Not liking penis isn’t transmisogynist.
Equating penis with man, equating being a lesbian with not liking penis, erasing trans women lesbians, treating trans women’s bodies as revolting, pretending that criticism of transmisogyny is just trans women trying to get into your pants (related: pretending trans women transition to get into your pants), pretending cis lesbian women who like trans women who have penises are actually bisexual for that, ignoring how structural oppression paints certain bodies (like trans women’s) as less desirable and how that can influence and even fully adjust attractions, stereotyping all trans women as having penises, stereotyping the function of the penises of trans women who have them, on the other hand
That stuff is all transmisogynist.
Maybe you should stop doing that stuff and then claiming it’s just because you dislike penis and you won’t be rightfully accused of transmisogyny anymore. :)
When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.
Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”
When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.
Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”
I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.
She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”
“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”
He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”
Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”
When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”
Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”
Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.
He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.
Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.
Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.
One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.
I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”
Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.
It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.
It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.
It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.
There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.
I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.
While this post is a tad long, I hope you will lend me your ear,
because I think it is important that people understand why ‘Social Justice Warriors’, minorities and other Tumblrites can come across as overly angry or sensitive to some. I will give an example of what happens when minorities speak out against those who have power over them, in a non-anonymous, face-to-face setting. While this example is about trans people, it can easily be applied to most other minorities.
Today my brother came over for dinner. He brought up a trans woman who was not ‘passable’ and referred to her as “that man" and "he”. I’m a trans woman myself and couldn’t let him misgender a sister, so I politely corrected him. Instead of apologizing, he justified his mistake with “she looked like a man and didn’t put in enough effort”. I easily picked his words apart, having had these arguments countless times, and then asked whether he would call me a man if I were less conventionally female-looking? He answered negatively, but said the lady in question didn’t make any effort to make her voice sound more feminine. Wanting him to realize how difficult voice retraining is, I asked my brother to give me his best female voice right then and there…
He looked legitimately terrified, kind of the reaction you get when you ask a guy to hold your purse for a second. Then, the anger came. He unleashed a screaming tirade of excuses, red herrings and accusations. Trying to keep this from escalating, I carefully walked towards him with my hands in a calming gesture, hoping to calm him down. He placed his fist against my nose, yelling “one step closer, I dare you”, I froze and braced myself, having been there before. But, I got lucky, he stormed off with an angry “fine, I hate transgenders you’re all men!”.
This is why trans women are ok with you saying ‘tranny’ around them. This is why trans people don’t mind you calling them by their old name and pronouns. This is why the trans people you know personally, aren’t like those ‘crazy’ ones on Tumblr.
When we stand up for ourselves, confront people with the power and privilege they hold over us, bring to light their normally hidden prejudices, things can get ugly real fast. Again, this is not just restricted to trans people, the situation I had today can happen on any oppression axis.
For some, the internet is the only place we can speak freely without having to fear violence. Next time you think people here overreact, think about the hundreds of times they had to stay silent, clench their teeth and hold back their tears of frustration.
[bolding is mine]