Only Truth Online, Right?

There’s a man named Sean Somers that I have no reason to know. First, he’s a Canadian man, who lives far away from where I occupy time and space. Second, he is inordinately interested in things I find repulsive, including an unending ability to fetishize Catholic school girls.

And yet, I “know” this man, Sean Somers, because he has decided he is a woman, and like moths to a flame, all men who think they are women eventually feel the need to come calling to me, as if I am some game boss that needs defeating. And he is a man who has, in the past, done lip service to feminist viewpoints on transgenderism, so the more liberal leaning online feminists think he’s some kind of hero.

Sean now uses the name Aoife Hart; he used to call himself Emily. Maybe when he’s sick of fetishisizing Celtic culture he will call himself something else. It doesn’t much matter to me. I just observe, mostly.

From Sean I learned I am an alcoholic. I mean, it is written on a blog, so it must be true. And some other men tweeted it. So it’s become a fact now. Right?

No. Of course not. Like most of what is written by men who think they are women, the women obsessed with this issue, and the men and women obsessed with me, it is not true.

I am in Al Anon, which is a recovery program for families and friends of alcoholics. I am not an alcoholic, although I have dated a ton of them, and am the child of one. None of this is your business, of course. But because I have shared my experience, strength and hope online, men like Sean decide what my participation in Al Anon must mean.

This is online culture – call out, gotcha, gutless, compassionless, dishonest. It is a perfect environment for narcissists with little interest in honestly discussing thorny issues, let alone attempt to solve them.

I am as much of an alcoholic as Sean Somers is a woman.

I will leave it at that.


tinker, tinkerbells

There’s a Man I don’t know who has decided that “Cathy ‘Bug’ Brennan” is “harassing” him, uttering the hate speech of knowing he’s a man. He’s one of thousands, all uttering the same claim and jousting with me, a woman they’ve never met.

I’ve never met any of these men. It’s not that I don’t know such men; I do. Two of my favorite Twitter accounts are such men, and they don’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that I know they’re men — as they also know that they’re men and that you cannot actually, ever, change your sex.

“Change your sex”

Does these men not know how often I longed to “change my sex”? Continue reading

I Like Women, I Like Women

I also like Reggie Watts, who inspired the title of the post. Yes, he’s a man! Yes, I like him. It is from Fuck Shit Stack, which I am sure will offend lots of people reading this. Sorry. The Women I like to date don’t find it offensive. I understand why you might.

So, this is a post about Lesbians. When I say “Lesbian,” I mean Women who desire sexual, emotional, spiritual connections with Women. When I say “Women,” I mean adult human females. When I say “Female,” I mean of or denoting the sex that can bear offspring or produce eggs, distinguished biologically by the production of gametes (ova) that can be fertilized by male gametes.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How does any Lesbian date in 2014 with all these explanations about who it is we want to date? Continue reading

The Body, The Blood, The Lady Bag

I woke up on Christmas morning in Florida last year to an excruciating pain in my abdomen. I’ve felt pain before. I’ve give birth. I’ve taken a line drive softball in my breast when I was 13 (that really really hurt). I slammed my vagina hard on a bike seat poppin’ wheelies. I know some pain. But This Pain was the kind of pain they are talking about when they say pain that stops you dead in your tracks. And it was Christmas Day, which was unfortunate timing, because I have at least one child who still believes in Santa Claus. But I also have a worrying Irish mother, so I was carted to the Emergency Room by a worrying Irish aunt.

I Might Look Like A Dude, But My Vag Pain Is Terribly Womanly

I Might Look Like A Dude, But My Vag Pain Is Terribly Womanly

Continue reading

Touching the Third Rail

This post by Witchwind posits some frank and painful truths about PIV. For this post, Witchwind (and radical feminists) have been called crazy, manhaters, etc., the regular slurs Women receive from Men and co-opted Women when we say what we think. These people are easily dismissed, including this guy, who thinks he can discern the race of a writer by the way she writes (PS and also, sir, no one gives a shit what you think).

Women have every right to write about PIV and analyze it. All Women. If that makes you uncomfortable, that is a personal problem. Engage with the analysis. Write about it. Write why Witchwind is wrong. If you are a Man, no one cares about your opinion on PIV. We know your opinion already. You’re all for it (HI RAPE CULTURE! HI COMPULSORY HETEROSEXUALITY!)

Further reading on PIV at Femonade and AnnTagonist.

This is a video for Women and doesn’t provide an analysis of PIV, per se, so feel free to skip it if you are looking for an analysis.

PIV is always rape, ok_ _ radical wind.