wlecome to blog

LIVE WALLPAPER: wallpaper engine. only thing on here that costs any money (its like 5 bucks on steam). im sure theres free alternatives but this one has a lot of presets and stuff so its less hassle and its what i use. might be a bad idea for lower end pcs tho

CUSTOM TASKBAR: retrobar on github (lots of different options)

CUSTOM CURSOR: theres a lot of places to find these, but rw-designer open cursor library is a good place to start

DISCORD: betterdiscord, im using the clearvision v7 theme with a custom background

EXTENSIONS (these are for firefox, might or might not exist on other browsers):

tabliss for the new tab theme

stylus for tumblr -> specifically the 'tumblr - custom dashboard pallette' theme for colors + bg, and this for the pre-twitterifcation layout

enhancer for youtube for custom youtube colors

-> Phonics For Adults <-

Screenshot via Alejandra Caraballo @esqueer.net on bluesky

Tldr Amnesty International, global human rights organisation, published a report called 'A growing threat: the anti-rights movement in the UK'. In it is detailed, amongst others, a whole bunch of transphobic groups and organisations, including Beira's Place, JK Rowling's trans exclusionary sexual violence support service. JK Rowling threw a shit fit and got Amnesty to take the report down by threatening libel. This was obviously not enough, because you can't appease a fascist, so now she's going to bankroll a bunch of lawsuits anyway through the JK Rowling Women's Fund.*

You can read an archived version of the report here, please save it and share it.

There are SIX questions total in reblogs, the end will be marked by large green text. If you don’t see all six, check reblogs and grab the version with the ending note.

Answers amended from the 2025 census based on feedback. If you’re mixed, choose what feels right to you I’m not here to do phrenology or paper bag test you but don’t make it my problem either. When in doubt, ask yourself: would the whites kill you too in the race war?

This census is US-centric because so is tumblr, unfortunately. This poll is also starting with a heavy Black/racialized bias due to my personal followers. The main point of this census is to see how white-dominant the site is currently compared to prior years, as well

For the purpose of this census, Imperial Core will be defined as the following: United States, Canada, Australia, Aotearoa, basically all of Western Europe, Japan, and Israel. If you want to argue about any of these designations, too bad maybe they should stop colonizing.

Note for clarification:

*For those who don’t know, TMA means transmisogyny affected (such as trans women, some non-binary people, etc.) whereas TME means transmisogyny exempt (Cis men, cis women, transmasculine individuals, etc). If you want to ask for clarification for which applies to you for the purposes of this poll, feel free to ask and I’ll try to reply, but if you try to argue or quibble about the terms themselves, I’ll block you.

remember that time they aired an episode where Chris Grace said "Esk*mo kiss" and, in response to the backlash, they and Grace separately issued statements + edited it out of the episode? still waiting on Reich's statement about this

it is that simple, yes. a rich, powerful white man essentially said, "funny to be called a pedophile by a man wearing a lot of makeup" and expected everyone to laugh at it.

it's notable that the response was confusion. they knew that what he said was objectionable, they were trying to find a way to avoid that conclusion and couldn't find one. I also had this moment of confusion.

we, all of us, have been taught to dismiss and excuse transmisogyny. we've internalized it, the confusion happens automatically. deliberate effort is required to overcome that impulse to dismiss, and even that relies on us having noticed it happening at all.

Is that not part of the problem? Is it NOT part of the problem that we can give plausible deniability to this because maybe the person perpetuating the bigotry didn't KNOW he was?

I don't care if he somehow didn't know what he said and his that connects to larger bigotries, several people in this room DID. Even if the dots aren't as easy to connect, there's a balk.

not to be a critic, but its crazy to me that they could not speak either TO or ABOUT the people affected by this ruling (trans girls in conservative areas) at all. a combination of transmisogyny and shitty reporting means that the takeaway from that segment seemed to be "well, it sucks, but at least blue states are still allowed to be accepting of trans youth" rather than the very real attempts to eradicate trans people from public life or the very real possibility of violent retaliation against trans girls in these states.

i was raised in the ballet; specifically the boston ballet. dancers are usually "jumpers" or "turners", i was solidly a jumper and a "good corps dancer". while i had some skill, i am "curvy", which genuinely is frowned upon in ballet. but i was short and technically-accurate enough to just keep-being-casted. I think I've been pretty much every character in the Nutcracker, minus the leads. I did sometimes land titled roles when dancing with smaller companies - including Sleeping Beauty, where i was the Evil Queen.

i got it over one of their permanent soloists. she was nice to me, even though she was a better dancer than i was (and a much better turner). i had shown up on audition day and taken the role from her. the choreographer had told her to her face: you have the dance skills, but she has the stage presence. that kind of conversation just happens in ballet. she cried about it later, i caught her coming out of the bathroom. i had apologized on his behalf. i said it's not fair. i asked her if she wanted to get dinner, my treat.

she was often knitting or listening to music, so we didn't talk a lot, but she had been nice. she just seemed introverted, and i am unfortunately an extrovert. i often tried to include her, but she would rarely participate. we were in one of those circles, discussing exes. i am always very careful in these conversations; and never out myself. i am often, after all, in a room of somewhat-naked women. i do not not want any of them to think i'm like that. i do not want the fuss. (it's happened to me before. it was ugly.)

we were putting on our pointe shoes, and I was laughing. "no i swear. we got into an argument about it. my ex was like - what do you mean you actually dance on your actual toes. i guess my ex thought it was like, a euphemism? mind you, i wasn't even the first dancer they dated." i flexed my foot, shimmied the shank a little lower, tested the box placement. it only hurts for the first year and a half, kind of. also every time you have to jump en pointe. after that, the worst pain is just the 100 dollars every time you need a new pair (which is often).

around us, the green room was a flurry of tutus and hair spray and people in very-thick slippers. most dancers are very friendly, actually. it takes a very specific kind of person to physically destroy yourself for hours on end; and then to do that in front of a live audience, half-naked. in sequins. with your leg over your head.

most of us have some kind of mental illness. i should tell you that. many of us have adhd. the thing about being a girlchild and being restless is that they have a solution for that: just slam you into endless dance classes. the constant body-awareness is incredibly soothing for me; but it's a lot for other people. we aren't kidding when we tell you we need to be aware of literally every tendon, angle, and muscle of our bodies. i have spent a lifetime focusing on lifting the sole of my foot. my pinky finger is a villain, and i am always trying to tame her back into shape.

her brown hair was perfectly back, her eyes perfectly rimmed, lipstick perfectly applied. she was knitting. the other girls chatting about how boys don't get it and how kristen's boytoy hadn't come to a single show and she was breaking up with him because of it. the conversation turned, we were just ragging on our terrible exes. somebody's ex once totaled her car. someone else's tried to use honest-to-god monopoly money at a starbucks.

and i fucked up, because we were laughing, and i was distracted by getting ready. and i said "yeah, she -" and then i snapped my mouth shut. thank god someone else was already talking. i felt myself blush. my body went cold. i thought to myself - there was crosstalk. everyone was speaking at once. maybe nobody heard. nobody even seemed to look at me twice. everyone was talking about their stupid exes. i smiled and nodded and gave it a few minutes. i was frozen, laughing mechanically. and then i made some excuse and half-ran into the hall, my stupid toeshoes clacking.

i felt like i was dying. fuck. fuck. i slammed my toes into rosin and pretended to warm up in some cramped corner between costumes. i pressed my forehead flush with the cold cinderblocks of the hallway, trying to force my breathing into check. i had to be onstage in a few hours. they're going to hate me now, and put me into some fucking side-room bullshit to get changed. they'll think i was being predatory that whole time. it's all ruined. fuck.

a little cold hand landed on my bare back. she was standing there, tilting her head at me. she has the "ideal dancer body" - tall, thin, long-legged. over that dinner, she'd said balanchine was a pedophile and it's weird they expect us to look like this. and i'd said ballet is a bastion of white supremacy. she'd said: you are the better dancer, by the way. they only like my shape.

she hugged her elbows, little goosebumps on her blued skin. "hey." she wouldn't make eye contact with me.

i felt like crying, which was stupid - despite having shellacked myself into waterproof makeup, i didn't want to risk tearstains.

her mouth twisted. "it's almost time for you to get into costume." her words sat between us awkwardly. we both knew i would be alerted by the costume crew when they were ready for me. she frowned, then, her jaw working like she was trying to say something. instead, she just shook her head a little.

"okay," i said. my voice was weird and scratchy. "thanks."

"did you - i heard you." she put one hand above mine on the wall, one long leg out in a common shape for dancers: a cross of fourth position and attitude; digging her foot down into her shoe, wiggling. she cleared her throat. "i heard you say she."

i dropped my hand. i pretended to stretch. "okay." i said. my brain was blank with fear. fuck. it's ruined. "yeah."

"you've dated... women?" she flexed her feet. pointed. started doing gentle hip swings, her body no more than an arm length from mine.

i looked anywhere else. the other people in the hallway, running around before the show. the racks of clothes. the wires. behind us, the greenroom was muffled and raucous with dancers laughing. i was going to be banned from that space now.

i crossed my arms over my chest. the duct tape creaked. (in a few months, i would genuinely crack a few ribs binding like that. but for then i just took the half-air). "yeah," i said. i puffed it out. "i'm. yeah."

"gay?" she was looking at her feet as she made tiny rond de jambs, working her ankles.

"gay," i creaked.

she paused then, and stepped closer to me. i was suddenly aware she had a solid six inches on me, all of which she carried with perfect grace and accuracy. "you go to contemporary on thursdays, right?"

a ballerina is supposed to enjoy ballet more than anything. i was actually secretly falling completely in love with contemporary dance, because it forgave me for having any mass on my body. "yeah?" i looked up into her dark eyes, trying to figure out where this was going.

she handed me her phone. "text me next time. we'll carpool."

stupid and stunned, i punched my number in, first name raquel last name ballet.

she took the phone back, looked at the screen, and smiled a little. she thumbed a few keys and held it back up: first name raquel, last name ballet: and then a rainbow emoji, girls kissing, and little pink hearts. "gotcha. see you then."

and then she turned and walked away in that particular "walking in pointe shoes" way dancers have, a little rolling lope. she made it look graceful, purposeful. i had no idea how to respond. i just stared at the after her, wordless, boggled.

no one needs to make the equivalent of butch for feminine men because men and women are not dichotomies and gay men don't need an equal and opposite thing for every lesbian thing that exists, and you certainly don't need to appropriate transmisogynistic slurs because some dyke hasn't put in the effort to create a word for you.

you're right, you are getting blocked for this. you didn't need to type this out but you still did anyway, for whatever reason. my blog is not a confessional, you dont need to tell me your sins, especially when you say how you intend to make no effort to change or do better. you're just bragging about your use of slurs

"until someone introduces me to the equivalent of butch but for feminine men"

not "until i find a word that isn't a slur" or even "until we can brainstorm a new term". it always demanding the labor of others, its always making someone else (ie a woman) do the work.

they do this while also blatantly ignoring us saying "no". they know exactly what they're doing.

"i know you dont like me saying this slur, but until *you* do something for me, im gonna ignore you"

this is blatant misogyny. this is how men treat women constantly; belittle us, mock us, ignore us, demand labor of us, and refuse to take no for an answer.