When you claim to be the first

Oct. 23rd, 2017 08:20 pm
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Posted by Marianne Kirby

So, many folks have, no doubt, seen this article on Hello, Giggles, which lauds “She’s All Fat,” a recently established fat pos podcast, as the first fat acceptance podcast.

Nothing like this has ever existed before! No one has ever recorded themselves talking about fatness with this kind of fat positive framework!

Oh, really?

I mean, I wish there were a way to convey how high my eyebrow is right now.

Look, I don’t actually know what the first fat acceptance podcast was because I haven’t listened to every single thing on the Internet ever. I know that in 2010, Lesley Kinzel and I were recording Fatcast and you can still listen to them.

I also know that Fatties On Ice, Friend of Marilyn, and Bad Fat Broads were my first and immediate thoughts as soon as I started reading that Hello, Giggles article. (Bad Fat Broads, by the way, is intersectional AF and something to which you should be listening for certain sure.) And then I remembered the Body Love Wellness podcast, too! Because lots of fat people have had lots of things to say for as long as podcasts have existed! Fat acceptance podcasts have definitely existed before and they have been great.

The more conversations I’m involved in about this, the more my feelings becomes less and less about the Hello, Giggles article and “She’s All Fat” – I mean, points for the pun for sure (and I hear good things about the podcast itself so I look forward to listening to it), but this incident really is just more evidence of the constant churn that erases fat history, particularly fat history online. When I lost everything I’d written for TheRotund.com, I really thought I’d be okay – it was “just” blogging, you know? But also it was writing that I wish I had now as a touchstone, if only so that I could point to my post about health not being a moral issue and say, “Look! We’ve been talking about this! Let’s build these conversations instead of having the same ones!”

I mean, that instinct totally wars with the idea that to want credit for your work is egotistical and antithetical to activism in some ways. (Plus, sticking to my example, I was hardly the first to make that claim though my writing did have some impact, too.) In the earlier days of the Fatosphere, some of us talked about how to make activism sustainable, and one way was to be able to make money off of it – but then activism becomes corporate and can’t be so radical, right? I really firmly believed that it wasn’t about me getting credit for something as long as the work was being done, as long as the work mattered.

It’s harder to feel that now as I look at the way fat acceptance has turned into body positivity and fat acceptance as a movement has gotten more marginalized. I’ll note that this happened as fat acceptance was becoming more intersectional in some ways as well – like, there was a lot of racist bullshit going down in fat acceptance that people were speaking up about and fighting right before fat acceptance got repackaged as body acceptance. That’s no kind of coincidence, I’m sure.

While we’re at it, pause, read this letter “A Response to Fat White Activism From People of Color in the Fat Justice Movement” and then get back to me.

There’s a theory a ton of people have talked about but that I first encountered in Susan Bordo’s Unbearable Weight. The idea is that if you keep women (or, basically, any group of people who don’t have power) occupied with participating in their own oppression, half the battle is won. Diet culture is viewed as compulsory, right?

The more we forget and participate in the erasure of our own fat history, the more we are left without foundation for growth, for strength, for moving beyond Fat Acceptance 101. We are caught in an endless loop of “but isn’t fat unhealthy?”

I tweeted the other day something to the effect of “Another day, another scream into the void only to realize the void is wearing noise-cancelling headphones.” And that’s what these conversations often feel like.

Fat acceptance seems particularly bad at intergenerational knowledge, and while I always say an archive of some sort is a necessary thing, I don’t know if that would solve the real issue, which is that people just don’t stop to even Google.

I mean, I Googled for that article link and you know what the second result was? A Hello, Giggles podcast episode called “Help Me Be Me: Fat Thoughts.” How quickly Hello, Giggles has forgotten even their own history, it seems.

The post When you claim to be the first appeared first on Marianne Kirby.

Just One Thing (23 October 2017)

Oct. 23rd, 2017 09:28 pm
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[personal profile] hollymath posting in [community profile] awesomeers
It's challenge time!

Comment with Just One Thing you've accomplished in the last 24 hours or so. It doesn't have to be a hard thing, or even a thing that you think is particularly awesome. Just a thing that you did.

Feel free to share more than one thing if you're feeling particularly accomplished!

Extra credit: find someone in the comments and give them props for what they achieved!

Nothing is too big, too small, too strange or too cryptic. And in case you'd rather do this in private, anonymous comments are screened. I will only unscreen if you ask me to.

Go!
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Two weeks after four soldiers were killed in Niger, Trump called their families. Then this happened.

Hardening my heart against charity

Oct. 23rd, 2017 08:53 pm
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[personal profile] mtbc
Charity cold-callers are sometimes trained to tug on one's heartstrings or, perhaps more commonly, to steer the conversation such that it is by far more comfortable socially to donate. I do not want to encourage interrupting manipulators by making their visit worthwhile. I try to keep well enough abreast of matters to be aware of how and to whom I might most beneficially donate and I am quite able to seek them out myself without an external efficient cause. Being of limited means I must needs refuse many solicitations.

I now realize that the effect that these charity workers have in my world is to teach me to more easily be heartless. I have learned that if I openly agree to offered propositions such as that I do not want to help disabled children then their script falters and we sooner stop wasting each other's precious time. It is as effective as pretending to try to introduce unwanted Jehovah's Witnesses to Scientology. As we learn from the Tweedledum episode of Colditz (1972) one should beware one's own method acting.

Fortunately, the callers lately who actually go to door-to-door have been more matter-of-fact and ready to move on, they just need interrupting or they go on for a while. I may in due course donate but I am unlikely to choose them on the doorstep without more research and consideration. An interestingly common facet of those around here is that an early component of the script involves assurance that the money is spent on local people.
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It might seem quixotic, at a time when Spain looks like it is falling apart, but could the country’s future lie in a union with neighbour Portugal? DAVID BARKER investigates ‘Iberism’
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The government will fund small firms to attend the tech expo after claims it did little last time.
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Bangkok Sports Club beat Satri Angthong 20-19 in a dramatic penalty shootout that culminated in one of the most astonishingly lucky penalties ever scored.
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Posted by Davywavy

The release date for the forthcoming 'Call of Cthulhu' computer game has been delayed after a group of playtesters vanished in mysterious circumstances.
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Donors hear a plea for help for nearly 1m who have fled Myanmar, as the crisis continues unabated.

Firefly’s Glow is Moving to the AO3

Oct. 23rd, 2017 11:31 am
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Firefly's Glow Banner




Hey Browncoats! Firefly’s Glow, a Firefly fanfiction archive, is being imported to #AO3. Learn more here: https://goo.gl/bNuv2d

Figure to yourselves my bogglement

Oct. 23rd, 2017 06:09 pm
oursin: Books stacked on shelves, piled up on floor, rocking chair in foreground (books)
[personal profile] oursin

A booklist which includes Tropic of Cancer and Little Women:

Goodreads' 200 Most Difficult Novels. "Novels that made you work the hardest. Let's assume that you actually finished the book and felt that it was worth the effort."

And some of those are Very Long Important Novels but some of them are quite short, and not even short in the sense of 'compressed and elliptical and dense'.

And some of them are challenging reads on account of subject matter but others, really, not so much I would have thought.

And, generically, quite a mishmash.

But a list that includes Clarissa and Coraline?

Okay, some of those books look like set texts that people had to struggle through and then found worth the journey, but others, presumably, are not the kind of books that feature in lit courses.

And some are even in the category I would have considered rattling airport reads...

solarbird: (tracer)
[personal profile] solarbird

Surprise! Guess what has a Chapter 2. And a Chapter 3, already a complete first draft. I did not know about any of this until the most words I have ever written in a single day (I think) came pouring out of my brain yesterday.

[AO3 link]


[Two months later. Watchpoint Gibraltar.]

With a tooth-shatteringly loud screech, the outer wall of the medical bay peeled away and fell towards the ocean, just as Dr. Ziegler's nurse assistants finished prepping the Widowmaker's first treatment.

"Sorry, luv," Tracer shouted, appearing in the void, one pistol aimed straight at the doctor, as the ringing, clanging metal fell, its sounds fading in the distance. "Can't let y'do that. We made a promise. Back off."

"Lena," said Angela, half-deafened, clinging to her composure, thinking, this shouldn't be happening, but backing away carefully towards her staff. "You lost this argument. I know how you feel about what's going on, but it's better than a death sentence. Do not do this."

"Can't not. I keep my promises, you know that." She fired a shot over the doctor's shoulder. "And stop moving towards your staff. Can't have that, either. What's she on?"

"A twilight sleep sedative, voluntary muscle paralysis, and saline I.V., that's all. We wanted her partially responsive and were about to administer the first dose of treatment. Lena, you do not know what you're doing, this is not a..."

"Stow it. I know she didn't consent and I know this ain't right." Tracer glanced at the closer nurse assistant. "Pull her off the drip. Right now." The assistant looked nervously at Dr. Ziegler, and Tracer decided to make it less optional by shooting the saline unit with her other pistol. "I said now, luv," and the nurse moved to work.

"She can't consent," said the combat medic. "She will murder you in your sleep, and that's if you are very, very lucky."

Kestrel swooped in, a wary eye still attentive to the skies outside. "What's the hold up? We don't have time for chats."

"I have this under control, can you get her up off the table?"

Kestrel waved her gravity blade at the nurse assistant - Odion, she thought - who moved away quite rapidly. Stepping forward, she snapped her fingers in front of Widowmaker's half-closed eyes, and saw those eyes track her fingers, just a little - somebody was in there. "Widowmaker, I'm Kestrel, I sure hope you remember me, we're getting you out of here, just like we said we would, back in London." She pulled the blue woman off the scanning bed, and onto her back. "Let's go, while we still can."

"Emily," warned the doctor, as the flying agent carried the Talon assassin towards the light transport hovering outside, "reconsider. You can't come back from this."

The flying agent paused at the gap, and nodded grimly in return, watching as Tracer backed slowly towards her, one pistol still aimed at the doctor, the other at the two assistants. "Neither can you."

Buggery hell, this isn't how I wanted this to go, thought Lena. "Sorry, doc. Just how it has to be, I guess."

The flyer's loading door closed in front of her as she stepped onto the main deck. She could see Angela diving for the alarms before it sealed, and teleported to the pilot's seat as Kestrel got Widowmaker into the crash couch. "CLEAR!" the flying agent shouted, bracing herself for evac - and Tracer lit the engines up bright.

-----

Widowmaker opened her eyes, but not too much, examining the ceiling. Another Overwatch transport, she thought. Not the same one back from Egypt. Smaller. I am no longer at Gibraltar. How long have I been unconscious? Other than a deep legsrthy, she did not feel different - but then, how would she know? She compared her thoughts, and how they felt, to memories of previous thoughts, and how they felt, and they seemed very much the same, very much unlike Amélie's, her only other reference. It would have to do, for now.

She struggled with half-aware half-memories of being in a... medical unit? And being prepped for something. And voices, some unfamiliar, some... not.

"We've lost the last of 'em," she heard Tracer say. Tracer, who had not been in Egypt, who had not been at Gibraltar... or had she been, at the end? "I'm gonna keep us in the soup, but it should be smooth enough 'till we change ships at Iwik."

Change ships? Iwik? Why would they need to...

"I'm going to check on Widowmaker." Another voice, the flying one, Kestrel, who had also been missing when she'd been taken, taken again, this time, by Overwatch, no doubt to be remade yet again, if not just killed, but whose voice she knew...

"Widowmaker, can you hear me?" The assassin heard the voice, but could not see its source - keeping some distance, perhaps. She let herself smirk, internally. Even sedated, she invoked fear. Good. "You're safe, and you're unchanged. We kept our promise. We broke you out before Ziegler could do anything. You're safe."

What?! The assassin's eyes popped open, all the way open, all at once acutely aware of her situation, before her mind snapped back to promises made some months ago in London, promises she did not want to believe, but couldn't quite not. Then Kestrel's face appeared over her, and she was talking, saying, "Hi. We've kept our word. Do you remember being captured in Egypt? We got you out of the Watchpoint. You're safe. Well, as safe as any of us are, now - we're all in real trouble, but since when's that new?"

The words confused her, memory of promises or not. Is it a... no, it makes no sense, this cannot be a trap, they already have me, why would they... She did her best to move, but her arms, so heavy, why...

"Oh," Kestrel breathed, "you're definitely awake now, aren't you? Probably a little panicky, too. I'm sorry, it's the muscle relaxant. They had you pretty well sedated before we reached you, but that's all, as far as we know - they were still prepping the first course of reconditioning meds when I ripped the medbay's walls open."

Widowmaker's eyes locked on Kestrel's, and she shivered, an involuntary action, and the flying agent saw it, and reached to touch, to comfort - but thought better of it. "I... wish I knew whether you found touch comforting."

I wish I did too, thought the spider, a little dismayed by her own reactions as they span round and round in her head. You... kept... your... you... kept your... you kept your... you...

"We've just got away from pursuit craft, and we're heading towards a little nature reserve in Mauritania, where we'll be swapping ships."

"...ah..." Widowmaker managed, and she remained locked on Kestrel, Kestrel, who she barely knew, Kestrel, who'd kept her word, Kestrel, who had... saved... her...

"You're tearing up a bit, can you blink for... oh, good, there y'go. Can you follow my fingers with your eyes?" Widowmaker looked at the Kestrel's fingertips and watched them trace a rectangle, slowly, around her field of vision. They were strong hands, solid, a little square, chunky, much like the rest of the hawk. Strong, and unexpectedly beautiful. Well, I suppose I know who is more butch in their arrangement, she thought, and a "heh" popped out, to as much her surprise as Kestrel's.

"She just laugh?" she heard Tracer say from outside her field of vision. "Hey, luv, you just laugh a little?"

"I think she did, yeah."

"Well, tell her after this, we're headed towards... oh, bugger..."

"What?"

"It's official. Bulletin just went out. We're listed."

"Surprised it took this long. Can they shut down the transport?"

"Nah, I changed the codes and blew the interlock, we'll be fine."

Widowmaker grimaced. Intentionally. And it worked. She tried moving her mouth, and managed, focus back on Kestrel's face, "...liffsted?"

Kestrel sighed, and sat, next to Widow's bunk, leaning close. "Word's gone out. Our personal IFF codes have been invalidated. Overwatch may be illegal, but we had a few privileges within it to revoke... we're now 'foe', not 'friend'."

"Ah." said the blue assassin. Slowly, carefully, she looked into Kestrel's eyes, and whispered, "Je... regrette."

"Don't," replied the hawk. "If Overwatch is gonna start doing things like this, I can't be a part of it anymore anyway."

"And just so y'know," called Tracer, "Talon put a termination order out on your head once Overwatch got y'to Gibraltar. No goin' back there, either."

"...how?"

"Friend of yours let us know. We'll be seein' her in a bit."

"...big mouth...?"

Tracer laughed. "Yeah, she said you called her that."

The spider tested her arms. A little movement at the shoulder, not much yet. But fingers - yes, those, those were free. She tapped at the bed, experimentally, and saw Kestrel smile when she noticed, bright like cloudbreak. "It is, then..." managed the spider, "...us, against the world?" She tried her wrists. Yes. Wrists. More quickly, now. Almost to the elbow.

Us, Kestrel thought. Already? "Sounds like."

A louder heh, and the spider found she could move her head. "Then... a challenge. Good." She gave Kestrel a fierce look; it excited the flying agent in ways she did not expect, as did the spider unexpectedly - if weakly - taking her hand in her own. "We will destroy them both, cherie," the assassin said, with utter conviction. "We cannot lose."

-----

"As far as she knew," said the Swiss doctor, some hours later, "it was just sedation." Power had not yet been restored to the medbay, but the wall had, at least, been braced and covered, and structural stability insured. She sat at a small table in medbay's small consultation room.

"So you told her nothing about the enhanced receptivity effects?" asked the hirsute scientist sitting opposite and to her right, snacking on his favourite peanut butter, with oatmeal cookies and lactose-free milk. Hoisting girders about - that was heavy labour. He deserved a treat.

"Of course not," said the doctor, sipping her coffee. "But I didn't lie, we hadn't undone anything Talon did - and it really was a sedative, just one that leaves patients a little more..." she waved one hand back and forth, "...open to ideas, while under its influence. It would've helped with our treatments of her, helped her return to who she really was."

"Nicely played," said Jack Morrison, nursing a judicious amount of Tennessee bourbon. "Hope this doesn't come back to bite us on the ass any more than it already has."

Dr. Ziegler smiled warmly at her old friend, sitting opposite and to her left. "I'd suspected Lena might do something she'd come to regret. I'd hoped she wouldn't, or if she did, I'd hoped I could talk her down. But if push came to shove... she might as well have that thin chance." She shuddered. "I think she has made a grave mistake. I do not think that... construct... is a person or can be reformed, and I wasn't lying about being killed in her sleep, either."

"You did what you could," said the soldier. He put down his glass and rubbed at his eyes. "She's always been impulsive, but this is another level. If they come at us... we'll have to assume the worst. They might as well be Talon." He put the drink down, and rubbed his eyes.

"That will not be difficult," smirked Angela. "I am quite angry, both about being held at gunpoint, and at losing my best change to recover Amélie. And Kestrel," the doctor snorted, "she made a strongly negative impression on Gina and Odion. Gossip will insure everyone knows."

"I know their hearts are in the right place," Winston insisted. "Particularly Lena's. I think they're both being extremely foolish - but do not doubt their hearts."

"Just their judgements. And maybe their sanity," said the soldier.

The three sat quietly, for some moments, letting what happened today finally settle in as the sun went down. Morrison, thinking maybe they should've just handed the Widowmaker over to legal authorities; Winston, wishing he'd found a middle way, something to keep everyone happy, while knowing no such path existed; and Ziegler, angry, but still afraid for the two women who had, to her mind, made such a terrible mistake.

"To absent friends," Winston lifted his glass of water. "May they not become present enemies."

"I'll drink to that," said Morrison, raising the last of his bourbon.

Angela lifted her coffee cup, touching it against her friends' drinks. "To absent friends," she echoed. May they not be dead come morning.

Monday Update 10-23-17

Oct. 23rd, 2017 11:22 am
ysabetwordsmith: Artwork of the wordsmith typing. (typing)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
These are some posts from the later part of last week in case you missed them:
Poem: "Feel the Might of Creation"
Lunar Tunnels
Poem: "Capable of Stretching"
Saturday Yardening
Poem: "Death Whispers at the Tip"
Today's Adventures
Poem: "To Protect the Most Vulnerable"
Thursday Yardening
What to Do About Kneeling
How to Accommodate Special Needs While Attending an Event
Wednesday Yardening
Hard Things


The half-price sale in Polychrome Heroics is now over. I sold six poems outright, with one in microfunding and two more in a pool that should get squared up later today. Most of the sold poems have been posted, I just have one left to do.


Poetry in Microfunding:
"The Inner Transition" belongs to Polychrome Heroics: Berettaflies.  Stylet comes out of the shower.  "The Higher a Monkey Climbs" belongs to Polychrome Heroics.  Pips and Jules discuss what to get for G and Joshua after the fire.  "TERF Wars" belongs to Polychrome Heroics: Antimatter & Stalwart Stan.  At school, Stan walks into an unexpected argument about gender issues.

It has been raining here since yesterday afternoon, off and on, and that's expected to continue through the early part of this week.  We can use the rain.  The weather had been warmer for a few days but is now chilly again. Currently blooming: dandelions, marigolds, petunias, lantana, million bells, firecracker plant, morning glories, frost asters, goldenrod.  Very few fields remain to be harvested.

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