“The need to feel safe, in particular, is often treated as childish and absurd—but only when coming from people who have actual reason to feel vulnerable. Asking to be recognized as your true gender? It’s all in your head. Asking for accommodations for illness and disability? You’re too sensitive. Recounting experiences of dehumanization because of your race or gender? What an overreaction. But those who want to make the country “safer” by securing the borders against people they perceive as outsiders are never painted as whiners or cowards. The police officers killing unarmed folks in a moment of panic are not mocked for failing to keep their feelings in check. When someone wants a deadly weapon, their desire to feel safe becomes a rugged and real and sexy conviction.
The easiest way to ignore something is to call it an emotion, yet it’s also the easiest way to defend something if you’re the kind of person whose emotions are taken seriously.”
—
Stop Treating Emotions Like Character Flaws Of The Powerless (via xpityx)
The thing is, it’s not unfair to ask people to tag for triggers. I’m triggered by pictures of people kissing, and asked a friend to tag for kissing once. But I said, hey, I know this is a really specific trigger, and if you don’t want to tag for it I get it. It just means I can’t follow you because you post this a lot. But no hard feelings.
But when people ask us to tag our identity as a slur, they are not just asking us to tag for their trigger. They are making a statement about the validity of our chosen identifier. They are saying that what we call ourselves is inherently harmful. They don’t say “can you tag for the word queer” they say, “tag for q-slur.”
And never once has this request to me been polite. Never once has someone said, “if you aren’t willing to do it, I get it, I’ll just have to unfollow.” It’s a demand, not a request. It’s a demand that we accept their statement that our identity is something negative.
So like, if you’re traumatized by the word queer, that’s fair. There are people out there who have the same trauma with other words that aren’t slurs, like gay. But it is not fair to go on a crusade against everyone who uses the word queer. To bully us into accepting that it’s a slur.
And if you’re traumatized by certain words, then look into an app that will block posts that use those words, or block out those words. It doesn’t make sense to ask people to tag for a word when there are so many options that will allow you to not see the word at all. The only reason to be belligerent about tagging for the word queer is because you want to push your agenda on someone else.
My first “serious” writing–IE, had a continuity, was not abandoned as soon as it got hard, went through an actual editorial process where a red pen was applied to my precious pages–was for an ElfQuest fanzine called Dreamberry Jam. I wrote about a glider/sea elf cross named Gull, who basically hopped from one disaster to another, because I was a sixteen year old girl with the power of life or death in her pen I WAS UNSTOPPABLE and I was having so much fun. So much fun.
My high school LJ (which became my college LJ, which became my post-college LJ) was studded with Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic (not gonna lie: lots of porn there, much of it written for my girlfriend of the time, who had a thing for Buffy/Faith), with Veronica Mars fic (including my Shakespearean adaptation of season one), with Halloweentown fic (I am most of the fandom). I have participated in every single Yuletide. My agent knows I will turn down work in December so that I can remain a pitch-hitter for defaults.
What are my thoughts on fanfiction authors who start writing and publishing original stuff?
I’m in favor.
But you’re right: people do get some shit for their fannish pasts, and by “people” I mostly mean “women,” because “being a fanfic writer” is a “giggle giggle let’s show porn to the actors and see if they get mad” thing that girls do, while “putting myself in the story” is a manly masculine imagination thing that boys do. Almost every guy in my high school creative writing classes began with a self-insert Trek or Wars character, assuming they weren’t writing up their D&D or World of Darkness campaigns, but they never got the scorn from the teachers or other students that the girls got for admitting that maybe they gave their OCs the hair color they’d always wanted. It goes all the way back to elementary school. It was totally normal for the boys to be racing around BEING STAR WARS PEW PEW PEW, but weird for the girls to want in.
(I know this is gender essentialist, I know, and I’m so sorry about that, but I’m talking about my elementary school experience, where girls would literally be pulled out of aggressive pretend play, and my high school experience, where the boys were encouraged to file off the serial numbers and the girls were told to write what they knew. The lens of the past is dusty and cold.)
Most of the shit I see slung at former fanfic writers (or professional authors who still write fanfic) is thrown at women who write YA, because, well, fanfic is juvenile and YA is juvenile (unless you’re a man writing YA romance and then it’s world-changing and revelationary). They are hence easy targets. You’re right: it’s sexist. It’s unfair. It will, hopefully, decrease and even go away. It will not happen fast enough for people to stop leaving bruises on my friends.
But here is the thing about fanfic: fanfic never dies. From kids playing on the playground to elementary schoolers writing their first stories to adults on the internet, fanfic is the human urge to interface with the stories that make us. A lot of very successful, very powerful works are saved from being fanfic solely by the fact that their source material is no longer under copyright. As the number of those works increases, as the scholarship on and around fanfic increases, the stigma is going to decrease. I genuinely believe that. I look at fandom now and compare it to fandom ten years ago, and I see so much more acceptance of fanfic on both the fannish and professional levels.
Crappy internet abuse aside, fanfic is restorative and powerful and important, and if it’s a thing you enjoy, you should absolutely embrace it with all the joy you can. The abuse may be here for a while yet. I will not lie about that.
As someone not involved in the development of pillowfort but am a web developer, I think you should lower your expectations, but not for the reason you think.
Pillowfort is a baby. A newborn. A smol bab. If you were here during the early days of Tumblr, think of that.
Pillowfort simply cannot be the immediate solution to your woes. It needs to be nurtured and cared for to become a mature and happy adult.
If you want Pillowfort to work, they’ll need feedback, advice, bug reports, etc. This is a chance to make Pillowfort the Ao3 of Fanfiction.net. It’s not gonna happen overnight, you need to give it time and love and it’ll get there.
If you don’t want to pay money to get into the beta, that’s ok. It will be open to the public soon enough and you won’t have to pay a dime. Their financial model moving forward sounds good (a subscription fee for super extra features), but even an Ao3 model would work swell for them probably.
We’re living in an interesting time on the internet. Governments across the world are cracking down on content and yet community run websites are starting to thrive more and more.
Tumblr once upon a time was what Pillowfort is today, but this time, let’s make sure Pillowfort can stay independent from mega corporations.
yes this
most of the criticism i’ve seen of pf so far ultimately come back to this
is it an alright platform with a good community? yes. does it have a lot of potential? yes. does it have a lot of problems still being worked out? yes. are the staff open and responsive? absolutely. do i recommend it? yes, if you’re willing to live in a house while it’s being built.
but it’s not a ready-made replacement for tumblr. set your expectations accordingly.
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