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#the outsiders women
tiffanyachings · 9 months
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what i love about the queer women rep in tlt is that so much of it is just like. gideon reading her titty magazines but getting zero action. ianthe trying to kiss harrow and getting rejected. harrow begging a hallucination of a corpse to have sex with her and getting rejected. marta turning down judith, judith turning down corona, corona unsuccessfully flirting with camilla. nona's one-sided attraction to corona and camilla. camilla’s third-wheeling (x3) and plain lack of interest in getting it on with anyone. gideon and ianthe fighting over harrow when they’re both losing out to a frozen ice bimbo. ‘but she never gave you anything. you never got anywhere.’ ‘did you???’ << honestly sums it up.
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heysweetbee · 7 months
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soakin up the sunshine ☀️☺️
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uncanny-tranny · 9 months
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I love love love when trans women* give advice to trans men* about """manly""" things and when trans men* return that kindness with advice about """womanly""" things. I love the intracommunity commitment to supporting each other <<3
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kthulhu42 · 2 months
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Museum: "We're going to have an exciting new exhibition featuring the works of Paul Gauguin!"
Me: "You mean the painter who raped 3 indigenous girls aged 13 - 14, then abandoned them once they had children, and gave them syphilis? That Gauguin?"
Museum: "Look, you can't create controversy by trying to apply modern sensibilities and current social norms on the past. It was a different time and we need to look at it through a purely factual, historical lens, with no extrapolation."
Also museum: "hey look these female warriors we're buried with SWORDS they must have been TRANS"
Me: "wait-"
Also museum: "these famous female authors wore MENS CLOTHES, and talked about their discomfort with rigid gender roles! We're going to refer to them with non-binary pronouns because they could have been trans WITHOUT HAVING THE WORDS FOR IT"
Me: hang on -
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balkanradfem · 1 month
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I've managed to curate my small misogyny-free space both online and in real life, and now I'm no longer used to misogyny, it's no longer normal to me. So when I accidentally glimpse it, I'm not desensitized to it, I'm always shocked and unbelieving.
If I notice a m*n talking about a woman like she's 'just some ***' I'm immediately aware that this is in fact a demonic creature who needs to be burned. If I see anyone using a slur against women or pretending women are at fault for any of the world's issues, the hair on my neck stands up at the unbelievable amount of hatred.
Anyone implying that women should be in any way controlled, punished, forced to do anything against their will or dedicate their lives to anyone but themselves, is preposterous and villainous to me, I'm at loss that someone could even think that way about a half of the human population who are creators and administrators of life.
I know I am in a bubble, but it feels different knowing deeply in your heart that all of this is not normal, that casual or normalized hatred against women is absolutely insane, that it's sharp and painful and dehumanizing at every turn. It's insane to realize that women just have to live like this, believing all of that is normal, that I once lived like this, wondering what was wrong with me and why I couldn't just be what everyone was expecting me to.
I think still, if I can make a small space without this hate present in it, without anyone or anything implying we should be anything but free, anything but full complete human beings with absolute control over our lives, then we can strengthen and grow these spaces, and get more women in, have more women experience what life is like when hatred is removed. There is hope for women.
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saint-ambrosef · 3 months
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everyone wants to make fun of "im not like other girls" and "im only friends with boys" kind of girls and accuse them of being pick-mes, but nobody is ready for the conversation about how that kind of attitude often originates in girls who have been ostracized, ridiculed, and traumatized by other women in their lives due to toxic feminine culture.
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jareckiworld · 6 days
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Maria Prymachenko (1909-1997) — The Ox in Heaven [gouache on paper, 1979]
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anistarrose · 2 days
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The thing about the "fridged" trope is that obviously you can't have a female love interest dying as a defining moment for a male character because that's not feminist, but you also can't have a male love interest dying as a defining moment for a female character because then she's just going to have an arc revolving around her relationship with a man and that's also not feminist, and you also can't kill off a love interest from a gay relationship or a relationship involving a nonbinary person because that's burying your queers, which is at least as bad as misogyny if not even worse, and now suddenly you can't kill off romantic partners at all in stories because no matter the demographics, it's going to be problematic somehow, which is... a pretty ridiculous limitation to impose on storytelling.
And, like, it would be satisfying to have a solution other than "it depends on context if not straight-up vibes, and it's usually very reasonable for audience members to have a range of opinions on the execution of one specific instance," but. Yeah, you do kind of have to just vibe check it in a deeply subjective manner sometimes.
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stuckinapril · 9 months
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I will always side eye someone who is uncomfortable w the unabashed confidence of somebody else. And when I say confidence, I mean true, unadulterated confidence—not insecurity masquerading as it (aka conceit). Tho tbh I sometimes raise an eyebrow at what others find to be conceit these days, bc it seems like it’s literally everything. You find yourself really attractive? Conceit. You find yourself really capable of a certain task? Conceit. You think you’re worth the high standards you set? Conceit. It’s also no coincidence that it’s women who’re always encouraged to be “humble,” whereas men who are openly confident are found attractive. Just makes you wonder
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chlobody · 18 days
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in silo city [ shot by @ohseephotography ]
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sharkbait-33 · 4 months
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nothing pisses me off more than seeing nonbinary clunked into fem and masc vibes Only as if nonbinary isnt literally 'outside of the binary' stop with the fucking binary no one gives a shit about your binary anymore knock it off. nonbinary is not woman 2. nonbinary is not fem or masc. nonbinary isnt even inherently androgynous either. nonbinary is non binary meaning no binary meaning FUCK your binary. fuck your binary. i dont want it. leave me out of it. knock it off.
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libraryjones · 8 months
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Another reason to see Barbie in theaters: everyone collectively lost their shit at the part where Ken plays guitar at Barbie for 4 hours and that's an experience I don't want anyone deprived of
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Robin never really got boys talk.
When Sarah turned 14 she invited all the girls in band for a sleepover. It started out fun. After her parents went to bed they put on a creepy horror movie and watched it in a huge cuddle pile. They braided each other's hair and did each other's nails and squeezed each other during tense scenes and muffled their shrieks after a sudden jumpscare.
After that they watched another one. This time Sarah sneaked her mother's makeup kit down to the living room, and so lipstick and eyeshadow joined the mess of nail polish, hair clips and snacks already on the floor.
The second movie was different. In the first one, the blood was obviously fake and the acting wasn't the best (to say the least). But the second one was tense through and through. The cries of pain were so visceral that Robin shuddered, and in the end everyone was terrified. It was silently and unanimously agreed upon that everyone had had enough TV for the night. It was already 3 in the morning, but tomorrow was the weekend and right now Robin wouldn't be able to sleep even if she wanted to, and thus began Robin's first real boys talk.
It was funny at first. Sarah pretended to die of heartbreak when "the blond hot one" was unfortunately the second to die. Heather said the nerdy one with glasses and abs was cuter, which started a very heated discussion of whether blond or brown is the more attractive hair color. Robin had to defend her correct "redheads" opinion all by herself.
(When the others got into a stalemate Sarah turned to Robin. "C'mon", she pleaded, "you know that the blond one was hotter. Just tell us which one you found prettier! And don't forget that this is my birthday party."
Robin laughed at the ribbing, played a bit hard to get, until she finally admitted. "I actually found the first one who died the prettiest." Sarah was already halfway through her victory dance, when Robin corrected her. "No, I don't mean the dude. I mean the first one. The girl with the pink purse."
Everything was silent for a moment.
Then Emma laughed. "You don't have to be jealous Robin", she consoled, "you are also very pretty."
"Yeah, especially after our makeover!"
Robin laughed and agreed and continued on as if her world just hadn't been turned on its axis. Because she knew that the stirring in her gut and the beating of her heart had nothing to do with jealousy. She didn't find the blond one hot or the brunet one cute. That was the first time she really knew it. She liked the girl.)
It was a bit funny the first time, even though she couldn't really join. It got less funny the more it went on. Suddenly boys was the only thing everyone wanted to talk about. And worse: it wasn't just unreachable famous boys like singers or actors anymore. Suddenly it was all "oh, Steve Harrington is sooooo cute" or "oh my god, Tommy Hagan had suuuuuuch a glowup" and "I want to lick the sweat of his body after basketball practice" (this last one was applicable to multiple different people, including Steve and Tommy. It was not applicable for Chrissy when she exited cheerleading practice or Beth after football.)
She thought it would get better when Emma finally confessed to her crush and they actually got together, but no. It somehow got worse. Because "normal boy talk" turned into "experienced boy talk", and Robin wasn't allowed to admit that the only thing that got wet when she thought of Billy Hargrove was her mouth, because he made her want to throw up.
At first she'd say that she didn't have crushes. After a while of people refusing to believe her (even if she was telling the truth! Sometimes.) she started pretending to be into Steve Harrington. Every girl had a crush on Steve, so it made sense that she'd been embarrassed to admit that she was just like everybody else. He was way too far above her league for her friends to force her to "confess" and she could stare without fear when he passed by in the halls with the beautiful Tammy Thompson in his arms. Truly, it was a brilliant plan. It didn't stop the boys talk, though.
So she became a tomboy. She joined football and she hung out with boys and she cut her long hair into a bob. She lost a bit of touch with Emma and Sarah and the others, but she tried not to think about it too much. Instead she threw herself into sports and started hanging out more and more with Matt, the second trumpet in band.
And that was that. Sometimes she missed wearing dresses, but it was a relief not to have her mother insisting she "do something about that hair" anymore. She and Matt became best friends. She even considered telling him for a while. Until he sat her down and confessed his feelings.
She tried to let him down as gently as possible, and they never talked again. The cycle would repeat for multiple times.
Someone out there is laughing their ass off because who would have thought that the dude she pretended to have a crush on would turn out to be the missing half of her soul?
It started out like always. She teased him, he laughed. They suffered through customer service together. He was funny and surprisingly in touch with his emotions and apparently babysat a bunch of middle schoolers, which was equally hilarious and adorable to watch. They both enjoy sports and they both hate Billy Hargrove with a passion and Robin is heartbroken because she knows she can't get attached. She has already been through this too many times to allow it to happen again. She gets close with a guy, they become best friends, he confesses, she can't reciprocate, they never talk again.
This is what is going to happen. She should already be used to it, but it still hurts. It's better for her to keep her distance. To encourage him to flirt with other girls, even if she can see that he mostly does it to amuse her.
And then they uncover an actual real life Russian spy network right beneath their place of work like some fucking blockbuster. And then they are pumped up with drugs and the next thing she knows is that they are both throwing up in a cinema bathroom.
And then it happens. Of course it happens.
He starts his little speech and her heart is already breaking. She surprises herself when she realizes how much she started enjoying Steve's company. He is a dingus, but she is also a dingus and they just fit.
She is already preparing her apology in her head (oh fuck work is going to be so awkward), but what comes out instead is what she wishes she could've said every time this happened. What she wished she could have said every time she got close to another person, every time her parents questioned if she finally found a boyfriend. Something she really tried not to feel ashamed of, but it was so fucking hard when you had to keep it hidden all the time.
(She remembers when she used to train in front of the mirror. She would stare at herself and repeat again and again "I am Robin Buckley and I am a lesbian. I am a lesbian. I am-")
She doesn't breathe as she waits for what she knows what comes next. What has to come next. There is a reason she never told anyone, always kept it hidden and to herself even if she wanted to scream it into the world. He will mock her and he will out her and he will be disgusted and-
"Tammy Thompson?!"
Instead they have girls talk. And Robin finally gets it.
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sahchonaut · 6 months
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radiatingsoul · 6 months
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If you're out there calling Sadako Samara straight up I think you should be banned from writing articles about horror
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jareckiworld · 12 days
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Maria Prymachenko (1909-1997)—The Beast Loves Flowers [gouache on paper, 1988]
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