In Defense of Slurs

Nigger. Faggot. Tranny. Kike. Gook. Slant. Chink. Jap. Wog. Sand nigger.

These words have power, terrible power. That power needs to be respected and appreciated for what it is. Sanitizing it with censorship (viz. "The N-word") downplays the impact they have. Saying "someone called me a t****y" lightens the experience and denies the full power it has over me. No, if that happened, you bet your ass I'd say "someone called me a tranny," because that's what they fucking called me. That accurately conveys the experience of being called that.

Racist-ass teabaggers don't call Obama "an N-word," they call him a nigger. Sanitizing it lets them off the hook. It denies the full force of it. A lot of people think of my friend as "a gay man," but some consider him a faggot - not "a f****t." Again, sanitizing lets them off the hook. You don't feel the impact when you read that. It becomes dry and detached and loses all emotion. If I say "someone called my friend a nigger," you'd better feel the emotional impact of that word. It had better make you mad. If it doesn't, I'm not accurately communicating the experience.

Think of it like this. I could dance around it and be like, "you know that word, that slur, that's used against people like me? Someone used that word." You'll figure it out. But it's purely logical. You go through your vocabulary and look it up in your internal dictionary. You don't have the jarring effect of actually reading the word. When it's thrust on you like that, you can't help but be affected. Which you should be. The slurs have real effect; removing that denies their seriousness.

I'm not endorsing using these words against people. What I am saying is that mentioning these words, and quoting them, should not be off-limits. Policing discourse like that treats us all like children who don't understand how language works and must be insulated from others' experiences. It cuts off the ability to convey the experience of hearing them, reducing it to a dry, emotionless denotation. It negates the seriousness of people thinking in those terms. I don't think people consider me "a t****y," I think they consider me a dirty fucking tranny. See the difference?

The obvious objection would be that a censored word is still identifiable, so it should make no difference. But if it makes no difference, why are you censoring it in the first place? By censoring it you acknowledge that it has power, you just don't want that to be able to be communicated. You're shutting down discourse, not protecting people from having slurs hurled at them.

So, slurs. Let's have them. Let's not use them against people, but when they are used against people, let's not sanitize it. When people think that way, let's not sanitize their scumminess. Let's be honest.

Mommy Issues

A question came up recently, about something I considered a moot point. But maybe it isn't so moot. The answer seems fairly obvious, at least to my rational mind, but my feels taunt me with doubts. 

This is the question: Do I come out to my mother?

This would be through a proxy, naturally. Either my father or brother. My rational thinking and all my feels are on the same page about doing it directly: I'm never speaking to her again. Well, there is a tiny part of me that wants to directly tell her off about how she interfered with my discovery of myself. Tell her off about a lot of things, actually.

I have a lot of history with my mother. Most people do, but by history I mean history. She has many guises, she's had many more, and I have dramatic history with all of them.

Sex Drive, Orgasms, and Playing on Nightmare Difficulty

Everyone loves the Orgasm Game. You win, you get an orgasm. Usually it's one or two player, though it can be however damn many you can cram into a bed. It's a great game, but there are two snags: not everyone plays on the same difficulty, and not everyone gets the same prize.

My Whole Goddamn Life Story (or: What the Fuck is Your Damage, Sis?), Part 4

I've told anecdotes, but never really explained me: who am I, what's my context, what's my damage? So here's my whole goddamn life story. I've broken it into four parts, about 1,500 words each, for ease of reading and referencing. Part 4: ages 30-32. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Though I stabilized, and with medication the night terrors went away and my startle reflex subsided (something that had been overactive since high school), I still had an abundance of existential despair. It became most of what I talked about with my doctor. She had me draw up a list: "What I Want In Life." What would satisfy me? I broke it up into parts, realistic and impossible, desires and wishlists. Under the "totally unrealistic desires" section, it read: "I want to be a lesbian." My doctor picked that one out, she could see how it pained me when I talked about it. We spent months discussing it. I slowly began to admit to myself that I had "transsexual ideation." as I called it. But I wouldn't say I was trans, nuh-uh, it was just ideation.

My Whole Goddamn Life Story (or: What the Fuck is Your Damage, Sis?), Part 3

I've told anecdotes, but never really explained me: who am I, what's my context, what's my damage? So here's my whole goddamn life story. I've broken it into four parts, about 1,500 words each, for ease of reading and referencing. Part 3: ages 23-29. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4)

I was able to resume my life. Well, except I couldn't ever fly a plane now. So I reverted to astrophysics. I got into a place called Whitman College and started there that January, at age 23. I was a model student at first, except my C++ class (fuck that class). I made friends, more friends than I'd ever had in my entire life. I had jobs for once, as a physics tutor and astronomy lab assistant. It was wonderful.

My Whole Goddamn Life Story (or: What the Fuck is Your Damage, Sis?), Part 2

I've told anecdotes, but never really explained me: who am I, what's my context, what's my damage? So here's my whole goddamn life story. I've broken it into four parts, about 1,500 words each, for ease of reading and referencing. Part 2: ages 14-22. (Part 1) (Part 3) (Part 4)

I moved to public school in 8th grade and just plain didn't make friends there. Not until high school, and even then not many. Over the summer between 7th and 8th grade, my dad sent me to Aviation Challenge, like the Air Force-oriented Space Camp. I got a chance to be at the controls of a plane for a minute and I was instantly hooked. I knew what I wanted to do with my life: I wanted to fly planes.

My Whole Goddamn Life Story (or: What the Fuck is Your Damage, Sis?), Part 1

I've told anecdotes, but never really explained me: who am I, what's my context, what's my damage? So here's my whole goddamn life story. I've broken it into four parts, about 1,500 words each, for ease of reading and referencing. Part 1: ages 0-13. (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

I was born in San Francisco in December 1982. My early life was spent in Marin, doing Marin things. My little brother was born in 1986. I went to Hebrew school for kindergarten and first grade, which was alright I guess. One good thing my mom did was introduce me to the Carl Sagan Cosmos series. I watched the whole thing intently, then rented it on video to watch it again. I was hooked. When people asked me in kindergarten what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said an astrophysicist.