I’ve just had the pleasure of reading three interesting pieces of discourse.

First up, Alyson Escalante’s 2016 piece “Gender Nihilism: An Anti-Manifesto”. There is very little about this I have to disagree with.

Then, her own 2018 response to that work, “Beyond Negativity: What Comes After Gender Nihilism?”. On the one hand, pushing for a more material analysis is excellent, though I feel like all the work is actually done here by Wittig and this merely restates it

On the other hand, what on earth is this ending? It reads just like any other wishy-washy proclamation, missing only a communism,-now!.88x31.gif to slap on your homepage in solidarity. This anti-anti-manifesto is decidedly a manifesto.

The comments, however, conceal a banger which I nearly missed. “blister” (@destroysound) starts, and then wow, they continue. I don’t trust Medium to continue existing for that much longer — or even the Wayback machine (which Medium very carefully tries to break :) love it) — so I’m reproducing it here in its entirety.

There is very little about this I have to disagree with.

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12 years today.

Rheumatologist was distracted and not really listening. He had nothing new to offer at first, but after it was clear I wasn’t game for “what if we try more anti-inflammatories” round III, he suggested a ketamine infusion to try to reset my nerves. I don’t like the idea of a hospital stay but, y’know what? Fuck it, we ball. Consult with the anaesthetologist in four weeks. If nothing else I get to eat hot chip.

Qué sorpresa, the tricyclic’s side-effects ended up prohibitive even on minimum dose; seven weeks was the mark for “increase again and start reducing duloxetine, or abort”, and I have chosen abort. No end in sight for night sweating. Getting a hold of my psychiatrist again to see what his bag of tricks might hold.

Time skips along. I am unsure how I feel about the impressions I leave on this world; unsure about most things. The rise of LLMs at this particular juncture has been really depressing; I am starting to lose my patience to deal with their insertion in my life in any context. The next time someone at work suggests running something through ChatGPT I might just take the rest of the day/week/month off. A good chunk of my industry has fallen for the bait. I was already having trouble taking other people seriously, in general, as a concept. Now I have to deal with them coming off as less interesting than the automata they coo over. Please, tell me about your productivity gains. Tell me about the vibes. Tell me. I am listening.

There are a few things I am able to feel sure about, one of which is this: trans rights are human rights. I don’t run any analytics and don’t often think about my reach, but I have some, don’t I?

May we find the liberation, friendship, and family we deserve. May we become ourselves, unfettered by shame. May our arrows find their mark.

Those who oppose our right to peace, self-determination, and a life worth living, entirely on our own terms – may you eat shit and die.

The previous post is a message to myself, so I don’t need to justify it. But I’ll justify it here for anyone else:

These are the experiences of my gender I always wanted but never had. Like anything you identify with, there are these moments where you realise that you’re experiencing some fundamental part of that identity which makes you feel like you’re really a part of it. And for me, this is part of it.

You know what’s an awesome combination for a summer’s night?

Lying on your bed with your skirt down to your knees, stripy socks keeping your legs comfortable (and hair hidden!), liking who you are and how you feel.

Lots of love,

Not Afraid To Say Things Just As They Are