Be The Gay You Want to See in the World

you can find things like: * this map of chang'an when it was the capital of the tang dynasty

or * this reference on the various measurements and units, their conversions to more widely known western units, and their regional/dynastic variations or * this list of sayings related to marriage

...mother stepped so lightly and gaily yet that you thought her feet had wings.

...mother had said piteously, fluttering her hands in a way she had which always made Jane think of two little white butterflies

...her face like a rose in the light of the rose-shaded lamp.

Mother's mouth was like a rosebud, small and red

Mother's were just the colour of the sky on a summer morning between the great masses of white clouds.

...touching mother's cheek as mother bent down and kissed her. It was like touching a rose-leaf. And mother's lashes lay on her cheeks like silken fans.

This, combined with her repeatedly trying to keep the peace with the grandmother, shows a woman who is just as much a prisoner as Jane. In fact, the only time we see the mother sticking up to the grandmother in any small measure is for Jane. And often, it's something on this level:

Grandmother's voice implied that Victoria had low tastes and that kitchens were barely respectable. Jane wondered why mother's face flushed so suddenly and why a strange, rebellious look gleamed for a moment in her eyes.

But I respect the hell out of her because no matter how much Jane’s grandmother TRIES to turn her against her own daughter, she never does. She loves Jane dearly, and yes we do see her protective instincts flair up when her mother tries to degrade Jane.

Could she be a better mother if she had just tried harder, stuck up to her own mother a bit more? Try to find some real independence rather than just being a socialite as her mother wants? Yeah, sure. But she seems to suffer an arrested development as much as Jane is, in fact Jane kind of takes after her in that respect I would say and is only able to branch out more once she’s away from that toxic household, become more confident in herself and towards others, more talkative, more assertive, it’s wonderful to see, and it makes sense that her mother only managed to find that bravery once when she was far from home as well.

Also Jane “in my fantasy au all children have to polish the moon. The lazy shall be banished to perish in dark cold despair. Then they’ll be sorry and GLAD to get back to work.😈”

She’s such a mess. My poor broken helpful judgmental child with no tears. 😩

She really is raising her damn self.

HAHA that was so funny to me, and it touches on a couple of different points about Jane that I think are really interesting

First, here we see just how practical little Jane is. She dreams of CLEANING lol - she wants to be useful and tidy. Her Blue Castle is a supply closet full of cleaning supplies.

Second, you're so right about Jane metering out justice ruthlessly lol! In my opinion, her everyday life is so unfair that she incorporates a system of fairness into her daydreams. These kids are punished because they deserve it in her mind, rather than being punished for no reason. They're also given what Jane prizes most of all: an opportunity to help!

Third, I think you're touching on a theme that's subtle, but shows throughout the novel: in many ways, Jane is more similar to her grandmother than her mother. She has the same no nonsense approach and the same iron will, but Jane uses them for good. I think this is highlighted by Jane's very name: her name is Jane Victoria (named after her grandmother!), but she chooses to go by Jane.

While four leatherback sea turtle nests might not sound like a lot, it's the same number in a single year as were found in total during the ten year span between 2015-2025. The Cape Hatteras National Seashore is also on the north edge of the species' range, so leatherback sea turtle nests are already not very common in the area.

Certainly! I'm more than happy to oblige.

First though I'm gonna need to tldr: the history of Y Ddraig Goch before we get onto the (accidentally) canonically trans part.

A brief history of Y Ddraig Goch:

(The modern Welsh flag)

Y Ddraig Goch first appears in the tales of the Mabinogi (Charlotte Guest version) in the tale of Lludd and Llefelys where it is fighting a white dragon. The fight is also described/expanded upon in the c. 829 AD text Historia Brittonum (attributed to Nennius) - where the red dragon represents Wales and the white dragon represents the Anglo-Saxons. In the story the red dragon triumphs over the white. Of course, Geoffrey of Monmouth also covers the story c. 1136 in Historia Regnum Brittaniae in which he introduces the concept of the red dragon heralding the arrival of King Arthur.

Geoffrey of Monmouth claims Arthur used a banner featuring a golden dragon. But we also know the accuracy of Monmouth can be questionable at times. Owain Glyndŵr did use a banner with a golden dragon called Y Ddraig Aur - raised in 1401 at Caernarfon - Glyndŵr chose this banner as a nod to the supposed banner of Arthur and his father.

Later on the Tudor monarchs (being a Welsh family) adopted a red dragon on a white and green background in their heraldry. Eventually Y Ddraig Goch on a white and green background became the official badge of Wales in 1800. The design became the official flag of Wales in 1959.

Y Ddraig Traws:

Now for the thing you're all here for -

So, as outlined, the history of the dragon as a national symbol of Wales goes back a long way. If we're just talking post-1959, there's some interesting implications for Y Ddraig Goch's depiction.

This is what the Welsh flag (and Y Ddraig Goch) looked like in 1959 when it was officially adopted as the flag of Wales. It looks broadly the same as the first flag and has some common features - such as not having a penis (or, as in the correct heraldic terminology - a pizzle). Meanwhile, in the arms of the Tudors (specifically Henry VII)

(Tudor dragon with pizzle) vs (dragon on the flag of Cardiff - pizzleless)

the penis is almost always included. So much to the point that the present royal family still includes the penis. While pretty much 0 depictions of the dragon in Wales include a penis. So you could interpret this as the dragon is seen as male only by the British royal family and as female everywhere else (which kinda implies that at some point the Tudor dragon had an mtf transition in Wales and she keeps getting misgendered by the royal family every time she is depicted in (mostly) England).

So much to the point that in 1995 this pound coin was made by the Royal Mint featuring the pizzle on the dragon with all four feet touching the ground as opposed to standing up (passant rather than rampant).

But in Wales you'd be hard pressed to see a pizzled dragon anywhere. Ergo, we can only conclude Y Ddraig Goch is trans and she transitioned in Wales and keeps getting misgendered in England.

[note: This is mostly tongue in cheek - but I do think it's fun to extrapolate that the Welsh dragon is trans because of the differences in depiction between Wales and England. Like many things Welsh, it is misrepresented by England and the idea of the Welsh dragon being misgendered only in England is, I think, a good metaphor for a whole lot of English treatment of Wales.]

Unrelatedly, there is a gay Welsh flag held at the National Museum of Wales which has a very wonky dragon which I find very endearing.

(cleaned up version I made)

So much so I made it an emoji in my Welsh bilingual LGBTQIA+ Discord (requirements for joining are - be 16+, either speak or are learning Welsh and identify as LGBTQIA+ in some way. Dm for link!).

(triaist ti 'you tried' emoji)

Years later it all settled, almost 30 years old: I'm a trans man, I am proudly bisexual, and even though I still look feminine right now before I get my top surgery, I can take comfort in knowing who I am, that I know it now.

There's no shame if it takes years to figure it out, or minutes, or months. People are always changing and growing and learning, about others and themselves.

Things will eventually make sense, give yourself time.

My sycamore tree began life in the gravel at the edge of a parking lot. If trees can feel pain, that is a painful, unlucky death. I carefully dug it up and put it in a pot I made out of a disposable cup.

Hello small one. This world may be cruel, but I will not be.

I decided to take care of it, not expecting it to survive, and when my sycamore tree unfurled one tiny leaf and then another, it chiseled a tiny foothold in my terrified brain, the kind of brain that doesn't remember a world before the atomic bomb and before 9/11.

I googled the lifespans of trees. My neurons had to stretch and expand to accommodate what I learned: My sycamore tree may live five hundred years. It's hard to think something so big. In twenty years, my baby sycamore tree will be three stories tall, and the home of many creatures. In five years, my sycamore tree will be taller than I am. In one year, it will be summer.

There's this concept called sense of foreshortened future where people who have lived through trauma can't conceptualize a future for themselves because deep down they don't expect to survive, When I look forward, all I see is fire and death, melting ice and burning sky. We were raised Evangelical. All we see is Judgment Day, except there is no heaven.

But now there is a tiny gap in the wall, a crack in the door of my cell

and on the other side, I see a tree

There is, in the future, a great old sycamore tree, full of clean winds and the stir of a thousand wings. A hundred years from now. Fifty years from now. There will be forests in that world. There will be a world.

It takes courage, but we have to imagine it.

Most tree species can live in excess of three or four hundred years. I think I'm learning something. I think there are ancient voices saying hello small one, touch the dirt and the leaves, for now you are part of something that cannot die

in 2030 I will be thirty years old and the world will not have ended and there will still be hummingbirds, and we will have photos of the stars more beautiful than we can now imagine.

I planted an Eastern Redcedar; they may live nine hundred years. There will be nine hundred years. The people in that time will remember us. Maybe we will meet the aliens (hi aliens!).

I will blow out the candles on many birthday cakes in a world where there are wolves in dark forests far from home. I am learning to imagine the future. I learned recently that elk were reintroduced to the Appalachian Mountains after over a hundred years of extirpation, and that they are expanding their range.

That tiny crack I can see through now opens a tiny bit more:

Maybe elk will pass through my hometown, maybe there will be a forest where the pasture is on the high hill that I can see from my home

say it, say it, say it: ten years, thirty years, a hundred years from now

There was an objectively evil villain. A villain that should die. But, Ruthye (a CHILD), was prevented from killing him. Kara stopped her from killing krem, not to protect krem but to protect Ruthye. Kara knew that krem would revert to his ways the moment he could. And she knew Ruthye needed him gone. Kara took the emotional weight of taking a life to protect a child.

I think there are a lot of tv shows/movies where the protagonist is a child but is criticized for not killing the bad guy. Yes, the bad guy should die. No, the child should not be the executioner.