With the virtual uses and changing of language online it’s important we note how we are using the @ symbol in our name and in the things we are creating and writing. For many of you this is “common knowledge,” but the reality is that some folks have not ever really thought about why this symbol is important.
We think the @ symbol is important because it represents gender neutrality, gender inclusion, and disrupts the misogynistic ways language privileges men, masculinity, and things that are considered “male.”As many Latin@ scholars have stated and argued, especially Anzaldua, “Language is a male discourse” (p. 54, Borderlands/La Frontera). In the Spanish language, grammatically, if there is one man present in a room or area filled with women (a man of any age, a boy, a child, etc.) instead of using the “feminine” form of the language often using an “a” (i.e. una or nosotras) a masculine “o” is used (i.e. nosotros or the absence of the “a” such as un).
Utilizing the @ in this way challenges these grammatical “rules” that are embedded in a legacy of privileging men, masculinity and maleness. It is also part of a legacy that includes and recognizes our gender queer and trans* community members versus erasing them by constantly using a language embedded in a gender binary/dichotomy.
The @ is useful not only in discussing Latinidad, but also discussing how Blackness and African identity intersects as well. Often when we see terms discussing LatiNegr@s in various ways and using other self-identifiers they are still using a masculine version of “Afro” such as “Afro-Latin@”. This is a preference by some, and I’d like to argue this is also a way of privileging men and masculinity in the English language. Afr@Latin@ is a valid term and form to use when discussing our identities as well. Just as AfraLatina is valid. Why must the African in us also remain masculine?
The questions still exist of how to actually speak the @ sign and this has yet to really be resolved. How have others negotiated this?
(written by Bianca)
I remember discussing this in Queer Studies last year, especially Anzaldua’s writings. I believe the @ sign allows for the reader to read the word how they most prefer. In this case, it gives the reader and the writer the most agency possible within the limitations of language.
“Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them.” -Margaret Atwood
Reblogging for the Atwood quote, which is showing its truthiness right here.
so, women have privilege because we call men creepy. ok. that makes sense…in backwards land.
creep shaming. bahaha. baha. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA.
here’s teh thing, cis dudebros.
stop raping us in disproportionate numbers and stop assuming we’re your sexual property. also, stop cat-calling.
and we’ll magically stop ‘creep shaming’ you.
it’s funny how i don’t creep shame guys from my church as they are comfortable with the mode of physical contact i am and they treat me like (gosh) a human being, not a vagina. ( i realize thatn ot all churchdudes are like this, i’m just citing mine).
commentary is relevant as fuck
Once I drew a picture that was creep shaming and people were like “BUT WHAT IF I’M A CREEP” and I was like “argh I don’t want to upset people but I DO NOT WANT CREEPS NEAR ME I HAVE ALREADY BEEN FUCKED UP BY CREEPS AND YEAH.”
PROUD MISANDRIST AND CREEPIST.
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbasically. maybe if you listened when I said “no” then I wouldn’t think you were creepy. maybe if you weren’t trying to tell me what you would “do to me” at 3am when I’m alone in a parking lot I wouldn’t call you creepy.
but you are creepy. so suck it the fuck up.
SO I CREEP
JUST KEEP IT ON THE DOWN LOW
CAUSE NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW-OHHH
Is this a thing? Like, is this real? Like, what in the fuck?
creep shamer 4 life
Ha. Nice try…..
Whaaaaaat? Really? You think you are oppressed because someone calls you a creep? Get outta here…
[TW warning: anti-trans bigotry and violence]
The following is a piece I wrote for a zine, QUAC , about the topic of Queer Violence
Queer People Not My People
I expected to lose a lot transitioning from a gay identified boy to a trans woman. I’ve lost family, once-called “best friends”, and the ability to find a man on A4A for some anonymous one night stands. What I didn’t expect was the loss of queer communities as a safe space for me. I once idolized queer spaces, now I always enter them in trepidation, even the ones I’ve helped build and maintain. I write this piece still reeling at how much anger I felt last night, still picking out the tear-dried clumps of mascara from my eyes. It’s the slow realization that I am often the only trans woman in the room, and that queer people love throw around my identity as part of their little acronym, but would rather not hear from me.
This is another personal account of being transgender and meeting resistance from the rest of the gay community. ~Allegra