transphobic slogan meant to exclude trans women from women’s only events on the basis of that male privilege they were supposedly allowed to keep despite all evidence to the contrary… yeah.

Anyway, the owner of the store finally posted a response. I’m a little less than satisfied, as apparently “I didn’t know” absolves one of the damage they caused by not doing the research. And there’s no comment about the number of people who reported being banned from the page and having their complaints about the shirt removed– but as her single “pre-response response” suggests, maybe they were all just too mean to bother with.

But yeah. So I’ve been thinking about this, and some very basic criteria for determining whether a slogan is discriminatory– ’cause even if you don’t know the history of a slogan, you can still look for clues in the words staring you in the face.

For instance, does this slogan…

_ Celebrate the fact that the wearer belongs to a privileged group over a marginalized one?
_ Promote the exclusion of a marginalized group from a larger group in which they also hold membership?
_ Draw complaints from members of a marginalized group who state that the slogan is demeaning or promotes exclusion/inequality?

In this case, if the first two hadn’t set off alarm bells, the third should have– instead, trans folks and allies were given the boot from the page during the first round of complaints, while comments that were left contain the type of anti-trans speech Christian Extremists would be proud of.

So, question time: what else would you add to the checklist?

First, the job hunt. I’ve been putting out resumes all over the place. Starting to get a little discouraged. Moving on…

There’s been more than a hint of family fuck-uppery going on. That’ll probably get it’s own post ‘cuz I don’t feel like trying to make sense of some of it yet– let’s just say they’re as interesting as ever.

I’m kinda caught up in the Canucks fever going around– the energy is amazing, as are the people gathering.

If you’ve seen my FB, you probably know that I started a petition asking the Canucks to make an It Gets Better video. I know there’s some debate about the IGB project, but I’m really hopeful that a video by the Canucks (same could be said of other pro teams, etc.) actually has a shot at convincing straight kids that heterosexist douchebaggery is uncool. Which, you know, would kinda work to make things better for at least some queer kids, so you should totally sign the petition.

My birthday is coming up this month. I kinda want to get it over with– it’s always a  bit of a fucked up time of year for me. More family fuck-uppery to blame for that I think.

“‘Cause Stephy likes Jimmy, but Jimmy likes Eric, and Eric likes Jess.“

Alright. The Dudes aren’t exactly the first band that comes to mind when I think queer music, and I’m pretty sure I misheard something…

“‘Cause Jenny likes Marvin, but Marvin likes Arnold, and Arnold likes Jess.“

…Or maybe not.

The Dudes are an Alberta band– a group of 20-somethings singing about girls and partying. And while I’ve seen plenty of 20-something musicians make claims that discrimination against queers is wrong, it’s not so often that they sing songs not only placing same-sex crushes on the same level as opposite-sex crushes, but actually refusing to differentiate between the two beyond the use of gendered names.

And that’s what makes this so cool.

1. Criminal Minds fanfics where Reid uses Psych terms (or Anth/Soc terms, or…) incorrectly. I read a fic last week which was pretty good, but the only reason I remember the damn thing was because of the way the author had Reid use the term “negative reinforcement.” Likewise, Reid wouldn’t refer to anyone as an 8 on the Kinsey Scale (unless, of course, he was trying out that ‘sarcasm’ thing).

So, I’m moving– I’m outta this place on the 22nd. I’m liking my new house a lot. My tenants? Well, we’ll see. They’re JW’s. They know my grandpa. I’m pretty sure their kids went to school with my siblings for a while.

Yeah. I feeling a little paranoid. They’re getting kind of pushy already. And Grandma (who’s on title– it’s a long story) hasn’t exactly put her foot down. She pretty much promised to rent to them, and put me in a position where I couldn’t say “no.” At least, not without causing all sorts of other issues and making myself look like the world’s biggest asshole. She avoided telling me exactly who she made this promise to as long as possible. She’d wait until I was distracted– the night before a term paper was due, for example– to tell me things, then insist on an answer right then and there. She changed the subject whenever I brought it up. My grandma is an expert at giving answers that don’t actually tell you anything useful– the grand master of bullshitting.

I’m a little peeved.

It gets worse: my accident happened in late December. Driving is really panicky for me, especially at night. It brings up memories that I really don’t want to think about.

After my accident, I needed several blood transfusions (massive intestinal ruptures = contamination of the entire circulatory system.)

JW’s are forbidden to have blood transfusions. Fortunately for me, my mom doesn’t buy into that kind of bullshit. But my Grandpa does, and he made sure that we all knew the doctrine. It’s one of those “family politics” things– my parents had screwed up, my grandparents were helping out, and one of my Grandpa’s conditions for helping was that we were to be raised in the “Truth.”

The same “Truth” which dictated that I shouldn’t have received the blood transfusions that saved my life. The same “Truth” which lead others to assure me that it wasn’t my fault that I’d received the blood transfusions that saved my life. Yes, you read that right.

JW’s are also forbidden from celebrating “Christmas.” My parents, Aunt, and Grandma always celebrated, but it was kept secretive– Grandpa couldn’t know. It was a time of sneaking around and keeping lies, and for what? I don’t think I ever really bought in to the whole Jesus thing. The Santa illusion never even got a chance, thanks to my Grandpa.

The whole thing makes me wish I could just… I dunno, hibernate over the winter or something.

The cold from hell turned out to be bronchitis. Yay… >.< Speaking of which, I need to find a new doctor, preferably one which will speak up when their patent’s grandfather follows them into the examination room without being asked to.

Tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of the École Polytechnique massacre, and the 18th annual National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women (clearly, whoever came up with the name didn’t expect to have to read it out in from of a crowd). UFV’s memorial was yesterday. Four people showed up for the memorial, aside from myself– and two were related to me. It’s always nice to know my hard work is appreciated. On the other hand, since I only had a week to pull it all together, I think I did an ok job.

Of course, the NDoRaAoVAW (damn, that’s a messy acronym…) has special significance in my family. In 1985, my aunt Kim and her two children were shot and killed by her ex, who had stalked them for several years prior to the murder. The killer was denied parole in February.

I’m supposed to be writing a paper on heterosexism and ageing, but I can’t get motivated. Instead, I’m rereading Lightning on the Waves’ Sacrifices arc, because I’m obviously not depressed enough.

Seriously, if you can read the entire series without crying, you’re probably completely dead inside. Yep, it’s massivley AU. Yep, it’s H/D. Yep, there’s a cubic fuckton of OC’s. Yep, Harry is massively OOC. And yep, it’s probably the best fic I’ve ever read– possibly the best story I’ve ever read, period. Whatever you do, though, don’t ignore the warnings; there’s a lot of potentially triggery stuff.

So how was your Friday night?

Tomorrow, I will write about transphobia, and how fortunate I’ve been. But not today. Today isn’t about me.

Today is about Angie Zapata. It’s about Taysia Elzy. It’s about Cesar Torres. It’s about Jorge Steven Lopez Mercado.

It’s about every trans person and gender-nonconformist who has been denied a chance to live their lives because some fuckwad decided that they were less than human. It’s about those who can no longer fight.

It’s about remembering why we’re fighting so hard.

Photo via Dr. Gloria Brame on Bilerico