Cassidy Lynn Campbell, the first openly transgender woman to be crowned prom queen, can’t have one day in her life to treasure. If she has to suffer this way, then you do too. Watch it and weep. AND THEN GET THE FUCK UP OFF YOUR ASS AND DO SOMETHING TO MAKE THE WORLD SAFE FOR TRANSGENDER PEOPLE.

“Do you remember what I did to you last night?”

That’s what he asked when I woke, as if asking me to go to breakfast.

I kind of remembered. Then I turned over and felt the pain. He got me drunk, he drugged me, and he fucked me up the ass. I went home with him willingly; I had the hots for him and hoped to play around. But I did-not-would-not-would-never consent to a virtual stranger fucking me. I couldn’t even remember if he wore a condom.

[Updates below]

If you didn’t already know, National Public Radio told the New York Times:

National Public Radio will continue for now to refer to Private Manning as “he,” according to a spokeswoman, Anna Bross. “Until Bradley Manning’s desire to have his gender changed actually physically happens, we will be using male-related pronouns to identify him,” she said.

So I told them this:

Dear Vermont Public Radio,

I hate having to write this letter. I love Vermont Public Radio; that’s why I’m a monthly sustaining member. But I don’t know how else to exert pressure on National Public Radio to do the right thing with regard to Chelsea Manning’s preferred pronouns. Please hear me out before you decide this is petty; it’s not. Trans people are dehumanized constantly, and the line has to be drawn.

There’s a special place in my imaginary hell for tepid bystanders who turn a blind eye to the suffering and targeting of someone more vulnerable. I hate them, and I hate them more than I hate the tormentors. Because they fly a false flag. They present themselves as friends but turn out to be collaborators at the most dire moments. Because they know better and they choose to do nothing. To do nothing in a way that magnifies the stage, and scope, and power of bullies.

So I just discovered there was a backlog of comments on the site (and pertaining to my post). I’m still learning the administration side, so I didn’t even see them before today. No censorship involved (although I totally will), so you’ll have to find something else to fap about.

It’s hard work bruising egos, even if you’re as professionally competent as Sasha and Carl. Sometimes you need a SpokesGay. That sometimes is now.

Welcome, me!

Now. Let’s get right to the pissing-off-of-gay-doodz. Mainly white gay doodz. Before you wrap your peaches in freezer paper, though, understand this: All the things I list below I’ve been guilty of. Every one of us ambles about in an oblivion bubble about something(s). It’s part of the human condition. Doucheitude doesn’t have to be a terminal disease, but managing it requires acknowledging the illness.