Archives for posts with tag: stories about my life

i really wish there were more stories that applied all the creepy tropes that resonate with me to ANY FEMALE CHARACTERS AT ALL

i want stories about people who live in a dangerous state, who derive their identity from a sense of utility, who the world understands far too well along a few vectors and not at all in most others.


i want stories ABOUT women, not stories that offer women as a prize to their heroes, that put them centre stage without burying them under layers of misogynistic lies. i want to look at the media around me and see stories written without the verbal equivalent of the visual sexism eschergirls skewers

why is it so easy for us as a culture and in our subcultures to spend almost all our creative energy on the feelings and realities of men? i DON’T WANT TO READ ROMANCE, i don’t want to read stories about women battling for access to the coveted emotions of the men they desire or respect or value. i don’t want this default heterosex, come to think of it i’ve gotta admit i could do without hetero genders either if i’m honest.

i have access to so so so so many communities of storytelling; imdb and literary encyclopedias to list things exhaustively across a millenium of western storytelling, tvtropes to pick apart tropes and spin links between parallel instances of them, and free fanworks and books online and libraries in real life, media everywhere! 

and somehow still everywhere I look no matter how skilled at storytelling as a community my surroundings are, no matter how many fascinating stories I find that abstract pieces of our worlds through endlessly inventive layers of fantasy or cyberpunk… it is SO VERY RARE for me to find the stories i want.

in one sense of course it’s difficult: myself i don’t know what stories i want stories and why; just that hey shit wouldn’t it be lovely to read about women who hate being given femininity as a default, wow i want to read stories set somewhere whose coercive mechanisms weren’t the ones from our own world, that painted all its broken scary shit in lurid colours and labels and treated it as normal, i want to hide at a distance from my world and enjoy the weirdness and complexity of somewhere else.

do i really have to do it through a male gaze?



This is me taking stock of my life, and it’s not pretending to have any critical value, although because I’m me it comments on social attitudes towards unemployment. Call it reference for whose opinion is that the death of the author is utterly spurious.

Trigger Warnings: None.

Content Warnings: My time dependent on the welfare state. Me being sad and me being angry, which might be touchy if you’re going through the same.

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