Queer as in Fuck You

Director Sanvers

Rated E

BDSM

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My piece for the @dcfanmadezines Local lesbian aunt and her bi nephew hanging out after a hard night day of work.

I think it is genuinely an impulse towards a kind of stolen valour via holocaust minimisation and subversion, not because being slaughtered in our millions was in any way valorous, but I think there's assumed to be a level of sympathy that comes with recognition that we were subjects of genocide.

So by making an equivalency between the thousands of queer people who were interned in concentration camps to the millions of Jews and Romani who were murdered in the death camps, they elevate the travesty of anti-queer violence in Nazi controlled Europe from its own tragedy to being a part of the genocide widely known as the holocaust.

The tragedy of the Nazi persecution of queer people is an intellectual and cultural one. Relatively few people were actually killed, but a generation who might have been coming out, and who were beginning to be heard and vibrant and public and happy (in some places - not all! Munich was not Berlin!) were driven instead into shame and secrecy. The most prominent elders were lost. The entire archive of the Inside for Sexual Science was gone, including vital work in gender-affirming care.

This is a bad thing!

However, the Jews of Europe lost all of that and also two thirds of their population. (Numbers for the Sinti/Roma are harder to find, but as near as I can figure it's about the same proportion).

I don’t have the fortitude to check out the comments today, but the post is here.

Eliya

I met Ziv in 2011 while growing up near Tel Aviv. We were both 14 and I saw her crying because her boyfriend had left her. Trying to help, I said, “Don’t cry. You are young, pretty and you will have a good life ahead of you.” She eventually messaged me on Instagram and we started hanging out together. I learnt quickly that she has the most beautiful soul and her love for me was like nothing I had ever experienced. Later we moved in together and we were together every day until October 7, 2023.

Part of my job was organising festivals and we spent many weekends with our friends, listening to music, drinking and having fun. The Nova festival, held in the Negev desert in southern Israel, was something we were all looking forward to. Even after we saw the missiles in the sky that day, we thought, “Ah, this is Israel. It is a normal day.” So we carried on dancing. It was only when I got a call from my aunt, who was also at the festival, that we realised something was not right. She was screaming, saying that someone in her car had been shot. I said to Ziv, “We should get out of here.”

We drove with Ziv’s nephew and his girlfriend, heading for the main road, but there was a police roadblock. We turned the car around and drove maybe five minutes until we saw a bomb shelter — a common sight near the border. More people joined us in the shelter, but we were all talking and joking. Although it was scary, we had seen it before.

Then suddenly the terrorists were outside the shelter and they were going to kill us. A grenade rolled into the shelter and exploded. Another grenade and we are fighting, picking up the grenades and throwing them out of the door. It was like this for 40 minutes until the terrorists fired a rocket-propelled grenade.

I don’t know how, but my mind was still working. Ziv fainted and I knew the only chance to save her was to bury her underneath the dead bodies. Two of those bodies were her nephew and his girlfriend.

The bullets were still coming into the shelter and I was shot in the leg, but then I was dragged out and loaded onto a truck. The last thing I saw was a terrorist pointing his gun into the shelter and firing a hundred bullets. I was sure Ziv was dead.

I was driven to Gaza and thousands of people were on the streets celebrating. I was more scared of these people than I was of the terrorists. The terrorists wanted to keep me alive, a hostage for negotiation. Those ordinary people wanted to kill me. They wanted the respect that would come from killing a Jew.

I was held for 505 days. In the tunnels was the worst — no light, no sleep, beatings, being stripped naked so they could laugh at us, no food, no water. There was a wonderful day when we realised we were so far underground that there was damp on the walls. We would lick the walls. At least we had a drop of water. I put my trust in God. I knew they would not break me.

The days blurred into one, but when we heard a rumour that Donald Trump had been elected it made my group of four hostages very excited. Two weeks later our captors told us three of us would be released. Just three, not four. I was lucky enough to be one of them but knowing one of us was still in captivity filled me with guilt. Alon Ohel was freed eight months later.

Then I saw my family. And Ziv. She was alive. It wasn’t real, but it was. Of course then I found out what had been happening in the world. The marches celebrating the murders and rapes, babies being slaughtered. The only reason people can mock is because we are Jewish. If it happened to other people they wouldn’t.

Even after I was released I didn’t allow myself to continue with life. How could I see a doctor or start my therapy when the other hostages weren’t free? The 20 remaining living hostages were released last October.

It has taken a long time but Ziv and I now try to think about the future. I bought an engagement ring before October 7 and have now had the chance to propose. We will marry this summer and build a family with many children in Israel, in the land where they tried to kill us. For me, that’s the biggest victory of all.

Ziv

The bomb shelter we were in on that day in 2023 — on Route 232 near the Kibbutz Re’im — is now known as the shelter of death. The first grenade exploded and the sound, the smell, the dead bodies… not even bodies, arms and legs and blood. I was scared like I have never been scared before. I peed myself three or four times.

The last thing I remember is holding Eliya’s hand and him covering me with dead bodies. I think I heard him scream, saying he’d been shot. Then one of the terrorists began shooting into the shelter — a machinegun. So many bullets. I could feel them hitting the bodies on top of me — thum-thum-thum — making the bodies shudder and move. And then nothing.

I woke up at 11am and the attack had started at eight. There was me and six other survivors in the shelter, and we had no idea what was going to happen. Would the terrorists come back? We sat with our dead friends for seven hours until we were rescued and taken to a hospital. I tried to call my sisters and they said they had seen a picture of Eliya. I thought they were lying, trying to make me happy, but then I saw the picture on the news. He was alive but he was in Gaza — a hostage.

I cried myself to sleep every night but each morning I would tell myself that I would make sure Eliya came home. I was part of the delegations travelling around the world, telling people about October 7. When he was finally released and I saw him again, after 16 months, he was so thin, my Eliya, and like a ghost.

When I was a child I heard people talk about the Holocaust and how much people hated Jews, but I thought that people had changed. Then I saw marches all over Europe, defending what had happened. People would stop me in the street and say Hamas is not a terrorist group, they are fighting for human rights.

Of the people who were murdered, we knew 48 of them. [Official figures put the death toll of the October 7 attacks at 1,200.] My nephew and his girlfriend are gone. I suffer from PTSD and still have nightmares. When I tried on my wedding dress, there was nothing, no happy tears. October 7 changed us, it changed everything, but we have hope. Our wedding is going to be our moment. It is our present from God.

I've been poking away at this one for a few weeks now but I finally put in the effort to finish it off.

If this looks like a skin you'd like to try, you can find it on my github.

Tenna art by @9Aaaalt29 on twt

Director Sanvers

Rated E

BDSM

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"Six days after October 7th, a genocide studies professor declared Israel's response "textbook genocide" — before a single independent casualty count existed and week before an IDF soldier entered Gaza. A year later Amnesty admitted, on page 101 of its own report, that it was rejecting the ICJ's actual legal standard because that standard "would effectively preclude a finding of genocide." Internal staff at Amnesty revealed the report was called "the genocide report" before the research even began. None of this happened to Myanmar, Syria, or Sudan — all more brutal, all with clearer evidence of intent, all treated with years of caution before anyone reached for the word. Only Israel gets convicted first and investigated after.

Children die, death/murder is not an adult topic.

The Troubled Teen Industry exists, child trafficking is not an adult topic.

Children get raped, sexual assault is not an adult topic.

Children have alcoholic parents, addiction is not an adult topic.

Children get beat to the point of hospitalization at school, that level of violence is not an adult topic.