Anonymous asked: I don't understand. Those two posts, Escape from the Oppression Olympics and The Little Engine That Couldn't weren't lgbtqa+ positive or accepting. They were remarkably offensive, as well as being against self-identification, disrespectful, and intolerant of every identity. This blog has always been supportive and accepting. "Call yourself whatever you want..However, don’t expect the rest of us in the real world to play along, and we don’t care if you’re offended." Is that what this blog is now?
well, I think it’s a fair question that you ask. I have a few thoughts…
- I am not offended by being told to think whatever I want and that others will care or not. I find that to be somewhat realistic. I already do ID as I so choose - completely independently of what others may or may not think of it. That’s me and it may or may not reflect anyone else’s view. Honestly, I would suggest that we do call ourselves whatever we want and do so not because of other people’s agreement but because of our own individual, self agreement. The OP is flippant but, I am OK agreeing with that idea, regardless of the OP’s attitude. You may not be, and that’s completely valid too!
- The posts are devoid of empathy, per se, but they point to enough of the conversation of Internet discussion that in and of themselves, the posts become “conversation food”, if that term makes sense. Case in point, we read it and are now discussing it.
- As far as the “Is that what this blog is now?” question - I will let you decide what this blog is now, for yourself. How could I ever disagree with your experience? My efforts are to create a space where a number of positions can exist and interact together. We’ll see how it goes. :-/
Anonymous asked: Thank you for being an eye opening and very positive blog. I'm learning a lot about myself from your blog :)
you’re welcome. please feel free to add anything, even as ‘anon’.
xo
Anonymous asked: What's the difference between sexualizing and desexualizing women?
why don’t you skip to the part where you tell me that I’m a piece of shit and we can avoid fiddle-fucking around?
Anonymous asked: can you explain image the girl sucking that dude's dick smeared in faeces? like, is that even hygienic?
what’s to explain? you either like it or you don’t - just like with anything else.
Anonymous asked: I usually find your stance to be very balanced. But what is this insane grudge you have against India. All that you reblog about India are bitter rants and complaints from the same man-hating woman! I wish you would get less biased.
no you don’t, you lying sack of shit. you hate this blog. god! what is it with you trolls? did none of you graduate 2nd grade? I mean, can you seriously believe that anyone would fall for such an infantile attempt at deception and manipulation? either that, or you’re just flat-out lazy.
on second thought - I don’t want to know. the answer will only make me depressed at how non-functioning human brains can become.
just go back to sucking BJP cock and being a greedy, hateful shit. you’ll be happy, your masters will be happy. and I won’t have to deal with you.
everybody wins.
Anonymous asked: my girlfriend (we're both girls) thinks im wretched because we do not see eye-to-eye with what constitutes cheating. This is the 2nd time in 3 weeks we've had this conversation. I feel so ashamed and guilty for hurting you so much. A part of me feels I'm immature, and don't take responsibility for my mental health which is why i cannot maturely give and receive her love. any thoughts? thank you for reading i just had to talk about it with someone.
hello and thanks for the question.
so, the good/bad news is that there is no hard, fast rule on what counts as ‘cheating’ in a relationship: it’s negotiated, like consent. in fact, it’s really part of consent. there’s no rule book to point to. we all have the opportunity to communicate with each other and work it out. this may be difficult…or easy and time will only tell.
all that having been said, maybe look at it like this:
- figure out what you want: write it down if that helps
- ask your partner if they want to sit down and talk about this.
- if she does, then start by telling her how much she means to you.
- then suggest that at least you can start by figuring out what each other wants in the relationship. it’s already there: your wants and needs. this is an exercise to see how you can both get what you want
- then look at ways for you both to get what you need and see if you two can make it work.
relationships either work or they don’t and this is only one possible ‘make or break’ issue. however, if you want different things here, that difference will define your relationship - whether you are open about it or not. so, it’s your call.
hope this helps and thank you for asking
Anonymous asked: my friend has a super cool shirt with a uterus right over where her actual uterus would be. but i was thinking is that kind of offensive to the trans community?
- “the trans community” is not a monolith with one voice or identity. no community is. a community in this sense organized solely by including people under a possible shared definition. I say possible, because for any community to genuinely have some set of identity, people within that community would need to be including themselves of their own voltion. otherwise, we’re just lumping them into a group for the purposes of our speaking.
- since trans* persons are not the sole defining characteristic of any group that I belong to, I couldn’t begin to tell you how any one of them might feel about that shirt nor how any group of trans* identified persons might feel about it.
- I am not sure why you asked, but if you want wear the shirt or inform your friend that you think that it is offensive for you - then why not just do that?
- if you want to know what any trans* person thinks of it, pause for a minute and think if this is about wanting to know their thoughts because they are your friends who happen to be trans* or if this is some internal ‘looking good’ / ‘avoid looking bad’ conversation in your head. if it’s the latter, then you may want to just keep that to yourself rather than drag someone into that because you think they are trans*.
- however, if you wear that shirt at michfest, singing praises about being womyn-born-womyn, then it would be likely that most trans* persons and groups would be offended by that essentialist garbage…but it wouldn’t really be about the shirt.
Anonymous asked: One of my favourite favourite things about this blog is that a lot of the porn actors wear condoms!! I think one of the most damaging things about the porn industry is that condoms are not seen as sexy or necessary, so I really appreciate it whenever I see them!!!!
- you’re totally welcome!
- condoms and bareback are both part of human sexual contact. they are both welcome here.
Anonymous asked: I truly love this blog, but why did you post a cutting video??? That is unbelievably triggering--i realize there was a trigger warning, but it is so hurtful that i don't even see why it was posted here :/ as someone who is dealing with working through those issues, i now find myself incredibly anxious and triggered and I didn't even watch the video...
It was posted because all aspects of human body, sex & gender are part of the conversation and the experience of being human.
Anonymous asked: Can you, uh, TW dead body pics and tag them as well? Jesus...
SGB policy on trigger warnings, tags and labels
- SGB neither adds nor removes trigger warning tags or language from other people’s posts.
- If you have any request for such, speak to the OP. It is their expression.
- Our own posts may or may not include such language & tags, also depending on the choice of the person posting.
- Because we show anything to do with the human form, this site may show: death, life, assault, injury, sex, disease, blasphemy…and a lot of things that can trigger people. If you are at all triggered - just take care of yourself and unfollow / block the site.
- Our reasons for this policy are that this site is focused on people choosing the terms of their own expression and being able to articulate in those terms, and to give us a conversation where we ID in our own terms and are listening to others do the same.
- If I (or anyone) are triggered by an image - this is our internal state and it is very real. It is also not the internal state of the OP. My being triggered does not mean that other people must be labeled and the content of their expression changed, framed, valued - because of how it impacts me. I may never speak to them because of it, but my internal state is not what gives them permission to express themselves in the terms of their choosing. This is the central point of our websites.
- So, take care of yourself at all times. If you can read our site or not, we wish you the very best of health and value nothing more.
Anonymous asked: When did you decide you were going to be a third worlder's watchdog? Lay off, pal.
um…what the fuck are you talking about?
Anonymous asked: Can you share a heartwarming story?
Here is something I wrote a few years back. It should fit the bill, nicely.
I took my 8 y/o daughter recently to visit the grave of my grandmother and grandfather. They’re buried in a little cemetery in Batavia, ILcalled Resurrection. My daughter said it was too bad that we didn’t bring flowers and I agreed. I’m not much of a cemetery visitor myself, but there is something about flowers.
We agreed to bring flowers next time.
It took us about 20 minutes to find the headstones, which was comedic in itself. I was sort of embarrassed that I didn’t know where the markers were. I mean, I really did spend a lot of time with “Gramma” when she was alive. I haven’t visited her grave since the day she was buried, 9 years ago.
As I lined up an 8 y/0 child with me into a search party for two rocks in the ground with names Donald and Jane, I thought that it’s probably a lucky break for me that I am an atheist. I figured that if I believed that I’d be facing the spirits of the dead in an afterlife, they would chew my ass out for never visiting their tombs or at least bringing flowers when I did finally swing by. Not to mention spending my remaining living years stewing over the guilt for my misdeeds.
As it was, I just passed the time watching my daughter pick up shiny things as an offering for the graves of her ancestors. I wondered if I was a poor example of how to respect ones ancestors, but that was just my old Catholic guilt training flaring up like some scar from a childhood trauma. In reality, the way to respect my ancestors is to live a life of dignity and honesty; to live a life worth living. That’s what they did and that’s the only thing Gramma would want me to do, if she were here. It’s all she ever wanted for me.
We found the markers. My daughter found them, of course. I walked over and we gazed up the remembrances of those gone before us, father and daughter. In addition to his birth and death dates and name, Donald’s stone listed his accomplishments:
WWII, KOREA, 82ND AIRBORNE, SFC, PURPLE HEART, BRONZE STAR.
Jane’s stone said less:
WIFE
Wife? Wife? That’s it? What an insult. I was stunned. As we looked on, my daughter captured the essence of this label perfectly:
“That sucks.”
I looked around for comparison to see a demonstration of the travesty before me. Unfortunately, this seemed to be the norm as the theme for choosing an epitaph for a woman seemed to be “What is the least we can possibly say?” The result looks like a low bidding war of using the least syllables. Sort of like the last move in a Scrabblegame, when you don’t even have a full tray of letters. Or a funeral home game show called Name That Woman: “I can name that woman in one word.”
Wife. Mother. Sister.
I wondered what stopped the trend from going even lower on the value scale. Maybe it has and there are women’s graves out there with declarations of even lower value:
Her. Cook. It.
Maybe it was nothing more than an indictment of my mother’s strained relationship with her own mother. Whatever. I was pissed. My daughter and I stayed a while longer and then I took her for a drive around Batavia. I showed her my grandmother’s old house, her church, her charities. I told her of holidays and summer days that lasted forever. I showed my daughter a house that Mary Todd Lincoln had lived in near my grandmother’s house.
“Cool! Did you meet her, daddy?” My daughter asked me.
Which is the exact same question I asked my grandmother when she showed me that house! Gramma didn’t think it was nearly as funny a question as my guffaws indicated to my daughter’s inquiry.
I told her my grandmother’s life story, as I know it.
Born, in 1916 in NYC as Rita Mae Krueger. Her birth certificate was issued from an adoption hospital, where women would deliver a child that they would give up for adoption. Rita was adopted by a family in Elgin, IL who already had a son of their own, Sylvester. The changed Rita’s name to Jane. They also adopted another little girl and named her, Helen.
Helen became very ill so she was returned to the orphanage and a new girl brought home. She too was renamed Helen. My grandmother confided to me that this event made her dreadfully afraid to become ill, for she was afraid that she would be returned to die alone. These three children remained close for the rest of their lives, with my grandmother and her brother living on for years after Helen.
Her teen years and young adult years are not known to me. It has been suggested that my grandmother too had a child out of wedlock which she gave up for adoption. My grandmother married before WWII to a Emanuel and she bore two girls with him.
He went to war andshe stayed behind with the girls. He came back from the war as an alcoholic and became the town drunk. Grandmother divorced him, despite her strong Catholic faith.
Grandmother knew how to work the system. She was vigorously active in the Democratic Party and civic organizations. She had a strong sense of community contribution and the duties of citizenship. In addition to earning the money to raise her daughters, named Jane and Rita (go figure), she contributed time and effort to her church; community organizations; Democratic Party operations, GOTV drives & registration. She joined The Loyal Order Of Moose, whose signature charitable operation is funding Mooseheart – The Child City, a home for orphans. (go figure…again).
After her daughters were raised and gone, she remarried to Don. She found in him true happiness. Their wedding was in Hawaii and they bought a house in Batavia to live out their days and cash in on the good life promised to those that made so many sacrifices during WWII. I remember every visit to their house as a time of laughter, smiles and joy. Christmas eve seated around a shiny silver christmas tree made of wire and plastic with a lamp on the floor shining red, blue, green and yellow light on the tree. Summer days in the backyard swimming pool. Ice cream sundaes in little plastic cups in the freezer. Friday night fish-fry at the VFW.
She was a busy-body. She always had little lists of things to do and memo pads by the phone with a pencil. Her refrigerator had little lists posted on there and she was always working off of some list.
When I was 8, Don went to the hospital for chest pains. They gave him some medicine and released him. He called his wife to come pick him up and while she was driving to him, a blood clot slipped into his heart and he died. That’s when we put the first rock in the ground at Resurrection Cemetery.
Grandma lived another 30 years after that. She was always busy. She never married again. She didn’t want to lose her military health benefits. She did meet a man and they lived together for a few years. But, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of the benefits she had. She was the queen of working the system. Not milking it – she contributed plenty. More than many others. But, if a promise was made to her, she was going to make sure that it is kept. The greatest generation was promised much for their sacrifice during WWII and Jane O’Flaherty was going to make sure that the promise was delivered.
Until retirement, she worked in state institutions for troubled children and teens. She was there for those that no one was there for.
She kept her Catholic faith, but like many – she made the personal decisions regarding her own life by the terms of what is best for her and not what is best for the Pope. She was an active member of her church, Holy Cross. However, she was not secretive about her opinions – especially when they differed from the Vatican or the Pastor. Her brother had joined the priesthood as an adult and for years, she assisted his parishes in addition to her own. They shared a close bond of friendship, sibling kinship and shared values. He was with her for all but the last 5 years of her life.
I told all of this to my daughter, remembering all the love I received from that woman. My daughter said to me while I pointed out the Chevy dealer my grandmother kept afloat by purchasing a new dark blue Caprice every 3 years. The little voice in the back seat said:
“Daddy, great-grandma was really committed. Wasn’t she?”
Those words were a greater respect for the dead than any floral arrangement or carved monument. The knowledge this little girl has of the goodness from her ancestor and the ownership of that as a part of who she is – priceless.
In reality, the memories of the dead can never do justice to their lives. No monument or story or reverence can replace or recreate the impact of anyone. It is simply not possible. What we can do, is to do what they did – live, and do so with every ounce of care and commitment that we can generate. The greater the legacy we might wish to honor, the greater the commitment we share with those that live with us now.
Thinking about what words my grandmother’s stone would have, if she were to choose them, I suspect it might look like one of her little lists:
move on.
work the system.
stay healthy.
do your part.
say your prayers.
Anonymous asked: What is the best technique for giving oral sex?
ask your lover what they want and then do that
Anonymous asked: what is your favorite part of a woman's body?
the part that is touching me
Anonymous asked: What is your biggest fear?
prison
