby’s cry. I was dumbfounded. I wanted to leap to my feet and shout. “Hello? Alice Munro! Doris Lessing! Joan Didion!” Of course, there are thousands of other extraordinary writers who managed to produce art despite motherhood. But the essential point was that, the quality of her book notwithstanding, this author’s chief advantage had nothing to do with her reproductive decisions. It was about connections. Straight up. She’d had them since birth. In my opinion, we do an enormous “let them eat cake” disservice to our community when we obfuscate the circumstances that help us write, publish and in some way succeed. I can’t claim the wealth of the first author (not even close); nor do I have the connections of the second. I don’t have their fame either. But I do have a huge advantage over the writer who is living paycheck to paycheck, or lonely and isolated, or dealing with a medical condition, or working a full-time job. How can I be so sure? Because I used to be poor, overworked and overwhelmed. And I produced zero books during that time. Throughout my 20s, I was married to an addict who tried valiantly (but failed, over and over) to stay straight. We had three children, one with autism, and lived in poverty for a long, wretched time. In my 30s I divorced the man because it was the only way out of constant crisis. For the next 10 years, I worked two jobs and raised my three kids alone, without child support or the involvement of their dad. I published my first novel at 39, but only after a teaching stint where I met some influential writers and three months living with my parents while I completed the first draft. After turning in that manuscript, I landed a pretty cushy magazine editor’s job. A year later, I met my second husband. For the first time I had a true partner, someone I could rely on who was there in every way for me and our kids. Life got easier. I produced a nonfiction book, a second novel and about 30 essays within a relatively short time. Today, I am essentially “sponsored” by this very loving man who shows up at the end of the day, asks me how the writing went, pours me a glass of wine, then takes me out to eat. He accompanies me when I travel 500 miles to do a 75-minute reading, manages my finances, and never complains that my dark, heady little books have resulted in low advances and rather modest sales. I completed my third novel in eight months flat. I started the book while on a lovely vacation. Then I wrote happily and relatively quickly because I had the time and the funding, as well as help from my husband, my agent and a very talented editor friend. Without all those advantages, I might be on page 52. OK, there’s mine. Now show me yours.”
This is so important, especially for people like me, who are always hearing the radio station that plays “but you’re 26 and you are ~*~gifted~*~ and you can write, WHERE IS YOUR NOVEL” on constant loop.
It’s so important because I see younger people who can write going “oh yes, I can write, therefore I will be an English major, and write my book and live on that yes?? then I don’t have to do other jobs yes??” and you’re like “oh, no, honey, at least try to add another string to your bow, please believe that it will not happen quite like that”
It’s so important not to be overly impressed by Walden because Thoreau’s mother continued to cook him food and wash his laundry while he was doing his self-sufficient wilderness-experiment “sit in a cabin and write” thing.
It’s so important because when you’re impressed by Lord of the Rings, remember that Tolkien had servants, a wife, university scouts and various underlings to do his admin, cook his meals, chase after him, and generally set up his life so that the only thing he had to do was wander around being vague and clever. In fact, the man could barely stand to show up at his own day job.
It’s important when you look at published fiction to remember that it is a non-random sample, and that it’s usually produced by the leisure class, so that most of what you study and consume is essentially wolves in captivity - not wolves in the wild - and does not reflect the experiences of all wolves.
I need y’all to remember that not all trans people fit into the box of transfem or transmasc. Afab trans people are not inherently transmasc and amab trans people are not inherently transfem. Some of us consider ourselves to be trans androgynous or trans neutral. Some of us don’t want to be put in any boxes at all. Y’all have inadvertently created a new binary system and that does not help trans people at all.
i mean this in the kindest way possible, but a discord vent channel is not a suicide hotline. it’s not a crisis line. it’s not therapy.
obviously leaning on your friends for support is a very good thing to do, but you’ve really really gotta use your judgment & decide what issues your friends will be able to handle & what is best left to those with proper training. i’ve seen way too many instances during my online life where someone has taken an extremely serious or dangerous situation to a fandom chat server & absolutely no one there had the qualifications to handle it appropriately. in mental health crises or situations of domestic violence or abuse, bad advice can have massive consequences. i really cannot emphasize that enough. yes, ofc your friends have only the best intentions & want to help you, but they are usually not trained to handle these sorts of situations & may unintentionally tell you to do something that will make the situation worse.
pls, for your safety & well-being, treat the vent channel only as what it was intended to be: a place to vent your frustrations during a challenging day or in a stressful situation. but do not rely on it for crisis management. you gotta leave that to the experts.
i want to add that if someone comes to you with a big problem (like, the kind of problem that they should literally go to the police or an authority with), it is not your responsibility to fix it. you are one person, not a social worker or therapist. it’s awesome that you want to help your friend, but please do not fall into the trap of thinking that if you don’t solve that problem, you’re a bad person. even if they insist that no one can help except you, you will need to find them professional support. go to a friend, a teacher, a parent, a mentor - anyone who can help you figure this out and guide you.
again, you should be there for your friends (and obviously it will require your best judgement to figure out if you can help or need to bring in the big guns), but it’s not your job to fix them on your own. you are not a bad person if you try your best but can’t handle their problem
Grammatically speaking, Pronouns are a game we play with society.
A crew of sailors discuss their ship. “her mast is strong but the sails need changin. She’s a beaut though.”
I see a fancy rock on my hike. I pick it up, turn to my friend and say “Look at him, he’s so handsome”
A group of our sparkling Gay gentlemen meet up for a night out. “Girl, Daniel’s serving up looks tonight. Queen! She’s stunning love. She’s killin it.”
My neighbor needs a cup of sugar, I take some to them.
My lesbian friend wants to introduce me to her fellow female partner. “There’s Star, he’s wearing the blue jacket. Let’s catch up with him”
What’s real is how respect for one another makes us feel. He/him lesbians deserve your respect.
Pronouns are also more related to gender presentation than gender itself for some people!
Lesbians calling themselves “fathers”, “husbands”, “boyfriends”, “handsome”, and other words associated with men are a part of their gender presentation as masculine women as well as their reclamation of the idea that “lesbians just want to be men”. He/Him pronouns is just a part of that!
“This just in: you can love writing and also find it hard.
“I was once on a panel and another author essentially said, ‘if you don’t enjoy every moment, then why are you here?’ and I was…exasperated. Creativity is a complicated beast. You don’t have to love every second to be a valid participant.
“I love the ideas. I love brainstorming, and problem-solving, and I love making this better, fine-tuning language.
“I also hate drafting, claw my way through self-doubt, crawl on my hands and knees through the frustration of the unrealized.
“I’m not here because I love every second.
“I’m here because the parts I love are worth the rest.”
Being kind isn’t actually about how much shit you can quietly take. You can be kind and still shut down people who attempt to use and manipulate you. Kindness is about treating others well whenever you can, not about how much you’re willing to suffer for others. So don’t confuse being kind with being a victim and a pushover. No one with your best interests at heart will claim that it’s the same thing.
I don’t think a lot of people understand that no matter how progressive or well-read you are, there are always going to be moments in your life where somebody pushes back against something that’s so culturally ingrained you never even considered it before. And you’ll say “Huh, it never occurred to me to challenge this but you’re right,” and that doesn’t mean you were “morally toxic” before, it means you’re a non-omniscient human capable of growth.
Also, some preferred terms for things will change and evolve, and terms we prefer now might eventually be considered gauche or even offensive, and that doesn’t mean you were a bigot at the time for using them. It means we evolved as a society and chose new terminology to reflect that change.
Nobody is a fully formed realisation of progressivism that can predict all shifts and modes of thought. The world will always change, and hopefully you will, too
Quote from @SwampAdvice on Twitter (written by frequent collaborator on The CryptoNaturalist Podcast Leslie J Anderson).
Here is a secret about things you love. If you put them down you can always pick them back up again. You can always paint again, sew again, hike again, play music again, read that book again, watch the movie. “But it’s been so long.” The thing you love doesn’t care.
