Porn featuring violence against women is also extremely popular among women. It is far more popular among women than men. I hate saying that because misogynists seem to love this fact. Fantasy life isn’t always politically correct.
The rate at which women watch violent porn is roughly the same in every part of the world. It isn’t correlated with how women are treated.

Seth Stephens-Davidowitz

…talking about his book, where he mines Google searches for data about the hidden truths of modern life.

For the record, I can’t say I love that fact, but I’m not even slightly surprised by it.

I mean, that’s kinda why I’m here.

A lot of blogs that play out this sort of “misogyny/domination of women” fantasy often focus on a perceived biological cause for why girls are inferior (or “broken”). This often manifests in a mistrust or rejection of trans people, e.g. women are naturally inferior and one cannot opt into inferiority. I guess my question is: what are your thoughts on this? Can a trans girl be “broken” if she didn’t have the sort of father-daughter relationship most girls do? Would you “torment” a trans girl?

Hm. It’s strange, but everything about this ask bugs me.

Maybe I’m just being cranky, but your phrasing suggests you’re really unfamiliar with my stuff, and don’t get what I’m doing here. As an egotistical monster who expects you to hang on his every word, that hurts my widdle feewings; as a fair-minded interlocutor, it leaves me feeling like you want more effort from me than you’re willing to give.

For example, in my world, “misogyny” and “domination of women” aren’t interchangeable, nor are “broken” and “inferior”; I’ve been really clear about that last bit, in fact. Similarly, I’ve repeatedly stated that I seen no innate, causative link between “daddy issues” and “brokenness”… people, as it turns out, can be weird for all sorts of reasons that have nothing to do with being part of a father-daughter dyad. And since I don’t fantasize about women being “naturally inferior”, and actually find the idea kind of silly, I’m at a loss as to why you’d ask for my take at all.

But more importantly, what makes you think I’m in the business of deciding what other people can and cannot be? I’ll start telling strangers how to live their lives once I master my own, thanks. Transchicks get to decide for themselves what they are, just like everyone else.

So, yeah… let’s call this an example of How Not To Ask.

[ADDENDUM: Okay, I’m probably being cranky. I had a shitty week, capped off by having to referee a Full-Family Simultaneous Nervous Breakdown, and I’m kind of touchy about being misrepresented at the moment.]

It looked like you were just pushing water out of your vagina. I know where the urethra is and it certainly didn’t look like the liquid was coming out of it 😂 When I piss my lips don’t push open like that, because it’s a totally different area… I guess the dinguses are the ones really believing that was you pissing!

brat-grrl2:

yes u got me! i went 2 the store, bought a douche (can u even buy them in uk stores??) filled it up w/ water, inserted it in2 my pussy & then i filmed myself pushing the water out of my pussy 2 defraud my clients & dupe the tumblr community. i definitely didn’t just lay on my back & relax my bladder bc boy would that be 2 easy! consider: my vag prbly doesn’t look the same as urs & the ~pushing open~ was just me clenching my muscles 2 stop the flow & then relaxing them again. i’m sorry this has distressed u so much would u like a free clip bundle as compensation 4 being so stupid & pointlessly argumentative like every1 who ever enters my inbox. idk why i even logged back on 2 tumblr ur all so irritating lmao 

You people need to quit gratuitously annoying the naked girls. When you annoy the naked girls, they go away and then all we’re left with are old porn clips and men explaining feminism to themselves.

With that said, I love this conversation. If you’d told me thirty years ago that I’d be using my hand-held computer to watch women argue over how they look when they pee on themselves… well, honestly, I probably would have been a little grossed out. But then I would have been amazed.

I think you’re a silly, but you scare me and make my lady bits tingle.

I can confirm that I’m 1/16th silly on my mother’s side. But I’m not really all that scary, at least not in the usual Horrible Man Who Wants To Abuse You kind of way.

Nah, my brand of scary is more like a spotlight, designed to shine into the ill-lit corners of your nasty little mind and make it easy to see all the disgusting things that inhabit them.

So I guess that means you’re the kind of girl who likes to flip the switch and watch the bugs scatter.

Proof

It’s always been a struggle, being the girl who needed proof.

Never accepting anyone’s assumptions, always testing the truth. The scar on your right hand, from an open flame you just had to touch; the scar on your right ventricle, from the cocaine you snorted just to see if you could stop. The love you’ve withheld because of the love you couldn’t feel, and the peace you’ve been denied because you can’t believe it’s real.

But now you’re in a sack.

Now you’re lost in sweat and fear and a hazy, woven dimness that’s worse than darkness. Everything beyond the sack is so far away; especially the exposed half of you that interests them most. The half they want to see, and taste, and despoil. The half that feels so cold when the rest is so terribly hot, the slowly numbing half that doesn’t run or kick or flail so much as twitch involuntarily at the distant suggestion of a touch.

It would be so easy to disconnect from that which you cannot see, to reject that which you cannot trust. To save yourself, by being yourself.

It’s always been a struggle, but this is your time to shine.

Plan Ahead

When Sally came to stay
They said “Boy, she’s gonna leave”
They knew I’d been in sway
You see, to girls who oft deceive

But that’s not an option
For sweet Miss Sally and me
I’ve a few precautions
Should her heart get a mind to flee

Cords will bind her ankles
A frown will adorn her lips
Her hair all in tangles
As bruises decorate her hips

If ever she should dream
Of a life beyond my sight
I’ll show her what I mean
About a love that’s worth the fight

I don’t know how you cunts do it.

In a way, you’re my life’s work, a puzzle I was built to ponder. I’ve spent years listening to you and analyzing your conflicted, constricted, and convoluted thoughts; you’re all such sad little knots, awaiting an Alexander to untangle you with the edge of a blade. I learn something new every time one of you comes apart for me.

But I’ll never truly, viscerally understand how you manage it, how you turn the sundering of your mystery and the exposition of your shame into abject, sobbing need. I suspect the answers will forever elude me.

Fortunately, a wet hole is its own special solace.

I love that you changed your icon to Mr Wednesday <3 are you watching American Gods? xxx

We’ve recently watched the first hours of American Gods, Twin Peaks, Harlots, Class, The Handmaid’s Tale, Fleabag, Taboo, Big Little Lies, and The Young Pope.

Early impressions of each: great, transcendent, clever, dumb fun, brilliant pain, fourth-wall-breaking awesomeness, quite promising if you can handle the Tom Hardy-ness of it all, well-made but sterile, and holy shit I want some of whatever they’re on.