I've spend the last two weeks speedrunning coming out as a trans woman to my coworkers, extended family, and the assorted friends I'd collected through Facebook and I've been shocked and overwhelmed by how enthusiastically supportive cis women have been in particular. After doomscrolling through TERF shit for the past year, I'd become convinced that cis women tended towards distrust of trans women, with a significant percentage actively vitriolic. But, time and time again, I've received effusive praise from the cis women I come out to. Not just progressive women either: Christian Facebook-moms from Texas have been enormously supportive. I've gotten some support from cis men too, but nothing nearly as passionate, and they've been the source of all the awkward avoidance or disgusted looks I've experienced. It makes complete sense: cis women generally like being women, and most of them like it a lot, so why wouldn't they celebrate somebody else becoming like them? This really drives home how dishonest TERFism is: they present themselves as the voice of women, but really they're just a regressive minority, distorting the issues to lead people away from their inclination towards love and acceptance.
<3
There’s like 12 different kinds of tension in this image.
i wanna see a shrek universe deep dive where instead of using an iceberg to show all the layers they use an onion
reblog if you think that 1880 is going to be a fresh start!
how’s everyone doin tonight i just broke tumblr
Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.
On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.
The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy
Reblog if you thought this was going to be a very specific reblog bait post for a specific audience from the very first word or perhaps a very general reblog bait post and now you are surprised by the turn of events and losing focus as the sentence wears on and Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.
Trying to prove a point to my mom, reblog if you have accidentally tasted soap, and are not a bot.
tagging some people
@the-taggerrr @literal-trans-beans @perch-the-cat
Also you CANNOT spam, because that will ruin it /srs