Joss Whedon is My Secret Boyfriend

If you haven't seen it yet, Joss Whedon's award acceptance speech for Equality Now:

"Why aren't you asking a hundred other guys why they *don't* write strong women characters?"

I got to the end of the speech and burst into tears, because he said so succinctly what I've been trying to say with so much of my fiction.

Whedon is my new Secret Boyfriend.

Sugar Sick

Well, I've been feeling like absolute shit the last three days, so I called Dr. S. today and updated him on my numbers, which, like my physical state, are shit.

I've been having trouble concentrating here at work (sugar headache, blurry vision), my sex drive tanked (yes. I notice these things), I wanted to lie around in bed immediately after coming home last night (I couldn't do this, of course, because my sugar was so high that I had to work out immediately after coming home just to get it reasonable), and all of a sudden water was looking *really* good again, and I was spending more time in the bathroom.

Well, at least I know what all of these things *mean* now, even if I wasn't sugar testing 5 times a day.

Dr. S. told me to up my insulin from 18 morning, 10 night; to 18 morning, 18 at night, and call him again on Thursday.

This is exhausting. I just want to get these goddamn numbers back on track before I get another fucking yeast infection.

This is like some kind of fifth ring of hell.

Jagged Little Pill

When my computer(s) died, I lost a lot of music along with them, and have been re-installing music piecemeal. Yesterday I finally re-burned a copy of Alanis Morissette's first album, Jagged Little Pill.

And I was reminded of what I love it so much.

Oh, sure, she got the "you must be a femi-nazi bitch who hates men" label after this album, which secrely pleased me. I love You Outta Know. I think it's the star of the album, though every single other song ain't bad either.

I was surprised to read this piece (scroll down) over at The Hathor Legacy that, while affirming the fanasticness of the album, expresses frustration about the rap Alanis got for this album, and particularly, for You Outta Know. She argues that there are a lot of really powerful songs besides You Outta Know on the album (which is true), and that Alanis got tagged as an evil, angry woman unfairly, and you should look at the album as a whole, and blah blah basically "Hey, she's not *just* an angry woman! She's a talented artist!"

It's really shitty that we feel we have to defend angry women by pointing out that they're really great artists (I'm trying to think of angry men whose artistic talent gets overlooked because they're too "angry" and I'm not coming up with anyone. Feel free to correct me). But I don't want to defend angry women artists by saying they "aren't as angry as you think they are."

I WANT her to be that angry. That's what I fucking love about You Outta Know and the album as a whole. All of sudden there's all this honest emotion: not cutesy little, "Oh, I love you and all the shiny flowers even though you cheated on me" crap, but real, "I cared about you and you fucked me over you asshole" anger. And "I thought this relationship was something it really wasn't" anger. And "this isn't quite the life I was looking for" anger.

Anger is good.

Lack of anger and frustration actually really turned me off the second album. Not that I *hated* her second album, but it doesn't connect with me the way Jagged Little Pill does. I mean, maybe once you make a lot of money and run off to India for a few years, you aren't angry anymore. But, you know, Pink has a lot of money, and I think she had some great ass-kicking songs in I'm Not Dead.

I don't want to feel I have to defend an artist cause she's angry. I want to go, "She's really angry! Isn't that cool!?"

Because it is cool. What nobody seems to get is that the flipside of anger is often sadness; anger is just a more powerful way to express oneself than sadness (and more socially acceptable among men. Men are encouraged to get angry instead of being sad. Women are just supposed to be sad). If you want to know what the song's really about, try listening to You Outta Know again - particulary the slow, sad, alternate take she did at the Grammies.

That'll stop your heart.

But most days, I prefer the pissed-off version. Most days, it feels truer. And it's telling the truth that's going to connect with people; or piss them off.

Gormenghast

You know what the *real* problem is with the BBC production of Gormenghast?

The problem is, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers is really fucking hot, and the director even manages to employ several ingenious ways of getting gratuitious shots of JRM without his shirt on. OK, yea, that's good, I know. But here's the bad part:

JRM plays a Sneering Villain. And Sneering Villains: not so hot. So while I sigh and squirm over the long, lingering shot of JRM's beautiful bare back and shoulders, I am then thrown out of said reverie the moment he turns around and *sneers*.

Blast!

Can't somebody please put him in more roles like the one in Bend It Like Beckham instead of Misogynist Jerk #4 in Vanity Fair? I have the same problem with Ryan Gosling. I found him incredibly repugnant in Murder By Numbers, and then wanted to leap out of my chair and drag him home after The Notebook. I'm wondering if this is the real mark of a good actor: they can transcend their good looks, so you'll find them appealing or disgusting based entirely on their performance, and not based purely on their looks.

This is why I couldn't watch Red Eye, either, though Jenn loved it. Not only is the uber-cute and lovely Rachel McAdams getting terrorized (and the idea of Rachel McAdams getting terrorized makes me want to run out and save her!), but the Bad Guy is Cillian Murphy, who I mooned over (once he shaved) in 28 Days Later, but is far, far less appealing as a Crazy Jerk.

Bad guys just aren't sexy.

Blast!

And I still have one whole disk of Gormenghast to go....

The Workouts Will Continue Until the Sugar Improves

::Snarl::

Quote of the Day

“If you act like a rock star, people will treat you like a rock star.”
- Marilyn Manson

Switching to Decaf & Blowing Up People's Heads

I'm not giving up butter or regular cheese (oh yes, dieticians prefer you eat fat-free cheese, which has the taste and texture of plastic), but I'm switching to decaf coffee at work (caffeine increases the body's resistance to insulin).

So, no more getting drunk, no more plateloads of mashed potatoes, and very little regular coffee (1 cup a day).

There's something *good* about all of this, I just know it!

Ah, yes: living longer. Living longer. Writing more books. Hm, yes.

Anyway, going to work out some of this pent-up aggression by pushing through the last two big fight scenes of God's War today. I get to cut off some more people's body parts and write a big boxing scene!

Yay!

Diabetes: What Fun!

Since I started the new insulin on Thursday, I've been checking my blood a little more often, including between meals, just to gauge where I'm at on the new stuff. Every time I tested, no matter what time of day, I was under 200, which is quite respectable, and it was usually near or below the perfect 100-150 mark.

Today I wandered into my room after an afternoon walk to Borders and found my sugar had spiked to 317.

My sugar hasn't been above 300 since I was in the hospital.

When it hits 400, you're supposed to call the doctor.

I tested again, and once more on my other monitor. Still over 300.

How the hell had this happened? Sure, I had a lot of coffee today, but I have lots of coffee on weekends (caffeine increases your body's insulin resistance), and yea, I added some chicken nuggets to my usual soup and sandwich lunch, but even with BBQ sauce, that shouldn't have come out anywhere *near* where I was.

So I put in half an hour on the elliptical machine while watching Gormenghast, and that brought me down to 260. Better, but not great. I tested half an hour later, and I was starting to go up again, to 279.

WTF had happened?

Then I remembered how I had trouble finding my insulin this morning. I store it in the refrigerator, but last night, I got distracted, and somehow it ended up spending the night on top of the television stand, next to the phone (it was a really distracting day). If insulin gets too hot or too cold, it loses its potency, but this place was nowhere near 88 degrees last night, and that's the upward temp where it starts losing potency.

So I popped open my second bottle of insulin, had an early dinner consisting primarily of salad, and went for a walk around the graveyard out here by our place. I came home, and my sugar was 222. Still not ideal.

I stared glumly at the elliptical machine again.

Did *another* 30 minutes of cardio.

Came back down to a reasonable 138.

Now I'm eating some string cheese and nuts because I'm freakin' starving; sadly, these are the only low-glucose snacks I've got around. I don't even want to risk the low-carb yogurt or berries. I just want my freakin sugar to stay even.

I'm so tired of being a defective person. I just want to nail down this goddamn routine. I just want everything to work the way its supposed to. I can work out half an hour every day, fine, fine, fine (my regualr weight routine is great for building muscle, but it doesn't lower sugar immediately the way cardio does. In fact, in the short term, my sugar goes up when I lift weights).

Even on weekends? Seven days a week? My whole life? For an hour on days when things are bad? Can't I lie around in bed on weekends? Why can't I sit around and drink coffee and write ten pages and not worry about my goddamn blood sugar? And why the fuck did I have to get a disease that everybody's going to hear I have and immediately think, "Oh, she must not take care of herself?"

When Stephanie told her mom I had Type 1 diabetes, her mom said, "You mean *Type 2* diabetes."

Oh, fuck you.

What I hate about this disease is that it takes away my choices. If I want to be anything like healthy I *have* to exercise an hour a day. I *have* to eat mostly salad. I *have* to blah blah blah or my feet will get chopped off.

I don't want to *have* to do anything just to live like a normal fucking person. It kind of takes the fun out of exercise if you *have* to do it, if you'll die without it, if your blood becomes sluggish and turns to acid if you don't (look, I have a superpower!).

And I hate it. I walked around the graveyard (oh, the irony!) with an internal monologue that went something like, "I should just be fucking dead. I should be dead. They should have let him die in the hospital. I'm a freaking genetic freak. We shouldn't reproduce or even exist. I'm defective. Why the fuck am I still here? What fucking purpose does it serve? Am I just here because it makes other people happy? I should just let myself die. I hate this. I hate this whole thing. I hate my stupid dead pancreas. I hate myself for being alive. What the hell is there to do when you're a genetic freak? Isn't that the whole idea of evolution, to get rid of people like me?"

And on and on and on and on and on and on.

I have to work harder. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

And the alternative is not to do it, and get my feet chopped off.

And you know, I really like my feet.

I just have to work harder.

Every. Goddamn. Day.

And there are days when it makes me really fucking frustrated.

Still Writing

Oh, thank gawd, I FINALLY got them OUT OF DADFAR.

This book can ACTUALLY END SOON.

What a bitch. I'm going to get some lunch.

Ballsy, But Stupid

16-year-old girl runs off to Jordan to meet 25-year-old guy she met on My Space.

You gotta admit, the girl's got balls. Sadly, she ran off thinking there was a well meaning guy on the other end who'd take care of her (that's the assumption anywhere. Nowhere in this article is she allowed to speak for herself and her own motives, and her parents are baffled, as parents usually are). There certainly could have been a well-meaning guy on the other end (sure, uh huh), but I think a lot of women think that in order for them to go out and have adventures and live exciting lives (it didn't surprise me that she's from a small "agricultural" community), they have to partner themselves with some random guy in order to do so.

I'm just as guilty of this, of course, I ran off to Bellingham with a high school boyfriend three days after turning eighteen (my parents wouldn't let me out of the house before then), thinking that now I was going to have all sorts of great adventures. Sadly, not every guy actually shares in the idea that his partner should go off and have adventures - with or without him, and you wake up one day with 100 extra pounds, three kids, and a drinking problem.

I totally blame Disney movies. I mean, you get this whole idea into your head that life doesn't really start until you find your prince charming and get married. What you don't wonder about until later is why all those romantic stories *end* when the characters get married. Well, likely they *end* because all of the adventure stops after they get married, and a movie all about how Mr. & Mrs. argue about who put the spatula in the wrong drawer gets boring (this is why I love the Shrek movies and hope they keep making them. I love that the story goes on and there's still adventure to be had *after* the couple gets together. And they aren't always fairy-tale happy, but they love and respect each other).

I want the story where the 16 year old runs off to join Green Peace and gets hauled out of the ocean because she's trying to blockade a whaling ship with her little rubber boat. Or the girl who goes off to Thailand and starts a rural school for tsunami orphans (I did, in fact, read a story about a 17 year old girl who did this, with her parents' blessing, and who raised all the money for the school and helped build it with her own two hands).

Because, you know, you don't need to hang on some guy and wait for him to take you on adventures. Cause he probably won't. And some of the more deviant ones will think it's a great adventure to keep you locked in the closet in a foreign country and only bring you out for the occasional gang bang.

Like I said: ballsy, but stupid.

Go buy a one-way ticket to Fairbanks and build a log cabin in the woods and brew your own beer. Believe me, it's far more exciting than attaching yourself to somebody who probably doesn't have your best interests in mind.

You're the only one who knows what your best interests are. Don't rely on somebody else to decide them for you.

Strawberries and Sunsets on a Saturday Night

For the first time in a very, very long time -

I feel alive.

And it's really beautiful.

Sugar Sugar

Phone update, reading sugar numbers to Dr. S.

No dosage adjustments. Whew. Will update him again on Thursday.

Also, I am out of computer ink.

Dammit. Off to Best Buy.

In Which the Protagonist Realizes Why GRRM Has Character Names as Chapter Titles

Arg!

Just.. Arg!

Writing Today

Will... finish.... God's War draft... dammit...

Sugar, Sugar: or, Why I Love My Endocrinologist

New insulin regimen = perfect sugar levels all day!

Wooooot!

"Where's My Adolescent Power Fantasy?"

... individuals who call strong women characters "men with breasts" or "Amazons" (same tone as "Unicorns") are missing something very important. They've probably realized that superheroes are an "Adolescent Power Fantasy" because that much is obvious. But they think of twelve year old boys when they think of it. They haven't looked beyond their own gender to realize that woman also have "Adolescent Power Fantasies." It's unheard of, because females are supposed to fantasize about love and romance and world peace and crap like that. Women don't want to be punch out the people who offend them. That's ridiculous, only men have those impulses.

Travel Grant For Spec Fic Writers

Want to run around the world doing research for your latest novel?

Apply for a travel grant from the Spec. Lit. Foundation here.

It might cover your airfare, in any case...

Boys & Bodies

The researchers, from the University of Glamorgan's Health and Exercise Science Research Unit, say bodybuilders turn to steroids because they see themselves as too "weedy" - in a condition which is the opposite of anorexia.

So sad. Dorky little weedy boys are quite sexy.

It does interest me that both men and women seek media-hyped perceptions of beauty that aren't neccessarily appealing to the sex(s) they're trying to attract.

I suppose it's easier for us to pretend we have only one standard of beauty, so companies can try to turn all of us into that. Acknowledging diversity - particularly the attractiveness of diversity - means smaller groups of potential consumers.

If everyone in America is "overweight" it's a lot easier to sell us all diet products. If all men are "weedy" it's easier to sell them on gyms and steriods. If all women need big breasts, they'll go to great lengths to inhance them, including surgery.

A handful of people are making a lot of money by making other people feel terrible about themselves.

(Thanks, Cheryl)

Transamerica, or The Uterus-Only Treehouse

Last weekend, Jenn and I watched Transamerica, a movie about a pre-op transwoman, Bree, a week away from her surgery date who discovers she has a 17-year-old son, the result of a college affair she had back when she went by "Stanley." (oh, watch my pronouns get tricky!). She bails her son out of jail, posing as a Christian missionary, and they proceed to go on a roadtrip from New York to California. Along the way, there's a scene suspiciously like one from Geoff Ryman's Lust (which I've read three times), with a nearly identical "oh, gawd, don't do that!" audience reaction, and I wouldn't be surprised if the director had read the book....

Anyway, what I loved about this movie was its avoidance of a smarmy, feel-good, romantic ending, only it didn't ruthlessly slaughter its characters, either. Nobody dies, thank god. Nobody's beaten up and left mutilated on the side of the road (movies with gay, lesbian, trans, or crossdressing characters always seem to end or include at least one character getting killed and/or beaten up for being "other." This was a nice change). Even better, it was a movie that acknowledged the humanity of its characters: the good, the bad, and the ridiculous. You genuinely care about Bree, and you really, really want her to get her surgery. You watch her work her butt off to save the money. You watch her walk around at work, on the street, trying to be smaller, hunching down into herself, hoping to "pass." And it reminded me of the feeling I still have when I walk past certain men or groups of men, hoping I won't be noticed, won't be harrassed, thinking, "Please don't look at me. I'm completely normal and not worth noticing. Please, please, leave me alone."

Bree's parents are a little over the top, particulary the actress playing her mother, but Bree's emotional reactions were both funny and heartbreaking. She tries so hard at stealth, and when an 8-year-old child questions whether she's a man or a woman, she completely breaks down, and at that point in the movie, you understand exactly why. When she and her son end up in a hick bar in the middle of nowhere, you feel real fear that she'll be "found out." Because I've seen these kinds of movies. I know exactly what people do to those they think are "different." I've seen prejudice, and I've felt that kind of fear that because of how I was born, how I present myself, I'll be attacked for it.

Every year I've gone to Wiscon, I always end up going to the trans panel, or the panel most likely to talk about trans people and trans issues. The idea that somebody had a disjoint between the way they perceived themselves and the way their bodies were fascinated me. I kept thinking, "I hardly notice my sex at all, unless it's pointed out to me by people on the street, unless it results in catcalls, lost job opportunities, or sexual advances." And then I realized: that's the point.

I don't really notice my sex because I don't have any sort feeling of disconnect between the way I perceive myself and my biological sex. When I was very young, four or five, I didn't identify so much as female because I believed women were all fem and liked nail polish and makeup. I didn't like those things, so I figured I must be some sort of gender-neutral being. You can do that until puberty, but then you've generally gotta take a good hard look.

I did sometimes fantasize about being a guy. But that was mostly when I was 17 and had my first crush on a girl in my speech class, and I kept hoping to wake up one day and not only be a man, but be a stronger, thinner, smarter, suaver, more outgoing version of myself. If I was truly in the "wrong" body, that disconnect was happening because I had a stronger, fitter version of myself in my head, and that wasn't the body I presented.

For the record, I no longer feel that disconnect, and though I've often thought about what it would be like to be a guy during sex, I've never felt the need to alter my body in order to do that.

Jenn and I talked about a lot of these issues after watching Transamerica, and she said, "You know, I never really wanted to be a guy."

This puzzled me. "Never?" I said, thinking, don't *all* women fantasize about being men? I mean, *I* did. It's fun to think about switching things around sometimes, viewing things from the other side.

"Not really," she said. "I thought it would be cool to be androgenous, but it never occurred to me to be a man."

"But... even when you had all those crushes on girls?"

"I just never thought of it."

Huh.

Imagine.... different people will have different ways of viewing themselves inside their own skins.

Imagine that. Everyone is different. I can't take the way that I feel about myself, my body, my sex, my gender, and assume everyone feels the same way.

How stupid would that be?

It's one reason why I'm always surprised at the intolerance shown to mtfs among some self-identifying "radical feminists." A debate ensued here.

Quoting from "Men in Ewes' Clothing: The Stealth Politics of the Transgender Movement":

Look at what happened at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival last year. Apparently, pre-op mtfs entered the festival and disrobed by the showers where women were also naked preparing to shower. If these wannabe "women" had any real understanding of what it is to be a woman in patriarchy they would have respected, not violated, women's space, and they would have understood what a horrific violation it would be for a woman to be confronted with a strange naked biological male, penis and all, when she herself is unclothed and vulnerable.

Why, it appears that Trans Stealth Politics are a lot like the Secret Gay Agenda! Only the trannies are doing it to disrupt Womyn's Music Festivals.

How stealthy is that???? Sneaky trannies!

Um.

Well, first of all, nobody's actually come forth to corroberate that "disrobing" story, but like all urban legends, it says a lot about the underlying fears of the people who perpetuate it.

It's the Fear of the Penis. I'm wondering how she would have been able to freak out about this if the transwomen in question had been post-op: or, indeed, if anyone would have known that they'd been born men. Because why would it matter? Oh, well, because obviously transwomen are all out to rape and murder women. *That's* why they spend years in therapy, scrape and save all their money for surgery, and reinvent themselves, risk losing friends and family, and undergo a long and painful surgery (sometimes several), and take hormones. Cause they couldn't figure out any better way to cruise for chicks and disrupt the feminist movement.

Yea. Sure.

One of the political problems that I see with the whole notion of transgender politics is the idea that by changing one's appearance, presentation, or body, one can change one's gender. As a radical feminist, I believe that gender does not reside for the most part in our bodies--it resides in our heads, where gender socialization occurs.

Actually, no. Gender *socialization* occurs when one is out and among other *people.* Hence, the *socialization* part of it.

There are all sorts of arguments about how women who grew up as boys aren't "real women" and therefore can't understand "women's oppression," because gender is a socially constructed thing, and they'll always "really be men."

Dude, if gender is socially constructed, and you present as a woman, then won't society treat you like a woman? So if there's oppression against women in our society, and society views you as a woman, won't you share in that oppression?

But mtfs have been raised male! They will simple "appear like women" but will interact in society just like those evil male patriarchs!

Um.

That's like saying that any woman who was raised "really masculine" won't understand what it's like to be oppressed, because she'll be more forthright in conversations, speak with a deeper voice, and will take less shit.

Sorry, people are still going to treat her like a woman, no matter how ball-busting she is going into a boardroom meeting.

We're all on the same team here, folks.

But what about ftms!? They're participating in the perpetuation of patriarchy because they present as men and have penises! Evil, evil penises!

Likewise the increasing popularity of lesbians becoming transmen forecloses their forming solidarity with other women against oppression, and instead they join with the oppressors.

Um.

I think some of the best people at understanding said patriarchy are those who've lived as both sexes. They've seen the way society treats you when you live as a woman and as a man, and how it's the same, and how it's different.

And assuming that because you have a penis that you can't "form solidarity" with other women is the stupidest thing I've ever heard, particularly in reference to an ftm, who's, you know, been in a woman's body.

To ignore that men and masculinity have been oppressors of women and to pretend that wanting not to just identify with the oppressors, but actually become like them is, if not anti-feminist, then at least oblivious to feminism. To identify as a man in a woman's body as an essential identity means never having to face or be accountable for taking on the privileges and sometimes oppressive behaviors of men. The ftm just "is" a man, so if he swaggers, doesn't do the dishes, and is silent and uncommunicative with partners, oh well, he just "is" that way.

I think the author's getting confused here about what being trans is (please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, too). She's confusing "gender" and "gender performance" with bodies, with biological sex. Not all ftms "swagger" or are "uncommunicative" with their partners. In fact, I know a lot of women-born-women (including myself) who perform that way, and don't feel any sort of sex-swapping is neccessary in order for us to act that way, just as many men who perform "fem" don't feel the need to have women's bodies. There's something else going on there, and I have a feeling this author is focusing so much on the performance of gender that she hasn't stopped to wonder if there really is a difference in the way *she* perceives her body and the way a transperson percieves their body.

Because neither she nor I feel uncomfortable in our bodies and don't often notice our sex doesn't mean everyone feels that way.

How superficial, individualistic, and simplistic it would be for me, as a white american raised by a white family, to come to feel that I was really a black person inside, to change my skin color and other features to begin passing as black, and to demand to enter people of color space! In that case we could clearly see how outrageous such a demand would be. Being black in the United States (and elsewhere) is so much more than a matter of adopting skin color. It is an insult and the mark of privilege to miss that point so entirely.

Sure. But if you could change your race; if you were perceived in society as being of another race, society is going to treat you as the race you present as. You won't have the experience of *growing up* under those conditions, but you'll definately be treated like a person of that race once you switch over.

The transgender movement, by dwelling so much on freedom of choice to identify as whatever gender you want, takes our eyes off the consequences of choices and the way our choices are structured by oppressive forces, in short, it does nothing to eliminate a system based on power and privilege. Such a system values competition over connection, control over cooperation, aggression over compassion, and individualism over interdependence. Freeing people from gender roles means they are free to hold whatever values they choose including the values of power: they can be controlling, disconnected from others, or aggressive if they want to.

So should we all be gender neutral? Is that the only way to "fight" oppression? Can I only do it from a born-woman body? So everybody who's born a man values control and aggression and doesn't want to cooperate?

I guess she's asking whether or not mtfs and ftms are *really* challenging gender roles, or merely perpetuating them.

Which is like asking if all men or all women are challenging gender roles, or merely perpetuating them.

Depends on the sort of person you are. Some people feel weird unless they act ultra butch or ultra fem. Some people feel weird if they aren't expressing both their butch and fem characteristics. Some people feel so totally neutral that they don't think of any of their actions in those terms at all. Not every transperson tries to "pass" and not every transwoman is ultra fem, and not every transman is ultra masculine.

Acting as if there is no problem with male violence and aggression, as if women are not living under the threat of it every day of their lives, as if the problem of patriarchy is merely one of exclusion and not of power and violence, as if male socialization is not intimately linked to power relations and deeply rooted even in those who wish to eschew it, is a smokescreen for conservative forces in the guise of radicalism to destroy the few vestiges of feminist space that we have.

Oh, sure, there's a problem with male violence and aggression. Transwomen and transmen and transvestites get that violence and aggression lashed out at them just as women - queer or not - and gay men do. Violence comes down on those who are perceived as weak or different; those who (usually) men believe they can hurt because there will be little consequence. That needs to change. And I think that fighting a culture that accepts that kind of violence is something that all the little GLBTs can get behind.

This is a real danger of the transgender movement. Somehow we have a movement whereby men's interests have found a clever way to siphon off lesbian and feminist energies into a liberal agenda of identity politics, individual freedom, and inclusion which make us forget altogether about challenging patriarchy. To the extent feminists partake in this, we have nursed a viper to our movement which is now out to destroy what precious little women's space we have managed to eke out.

Um, once again: ignoring the ftms? Because now that we've got the advances in surgery, there are about as many women as men going through surgery. So there's something going on here that's not all about "men trying to invade women's spaces" or "women trying to join patriarchy." And I don't think this author is doing any thinking beyond her politics.

If the festival operated under the idea of inclusion, why wouldn't we just invite in those guys who ride cars up and down the road outside the festival trying to get a glimpse of naked women?

Because that's the whole point of hormones, therapy, money-saving, surgery, the potential upset of one's relationships to friends and family:

It's all about harrassing women and getting pussy!!

If that was the goal of every mtf, why didn't they just keep their men's bodies? Think real hard.

Fuck inclusion! We'll have inclusion when we live in post-patriarchy.

After we've alienated all of our allies!!!

To the extent we nurture this boy-based glbt movement and take on its politics as our own, we seriously imperil our ability to fight patriarchy and challenge male violence.

Because men and transpeople can't be feminists. And only women-born-women have any interest in curtailing violence. And, obviously, the transmovement is boy-based: it's all about men - you're either trying not to be one or becoming one.

But, wait!

Couldn't you say it's all about women - you're either trying not to be one or becoming one.

But that would be too women-centric, and transexuals are all about the boys.

It's about the penises, again. Whether you got one, whether you don't.

For a radical lesbian feminist, there sure is a lot of talk and concern about the phallus.

The whole transgender project is really faux liberalism dressed up as a radical chic. While claiming the opposite, its actual effect is conservative in that it does nothing to challenge oppression and hierarchy. And it is a dangerous and insidious diversion of lesbian energies away from feminism at a time when we can least afford it.

Did you hear that, my fellow queerfolk? The trannies are out to get us. Better hide under the bed, or better yet, stone them.

Funny, I can think of a lot of people who'd love to stone all the queers, too.

But we radical feminists are liberal and inclusive, and all about love, nurturing, goodness, cooperation, tolerance, and acceptance.

Just like good Christian fundamentalists.

Go us.

Goals for the Weekend, On a Thursday

Get three stories in the mail.

Finish at least 30 of the remaining 68 pages of God's War.

Finish tDW rewrites as suggested by 2 of the 4 readers (still waiting on the other two).

Work on finishing at least one of the half dozen *new* short stories that should be in the mail.

Read a lot.

Drink a lot of coffee.