- Reason 5,437 to be twanzphobic about laydees
- The Rise of the Oppression Fetishists
- TRANS FEMINISM: THERE’S NO CONUNDRUM ABOUT IT
- ON BEING A WOMAN
- ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN, LIKE THE RAPEY CREEP I AM
- A WORD ABOUT MY WORDS
- A Note on Pretendbians
- Avery Edison
- A Woman’s Work For The Man Is Never Done
- Obsessive Heterosexual Harasses Lesbian Activist
- DIVA! Keeping Media Safe for Men!
- A Man Being Recognised As A Man Is Not Lesbophobia
- Everyday Lesbophobia at Everyday Lesbophobia
- This Is A Guy
- This Guy Is Funny
- Zoë Kirk-Robinson
- The Truth And The Lie
- This is Not An Experience of Womanhood
- Dating in the PoMo World
- Roz Kaveney
- Endangered Species: Actual Lesbians
- Desperate Trans Wacktavists are Desperate
- Stay In Lane
- It’s OK to Abuse Women Cause They Have Books That Hurt Feels
- I’m Helpful!
- Pretendbian Haz The Sads
- “The trans woman penis needs a second look.”
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Category Archives: Pretendbian
TRANS FEMINISM: THERE’S NO CONUNDRUM ABOUT IT
Did the title of this chapter make you laugh? Fuck you, transphobe. There’s no conundrum because I say so.
In March of 2012, Ms. Magazine’s blog ran a month-long “Future of Feminism” series, which was billed as “celebrating organizations and ideas that represent the future of feminism.” The author of the series covered a variety of topics, and portrayed them all—even those that have generated significant debate within feminism—in a generally positive light. The glaring exception to this was her article on trans feminism (ominously entitled “Transfeminism and Its Conundrums”), which framed the movement as a “controversy” that is fundamentally incompatible with certain basic tenets of feminism. Did I point out that the author of this piece is really pro-trans and has harassed lesbian feminists on behalf of men, I mean transwomen? No? well fuck you, she didn’t do enough.
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The nurse is pulling the stitches out of my face. I can tell that something is wrong because she doesn’t offer any of the typical “it’s-healing-nicely” affirmations that one usually expects. The doctor enters and tells me that the tumor exceeded three of the four margins of the diamond-shaped sliver of skin that he removed from my cheek one week ago. He explains that most basal cell carcinomas grow in one big lump, like a basketball, making them easy to remove in one fell swoop. But my tumor was a rarer, more aggressive type that grows unpredictably under the skin like an amoeba, sending out projections like tentacles. He tells me that he won’t know how far it has spread until the next surgery. Hopefully they won’t have to remove too much more tissue. But he can’t rule out the possibility that I might lose…
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ON BEING A WOMAN
Did the title of this chapter make you laugh? It did? DIAF.
A friend of mine was asked to write about being a femme for a queer women’s event. She wasn’t quite sure where to begin. “It’s hard to write about being a girl,” she said, and I knew exactly what she meant. Because even though I am male, was born male, raised male, etc., no one knows more about being a Woman than a Man. I mean, we’ve been both, so we know more than you. Also, no one believes what women say anyway, so listen up, vagina bearers!
For some time, I’ve been trying to write my own poem about what it means to be a woman. But every time I pick up my pen, I’m afraid that I’ll paint myself into a corner, betrayed by words forged from soft vowel sounds…
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ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN
When we hear story after story set in a landscape that we have never set foot in before, we can’t help but create our own mental picture of that place. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantazied about a woman’s locker room before I finally got to go in one! Boy was that great. I realized only as my wife Dani and I turned off a dirt road and up to the welcome center that I always imagined that Camp Trans would resemble pictures I had seen of Woodstock, with tents strewn everywhere and people buzzing about busily with a sense of purpose and energy, with a sense that they were a part of history. But Camp Trans looked nothing like that. It was set on a modest-sized clearing in the middle of the woods. Cars were parked…
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