Adventures in estate agents, #1
Jul. 31st, 2013 12:21 am
This here is a screenshot of the Contact Us form of an estate agent I was contemplating arranging a viewing with.
Title (sorry, "Salutation") is not an obligatory field; however, there is no blank option. The choices are, in the order listed on the website:
Mr
Mrs
Miss
Mr & Mrs
Mr & Miss
Dr
Dr & Mrs
Messrs
I-- I don't even know where to start.
I spent this evening in the company of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
carmilla, sebastienne and shortcipher; they all acquiesced to being dragged along to see open-air Much Ado About Nothing, and better than that, they organised picnic food. So I sat sprawled on a lawn with some of my favourite people watching my favourite Shakespeare in the sunshine, with strawberries, and it was glorious; and then, eventually, it finished, and we set off on our walk home, and as we passed the river we looked over it to the green and saw people spinning fire poi in the gathering dark.
( And then, of course, people happened. )
carmilla, sebastienne and shortcipher; they all acquiesced to being dragged along to see open-air Much Ado About Nothing, and better than that, they organised picnic food. So I sat sprawled on a lawn with some of my favourite people watching my favourite Shakespeare in the sunshine, with strawberries, and it was glorious; and then, eventually, it finished, and we set off on our walk home, and as we passed the river we looked over it to the green and saw people spinning fire poi in the gathering dark.( And then, of course, people happened. )
A note on names
Jun. 17th, 2013 11:21 pmWomen who change their name on marriage do not get asked their "real name". One's mother's maiden name is presumed to be secret enough that it's reasonable to use it as a security check - but it's also utterly innocuous, and typically public knowledge of a woman's maiden name will not cause her any harm.
Compare and contrast: the experiences of trans people.
Compare and contrast: the experiences of trans people.
things that are honestly kind of rubbish
Jun. 7th, 2013 11:45 pmbeing a wheelchair-using introvert navigating public transport.
SO MUCH FUCKERY in the past thirty-six hours my WORD.
On the plus side:
SO MUCH FUCKERY in the past thirty-six hours my WORD.
On the plus side:
- JJ is running a words-and-deeds love meme, and reading nice things being said about nice people is always lovely
- I have been introduced to Elementary, and I think I rather like it
- I am about to curl up with a tub of raspberry sorbet and an episode of Sad Vampire
- I am making progress on a DW bug and will shortly be writing up how to set up the Support Board usefully on Dreamhacks (though I am still working on working out where it should go)
- I did a Good Deed today (found a debit card dropped in the street, picked it up, phoned it through to cancel it, destroyed & disposed of it) (no, there was no plausible owner in sight)
- Spent a lot of time curled up with lovelypeople and introducing sebastienne to A:tLA more thoroughly, so that was nice
- After ALL THE FAIL, I got home to find The Renegade Folk Punk Band's latest album waiting for me, along with a lovely note from Dave :D
- There was a really stunningly lovely sunset round about Bedford.
- I have come up with a domain name of which I am VERY PROUD for personal use, and will shortly be actually getting set up over there (for e-mail and such; blogging is going to stay here ;)
- I fixed the sound on my netbook! Next up: fixing things that didn't work out the box, as opposed to the things I broke, but I finally feel like I have the spare brain for it, which is lovely.
As it is I have improved it with Pimms, Lashings, and an imminent Lashings performance.
Most of the details are tedious and involve buses and racists and ableism. The following, however, is what actually spilled the day over into FLAMETHROWER.
Most of the details are tedious and involve buses and racists and ableism. The following, however, is what actually spilled the day over into FLAMETHROWER.
... as per all of my previous e-mails - see the reference number - I was unable to pay online because of the obligatory title field which *does not list my title* (which every other member of customer support has managed to use: "Mx" is NOT a typo).
When I phoned up I should NOT have been unable to pay for the item: it is a customs item NOT tracked, so should have been held for 21 days, not 18 days.
I am really, really unhappy with the service I have received from you collectively. I appreciate this is not your fault but I do think you should do something to make up for the fact that:
* the delivery card was originally misdelivered to X [Name] Mews rather than X [Name] Street
* the tracking number was illegible
* I was unable to pay online because of your appallingly bad (and transphobic!) form implementation required me to use a title but did not offer my preferred title
* I was unable to collect in person because I am disabled
* I was unable to phone immediately because my combined disabilities
make phonecalls incredibly stressful for me, even without all of the above
* when I DID phone, I was unable to pay *even though I was calling
within 21 days* because your phone structure doesn't take account of the fact that I was calling about a Customs item, with no option to talk to a human who might have been able to sort things out
* I immediately e-mailed you and have spent over a week waiting for
responses, during which time you have returned my item to sender.
I have given you ALL of this information SEVERAL times.
I am really, really unhappy.
-a.
access lulz
May. 29th, 2013 01:27 pm(1) "Hi! If I'm remembering correctly, [rooms you've scheduled me in for exams in college] don't have level access, so I won't be able to get my wheelchair into them. Is this correct?" (The person in charge changed my room assignments within ten minutes of me sending that e-mail, to be fair.)
(2) 8.15a.m. paper. Last time they tried that I slept through it. (They are now working on doing something more sensible.)
(3) First paper yesterday. 1.30p.m. We got to 1.25p.m. and there was no sign of any invigilators. "Hmm," says the other person, "I'm going to go and see if they're by the rooms up the stairs." YEP. THAT IS WHERE THEY WERE.
(4) Exam coordinator walks into my exam room, twenty minutes in, and engages me in conversation. About how I've got food out on the table. And they'll get in trouble if the proctor sees it. "Um," I said. "Food is in my exam arrangements. Because I need to take painkillers regularly." "Erm," she said, "I'll go and double-check." And left. And didn't come back. Did I get back that time? NO I DID NOT. Did I get back the time from seething over it? NO I DID NOT. I ended up using some of my rest break time to seethe about it.
(Actually things are going pretty well at the moment, by and large! But. I am still kind of impressed by the number of things that have gone wrong, given that I have been in active communication with everyone in college I could think of about my access needs and special arrangements since November.)
(2) 8.15a.m. paper. Last time they tried that I slept through it. (They are now working on doing something more sensible.)
(3) First paper yesterday. 1.30p.m. We got to 1.25p.m. and there was no sign of any invigilators. "Hmm," says the other person, "I'm going to go and see if they're by the rooms up the stairs." YEP. THAT IS WHERE THEY WERE.
(4) Exam coordinator walks into my exam room, twenty minutes in, and engages me in conversation. About how I've got food out on the table. And they'll get in trouble if the proctor sees it. "Um," I said. "Food is in my exam arrangements. Because I need to take painkillers regularly." "Erm," she said, "I'll go and double-check." And left. And didn't come back. Did I get back that time? NO I DID NOT. Did I get back the time from seething over it? NO I DID NOT. I ended up using some of my rest break time to seethe about it.
(Actually things are going pretty well at the moment, by and large! But. I am still kind of impressed by the number of things that have gone wrong, given that I have been in active communication with everyone in college I could think of about my access needs and special arrangements since November.)
Superimposed male/Mars, female/Venus and trans gender symbols, with Swiss army knife tools distributed in the extra space around the edges.
I can't even remember how I first came across it - on a trans-activist flyer, somewhere, probably, several years ago - and I've been using it as my default icon pretty much everywhere more-or-less ever since.
And I thought: yes yes yes. Because: I'm trans, but I twitch at the binarism, the male-or-female, the these-are-your-choices of the traditional gender symbols; I don't think of "male" and "female" as fixed endpoints encompassing the entire range of an immutable gender spectrum so much as culturally-legible reference points. Yes, this sounds wanky, but bear with me --
-- because part of what I love so much about this image is that, for me, it says all that, but it says it wryly, with raised eyebrows, in the full knowledge that it's taking the concept of gender and spinning abstract theories off it like so much spider silk -- and it grounds it: gotta get out of bed, get a hammer and a nail/learn how to use my hands/not just my head, I'll think myself into jail/now I know a refuge never grows/from a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose/gotta tend the earth if you want a rose...
I always carry a penknife in my pocket. My wheelchair bag contains tyre levers, a mini bike pump, hex keys in imperial and metric, and a spare inner. I'm a blue-skies academic, but I'm also a geologist: I know where my hammer is, and I know how to use it. Gender isn't just an interesting thought experiment for me: I get my hands dirty, I make mistakes, I find bits I forgot about that are badly in need of props.
About ten months ago (wow, is that all?),
enemyofperfect told me that the artist is Luka Delaney, via one of synecdochic's celebrate Monday posts. And then I was sad, because the way Luka captions this image is:
I am very offended that the existing symbol for transgenderism only includes three groups (Male, Female and Intersex). I feel that, for a group that has suffered as much oppression as the Transgender Rights Movement, they could be a LITTLE more inclusive of those of us who don't fit into the Trinary.
To that effect, I have designed a new model for the Transgenderism logo. As you can see, mine includes several new categories for gender identifications that have previously been ignored. I believe these additions will prove quite handy for the Movement in general.
-- but: I'm going to keep using it, because (flippantly) the author is dead, or more practically because: this icon is recognisable as me, now, and my meanings are layered on top of those Luka imparts to it. You can see through, in places, to be sure; but I am going to take this image that spoke to me, and I am going to make it part of myself. Turning mockery and cruelty into love is hard and unforgiving work, but that, at least, is nothing new.
+/- upped my antidepressants again. Intrusive thoughts were refusing to sit down and shut up, and I just don't want to have to deal with that bullshit at the moment. I'll have another go over the summer.
+ my magic wheels have been returned, and the one that was broken is fixed.
- unfortunately, the one that was working is comprehensively fucked. (Once I have made this post, my job is to e-mail them a photo going "er, realise I should've checked this over in the shop, but.")
+ went to a close-up magic competition at which Awesome Housemate C was performing. C was awesome, and so was Sweet Italian Queermo, and honestly the other Italian was also very sweet, but he was flustered and my table was a tough audience (we were all knackered), so.
- of the four competitors, it was Microaggressions Douchebro who won. This pisses me off because (a) he was not the most competent performer of those present; (b) he was shit at people with non-Anglo names; (c) he made a really shitty joke about autism; (d) he misgendered me and didn't bother asking my name (because I'd made an arch remark about point (b), I assume, and he didn't want to deal with having to call me Stanislaw); (e) he asked if he could touch my wrist, took hold of my wrist, then started making jokes about being on the Sex Offenders' Register; (f) honestly I am probably forgetting some of the other shit he did; (g) it was very, VERY noticeable that it was the old white Anglo guy who won, not the more competent Young Italian Queermo or the more competent Awesome Housemate C (who is neither a dude nor white).
+ I do also have a cushion and backrest for my wheelchair, FINALLY.
- I should've gone for the narrower backrest; and it only bloody takes imperial rather than metric allen keys (where the rest of the chair takes metric)
+ I got to see Awesome Housemate C again; wasn't expecting that to happen until after Easter.
+ I sent off my outline for my lit review, so far, to my supervisor; I got back a bunch of feedback today, and skimmed it before heading out, and I'm actually going to implement (some of) it this evening before going to sleep.
and it is at this point that I decide to bump it up to a net 10 good things...
+ I am really, really enjoying my current pulpy fantasy. So, so much. (Lisa Shearin, for the interested: it is incredibly, incredibly pulpy. It's first-person; the perspective character is an elven investigator with a family in the, ah, imports-exports business
+ I wrote a big long organise-y e-mail when the thought occurred to me, and created illustrative examples, rather than flapping uselessly at it.
+ I responded promptly to another e-mail that required actual brain from me.
+ I ate a lot of really, really tasty food. (Stem ginger ice-cream with pear and wild berries crumble! Sweet potato houmous!)
+ ... and if we ever leave a legacy/it's that we loved each other well: yes, thank you, Indigo Girls, that will do nicely as something for me to aim for. (... and so we're okay; we're fine...)
+ I have wonderful, wonderful friends, who keep an eye on me and nudge me about self-care and generally look after me.
+ Other Housemates have all left for the break, i.e. I have the place to myself, i.e. it's actually okay for me to listen to music on the big speakers according to my (currently somewhat disastrous) sleep-cycle, rather than faffing around with headphones (because of the vagaries of my set-up, this involves crawling around underneath my desk).
+ I have got the kitchen into a state such that my bedder cannot reasonably have a snit about that tomorrow (not that this will necessarily stop her), including washing up after Other Housemates (ergo I feel very virtuous).
+ oh, go on, have another: my ridiculously fancy cologne (gift of boything), which I feel a little silly about loving this much but there we go, has been cheering me up all day.
+ ... I'm surprised every time I realise how well this exercise works, in terms of refocussing me on positives and reminding me about good & cheerful things in my life.
+ my magic wheels have been returned, and the one that was broken is fixed.
- unfortunately, the one that was working is comprehensively fucked. (Once I have made this post, my job is to e-mail them a photo going "er, realise I should've checked this over in the shop, but.")
+ went to a close-up magic competition at which Awesome Housemate C was performing. C was awesome, and so was Sweet Italian Queermo, and honestly the other Italian was also very sweet, but he was flustered and my table was a tough audience (we were all knackered), so.
- of the four competitors, it was Microaggressions Douchebro who won. This pisses me off because (a) he was not the most competent performer of those present; (b) he was shit at people with non-Anglo names; (c) he made a really shitty joke about autism; (d) he misgendered me and didn't bother asking my name (because I'd made an arch remark about point (b), I assume, and he didn't want to deal with having to call me Stanislaw); (e) he asked if he could touch my wrist, took hold of my wrist, then started making jokes about being on the Sex Offenders' Register; (f) honestly I am probably forgetting some of the other shit he did; (g) it was very, VERY noticeable that it was the old white Anglo guy who won, not the more competent Young Italian Queermo or the more competent Awesome Housemate C (who is neither a dude nor white).
+ I do also have a cushion and backrest for my wheelchair, FINALLY.
- I should've gone for the narrower backrest; and it only bloody takes imperial rather than metric allen keys (where the rest of the chair takes metric)
+ I got to see Awesome Housemate C again; wasn't expecting that to happen until after Easter.
+ I sent off my outline for my lit review, so far, to my supervisor; I got back a bunch of feedback today, and skimmed it before heading out, and I'm actually going to implement (some of) it this evening before going to sleep.
and it is at this point that I decide to bump it up to a net 10 good things...
+ I am really, really enjoying my current pulpy fantasy. So, so much. (Lisa Shearin, for the interested: it is incredibly, incredibly pulpy. It's first-person; the perspective character is an elven investigator with a family in the, ah, imports-exports business
+ I wrote a big long organise-y e-mail when the thought occurred to me, and created illustrative examples, rather than flapping uselessly at it.
+ I responded promptly to another e-mail that required actual brain from me.
+ I ate a lot of really, really tasty food. (Stem ginger ice-cream with pear and wild berries crumble! Sweet potato houmous!)
+ ... and if we ever leave a legacy/it's that we loved each other well: yes, thank you, Indigo Girls, that will do nicely as something for me to aim for. (... and so we're okay; we're fine...)
+ I have wonderful, wonderful friends, who keep an eye on me and nudge me about self-care and generally look after me.
+ Other Housemates have all left for the break, i.e. I have the place to myself, i.e. it's actually okay for me to listen to music on the big speakers according to my (currently somewhat disastrous) sleep-cycle, rather than faffing around with headphones (because of the vagaries of my set-up, this involves crawling around underneath my desk).
+ I have got the kitchen into a state such that my bedder cannot reasonably have a snit about that tomorrow (not that this will necessarily stop her), including washing up after Other Housemates (ergo I feel very virtuous).
+ oh, go on, have another: my ridiculously fancy cologne (gift of boything), which I feel a little silly about loving this much but there we go, has been cheering me up all day.
+ ... I'm surprised every time I realise how well this exercise works, in terms of refocussing me on positives and reminding me about good & cheerful things in my life.
My default answer to "How long have you been in a wheelchair?" is "since I left the house" (or similar literalist interpretation).
(Brought to you by the stranger on the bus yesterday who thought an appropriate conversation starter was: "Hello dear. How long have you been in a wheelchair?")
(Brought to you by the stranger on the bus yesterday who thought an appropriate conversation starter was: "Hello dear. How long have you been in a wheelchair?")
[Disclaimer: as ever, I don't speak for everybody, and I most certainly don't speak for all trans* people. This one, though? This one is for me.]
I'm not female.
Nor is my body.
Describing me as "female-bodied" forces dissonance and incongruity: it forces me to dissociate, if only briefly, and there's no real way for it to do anything else.
"Microaggression" doesn't really do that sensation justice.
Of course, we can go more in-depth: we can talk about privileging "biology" over subconscious sex; we can talk about the wide range of characteristics lumped together under "biological sex", not all of which "agree"; we can argue over the primacy of chromosomes (and how very few people know theirs), or over genitalia (and how, unless you live on a nudist colony, you are likely to have first-hand experience of the genitalia of only a very small proportion of the people you regularly interact with), or over hormones (and how easy it is to alter an individual's endocrine system), or over reproductive tracts (and what this means for people who've had surgery); we can talk about the insinuation of the question "but what are you really?"
There is one rule, and it's very simple: use accurate language. If you need to talk about the fact that I have endometriosis, say "person with endometriosis". If you need to talk about the fact that I (currently) have a uterus and ovaries, you can describe me as "a person with ovaries", or a "uterus-owner".
Because that's what I am really.
I'm not female, and neither is my body.
I'm not female.
Nor is my body.
Describing me as "female-bodied" forces dissonance and incongruity: it forces me to dissociate, if only briefly, and there's no real way for it to do anything else.
"Microaggression" doesn't really do that sensation justice.
Of course, we can go more in-depth: we can talk about privileging "biology" over subconscious sex; we can talk about the wide range of characteristics lumped together under "biological sex", not all of which "agree"; we can argue over the primacy of chromosomes (and how very few people know theirs), or over genitalia (and how, unless you live on a nudist colony, you are likely to have first-hand experience of the genitalia of only a very small proportion of the people you regularly interact with), or over hormones (and how easy it is to alter an individual's endocrine system), or over reproductive tracts (and what this means for people who've had surgery); we can talk about the insinuation of the question "but what are you really?"
There is one rule, and it's very simple: use accurate language. If you need to talk about the fact that I have endometriosis, say "person with endometriosis". If you need to talk about the fact that I (currently) have a uterus and ovaries, you can describe me as "a person with ovaries", or a "uterus-owner".
Because that's what I am really.
I'm not female, and neither is my body.
And today's winner is...
Dec. 17th, 2011 09:37 pmContent warning: street harrassment.
If you search the web, you'll find it's full of tales illustrating exactly why it is a bad idea to shout "give us a smile, darling" at (someone you perceive to be) a woman walking past.
It is an especially bad plan if the ambient temperature is 1°C and you are blocking the pavement smoking...
... and the person you instruct to smile is me. Because what you will get is a smile, all right, but it will be tight and angry and accompanied by the explanation that I have pneumonia and an allergy to cigarette smoke.
Just sayin'.
If you search the web, you'll find it's full of tales illustrating exactly why it is a bad idea to shout "give us a smile, darling" at (someone you perceive to be) a woman walking past.
It is an especially bad plan if the ambient temperature is 1°C and you are blocking the pavement smoking...
... and the person you instruct to smile is me. Because what you will get is a smile, all right, but it will be tight and angry and accompanied by the explanation that I have pneumonia and an allergy to cigarette smoke.
Just sayin'.
Two prizes to give out today.
One goes to Google, for their campaign to get users to nag their friends to switch to gmail: never mind the fact that if people haven't already switched to gmail they've probably got good reasons for it. I'm finding this particularly screen-crawly because of the timing of the campaign relative to the G+ launch. I think I liked Google rather better before all of the completely explicit attempts to get people to consolidate their entire online life to a single provider.
The other goes to Wikipedia, specifically for the page on V for Vendetta the book, and in particular the section on characters. Four major characters are listed, of which three are male. All get at least a decent paragraph. The sole female major character... gets two lines. Two lines. This is shorter than most of the descriptions of minor characters! Everything she does is described in direct reference to V!
A bonus mention goes to Anonymous for Operation Avenge Assange. Cheers dudes, rape apologia is exactly what we need.
(By the way, if you're thinking of telling me I should just edit the wikipedia article, then -- don't. (1) The last time I made a "major change" to wikipedia, this happened; (2) I have read the novel once and subsequently returned it to the library, and feel that the people who list every damn chapter heading are probably in a better position to write an accurate summary of Evey's character than I am.)
One goes to Google, for their campaign to get users to nag their friends to switch to gmail: never mind the fact that if people haven't already switched to gmail they've probably got good reasons for it. I'm finding this particularly screen-crawly because of the timing of the campaign relative to the G+ launch. I think I liked Google rather better before all of the completely explicit attempts to get people to consolidate their entire online life to a single provider.
The other goes to Wikipedia, specifically for the page on V for Vendetta the book, and in particular the section on characters. Four major characters are listed, of which three are male. All get at least a decent paragraph. The sole female major character... gets two lines. Two lines. This is shorter than most of the descriptions of minor characters! Everything she does is described in direct reference to V!
A bonus mention goes to Anonymous for Operation Avenge Assange. Cheers dudes, rape apologia is exactly what we need.
(By the way, if you're thinking of telling me I should just edit the wikipedia article, then -- don't. (1) The last time I made a "major change" to wikipedia, this happened; (2) I have read the novel once and subsequently returned it to the library, and feel that the people who list every damn chapter heading are probably in a better position to write an accurate summary of Evey's character than I am.)
