So I just got back last night from a brony convention in San Francisco. I was working a booth for a vendor friend, and let me tell you what happened:
We met a little girl who was there with her family. She got a button drawn at our booth, told us all about her favorite ponies, and was overall just too damn cute. She had an MLP lanyard filled with pins she’d gotten in the vendor’s room, and gave me a Fluttershy pin because she liked my cosplay. She ended up just hanging out with us for a while and bein’ super cute. We call her Babby because she’s 11 and precious.
The next day, she runs up to the booth, terrified, and asks if she can please hide under our table for a few minutes. Turns out a dude had been following her around the con all day, and tried to get her to come up to his hotel room. Alone. She tells us she thought he was okay at first because he was wearing an MLP shirt, but she didn’t want to go anywhere with him, and he made her uneasy. At one point, after she’d refused, he grabbed her arm in the elevators and tried to get her to follow him. She ran, and now she wants somewhere to hide.
We tell her of course, hurry her behind our booth and fucking station ourselves around her because she’s eleven years old and all of us are prepared to physically attack the human trashheap who tries to fuck with her. We’re all dressed up in wings and ears and we’re 100000% prepared to rip them off and launch across that table to defend this kid. Eventually this very large dude strolls by, very obviously looking around, and she quietly points him out to us. At this point I’m ready to set him on fire, but when I ask if she needs me to go report him, she shakes her head. She doesn’t want to get in trouble, or make anyone mad.
We see him a few more times over the course of the day, because he keeps meandering over to our booth and just casually looking around. Eventually he actually stops to take a flier from our table and asks us a question, and we coldly send him on his way. We start sending a coworker with Babby whenever her parents aren’t around and she wants to go check out artist’s alley or the vendor’s hall. Because otherwise she’s not safe. She can’t run around and freely enjoy a convention about a show aimed at her, because instead of being surrounded by peers she’s somehow surrounded by men who pose a threat to her.
My point here: this is why I fucking hate “bronies.” Because grown-ass men are flooding into a space carved out for children—often little girls—and are making it unsafe for them.
I met a lot of non-awful people there, of course. I met a lot of parents and older siblings. A lot of adorable little boys who were happy to empathize with female characters, and a lot of little kids who wanted a picture with cosplays of their favorite pony. I met a lot of people who were cool and nice and just liked cartoons. I met a male Pinkie Pie cosplayer with a Fluttershy lady-friend who juggled and spun plates and was happy to entertain kids, and were generally just really cool people.
But I also met a lot of skeevy dudebros. A lot of guys in fedoras loudly discussing sexual shit in a room with children. Guys who drew/sold/displayed really fucking inappropriate “fanart,” including gross bodypillows that had no purpose in a little kids’ toy convention. I met a guy who gushed with absolute glee about the pleasure he derives from “corrupting innocence.” I met a lot of people who wanted to take something sweet and nice for children and make it about THEM. A lot of guys who wanted to make it about their dicks. People who made it UNSAFE for the intended audience to even be in attendance.
So yeah. If you call yourself a brony, I’m prolly not gonna trust you. Because I’ve seen y’all in action, and I am not impressed. Frankly I’m infuriated. This is like a bunch of gross neckbeards swarming Disneyland and shoving kids out of the way so they can grope Cinderella, and finding nothing wrong with it because they think they’re entitled to it.
My Little Pony is a really cute show with a lot of nice messages for kids, and gross brony shitweasels are trying to fucking take it from them by force. And I will fight them.
wHOA WHOA WHOA WHOAAAAAAAA!!!!!
wait a minute here.
you’ve made a fantastic point here and all, but listen, are YOU TELLING ME. THAT AN ELEVEN YEAR OLD GIRL RAN TO YOU. TERRIFIED. JUST NEARLY GOT ABDUCTED. BY A STRANGER, AN ADULT MAN. WHO TOUCHED HER. ALONE IN AN ELEVATOR.
and you let that predator walk free?
the little girl is scared of reporting him and you just go with it? what the fuck. whAT THE FUCK. THAT LITTLE GIRL ISN’T THE ONLY LITTLE GIRL WHO’S IN DANGER.
LISTEN YA’LL YOU CAN MAKE ALL THE GREAT POINTS YOU WANT ON TUMBLR BUT IF YOU MEET A CHILD WHO CONFIDES IN YOU THEY FEEL UNSAFE, EXPLICITLY TELL YOU A GROWN MAN IS HUNTING THEM OUT TO DO AWFUL THINGS TO THEM AND LITERALLY ABDUCT THEM, WHAT THE FUCK? YOU GET THAT PIECE OF SHIT IN JAIL. YOU HAVE SOMEONE KEEP HIM BUSY AND YOU GET THE FUCKING COPS. WHERE WERE HER PARENTS?? YOU ARE AN ADULT!!!! ACT LIKE ONE AND PROTECT LITTLE GIRLS AT ALL COSTS!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???? THAT GUY WAS FREE TO WALK OUT OF THERE AND CONTINUE BEING A GODDAMN PREDATOR I’M
…yeah, someone should have actually done something about that scumbag. Keep in mind that the bystander effect is a thing, and don’t be yet another bystander.
what the fuck is wrong with op seriously
hey, OP, you could possibly still do something about this. if you saw the guy so often you could probably describe him to cops and con organisers and shit. maybe they had cameras running they can get images of the guy from. maybe other guests did.
and not giving little girls the idea that not reporting predators when you have other adults literally surrounding you to keep you safe is the right choice. that’d probably be good too.
One for sorrow, two for mirth,
Three for a wedding, four for a birth,
Five for silver, six for gold,
Seven for a secret not to be told.
Eight for heaven, nine for hell,
And ten for the devil’s own sel’.
- Augurer’s traditional rhyme
In the beginning there is only one man with dreams of immortality. Lord Voldemort he calls himself, and bids his friends call him by this new name. They say the name solemnly.
And when he turns away, they laugh up their sleeves.
Then one of them has an idea. We are respectable young men, he says, fine upstanding citizens of this land.
Why do we not use this unknown with pretensions to greatness to meet our own ends?
The four consider his proposition. One joins for wealth. One joins for power. One joins for the rest. The last joins because it is the first who proposed it.
Five for silver and a bright future.
Then comes six, a family friend of the first, from a different land where dark and light magic are all the same. He will bring them magic and magicians from this land, where knowledge that is secret here is traded openly and loudly debated in the conference rooms of their Ministry.
Seven is a sad crow indeed, a young man in ragged clothes, snarling and raging at the world - met with a tragic accident not a few years ago and in a moment went from a bright young thing to nobody in particular, outcast and tramp.
Seven brings eight with him. Snarling and raging, ready to do the bidding of the others as long as they have blood, blood and more blood.
Nine joins out of fear, to save his children from the coming darkness.
Ten joins because if he is to be a butcher, then he would make such a butchery that it would go down in song and story.
Ten crows for the devil himself.
While The One, their noble leader is gone - finding magic that the world has long since forgotten, marked only in old stories crones tell children to scare them into behaving, for himself - they gather in silence and slowly build. An empire, a fully fledged war machine to set in motion when The One returns.
And as they gather in silence, wizarding Britain continues, oblivious, blissfully happy, not knowing that in a few years their world will be plunged into a war the like of which they have never seen.
For now, all is well, as the crows simply gather and watch.
My entire teenaged life, up until I was 20, I thought I was broken because I didn’t know asexuality was a thing?? Like, I literally thought I was sick and broken and that something was wrong with me. I still get told there’s something gross and wrong with me if I don’t wanna have sex because are you sure you just haven’t met the right person yet? or did something happen to you as a kid? were you molested or touched inappropriately? Just fucking last night my roommate asked me the latter question and then told me she thought I was repressing a bad memory and that maybe I should seek help from a psychologist.
Like, frick off if you think that asexual oppression isn’t a thing. It’s just a different kind of oppression other lgbta+ ppl face.
i don’t want to glom onto your post but let me add that i was LITERALLY told by a doctor that there was something wrong with me because i was asexual and he took me off my antidepressants because he thought that’s what was causing it
if you don’t think ace people deserve a safe space and protection just like any other member of the queer community you can fuck off
REALLY just wanna take this chance to remind the people who follow me to not kill/trap opossums if they’re in your yard, and do not call animal control! Seriously.
- Opossums are literally 100% BIOLOGICALLY INCAPABLE of carrying rabies. Their body temperature is too cool to incubate it properly.
- Opossums are actually quite gentle and NOCTURNAL, so if they’re roaming, they’ve probably gotten lost, been injured, and are looking for a place to hide.
- Young opossums tend to try to climb into garbage cans when they’re starving. This is because THEY ARE LITERALLY STARVING. Don’t fucking shoot them or hit them with things because you wanna be some fucking macho top-of-the-food-chain cocksucker.
- Mama possums are amazing mothers and if you encounter an “aggressive” opossum, it’s probably because she’s got babies hanging off her nipple and she’s freaking out. They’re clumsy. Sometimes they don’t hear you coming and you catch each other off guard.
- Wanna lure an opossum off of your property? You can set up a box with some greens and cat kibble in it, hide it well, and lure them out that way. They’re actually quite harmless and keep other predators away. they eat lotsa gross stuff.
- Opossum mamas who get hit by cars often still have their helpless babies attached to them. Possums get a bad rep and people say they are “the dumbest animal”, but they are incredible creatures who have been around since the days of fucking dinosaurs so treat them well, okay?
Here is the thing about Anne Shirley: the reader has to anticipate her heterosexuality. There is a certain narrative structure to heternormativity:
- A girl is strange, loud, gender aberrant, uninterested in boys, or too interested in other girls.
- Said girl, in order to become a woman, must adopt more traditionally feminine traits, one of which is explicitly an interest in only boys.
Which is to say that heterosexuality, normative gender behavior, and “adulthood” are, for many children’s book heroines— and for many little girls— inextricably intertwined. The reader thus associates Anne’s queerness— here I’ll focus on her “passionate” love for Diana— with Anne’s childishness and silliness.
Anne’s relationship with Diana follows to the letter the traditional structure of romances. Anne fantasizes about having a “bosom friend” and then meets and falls rapturously in love with Diana. They swear to their love, but are cruelly torn apart by Marilla’s currant wine, and finally, after Anne’s feats of heroism with ipecac, are tearfully reunited. Diana sends Anne a card saying “If you love me as I love you / Nothing but death can part us two.” And they are so joined— Diana as Lancelot kissing Anne’s Elaine, Anne and Diana swearing that they shall never marry and remain old maids together, Anne “smiling affectionately into the pretty, vivacious face so near her own”— until Anne goes off to Queen’s and must reassure a reproachful Diana that although Diana heard Anne was “infatuated” with Stella Maynard, Anne “love[s] [Diana] more than ever.”
And yes, it’s funny! It’s funny and overly dramatic like most young love is. But it’s also unbearably confined and dismissed by the confirmed expectation that Anne and Diana both grow up to love and marry men. And, when you think about the ways that queer women have taught themselves to confine and dismiss their own feelings because of the choices and vocabulary they had available to them, it’s also unbearably sad.
Anne’s Diana-related fantasies reveal her own awareness of her circumstance: she fantasizes both about giving her own life for Diana’s and of being left behind at Diana’s wedding. (Interestingly, these fears and fantasies start only after Diana first mentions Gilbert Blythe to Anne.) Anne is fully aware of the enforced behavior that adulthood entails, and she despairs of it. Her found community of kindred spirits, her persistent storytelling, the entire world she renames in Avonlea, are all not insignificant acts of revolution and self-creation.
But still, she is made to grow up. Anne says towards the end of Green Gables that she has found it is “nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one’s heart, like treasures” because she doesn’t “like to have them laughed at, or wondered over.”
And so Anne learns to keep her queerness to herself.