
We Have Always Lived In the Castle

I want men to try and imagine going about your day–working, running, hiking, whatever–and not being allowed to wear pants under threats of violence or total social and economic exclusion.
That’s the kind of irrationally violent and controlling behaviour women have been up against.
Also for anyone who thinks it’s easy for women to be gender non conforming because we can wear pants.
The only reason we can is because we fought tooth and nail for the right to! Any rights we take for granted today we’re the result of a prolonged, bitter battle fought by our predecessors for every inch of territory gained. Never forget that.
Title IX (1972) declared that girls could not be required to wear skirts to school.
Women who were United States senators were not allowed to wear trousers on the Senate floor until 1993, after senators Barbara Mikulski and Carol Moseley Braun wore them in protest, which encouraged female staff members to do likewise.
This was never given to us. Women have had to fight just to be able to wear pants. Women who are still alive remember having to wear skirts to school, even in the dead of winter, when it was so cold that just having a layer of tights between them and the elements was downright dangerous. Women who remember not even being allowed to wear pants under their skirts, for no other reason than they were female.
So don’t talk about women wearing pants being gender nonconforming like it’s easy. It’s only less difficult now because your foremothers refused to comply.
My mother spent her entire school career up until high school having to wear skirts, no matter how horrible the New England winters got, because she was forbidden to do otherwise. There were times when the weather was bad where my grandmother kept her home rather than make her walk to and from the bus in a skirt.
They rebroadcast a few old interviews with Mary Tyler Moore, and in them she addressed the pants issue. There was a strict limit on what kind of pants she could wear (hence, always Capri pants, nothing masculine), and to use her words, how much cupping the pants could show. A censor would look at every outfit when she came out on stage, and if the pants cupped her buttocks too much, defining them rather than hiding them, then she had to get another pair.
A prime example of how gender is socially enforced.
I remember a prolonged battle at primary school, with petitions and numerous near riotous PTA meetings before girls were allowed to wear trousers. In the late 1990s/early 2000s. In Scotland. A country which now (rightly, for the most part) prides itself on its progressiveness. Please don’t ever take these things for granted, and don’t assume that it’s only far flung places that you have nothing in common with that took so long to catch up. We’re all still fighting, little by little, for every apparently trivial victory that mounts up until we can reach the non-trivial ones. And we can’t afford to stop.
At my private Catholic high school, girls were only given the green light to wear pants the year before I began attending.
In 1992.
Yeah, 1991, forced to wear dresses in school. Got detention once because after school was over while waiting for my ride outside I took off the dress that was over my button down shirt and normal-kids-shorts-length shorts because it was Louisiana degrees outside and I was 7.
My mom had to wear a dress to gym class.
https://www.today.com/style/school-s-uniform-doesn-t-allow-girls-wear-pants-so-t141519
We’re still fighting for the right to wear pants.
Teachers were forced to wear skirts for years. And heels. My mother’s feet are still high heel shaped when she takes off her shoes. She had to wear a skirt till I was well into junior high.
Somewhere between (งಠ_ಠ)ง and ¯_(ツ)_/¯ every day.
Ah the ever elusive ¯_( ಠ_ಠ)_/¯
I’m more like (งツ)ง tbh.
how we act alone when we don’t feel like we have witnesses.. that is the genuine self.. me walking around my room punching the air talking to myself in a bad southern accent, that’s ME baby. you’re never going to know me like i know me. haha.
So anyway I saw Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) yesterday and I liked it a lot. It made me emotional, I was mouthing along to the songs, Rami malek is fucking wonderful. Queens a big BIG thing in my family and so I know that there were some historical inaccuracies but honestly? It was a fun, inspiring portrayal of an amazing man. Its well shot, the actors are great. Maybe the dialogue gets clunky but it’s still good.
And then I see that it’s only got 50 odd percent on Rotten Tomatoes which, whatever, critics suck. THEN I read a review to see what everyone’s mad about and let me tell you I am fuming.
I read an economist article that worried that stopping other biopic in 1985 “might prevent an excellent performance from being a prize-winning one, of the sort that earned Oscars for Tom Hanks in “Philadelphia” (1993) and Matthew McConaughey in “Dallas Buyers Club” (2013).”
What. The. fuck. One of my favourite things about this film is that it didn’t show the horrible, pain-porn, graceful and yet horrific decline into aids that every other film about queer men in the 80’s milks out. The LGBT community knows about the aids crisis. Everyone knows that Freddie died of AIDS related illnesses. I’m so fucking sick of gay tragedies.
I loved this film because instead of being a glorification of his death it was a celebration of his life. You want to know when Freddie Mercury informed the public he had AIDS? The day before he died. He didn’t want to be a poster boy, a spectacle. He was a person outside of his illness.
Queer people don’t exist to die peacefully on your screen, leaving you with a hopeful majestic quote about how really everything’s going to be a alright. Growing up gay I truly thought I wouldn’t be able to be happy. Why? Because in every portrayal of a queer character they either died horribly or died alone.
So yes. I like this film. I like having a film about a queer person that focused on their life instead of their death
Reblogging this because I have been absolutely dreading the end of the movie, knowing that it was going to get into the gory details, or at the very least knowing that it was going to show him looking like every other fucking victim in the 80s and I knew I would have to cry the ugly tears because AIDS still evokes such a visceral reaction in me. (Watching half of your family die of that disease will do that to a person, but i DIGRESS.
THANK YOU op for writing this because honestly, we don’t need another sad AIDS story.
We need a story that celebrates a band and its leader for all of the joy they’ve given us, all these years on.
God yes, all of this. I’m so tired of the Beautiful Gay Tragedy™ – I loved this movie precisely BECAUSE it focused on Freddie’s ebullient charisma and the infectious joy he wrung out of every single moment. We already all know that Freddie died much too soon. I’m so glad the film was much more concerned with the way he LIVED.