Schrodinger's Fandom Blog

The thing you're saying.

That that thing is worth saying.

That is, speech/writing has a cost to it, in the form of energy and time expended doing it, in the energy and time taken by others to listen to/read it, and the thing you are communicating is implied to be sufficiently valuable to worth that trade-off.

E.g. if you meet a woman and she says, "Hi, I'm Becky, I was born on a Thursday," it would be an odd experience because even if 1 applies, 2 clearly doesn't (unless you are running some kind of day-of-birth study or something ig). There is a hidden meaning of, "you should be aware of the weekday of my birth because it is important," that seems to make no sense.

And yet people will often defend something they have said on the basis of it being strictly true, which is unsatisfactory because it only justifies half of what was communicated by the act of saying it.

If Becky comes along to a queer event and says "Hi, I'm Becky, I'm AFAB," you have to understand that that is not just a neutral statement of fact, it also communicates something like this: "I am aware that if I looked and sounded the same but my sex assignment was different I would be treated differently. I am informing you of my sex assignment right now so that you treat me appropriately hereafter."

And that is just straight-up transmisogyny, both in displaying uncritical acceptance of how prevalent transmisogyny is in queer groups, and in demanding exemption from it. It sounds absurd on the face of it that a cis woman describing herself using entirely true statements can be doing transmisogyny, even in the absence of any transfeminine person or any mention of transfeminity at all. But it's true all the same.

hour 6: if youu go to the store and buy groceriers you are a piece of shit

my worst relatives try to sneak meat or meat products into my food despite the fact that I'm a vegetarian

my ex's brother gave his mother an edible without her knowledge and when she got freaked out and paranoid they laughed, and people I've told that go "yeah that's shitty but it's just weed"

when I go to the doctor and ask them to describe what they are going to do before touching me they get frustrated

when I ask a friends of a friend who is a small influencer to keep me out of frame in videos they film for social media in public they look at me like I've pissed in their cereal

There were several autistic kids at my school. Their autistic traits, like stimming and echolalia, often got them bullied by allistic kids. The bullying was horrific, but there was something of a support system in place - teachers and some of the nicer kids would sometimes intervene to stop the bullying, saying, "Don't be mean, they can't help it, they're autistic." There were clubs where the autistic kids could hang out together without the pressure of allistic kids watching them. It absolutely sucked to be autistic then, but there was a modicum of support.

I also displayed all the same autistic traits, but I didn't have a diagnosis. I didn't even know a diagnosis was something I could get. Nonetheless, if I had known, there was no way my mother would've allowed me to get a diagnosis - she was always emphasising how "normal" I was, not as a statement of fact but as a kind of incantation, a spell that would make me be normal if she said it. The way she talked about my autistic cousin made it clear that she wouldn't countenance having an autistic child.

I grew up in a world where autism wasn't something you could just have, rather it was something a doctor assigned to you. You could flap your hands when stressed and look at the ground when talking and cry whenever a police siren went past, but whether that was "autism" or "being a weirdo" depended entirely on whether you had a piece of paper from a doctor with the magic words on it. That paper granted you access to what limited support existed, and without it you were left with nothing, just being bullied constantly with no defenders at all. Even the subset of teachers who defended autistic kids would bully "allistic" kids with exactly the same behaviours.

When I discovered I was autistic at the age of 30, I felt really relieved to have an explanation for so much of my personality. But I also felt resentful that I had been left for so long blaming myself for things like social exclusion when that social exclusion was really ableist bullying, something that others had a duty not to do to me. It wasn't me who kept fucking up, it was everyone else who kept failing me time and time again.

I was autistic the whole time, the fact that I (and everyone around me) thought I was allistic only made my life harder, by denying me access to support and self-understanding.

I spent the first 26 years of my life assuming I was a man. For almost all that time, the possibility that I might be a woman was not even one I considered. I had female friends and family members, and often I got on better with those people than I did with men, but for some reason the idea that I could be a woman too just wasn't one that crossed my mind.

There were several girls at my school. Being girls, they often got bullied by the boys. The bullying was horrific, but there was something of a support system in place - teachers and some of the nicer boys would sometimes intervene to stop the bullying, saying, "Leave the girls alone." There were places where girls could hang out together without the pressure of boys watching them. It absolutely sucked to be a girl, but there was a modicum of support.

I also displayed all the same behaviours the girls did, but I didn't have the right birth certificate. I didn't even know a girl was something I could be. Nonetheless, if I had known, there was no way my mother would've allowed me to be a girl - she was always emphasising how "masculine" I was, not as a statement of fact but as a kind of incantation, a spell that would make me be masculine if she said it. The way she talked about my girl cousins made it clear that she wouldn't be happy with a daughter rather than a son.

I grew up in a world where gender wasn't something you could just have, rather it was something a doctor assigned to you. You could be the most feminine kid imaginable, but whether that was "girl" or "f-slur" depended entirely on whether you had a piece of paper from a doctor with the magic words on it. That paper granted you access to what limited support existed, and without it you were left with nothing, just being bullied constantly with no defenders at all. Even the teachers who defended girls would bully "boys" with exactly the same behaviours.

When I discovered I was not a man at the age of 26, I felt really relieved to have an explanation for so much of my personality. But I also felt resentful that I had been left for so long blaming myself for things like social exclusion when that social exclusion was really misogynistic bullying, something that others had a duty not to do to me. It wasn't me who kept fucking up, it was everyone else who kept failing me time and time again.

I was a girl the whole time, the fact that I (and everyone around me) thought I was a boy only made my life harder, by denying me access to support and self-understanding.