a few months ago i saw these bitter disgusted posts by a lesbian on here about how nauseating she finds it to look at post-mastectomy detrans women’s bodies and obviously she had a situation with extreme squeamishness at any sort of depiction of wounds or scars in Any way, so i don’t think its root was in hatred of us specifically but the way she expressed it was so close-minded and unwilling to see anything from our perspective or feel any compassion for the suffering that led us to full-on 180s in terms of our identities and perceptions of ourselves. and she said we “have other options in life than romance” and essentially should give up on love entirely since in the PAST we must not have prioritized it if we were willing to rule out our chances at a typical, normative lesbian sex life in an unaltered body— as if our past preferences are something we hold true ETERNALLY and can never change— which is fundamentally at odds with my lived truth, which is that, whether gradually or seemingly shifting in an instant, we can have a different perception of ourselves, perhaps a mirror opposite even, than we once had. and i don’t really have the time to waste explaining that to someone who doesn’t care about my experience, and most people are intrigued and curious and willing to listen, anyway. the oddest thing is she was unwilling to accept that this was not just HER personal (and completely acceptable, in terms of boundaries) belief; she ascribed it to ALL LESBIANS. (when i sent an anonymous message to her saying, i am someone who had a mastectomy at 16, she immediately accused me of lying. lol.) but i’m here to tell you that what she said is false because i’m now in the healthiest and most open in communication relationship i’ve ever had, with a lovely and sweet and compassionate woman who is also a lesbian, who sees me for who i am and is able to comfort me, and be attracted to me, despite the fact i had a body-altering surgery at the age of 16. there are lesbians out there who care about people like us. don’t ever give up hope. love u ❣️🌸🌈
Lestat and Claudia in Interview with the Vampire (1994) dir. Neil Jordan
“And I cannot say even now that I regret Claudia, that I wish I had never seen her, nor held her, nor whispered secrets to her, nor heard her laughter echoing through the shadowy gaslighted rooms of that all too human town house in which we moved amid the lacquered furniture and the darkening oil paintings and the brass flowerpots as living beings should. Claudia was my dark child, my love, evil of my evil. Claudia broke my heart.
And on a warm sultry night in the spring of the year 1860, she rose up to settle the score. She enticed me, she trapped me, and she plunged a knife over and over again into my drugged and poisoned body, until almost every drop of the vampiric blood gushed out of me before my wounds had the precious few seconds in which to heal.
I don’t blame her. It was the sort of thing I might have done myself.”
lighting a cigarette tonight for the city women, the working women, the goth women, the catholic and ex-catholic women, the traumatized women, the addict women, and any woman experiencing profound existential dread 🚬🤏🏼
jawz.music.blog 