So here we are, in the throes of the burgeoning so-called “Transgender Tipping Point” or whatever, and Andrea James is riding in like Merlin de Theonville to say we’ve gone too far, carrying the guillotine-severed head of RuPaul (who I guess is Georges Danton) wedged tightly between her buttcheeks. Playing the part of Robespierre is, um, Jennifer Boylan? GLAAD?
Fuck I dunno. Momma didn’t raise me to write gender-bent historical fan fiction.
Anyway, last week Andrea James decided the best way to use her social platform as a trans activist was to compose new hit-piece du jour in Queerty (which I’m not linking to) claiming that trans women have *too much* representation. Um, ok. The piece was a bunch of tedious hand wringing pretending to be concerned about fair representation when in reality, any pretense of said concern is complete bullshit. It’s hard to take seriously a piece that argues that a non-trans heterosexual has more right to be involved in queer matters than queer folks.
But really, this sort of invective from Andrea James is unsurprising to anyone paying attention. I’ve been counting down for months til the day James splits open along her surgery seams, releasing hundreds of freshly-Naired TERFspiders afflicted with Harry Benjamin Syndrome spilling out everywhere… all of them screaming about how they are the “truest trans”, Highlander-style, if Highlander was directed by Don Coscarelli.
And as you’d imagine the cooperation of TERFs with violent trans activists with a history of abuse like James, the finer details come out in the wash.
So, a few months ago I signed a thing (which also resulted in the first time my name appeared in a Huffington Post article). Shortly afterwards all sorts of accusations came about what kind of person I must be for agreeing that Calpernia Adams and Andrea James are genuinely awful people (which I learned later was at least the second time such a thing was written). Everything from “newly minted queer” to (hilarious) accusations of homophobia and resentment of the drag community to being flat out called an autogynephile.
And it’s like, you got your backwards-ass pop radphlegm psychology flipped if you think I’m an autogynephile. By their standards, I’m one of those sad gay dudes that can’t hack it, having my fabulous faggotness medicalized out of me by evil Big Pharma. Hell, most actual TERFs pick this up pretty quick:
A BLOO BLOO BLOO I’m contributing to the erasure of gender-non-conforming and gay men through transition by my assimilation into mainstream society as a Satan-worshipping anarchist trans woman noise musician-
a wait what now?
Really; I’m pretty much the opposite of the caricature they present. I rarely use trigger warnings on my writing, I occasionally call myself a “f*ggot” and even sometimes “tr*nny” (tho anyone calling me that is welcome to GTFO of my life), and I enjoy all sorts of problematic entertainment (that I have the presence of mind to enjoy critically). I’ve been around gendering so long I still have copies of Melanie Speaks and Creating A Feminine Carriage that are nearly two decades old to show for it. It’s pretty safe to say that I still have a good relationship with the drag community (despite different perspectives). I’m pretty much the kind of person James and Adams are pretending to represent, but fuck that because a decade and a half ago women like them were sneering at me and calling me a “drag queen” like it was the worst thing in the world to be.
All because I have a different opinion than them on the “tr*nny debate”. Seriously. I swear to fuck all these lumbering old dinosaurs seem to think the most pressing civil rights issue the trans community faces is making sure people that aren’t trans can use that word.
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A little over two years ago, Cristan Williams declared the Death Of The Trans Separatist Movement, which may have been a bit premature considering the turn things are going. Hell, here in Portland the “New Narratives” cult (hey yeah I’m not linking to that either) is forming and spreading across social media. It was founded by Tumblr quislings GenderMinefield and SnowflakeEspecial, and apparently their first meeting drew a whopping eight people, which doesn’t sound like much until each of them create eight sock-puppet Twitter profiles to rhetorically fellate each other with.
Which is great because what we really need out there to prevent male violence is more self-righteous frothing trans women high on TERF Kool-Aid
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And of course this wouldn’t be a proper document of gross old problematic has-beens without bringing up the racist-ass Cummings couple… they of the *thousands* of completely inept looking Blogspot blogs:
Including “Ham On You”, which I assume is some really-gross porn site
Recently they had a certain someone on their show
the Comic Sans is such a perfect touch I can’t even
And here’s the part where you’d expect me to blah blah blah about giving a platform or whatever, but nah. These two are perfect together. As long as the rhetoric isn’t aimed at someone I care about, the only thing that bothers me about her doing her gender-crit song and dance is that it’s distracting from time she could be making more karaoke videos. I mean, I’m by no means a fan of the movement,
like, at all…
…but the fact that this exists is actually pretty amazing in it’s own way. But that could just be because I’m actually a terrible person that enjoys ridiculous social train wrecks.
I didn’t make it more than halfway through the video, however. Even my “transgender male masochism” has limits, apparently. Hell, I almost didn’t make it through the intro because Mark Angelo Cummings is literally the worst musician ever. His music sounds like Nickelback having sex with Nickelback on a pile of Nickelback Albums with Nickelback playing in the background. Painful.
The interview opens with one of her mean-spirited “parody” videos, mocking a certain teenage transfeminine person’s vlog. Mark immediately chimes in that he watches it all the time, laughing. So we’re already off to a marvelous start; with three grown-ass middle-aged adults openly mocking the efforts of a teenage queer person figuring things out at a confusing and painful time of life. These grown-ass middle-aged adults want to be seen as advocates and leaders in their respective sexual orientation and gender identity-based movements.
Truly marvelous. But that’s not even my favorite part.
My favorite part is when Jessica Cummings has some sort of an epiphany. Or maybe a stroke, I can’t tell. “I see all these trans women out there, and they know nothing about being a woman,” she notes, nodding mindlessly. “All they know is stereotypes!” she giggles coquettishly, bottle blonde head suddenly cocked provocatively to the side as her Valley Gurl accent intensifies.
Truly, truly marvelous.
But what really makes this a brilliant piece of tragic comedy is how much the two just eat that shit up. I’m sure they’re all like, “that’ll show them newly minted queers!” as if they’re in on the joke. As if, as a heterosexual couple no matter how you slice the gender pie, they were somehow outside the crosshairs of her uneasy musings about the “heterosexual infiltration of the gay liberation movement”.
At no point (that I saw) did they ever catch on. Marvelous.
Clean your mouth out with soup. Um, ok bro.
Rani Baker Digs You. 