I’m kind of in a mood, so I wasn’t feeling up to doing another essay this week. I have a few things in the drafts folder that will be done fairly quick. Instead, I think I’ll use this space to I don’t know, talk about life, I guess?
After hemming and hawwing over it for a while, I’ve decided that I’m quitting sex work. Not because I’m ashamed of it, or because I got fucked over by the industry or anyone within it. Sure, the pay kind of sucked, but I suppose you can apply that to any other job in the world. No, I quit because I was sick and tired of the clientele. Working a phone sex line, you would imagine that you would be taking calls from horny dudes who wanted someone to moan and talk dirty in their ears; perfectly normal, understandable stuff. For a time, that was true. For the last couple months, shit has gotten dark. Disturbed men calling me at weird hours, telling me about their sexual fantasies involving children and animals. Telling me about wanting to watch their own daughters be gangbanged by a large group of Black men. Of course, they didn’t say “Black men,” they used a much different word that I’m not going to repeat. I don’t like being up until four in the morning, lying awake and feeling like shit over hearing some fucked up, depraved stuff for nearly an hour at a time. Hearing the absolute hate and venom in their voices, I can’t imagine that at least one of these assholes isn’t on Facebook, posting boomer memes about people like me in public bathrooms. Every week, some poor TGirl gets labeled a monster by the world at large, all over the stupidest shit: posting too many selfies, making a sex joke, being too popular, having self-confidence, you fucking name it. All the while, men like this can operate no fucking problem. It’s disgusting, and it has actively been affecting my mental well-being in extremely negative ways. Doesn’t help that Niteflirt does an extremely good job of making sure that nobody’s contact info is ever made public, so it’s not like I can report to them to some authority, who will then proceed to do absolutely nothing about it.
So I’m quitting. Financially speaking, this is certainly a terrible decision. In the long run, I think it will be better for me.
I suppose I quit just in time because, oh hell yeah, extremely fucked up transmisogyny is back in the news! Nothing I look forward to more than an ever-present reminder that me wanting to go the rest of my life playing games or watching an*me or pro wrestling in peace, except as a girl now, is way too much to ask of people who have absolutely nothing better going on in their lives other than to constantly load themselves up with hate like they’re a prejudiced Hummer.
Before I really get into this, I need to say one thing: Neon Yang is a talentless, opportunistic, transphobic piece of fucking trash. If that’s a sticking point for you, feel free to stick it up your ass. Also, please imagine that I am giving you The Finger as you read this.
This no-good motherfucker, this garbage excuse for a human being teams up with both the head of a Sci-Fi authors guild and a literal millionaire, and they all use their platforms to hound and harass a brand new trans author into a psych ward, causing her to detransition and disappear from public life. I’ve read a lot of great fiction from a lot of great misfits, and I’m saying that Isabel Fall’s short story was legitimately the best work I read in 2020. Now she’s gone, somewhere where the world can’t get her. Her defining work now only exists as a PDF file passed from person to person like it’s fucking contraband. To know what happened to Isabel, and what has happened before and after her, is infuriating. It always happens, some fucking sociopath gets into a jealousy-fueled rage and uses the underlying hate in society to unperson a person. Yeah, I’ve been around that block two or three times.
Seeing Yang gleefully take part in what was essentially a witch hunt over some manufactured “harm” that was done by a well-written science fiction story about the co-opting of gender and sexuality by the military; a story so “harmful” that it was universally praised and beloved by every trans woman who isn’t a moron, then pop up in some sci-fi anthology about…the co-opting of gender and sexuality by the military. Irony is fucking dead. Really, what can you do about it? It’s not like you can do sweet wrestling moves through your computer, or click a button to stop this thing from happening. All you can do is sit there and be mad about it. All you can do is talk shit for a couple hours, while these ghouls laugh at you, and their alt-right cheerleaders on the sidelines slap their thighs and yell out “TRIGGERED! TRIGGERED!” to nobody in particular. It sucks. And it sucks that being upset is wrong, because something something privilege something something marginalized people cannot be shitty towards other marginalized people something something I got all my politics from Tumblr.
Just…sick and tired of seeing so many girls being told to roll over and take it because some bootlicking fuck on a bad web site might subtweet you. Fighting back is Problematic now because it’s an act of male violence and Yang isn’t the spitting image of Mitt Romney. You know, I get cut off in traffic, I honk my horn, yell “HEY FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!” and maybe give the finger. I don’t pull over and mentally rank privilege, before ultimately deciding that I must have deserved it somehow. Some hack writer helping to whip up a braying mob of other shitheads to ruin a woman’s life, solely to take their place and do a much shittier job of it is, in my eyes, starting shit. Someone starts some shit, I will say some back. That’s that. Anyone who tries to tell me that this is an evil thing and “YOU’RE JUST AS BAD AS THEY ARE!!!!!!!” can fuck off.
It’s funny how a few posts ago, I was focusing on trying to be positive and happier in the coming year than I have been in this one. Well, that didn’t really work out, did it?
I’m 35 years old, yet I feel like this old grump. This curmudgeonly fuck that has a growing hatred of the way things are going. I’ve been writing about the hypocrisy of cis people and their bitch ass collaborators. Still writing about it! I’ve been writing about social media perpetuating the further erosion of communication and freedom that the internet once had, now being reduced to a husk of commercialism. So sick of the “hot take clout chasing nft armchair psychiatrist callout why media is bad and you’re stupid for liking it (run time 7:46:29) fleet spaces thread ya’ll quote dunk change my mind wholesome smol bun anime is a slur literally 30 year old media caused trump” culture. I hate what the internet has become. I feel so bad for all the kids that won’t be able to grow up and be able to discover themselves the way that I did, instead stuck with the bland, corporate mandated system of “engagements.” Not super related to my last two points, but fuck it, I’m still in a mood.
Not everything has been frustrating and soul-rending, at least. I did use the last of my Niteflirt earnings to buy myself a PC-Engine Mini. So now after twenty years, I can finally say that I own one. Kind of. Some people say that nostalgia is for those escaping their pain, so I guess it was a hell of a coincidence that this all came to a head while I spend money to relive my teen years in a more official capacity. You bet your ass I’ll be talking about this bad boy when it gets here. Whatever helps keep me indoors while another COVID strain spreads, and keeps me from having to talk to people I wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. This Summer, I was planning on going Full Weaboo. I think in 2022, I will go full-on Hikkikomori. Have fun with your discourse and your barely-disguised transmisogyny, I have games to play.