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“Trapped”
Stone Butch Blues - Leslie Feinberg
@/lilboyblueish on Instagram
Poem by Keaton St. James (@boykeats)
I/Me/Myself - Will Wood
We Both Laughed In Pleasure by Lou Sullivan
cis people asking cis questions by Silas Denver Melvin (@sweatermuppet)
Tomboy Survival Guide by Ivan Coyote
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saccharind · 9 months
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Tomboy Survival Guide by Ivan Coyote
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A Butch Roadmap
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You are a rare species, not a stereotype
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gatheringbones · 2 years
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[“Tonight after my show, one of the first people in line to get her book signed leaned in and told me she didn’t want to use the they pronoun for me, because she didn’t, and I quote, “want to lose me.” And then she basically harangued me about going into schools, because if I was not using the she pronoun anymore, then what kind of a role model was I for all those girls now? All of this with a long line behind her of other folks waiting to speak to me or have their books signed. I didn’t even know what to say to her. Other than, of course, the ninety-minute show where I had just poured my heart out about my time in the gender trenches.
The silver lining?
The sixty-something-year-old, very straight, conservative-looking dude who sat in the front row and nodded, smiled, and even rocked out through the whole show. He shook my hand afterward and said, “Good stuff. My wife and I, we just love your work. We hope you never stop.”
Okay, to be honest, I was not thinking this gig in Coquitlam was going to be a fun one for me. The stage was running half an hour late, so there was lots of bleed from the mainstage rock band to fight sound over, an unfocused crowd in and out of the tent, and a giant group of old women who were just in the tent because it was cooler inside in the shade and there were chairs and no infernal rock music.
So. One of those old women (late eighties, I would guess but did not ask) bought a book after. I signed it To Margaret.
What she really wanted was a Tomboy Survival Guide postcard, she told me. “I need one or two of these. I was a tomboy way back in the day. Thank you. I was not as lucky as you. I had it pounded and prayed out of me, just like you said in your story.”
She looked me in the eye and started to cry. So did I. I asked Margaret if I could give her a hug.
“Oh, by all means,” said Bernice, sitting right behind her in a motorized chair. “She loves hugging. We’re together.”
Then Margaret and I gave each other a long, deep soul hug. She was still crying.
“I don’t think they pounded and prayed it right out of you,” I told her.
She shook her head and nodded, kind of at the same time. She was wearing a baby-blue blouse and a butterfly brooch.
So, here is to all the Margarets and Bernices out there. I am grateful that my art sometimes helps us find each other, sometimes in the last places either of us were looking.”]
Ivan Coyote, Rebent Sinner
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nerdygaymormon · 6 months
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nutincowboys · 3 months
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I'm sure there are others
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socsf · 4 months
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Ivan Coyote - A Butch Roadmap
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give it a watch fellow butches
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femmeholograms · 1 year
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Hats Off by Ivan E. Coyote from Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme
*****
(ID: I want to thank you for coming out of the closet. Again and again, over and over, for the rest of your life. At school, at work, at your kid's daycare, at your brother's wedding, at the doctor's office. Thank you for sideswiping their stereotypes. I never get the chance to come out of the closet, because my closet was always made of glass. But you do it for me. You fight homophobia in a way that I never could. Some people think I am queer because I am undesirable. You prove to them that being queer is your desire.
Thank you for loving me because of who I am and what I look like, not in spite of who I am and what I look like.
Thank you for smelling so good.
Thank you for holding my hand on the sidewalk during the hockey playoffs. I know it is probably small-minded of me to smile wickedly at all the drunken dudes in jerseys smoking outside the sports bar in-between periods because you are so fucking hot, and you are with me and not them, but I can't help it.
That's right, fellas. You want her but she wants me. How do you like them apples?
Thank you for wearing matching bra and panties. I don't know why this makes my life seem so perfect, but it really does.)
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JOMP BPC - October 28th - This Month's Favourite
tied between Tomboy Survival Guide and Wherever is Your Heart this month <3
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Rebent Sinner by Ivan Coyote
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In their latest, Ivan takes on the patriarchy and the political, as well as the intimate and the personal in these beguiling and revealing stories of what it means to be trans and non-binary today, at a time in their life when they must carry the burden of heartbreaking history with them, while combatting those who would misgender them or deny their very existence. These stories span thirty years of tackling TERFs, legislators, and bathroom police, sure, but there is joy and pleasure and triumph to be found here too, as Ivan pays homage to personal heroes like Leslie Feinberg and Ferron while gently guiding younger trans folk to prove to themselves that there is a way out of the darkness. Rebent Sinner is the work of an accomplished artist whose plain truths about their experience will astound readers with their utter, breathtaking humanity.
Mod opinion: I haven't read this book by Ivan Coyote yet, but I read other books of theirs and I enjoyed them, so I'm excited to check this one out as well.
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malaisequotes · 6 months
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“My friends call me he, or they. The government and most of my family call me she. The media calls me she, because I don't trust them enough to request that they do anything else. My lover calls me sweetheart. Or baby. Somewhere in all of that I find myself.”
Gender Failure by Ivan Coyote and Rae Spoon
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The shine still hasn't worn off the feeling of swimming since my top surgery. I think my body remembers swimming when I was a kid, that skin feeling of lake and river slipping over and down my still flat chest, the wood and dirt smell of weather bleached boards on the dock warm from the sun underneath me, the unexamined freedom of being in my younger body before it changed and grew and swelled to become something else. I think water reminds me of that now, and each and every time I submerge myself it immediately becomes worth it. Floating. Breathing. The change rooms and the stares and the stupid turquoise yoga shirt became smaller in my heart somehow, and there was only me, in my only body, and that nearly too hot water soaking the road out of my bones. - Ivan Coyote, Tomboy Survival Guide
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saccharind · 10 months
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agnesmontague · 1 year
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i found an ebook preview of Rebent Sinner on google as soon as i read the previous excerpt and i just wanted to share this bit
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image transcription:
"My beautiful, beautiful boy. You're so handsome. You've always been so handsome. I'm so glad you are here."
She reached out a pencil-like arm and pulled my head down to what was left of her once ample chest. She stroked my head and cupped my cheek. She was never very physically affectionate before, but she's changing, my uncle Rob had warned me on the phone months ago. "She's slipping a little mentally, too," he had said. "She is getting confused easily, not recognizing people some days. Don't take it personally if she thinks you're one of the staff or something," he told me.
Does she think I'm Rob, or my dad, or one of her other sons? I wondered, and hugged her back. She felt like she was made of bird bones and tissue paper.
"My beautiful, beautiful boy," she cooed over and over. Then she looked me right in both eyes, her papery palm still cradling my cheek. "Is that what I should call you? Do I call you my beautiful grandson, or my granddaughter? I never know with you."
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gatheringbones · 2 years
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[“I want you to know I love the grey in your beard and how your slim wrists turn into hairy arms and your honey-over-gravel voice and your belt and suspenders. I’m sorry so many of our siblings don’t or can’t or won’t see our shared history. But I remember. You are our secret weapon, our double agent, our man on the inside. We are all so much more than the outside of ourselves, and I know that you know this more than most of us ever could. I know we both carry the ghosts of what we lived through with us still, I know we can’t forget what they called us, and what we have discarded, what we won and have lost, and what it cost us. I know that the difference between coming out in 1979 and 1989 cannot just be called ten years. I know I’m standing on so many older shoulders even now as I write this.
My work these days is taking everything I know about masculinity and turning it over, and then over again, and deciding what to keep and what must be discarded now, to check myself and change myself so I am not standing even accidentally in the way of all women and girls moving into their rightful power and place in this world. I believe the balance and future of this planet depends on this. This does not mean I don’t want you with me, or that you are not needed. I imagine you there right beside me when we dismantle it all. All of us will be necessary, and none of us are disposable.
I remember meeting a trans woman in Edmonton. It was thirteen years ago, and she was in her seventies, I think. She told a whole room of queer youth that if they were trans, they should go on hormones and get surgery as soon as they legally could. She said the only way to survive as a trans person was to try to pass as your (her words) target gender as much as was possible, that living in between the binary was simply too hard, and very few could do it. At the time I could not comprehend how she could say those things, especially with in-between me standing right next to her, about to speak to the very same youth right after her. I didn’t understand her thirteen years ago, but today I can sit here and see her a little better. She had been a schoolteacher, fired from her job for transitioning in Edmonton in the eighties, way before any hormones or surgery were covered by health care. I’m starting to see that it is not my place to ponder what she felt her options were back then, or what decisions she might have made thirty or forty years into this future. I think my opinion on her means of survival back then is beyond irrelevant now. I know that my real job is to listen and believe, and honour and remember, and continue to fight and to write. Write it all down.”]
Ivan coyote, care of: letters, connections and cures, 2021
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buckets-of-dirt · 1 year
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Listening to or reading anything by Ivan Coyote always breaks me open in a way few other artists' work is capable of, but holy shit this particular keynote address I'm watching them give is really doing a number on me
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