#tfrn

maybe its just where im living, but it feels like all thats available to do is those aforementioned witty cardboard sign marches. Which feel absolutely useless. I never go home afterwards feeling better about how things are going, or like anything has been improved. I find myself struggling with what can be done, materially, for the world. & how to do so without blowing up my whole life. How does one fight fascism without ending up destitute or dead? Thats probably cowardice predicated on the assumption that there's any way to control what happens to you under an oppressive system, but its a fear I keep returning to.

All this to say: Woodstock, do you have any resources on productive action, staying safe, and overcoming fear? With a bonus for any material on activists not universally meeting grisly and unhappy fates, to remind myself that its not a doomed endeavor

thank you <3

One of the toughest hurdles for people trying to "get into" activism is that it's not advertised. For work that fulfills you, for work that matters, you need to go looking. Often, you need to create it yourself.

Activism starts on the ground by building solidarity. Find your local Food Not Bombs chapter (or start one yourself!), or a tool library, or another form of mutual aid. Not only are these tangible ways to improve the material conditions of the people around you, but it will introduce you to like-minded people. Start a meetup for marginalized people, somewhere you can build affinity and a sense of community against the state. Don't be afraid to be the first. Every group, every action, every headline, started with one person talking to their community about their oppression and deciding to do something about it.

Once you have a group of people who are connected by the knowledge of being against the state, you can start talking about material action. Make sure you've read up on your theory and literature—it's another part of that foundational understanding. You don't need to dissect Marx or annotate Gramsci, but you need to know the history and ideology behind the work. You can't go right into direct action until you have a solid foundational understanding of praxis—you'll just get yourself or others hurt. Theory and Anarchist Literature are one way of building systems of knowledge: they are a vessel for solidarity, a way to bring together the experiences and lessons and failures and successes of communities the world over. It's better, safer, smarter than going off "antifascist vibes" and making the same mistakes a thousand people before you have made. Try browsing the Anarchist Library, specifically Anarchy Works or Mutual Aid or EcoDefense.

Look around for the direct tools of fascism in your community. If you're in the United States, learn how to identify ICE vehicles and how to safely defend against raids and kidnappings. Find the companies that support the Isreali fascist state, and where they live in your neighborhood. Keep abreast of local laws and law enforcement, how they're funded and enacted. You'd be surprised how little digging it takes to find this information; a lot of it has to be made publicly available.

Once you've familiarized yourself with technique and action, learned where the powers that be exist in your community, and you've built a group of like-minded people? Observe, Plan, Act, Retreat. Follow opsec, and make sure everyone understands that if no one talks, everyone walks.

You won't find a lot of information on "anarchist happy endings", but they're more common than you think. Good activists don't advertise; they don't brag or even share what they've done. You just do the work. We fight the state (the information state, the surveillance state) by keeping our actions isolated and compartmentalized. You'll need to come to terms with losing some comfort, losing some safety. That comfort and safety is built on the backs of thousands of oppressed people, so maybe it's not so bad to take a little discomfort and danger on yourself.

Just in case anyone wants to argue that the recent wave of anti-nsfw (and specifically “anti-porn”) campaigning isn’t based in transphobia and specifically transmisogyny, here are some fun facts about Melinda Tankard Reist, the Director of Collective Shout (the organization behind most of these campaigns): 

She was also a founding director of Women’s Forum Australia, a conservative think tank that actively campaigned against abortion legislation, spread conspiracy theories about the health dangers of wi-fi, and succsefully got trans-positive sex ed books taken out of stores after abusing and harrassing employees. 

She worked as a political advisor to Brian Harradine, a far-right Australian Senator with ties to conservative Christian groups who opposed same-sex marriage, abortion, and pornography. 

She publishes her books through Spinifex press, a self-described “radical feminist” publishing house that has worked with other transphobic authors in the past. 

And some about Collective Shout’s Campaigns Manager, Caitlin Roper: 

Wrote Prositution Narratives, a collection of stories meant to act as evidence for the abolition of sex work (edited by none other than Melinda Tankard Reist, published by Spinifex Press). 

Compares queer theorists to “paedophile rights activists”.

Is a vocal advocate and supporter of FiLiA, a radical feminist conference that has repeatedly argued that “trans rights are inherently in conflict with sex based women’s rights”. 

And, just for fun, some things you might not have known about Collective Shout: 

Campaigned to have the visas of Tyler, the Creator and Snoop Dogg revoked on the basis of rap music “glorifying sexual violence against women”. 

Over the past several years there have been scores of laws and cases brought to courts around the United States regarding the rights of transgender youth; whether they can play sports with their peers, access certain kinds of healthcare, or even use the correct bathroom. Today, however, marks the first of these cases to reach the highest level of our legal system: the Supreme Court. U.S. v Skrmetti will allow Supreme Court Justices to decide whether gender-affirming care bans for minors are unconstitutional on the basis of sex discrimination.

The case comes in the wake of Tennesse's law Senate Bill 1 (SB1), which prohibits doctors from prescribing surgical and pharmaceutical care to transgender minors looking to transition. plaintiffs in the case argue that this law is based purely on sex discrimination, and raises questions about "not just the legitimacy of trans healthcare, but about, in some sense, the legitimacy of trans people as members of civic life and public life".

The outcome of this case could heavily influence the types of legislation brought to the courts in other states, as well as challenging the swaths of anti-trans bills already in effect or on the table across the country. It could provide a jumping off point for legal challenges against this transphobic wave in government, though the demographics of the Supreme Court make such a momentous outcome unlikely. It may also spurn a movement to try and further restrict healthcare for trans adults, no matter the decision reached by the Court.

In June of 2024, queer and trans-owned magazine Autostraddle published “A Trans Guy’s Guide to Picking Up a Trans Girl”. Written by Buzzfeed alum Gabe Dunn, the article immediately became the subject of debate with over 200 more comments than any of the author’s other articles. Many took offense, describing the article’s suggestions as “manipulative,” “dehumanizing,” and “transmisogynystic claptrap.” Indeed, the article reads more like a man trying desperately to hide his objectification of trans women behind a veil of queer solidarity and pithy stereotypes than real dating advice. Many claimed Dunn to be a chaser, someone who pursues trans women out of a fetishistic sexual desire rather than actual romantic interest. Though the article itself was not taken down, Autostraddle deleted social media posts about the article after significant public backlash. 

Amid these negative comments, there were also several trans women who wrote they wished someone would show them the care and interest the article suggests; how could someone be a chaser, they seem to say, if they take the time to listen to you and engage in your interests? Dunn does not fit with the image of chasers they know: those chasers are often cis men who are not afraid to put their vapid fetishization and dehumanizing beliefs at the forefront. They show no interest outside of physical anatomy, and imply or outright threaten physical violence if the object of their desire shows any agency or self-worth. They make it clear that trans women need to fit into a narrow caricature of objectified submissiveness, and that their personalities and interests don’t matter. Dunn’s article seemingly contains none of these red flags, and even suggests an understanding and connection with trans women. Yet the criticisms are hardly unfounded, and upon closer inspection a different set of more subtle and insidious warning signs emerges.

Whether it be increasingly ubiquitous memes like “girl dinner” or influencers pushing for tradcath housewife aesthetics in front of their $20,000 stoves, it seems like feminism has taken a backseat position in the cultural milieu of the past several years. Alongside direct legal retaliation against gender equality, such the damning overturning of Roe v. Wade in 2022 which has allowed for the banning of all abortions in 14 states so far, there is a more subtle war against feminism going on. Alongside this war is an intrinisically linked battle against queerness and, more specifically, transgender identity. It is no coincidence that 510 anti-LGBT+ laws were introduced in the US legal system in 2023 alone, only one year after the repeal of Roe v. Wade. This backlash has been happening as long as the equal rights movement itself, and knowing the history of that retaliation—and how different aspects of hate overlap—is vital for knowing how to stand effectively against it. 

In the early 1990’s, alongside other prominent feminist titles like The Beauty Myth (1990) and Revolution From Within (1992),  Susan Faludi wrote Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women (1991). In this 550-page analysis, she presents an evidence-based case detailing the media-driven backlash against feminist surges of the 70's and 80’s, and how this backlash is part of a repetitive cycle of meager feminist victory and harsh cultural punishment. Faludi explains that this backlash comes in disguised forms, with many of its supporters even "consider[ing] themselves feminists". While she assures the reader that there are more direct forms of retaliation against feminism, Faludi holds that "[f]or the most part, its workings are encoded and internalized, diffuse and chameleonic” as the media tries to convince women that "you may be free and equal now[...] but you have never been more miserable". Important to this tactic is that the messages nominally come from feminist women; statistically unsupported thinkpieces of women choosing to leave higher education or the workforce, or the sudden rise in infertility treatments as women realize the need for motherhood. The call, Faludi tells us, is coming from inside the house.

This lens shines an important light on several cultural trends in the modern day, such as the rise of “tradwife” influencers and subtly misogynistic memes about feminine ineptitude: these are not actually a portrayal of womens choice, but a concerted effort to reaffirm the gendered status quo. They push a message that decries feminism as the cause of depression, anxiety, and loneliness in women—as Faludi puts it, they say that “it must be all that equality that’s causing all that pain”. It should be common knowledge at this point that influencers and social media personalities are often pushing different, hidden agendas—be that commercial sponsors or subtle political messaging—and anti-feminist rhetoric is no different. Mareike Fenja Bauer, a PhD candidate focusing on anti-feminist influencers, explains in her article “Beauty, baby and backlash? Anti-feminist influencers on TikTok” how these types of social media presences engage in different forms of metapolitics, using the portrayal of their supposed private lives to “[introduce] their audience to anti-feminist ideas and other anti-feminist actors[…] and commodify their anti-feminist worldview”. Similarly, MediaMatters columnists Jacina Hollins-Borges and Sophie Lawton point out that while “much of the tradwife content online appears innocuous[...] tradwife influencers will often use hashtags that are adjacent to alt-right and white supremacist movements and promote a far-right understanding of gender and culture”. Even some right-wing figures like Alex Clark have made moves to distance themselves from the “fetishization” and “regressive gender politics” of these types of influencers, which serves as a fairly damning indication of the supposedly innocent mothers and wives of the movement. 

Between Faludi, Bauer, and Hollins-Borges & Lawton, we can see how the cycles of feminist backlash operate and how they have continued to operate for over 30 years. Reading a little bit between the lines, however, we also notice a common factor that these authors only glance: a revival of deep-seated Puritan reasoning and belief system that seems to drive this backlash along. Indeed, in his article “The Puritans Are Back: Did They Ever Really Leave?” PhD psychologist Dennis Clausen says that it is not so much of a revival but a consistent reflection of Puritan values in American society. He links regressive gender politics, anti-homeless initiatives, book bannings and the pushback against art and literature, as well as several other prominent cultural movements to core tenants of Puritan philosophy. The term “Purity Culture” has been coined to describe the way that puritanical tenets, specifically those that decry sex and intimacy, are peddled by right-wing influencers and have even invaded more left-leaning spaces. Moreso than just villainizing sex, purity culture pushes the idea that there is only one morally correct form of relationship; the heterosexual “relationship escalator”, as therapist and fromer youth pastor Jay Callahan describes: a man and a woman “meet, court, marry, have kids, stay together (exclusively) forever”. Anyone that falls outside of this escalator, meaning any queer person, is thus a sinner. 

I'm sure there are intersex people who have put this more informed and eloquently than I but I do really think we need to realize how exclusionary both the "afab/amab" and "tme/tma" dichotomies are to intersex people in our communities. I find myself considering it the most with the "afab trans woman" arguments that have been circulating; while I agree that cis women really have no place claiming the label of trans women and that it at best speaks to a "third-gendering" view of trans women as a whole and at worst represents a diminishing of the very real experiences of isolation, discovery, transition, and self-actualization that trans women use to define themselves; I also think that the way people have gone about having these discussions often ignores or passively erases the existence of intersex people and their histories within the trans and queer communities.

Historically and still strongly in contemporary thought trans identities are linked to the relationship someone has with the gender they were assigned at birth, which is assumed to have been based on the makeup of their reproductive organs and chromosomes at that time. But we know, as it has come up increasingly as a "gotcha" argument against transphobes and misogynists, that sex is not a 50/50 split and that there are in fact numerous variations that can occur with out chromosomal construction and the physical appearance of reproductive organs. Why, then, are we still hinging the prospect of transgender identity on this outdated dichotomy? Why does the language we as a community have decided is the "correct" guideline still exclude the variety of gendered experience?

I am going to use a broad hypothetical example here, and before I am accused of "making up a girl for the sake of argument" I want to clarify that this broad hypothetical is indicative of several people I know and talk to on- and offline. I don't want to center or spotlight them for the sake of my argument, so I am instead informing a broader hypothetical off of my knowledge of their lived experience. So, for the sake of argument, consider the reality of someone with an intersex condition who was "assigned" (aka given corrective surgery / therapy to enforce an identity of) male at birth, but whose reproductive organs would not otherwise match what "amab" is accepted to represent. Is this person not able to identify as a trans woman because they don't have a "dick"? Do they count as "amab" because they were forced to present as male in childhood, or "afab" because they have genitals that somewhat match that description?

The point is that our construction of language and the way we use it to define identity simply isn't equipped to handle the realities of intersex lives. We run into a similar problem with the "tme/tma" dichotomy, which also implicitly pushes a one-or-the-other construction of identity and physicality.

What I need liberals and performative leftists to understand is that, beyond the reality that there is never going to be any "pulling left" of the democratic establishment because it's already an ingrained supporter of the current political and cultural structure in America, there's not going to be any anything from the democratic establishment because they have presented absolutely no game plan for another presidential term. They are relying entirely on anti-Trump fearmongering and empty virtue-signalling without laying forward a single prospective policy decision. Here is the "issues" page of the Biden campaign website:

These are not policy guidelines, they are a system of vague democratic values. What parts of our democracy will be protected and strengthened, and how? What will a more accessible and affordable health care system look like? Expanding these value-bubbles, we see that these are questions without answers:

This is two paragraphs of virtue-signalling and fearmongering without a single mention of concrete policy initiative or legislative planning. It doesn't even tell us what parts of our "democracy" are at stake; they simply tell us that there is danger! Trump is coming! We are the solution! how? don't worry about it.

The other bubbles are the same, the better ones going so far as to throw out some statistics about how bad things got under Trump. but they give no goal numbers, no idea of what or how much work is needed to "restore reproductive freedom".

The campaign is as hollow and dysfunctional as the representative they have pinned to its front. The entirety of their campaign website's promises take up 12 paragraphs.

Project 2025's "Mandate of Leadership" is 922 pages long. It's table of contents looks like this:

It is a thorough, step-by-step guide on legislative actions, policy implementations, political appointments, and judicial restructurings for an 180-day "playbook" for a Trump-led administration. The company that runs this project, The Heritage Foundation, gave a similar manifesto to Ronald Reagan when he began his presidency, and Reagan only implemented 60% of their recommendations.

I have found myself considering often recently the stark difference in comfort I feel when hanging out with a group of trans women as opposed to any other mix of people.  The way I unfold and stretch into a warm familiarity in the presence of my sisters in ways I didn’t even know were possible; the years I spent hunched in on myself, slouched and cramped into something smaller than I am. I’ve wondered about why this is, why I feel this pressure even amongst lifelong friends who have never once been anything but supportive of me and my identity. Friends who stand up for me to others and go out of their way to be affirming. Even in a room full of gender-freaks and capital-Q Queers, I am still shrink-wrapped in tight discomfort, like fitting into clothes that aren’t too big or too small, but cut in just the right way that you know they look wrong on you. I have realized it is because in all of these spaces, the queerness of my identity is more important than my identity itself. I am never just a woman, I am always a transgender woman. I am always ‘trans’ before I am ‘girl’. 

I think this phenomenon is clearly related to the fetishization of trans women, but not because it is fetishizing in itself. I don’t hang out with the kind of people who would read the Trans Girl Pick-Up Guide, and yet I still encounter this feeling of separation, of reduction and simplification and otherness, on a near-daily basis. I think this and the fetishization of trans women have the same root cause, which is the third-gendering of trans identities. The reduction of trans women to genitalia is certainly one part of this, but there are non-sexual aspects as well that are based in the way we define transgenderism itself. As long as transgenderism is marked as the switch from one gender to another, often but not always from the “assigned” gender to the “chosen” gender, it implicitly distances those people from the very gender identities they are trying to claim. My womanhood is always predicated on the context of my previous “manhood”. My transition, be it social or physical, is always the foundation upon which my womanhood is built; I am always ‘trans’ before I am ‘girl’. In this why I am consistently third-gendered by those around me, made to exist outside of the binary (this is not to say that I believe or support the gender binary; I think we should do away with it entirely. The problem lies from the binary being enforced and stapled over, of creating categories that are made other because of their movement). 

There are, of course, spaces and times where I do claim and celebrate this foundation, this otherness. I am proud of my journey into self-realization, and my queerness is an important aspect of my personality that I don’t try to play down or hide. My experiences, my beliefs, my actions and my desires, all are influenced by this part of my identity in ways I may not even fully realize. I am trans, and I am proud of that. But when I claim myself as a trans woman, those two words are given equal weight; they share the podium. I am trans. I am woman. I am me. In the presence of others, though, I can feel the latter being pushed to the back, like a celebrity being pushed behind their representative. A child being pushed behind their parent. My womanhood is to be seen, but my transness is to be heard. I think that the emphasis on queer identity can sometimes be a tool of ostracization from the self, rather than simply ostracization from others. Especially in the current social climate of precise identification and ‘queer solidarity’, people become focused on the queer identity, and not enough on the identity itself. It is only when I am surrounded by other trans women that I feel like I exist without caveat or precursor; when I am truly, uncompromisingly ‘girl’. I know more trans women than I can count, and yet I can count on one hand the number of times I have heard any of them refer to themselves simply as ‘a woman’ around others. Only when we are alone can it become implicit, an understanding rather than a explanation, and we can simply exist in our womanhood together. When we can just be a couple of girls, hanging out. 

Hopefully you’ve noticed that throughout this I have separated the word trans from the word woman. This is on purpose: I think that the increasing commonality of “transwoman” or “transfem” as a single word is a large part of this issue, because it intrinsically links our identity to a modified womanhood, a modified femininity. We can never take off the context of our separation; of our previous identity. And of course there are trans women who do identify with that label, who want to claim that context and wear it proud, always. I fully support any transfem who does so, as her self-realization is the most important thing. This, just like everything else, is just my observations from the lens of my own experience.