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walks-the-ages · 1 year

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OP deactivated, and some of the links were broken/marked unsafe by Firefox, so here's a new compilation post of Leslie Feinburg's (She/her, ze/hir) novels and essays on being transgender:

Stone Butch Blues official free source directly from Author's website:

Stone Butch Blues, backup on the webarchive:

Transgender Liberation: A movement whose time has come, on the web archive:

Transgender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman, on the web archive:

Lavender and Red, PDF essay collection:

Drag King Dreams, on the web archive:

(Also, if anyone ever tells you that the protagonist of Stone Butch Blues ""ends up with a man""........ they're transmisogynistic jackass TERFs who are straight up lying)

Please also check out your local public libraries for these books and see if they carry them, to help support public libraries! If you have a library card already you can checkout Libby and Overdrive to see if your public library carries it as an ebook that you can checkout :)

EDIT: another not included on the orignal masterpost-- Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink or blue !

annnnnd in light of the web archive losing it's court case, here's a backup of both PDFs and generated epubs a friend made:

5/26/2023: hello! I am adding on yet another book of queer history, this time the autobiography of Karl Baer, a Jewish, intersex trans man who was born in 1884! Please signal boost this version, and remember to check the notes whenever this crosses your dash for any new updates :)

6/24/2023: Two links to share!

Someone made an Epub version of Memoirs of a Man's Maiden Years, which you can find Here , as a more accessible version than a pdf of a scanned book if you're like me and need larger text size for reading--

And from another post I reblogged earlier today, I discovered the existence of "TransSisters: the Journal of Transsexual Feminism", which has 10 issues from 1993-1995, and includes multiple interviews with Leslie Feinburg and other queer feminists / activists of the 90s!

Here's a link to all 10 issues of TransSisters, plus a 1996 "look back at" by one of the writers after the journal ended, you can find all 10 issues on the Internet Archive Here !

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8/28/2023:

"Bi Any Other Name: Bisexual People Speak Out", can be found on the web archive Here, for the 25th Anniversary Edition from 2015,

and also Here, for the original 1991 version.

Each of the above can be borrowed for one hour at a time as long as a copy is available :D

This is a living post that receives sporadic updates on the original, if you are seeing this on your dash, click Here to see the latest version of the post to make sure you're reblogging the most up to date one :)

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October, 25th 2023:

"I began to dawdle over breakfast during shift changes, asking both waitresses questions. After weeks of inquiries, they invited me to a demonstration, outside Kleinhan's Music Hall, protesting the Israeli war against Egypt and Syria. I was particularly interested in that protest. The state of Israel had been declared shortly before my birth. In Hebrew school I was taught "Palestine was a land without peo-ple, for a people without a land." That phrase haunted me as a child. I pictured ears with no one in them, and movies projected on screens in empty theaters. When I checked a map of that region of the Middle East in my school geography textbook, it was labeled Palestine, not Israel. Yet when I asked my grandmother who the Palestinians were, she told me there were no such people. The puzzle had been solved for me in my adolescence. I developed a strong friendship with a Lebanese teenager, who explained to me that the Palestinian people had been driven off their land by Zionist settlers, like the Native peoples in the United States. I studied and thought a great deal about all she told me. From that point on I staunchly opposed Zionist ideology and the occupation of Palestine. So I wanted to go to the protest. However, I feared the demonstration, no matter how justified, would be tainted by anti-Semitism. But I was so angered by the actions of the Israeli government and military, that I went to the event to check it out for myself. That evening, I arrived at Kleinhan's before the protest began. Cops in uniforms and plainclothes surrounded the music hall. I waited impatiently for the protesters to arrive. Suddenly, all the media swarmed down the street. I ran after them. Coming over the hill was a long column of people moving toward Kleinhan's. The woman who led the march and spoke to reporters proudly told them she was Jewish! Others held signs and banners aloft that read: "Arab Land for Arab People!" and "Smash Anti-Semitism!" Now those were two slogans I could get behind! I wanted to know who these people were and where they had been all my life! Hours later I followed the group back to their headquarters. Orange banners tacked up on the walls expressed solidarity with the Attica prisoners and the Vietnamese. One banner particularly haunted me. It read: Stop the War Against Black America, which made me realize that it wasn't just distant wars that needed opposing. Yet although I worked with two members of this organization, I felt nervous that night. These people were communists, Marxists! Yet I found it easy to get into discussions with them. I met waitresses, factory workers, secretaries, and truck drivers. And I decided they were some of the most principled people I had ever met. For example, I was impressed that many of the men I spoke with talked to me about the importance of fighting the oppression of gays and lesbians, and of all women. Yet I knew they thought they were talking to a straight man" Transgender Warriors (1996) Leslie Feinberg

#bold text #large text #transgender #trans #nonbinary #leslie feinberg #neopronouns #activism #no id #pride #essays #Karl bae #memoirs of a man's maiden years #bi any other name

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tremendum · 2 months

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heaven is a place on earth; joel miller

prologue; im a loser, baby!

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au (pre-outbreak, altered ages), Joel Miller x fem!nanny!reader. dedicated to the anon who suggested this trope.

↬ series masterlist main masterlist

↬ it's 2000. you're freshly single, three weeks away from being evicted, and your coworker knows a hot, single dad who is hiring for a nanny. you'll take anything you can get.

↬ warnings; tagged 18+ for eventual smut and mature themes. MDNI. age gap (reader is 22, joel is 35), fiscal anxieties, allusions to a shitty ex. if your name is michelle, norah, or dan, you get to be twins with my ocs in this series <;33

series mixtape, song one; Loser, Beck. 1994.

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"fuck."

your voice hisses through the rows of books you stalk down, legs carrying you with fervor towards the front desk. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

you whirl past a mother reading a children's book to her toddler and wince at your language, mouthing sorry! at the baby as you pass. avoiding the harsh glare of its mother, you mutter under your breath. "shit."

in your hurry, your hip slams into the wooden corner of the front desk; a small grunt of pain hisses through your clenched teeth as you trudge up to your swivel chair.

"god, damn it!" you bemoan, lowering yourself into your chair and sighing heavily as you drop your head to your hands.

"so...it can't be good news." Michelle says to you, quietly, as she grimaces apologetically to the mother who walks towards the exit, shielding her stupid baby's ears from your foul mouth. you ignore the woman's harsh look of judgement, instead biting your lip, willing yourself to calm down.

with a suck of deep breath you shake your head. "no, it is not."

she sends you a consolatory look and to this you groan, "the rent's too much here. thought I'd get this one, I really did." you mutter helplessly, picking up several of the books from the drop bin to check them back in on your computer. "they made me endure four interviews. all for nothing."

a consolatory hand graces your shoulder and you offer your coworker a small smile of gratitude. she sends you a smile so hopeful that you nearly forget the desperate state you're in - the heavy fear of starting new.

"we'll find you a good one. you're smart, marketable, charming..." Michelle shakes her head as you move to protest, pointing at you. "-no, don't even start. we'll get you some more interviews. in the meantime...Dan and I were thinking. we have a couple hundred we could spare this month, just to..." she glances at your shocked stare, shrugging her shoulders. "-you know, get you on your feet. it's not easy to restart, especially after a breakup."

your heart drops at her words, a crawling feeling of shame licking your throat as you shake your head.

eyes stinging, you stare down hard at your keyboard, where your nails pick at the F key. "I couldn't- I couldn't ask that of you. thank you, but I-" you shake your head. "don't do that, really Michelle."

she waves her hand, "we insist. but Dan wants to discuss it in person, so we'll be having you over for dinner soon, okay?" she insists, and you hide your burning face between your hands. "this is too much." you say with a grumble, shaking your head.

"think of it as a gift." she says hopefully with a shrug. "your birthday's soon, isn't it?"

you sigh, smiling over at her as you shake your head. "at least let me do something for you in repayment. do you need any rooms painted? gardening? babysitting?" you offer, sliding slightly towards her to take a sip of her coffee.

"we'll talk about it." she agrees, but you know she isn't going to ask you to do any of it; she and her husband are much too kind.

at your silence she just hums triumphantly, typing away on her keyboard as she files a damaged book report. the library hums with its inherent stillness, the fluorescents flickering as you busy yourself filing your own work for the evening.

five whole minutes pass in silence; a feat for you and the woman who sits just beside you. as you work idly, your eyes jump back to the payphone on the wall across the room where you'd heard the words: thank you for your interest, but we decided to go with another candidate.

whatever. they don't deserve you, anyways. and honestly, the job had shitty benefits.

a sharp sigh from you gives Michelle the narrow opportunity to swivel her chair to face you, as if she'd been waiting for an opportunity to speak.

"you know," she puts on the look of innocence, "I was thinking..."

you fix her with a look - the last few suggestions for money she'd given you were take up dancing (which you would certainly consider, if the nearest club wasn't fourteen miles away) or marry rich. for a woman who's still with the same man she was with in high school, she sure has an imaginative mind.

you're a month away from losing your new apartment and you cannot fathom moving back in with your ex; you'll take anything. Michelle holds her hands out in defense at your glare. "listen, Norah's got a teammate whose father is looking for a nanny."

you let the words sink in as you spin your chair to her in interest. nanny?

"-he owns a construction business. he mentioned looking for a nanny for weekdays at the girls' tournament last Saturday."

you sigh, touched that she'd thought of you, but exasperated. "I work weekdays!" you sigh. she lifts a brow, leaning closer, "yes, but..." she looks around conspiratorially, "-I think Joel would give you higher pay - and you can still work here on weekends."

your brows raise in shock, hope growing in your chest. "what, is he loaded?"

at this, she laughs.

you blink as she holds a hand to her chest, chuckling to herself, leaving you unaware of whatever was so funny to her. "no, no." she calms herself as you stare, less amused. "-but he loves his girl. definitely the type of man who will pay well to make sure his baby's safe."

your lip is tugged between your teeth as you consider; "kids don't really like me."

it’s not even true- kids love you as much as you love them, but something self-sabotaging within you begs to differ.

Michelle snorts, "Norah loves you." she counters; you cross your arms, "well, that's different. she's, like, an eleven year old version of you."

she grins at this; Michelle has known you since you were a sophomore, just freshly out of the dorms - she may be older than you by over a decade and a half, but she and her husband are the closest to family you have in this part of the country.

you nod. "please, will you give him my information? I need any money I can get. I'll be the best nanny in the world."

you're convincing yourself more than her, but she smiles all the same. "I'll see him when I pick Norah up after practice this afternoon. I'll share your number with him, okay?"

you have the next day off of work; you spend it unpacking some boxes and organizing, taking a walk around the new neighborhood, trying to befriend the building cat with a can of tuna.

you watch people pass in the street, distracting yourself from the disappointment of leaving your old neighborhood, even if it'd been infested by your cheating ex.

the opportunity to nanny this summer lingers in the back of your mind as you walk past a park, watching as the kids clamber and scream and laugh; you smile to yourself, watching a young mother push a child on the swing.

sometime past noon, an unknown number texts your cellphone and you pause the TiVo to flip it open eagerly.

Hey there, it's Joel Miller. Our mutual friend Michelle passed along your number. I've been looking for a nanny for my daughter and heard great things about you. Would you be open to chatting sometime this week? I'd love to discuss a nannying opportunity with Sarah. Let me know if that works for you.

Thanks, Joel

you stare at the words, reading them slowly with a pounding of excitement in your chest. suddenly, the walls of your new, too-expensive apartment seem brighter, the sun opens up the sky - you nearly call Michelle in a burst of excitement before even thinking of a response.

an inkling of doubt pulls at the back of your head; the man seems kind enough - even if he texts like he's a hundred years old, Michelle and Dan know him personally. you slide your phone, staring at the phone screen for a moment before starting to type out a response.

Hi Joel! Nice to hear from you, thanks for reaching out. I'd be happy to meet this week to chat about Sarah and nannying opportunities. I am available in the evenings most days, so if there's any time that works best for you, I can make that happen.

knuckles cramping, you roll your eyes at your effort to be professional over text. you tweak your message several times before signing your name, shutting your eyes, and hitting the send button.

Joel doesn't respond until very late; nearly eleven in the evening, suggesting a time later in the week and telling you his address. Michelle is ecstatic for you, even helping you draft up ways to tell your boss you'll be going part-time in a professional way; it's accepted gracefully, and now all you have to do is hope this Joel Miller can pay enough.

he hires you an hour after meeting up.

to your relief, his daughter Sarah is a darling; big eyes and a bright smile that hides no malicious intent or snobbery. your anxiety slipped away the moment Joel opens their front door, replaced instead with flustered surprise in your lower belly at the man who stood before you.

why hadn't Michelle at least warned you?

he's taller than you'd imagined, and much more handsome; his dark hair is slightly tousled, a faint hint of stubble framing his jawline, biceps defined by a dark gray shhirt. he's curt but chivalrous, voice a low baritone and veins that trickle up his thick forearms golden skin glowing as he talks.

and jesus christ, his eyes - the memory of how they'd scaled over your body, taking you in as you'd stood in the dying sunlight on his doorstep that first time. dragging slowly, eyes dark and shrouded by long lashes, as you'd introduced yourself. how he'd cleared his throat and let you through with a half smile and a nod.

you'd had to try your hardest to keep your eyes on his as he explained he'd need you most weekdays because he has several new projects and has been working longer hours recently.

it took Sarah all of a minute and a half of shyness and hiding behind her father's leg before you showed her your tamagotchi; immediately after, she decided you were new best friends - with her hand in yours, she eagerly showed around the house in a half-intentional tour, pointing out the best hide and seek spots and showing you her collection of toys.

by the end of the evening, Joel was shaking your hand and agreeing on a bi-weekly payment much higher than you'd expected.

he'd insisted on walking you to your beat-up car, smiling as he opened your driver's door with a shrug - it's dark out, don't want to let my new sitter walk alone at night, do I?

you'd tried your hardest to keep your thoughts professional, but the moment your head fell to your pillow that night, you knew you were fucked.

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up next: chapter 01 ; as long as you don't care there is no longer a taglist; follow @tremendumnotifs to be notified when i post.

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#joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller series #heaven is a place on earth; tremendum

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