- Joined
- May 24, 2023
Incredible string of tweets, let's check the bio.
Not as weird as I was expecting to be honest.
📚 Megathread Non-binary genders / Enbies - When Male and Female Aren't Special Enough
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Incredible string of tweets, let's check the bio.
Not as weird as I was expecting to be honest.
Jacques1194
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2023
236k likes on the most random tweet about someone changing pronouns. You can't convince me that LGBT shit isn't astroturfed
Incredible string of tweets, let's check the bio.
- Joined
- May 24, 2023
It's one of those things where I'm not sure if it's worse if someone actually felt like this was worth paying money to bot, or if it's worse if there actually are 236k people who think this makes sense.
Jacques1194
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2023
What's even crazier is that it has 9.2 million views. Yeah, this tweet is botted. Considering the amount of TIMs in programming, I wouldn't be shocked if they do pay a lot of money to bot posts. They have to convince people that transgenderism has a lot of support. I just can't imagine this many people (Even allies) would be this obsessed with gender and being queer now.
Ericson
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 20, 2024
Haven't seen this spectacle in my time residing here, so here goes.
This is the "Gender Wiki".
You couldn't make this shit up if you tried. Not including the "BiDemiGenderFluxic" bullshit because there's just so much shit.
This is the "Gender Wiki".
Apustajan apustaja
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jul 6, 2023
I have found my identity! I'm also buttereuphoric!
Ericson
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 20, 2024
there's no "KiwiGender".
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! FUCKING REPUBLICAN CONSERVATIVE CHRISITAN BIGOTS!!!
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2020
“Ones gender that smells or tastes like cookies”
Grandma? Memaw is a tranny? What ever happened to getting rid of useless, sexist stereotypes? I miss that.
Grandma? Memaw is a tranny? What ever happened to getting rid of useless, sexist stereotypes? I miss that.
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2013
I'm sure half of the gender wiki pages are jokes. Which half, I'm not sure.
Jacques1194
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2023
Its hard to really know which one of these started out as jokes but then some teenager saw it, related to it, and now its a valid gender identity because said teenager relates to it. There's so many xenogenders that started out just like this and now you can't even really criticize it unless you get bombarded by people online who think you're a monster if you call out the ridiculousness of it.
- Joined
- May 24, 2023
lmao
Jacques1194
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2023
I'm just going to post this here in case they actually do reveal this character's gender to be non binary. SPOILER ALERT from the new South Park episode. There was a character they introduced named Kipling. At the beginning of the episode, the kids are all wondering what gender this character is and when they thought they were going to reveal it, the kid said "as you can see i'm a.....webloos." Because of this, a few South Park Twitter kids believe this character is the first non binary trans character in South Park. Nothing about this character's gender has been revealed and for all we know it could have just been a gag. (South Park is anything but subtle and would have revealed this character as trans if they were) However, considering the fact that this entire season is going after Trump for all that he's doing and the fact that they kinda made fun of the "What is a woman" question in another episode, I wouldn't be surprised if this character does appear again and they do confirm they're non binary trans. We'll have to see in the next few episodes. Would be funny if character is never seen from again because South Park is also known for making one offs and then dropping them.
- Joined
- Aug 22, 2022
I saw my first “x” gender marker at work while checking a woman’s ID - and she was a clear and obvious woman - she had a non-binary flag pin that read “NOT A MA’AM”, was very stinky, red faced, and had a chin of wispy pubes. The entire time I was processing her paperwork I debated if it would be worth it to call her ma’am, or otherwise pretend I was having trouble understanding the gender marker (I “pass” as a normie middle aged woman who wouldn’t know gender stuff). Ultimately I just let it go because it wasn’t worth a potential freak-out from her, but I hope she was made uncomfortable by the length of time I spent staring at her ID and back at her.
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2018
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2015
Anna Kreider has taken the next step of her journey; from radfem, to not-woman, to fujoshi, to pooner, and now to man*.
It's funny because Anna would shit herself in rage every time someone called her a woman, and now that she's getting what she wants, she's still not happy. I guarantee that if that waiter has treated her like a woman, Anna would have had a meltdown and declared him a violent transphobe.
Bonus: So manly!
Double Bonus: Anna trauma dumps on tumblr with the most autistic metaphor imaginable.
It's funny because Anna would shit herself in rage every time someone called her a woman, and now that she's getting what she wants, she's still not happy. I guarantee that if that waiter has treated her like a woman, Anna would have had a meltdown and declared him a violent transphobe.
Bonus: So manly!
Double Bonus: Anna trauma dumps on tumblr with the most autistic metaphor imaginable.
I was eight years old when I was given my first thresher maw.
It happened the day after my first fight with my mother over school pictures. She had a dress picked out for me to wear, and I, willful and contrary child that I was, decided that I didn’t want to wear dresses anymore, actually.
She lost that fight - I wore a blouse and pants. But the next day she brought this thresher maw up to my room, said he was mine now. He was to live in my closet, and I was supposed to take care of him. When I asked why a thresher maw had to live in my closet, she rolled her eyes.
“He’s just a baby,” she said dismissively. “I grew up with a thresher maw in my closet. Everyone does. It’s no big deal.”
“But why do I have to have one?”
All she would say was, “he’s going to help you make good choices.”
Once I realized he couldn’t leave the closet, he was pretty easily dealt with, at least. I waited until he was asleep, then moved all of my tomboyish clothing out of my closet and into my drawers. The thresher maw could live with my dresses - I wasn’t using them anyway. Sometimes I’d have to go in my closet for something my parents had stored in there, and he’d always take a swipe at me, but usually he didn’t succeed at taking a piece out of me.
Usually.
It wasn’t long after that, though, that the first thresher maw appeared in my classes at school.
He was bigger, and a lot scarier than the baby who lived in my closet (who I guess was kind of a runt). Ostensibly, he was there to enforce the classroom rules. In reality, the boys could all but hang from the ceiling without making it mad. The girls, meanwhile, would get terrorized the instant any of them looked like they might be contemplating mischief.
Naturally, school quickly became one of my least favorite places - especially after the boys learned they could bait the thresher maw into snapping at me when I had to go to my cubby.
The year after that, I was assigned a personal thresher maw in addition to the classroom thresher maw. I didn’t pay enough attention, didn’t show enough interest in classroom topics or activities, apparently. When I asked how having a vicious thresher maw inside my desk was supposed to help me pay attention, the adults just threatened to give me a bigger, nastier thresher maw. So I learned not to complain.
Then my mother brought home the biggest, meanest, most vicious thresher maw I’d ever seen in my entire life and gave him free run of the first floor of the house. My room quickly became my refuge - for whatever reason, the big thresher maw respected the territorial claim of the little one in my closet. And reading became my escape - an escape into a world where I could be free of the constant terror of thresher maws.
There weren’t any people like me in the books I read - no children whose adults were constantly terrorizing them with thresher maws. But there also weren’t any thresher maws at all in those stories, and that was enough.
I couldn’t spend all my time in my room, however. I was expected to participate in “Family Time”, of which the giant thresher maw was always a part.
In truth, my mother preferred the thresher maw to me, her actual child. She’d often “joke” about feeding me to the thresher maw, but no one ever laughed.
In high school, I started to get a sense of which spaces would be safe from thresher maws, and under what conditions they would remain so. One of the instructors at my Tae Kwon Do school was a thresher maw, but he was pretty chill, as long as you never pointed out that he worked the girls twice as hard as the boys.
I managed to get out of my thresher-maw-loving community when I went to college. And… it’s not that there weren’t thresher maws in university, exactly, because there were. For one, my childhood thresher maws refused to be parted from me. My closet maw and I were almost buddies at that point. But my mother insisted on budding a new baby thresher maw from her giant, and the baby hated me just as much as the original did.
But since it was either take him or give up on going to university…
What else could I do?
Even so, university was the breath of freedom that I’d desperately needed. As university students, we had the freedom to set our own schedules and routines. And on a big campus like ours, it was very easy to order your life such that you mostly didn’t have to worry about running into them. The frats and sororities, of course, were riddled with them. But. Whatever. I didn’t have to have anything to do with Greek life.
Life went on, and for the most part I was lucky. Lucky to find a husband who had grown up with thresher maws, and knew that they weren’t anything to joke about. And I was lucky to have access to thresher maw training courses. They were insanely hard to access, and very expensive, of course. But they did at least make my personal thresher maws more tolerable to live with.
When I got pregnant with my kid, I went on a thresher maw mitigation spree. The ones I couldn’t get rid of, I forced through training program after training program, determined that my kid wasn’t going to live under constant terror the way I did. No way, no how.
And things went pretty well until the pandemic, when we were all locked in our houses. My thresher maws started to go crazy from being trapped inside all day. Before I knew it, my closet maw - my childhood buddy - had merged with the clone of my mother’s maw and a clone of the classroom maw from school that I hadn’t even known was living with me - apparently he’d stowed away with me years ago and was just very good at hiding.
So now I was trapped in my house with a ravenous three-headed thresher maw the size of a Volkswagon who was hungry for my flesh specifically. And I realized that I had a choice. I could let the damned thing kill me, or I could start learning how to fight back.
Of course, in our very pro-maw society, that made me an instant target of hate. Getting eaten by thresher maws was part of the natural order - if it was my time, then it was my time. Fighting back against the maws was a perversion of the highest order.
I did it anyway.
I started small - with not letting people use pro-maw language around me, and even that was a bridge too far for my mother. After multiple visits where she reminisced fondly about the childhood maw that hated me, then broke down in tears because she felt attacked when I told her in no uncertain terms that her maw was homicidal and had almost killed me on many occasions, I finally told her she could either apologize or remove herself from my life.
She chose to remove herself from my life.
My husband was a blessing. “Teach me how to fight the maws,” he said. He didn’t care that they weren’t trying to eat him, that it was something he shouldn’t have to do. “Teach me how to fight the maws”.
And he did. Truthfully, in the beginning he was better than I was at spotting the maws when they were sneaking up on me.
My kung fu school is another blessing. They are emphatically anti-thresher maw. No thresher maw sifus or assistants allowed, and they fumigate regularly to chase off any maws that do happen to sneak in.
It took a hell of a lot of effort, but I chopped the clone heads off of my closet maw, and now… Well. Our relationship is complicated. He’s been with me my entire life, knows how to get through cracks in my foundation that I don’t even know are there. Mostly he just makes a nuisance of himself, forces me to work around him. But sometimes he’ll pitch a fit, and let me tell you - getting chased by a thresher maw isn’t something you recover from as quickly in your 40s as you do in your 20s.
To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of him. He’s a tough old bastard, and no matter how hard I hit him, he never stays away for long.
And.
At the risk of stating the obvious, I should never have been given that maw in the first place. Siccing thresher maws on children isn’t a loving or healthy way to parent your kids. And I shouldn’t have to worry about the people who wish harm on me because of my “anti-maw lifestyle”. Children shouldn’t ever have to accept that carving off pieces of themselves is the price of safety.
I deserved better.
And so do you.
It happened the day after my first fight with my mother over school pictures. She had a dress picked out for me to wear, and I, willful and contrary child that I was, decided that I didn’t want to wear dresses anymore, actually.
She lost that fight - I wore a blouse and pants. But the next day she brought this thresher maw up to my room, said he was mine now. He was to live in my closet, and I was supposed to take care of him. When I asked why a thresher maw had to live in my closet, she rolled her eyes.
“He’s just a baby,” she said dismissively. “I grew up with a thresher maw in my closet. Everyone does. It’s no big deal.”
“But why do I have to have one?”
All she would say was, “he’s going to help you make good choices.”
Once I realized he couldn’t leave the closet, he was pretty easily dealt with, at least. I waited until he was asleep, then moved all of my tomboyish clothing out of my closet and into my drawers. The thresher maw could live with my dresses - I wasn’t using them anyway. Sometimes I’d have to go in my closet for something my parents had stored in there, and he’d always take a swipe at me, but usually he didn’t succeed at taking a piece out of me.
Usually.
It wasn’t long after that, though, that the first thresher maw appeared in my classes at school.
He was bigger, and a lot scarier than the baby who lived in my closet (who I guess was kind of a runt). Ostensibly, he was there to enforce the classroom rules. In reality, the boys could all but hang from the ceiling without making it mad. The girls, meanwhile, would get terrorized the instant any of them looked like they might be contemplating mischief.
Naturally, school quickly became one of my least favorite places - especially after the boys learned they could bait the thresher maw into snapping at me when I had to go to my cubby.
The year after that, I was assigned a personal thresher maw in addition to the classroom thresher maw. I didn’t pay enough attention, didn’t show enough interest in classroom topics or activities, apparently. When I asked how having a vicious thresher maw inside my desk was supposed to help me pay attention, the adults just threatened to give me a bigger, nastier thresher maw. So I learned not to complain.
Then my mother brought home the biggest, meanest, most vicious thresher maw I’d ever seen in my entire life and gave him free run of the first floor of the house. My room quickly became my refuge - for whatever reason, the big thresher maw respected the territorial claim of the little one in my closet. And reading became my escape - an escape into a world where I could be free of the constant terror of thresher maws.
There weren’t any people like me in the books I read - no children whose adults were constantly terrorizing them with thresher maws. But there also weren’t any thresher maws at all in those stories, and that was enough.
I couldn’t spend all my time in my room, however. I was expected to participate in “Family Time”, of which the giant thresher maw was always a part.
In truth, my mother preferred the thresher maw to me, her actual child. She’d often “joke” about feeding me to the thresher maw, but no one ever laughed.
In high school, I started to get a sense of which spaces would be safe from thresher maws, and under what conditions they would remain so. One of the instructors at my Tae Kwon Do school was a thresher maw, but he was pretty chill, as long as you never pointed out that he worked the girls twice as hard as the boys.
I managed to get out of my thresher-maw-loving community when I went to college. And… it’s not that there weren’t thresher maws in university, exactly, because there were. For one, my childhood thresher maws refused to be parted from me. My closet maw and I were almost buddies at that point. But my mother insisted on budding a new baby thresher maw from her giant, and the baby hated me just as much as the original did.
But since it was either take him or give up on going to university…
What else could I do?
Even so, university was the breath of freedom that I’d desperately needed. As university students, we had the freedom to set our own schedules and routines. And on a big campus like ours, it was very easy to order your life such that you mostly didn’t have to worry about running into them. The frats and sororities, of course, were riddled with them. But. Whatever. I didn’t have to have anything to do with Greek life.
Life went on, and for the most part I was lucky. Lucky to find a husband who had grown up with thresher maws, and knew that they weren’t anything to joke about. And I was lucky to have access to thresher maw training courses. They were insanely hard to access, and very expensive, of course. But they did at least make my personal thresher maws more tolerable to live with.
When I got pregnant with my kid, I went on a thresher maw mitigation spree. The ones I couldn’t get rid of, I forced through training program after training program, determined that my kid wasn’t going to live under constant terror the way I did. No way, no how.
And things went pretty well until the pandemic, when we were all locked in our houses. My thresher maws started to go crazy from being trapped inside all day. Before I knew it, my closet maw - my childhood buddy - had merged with the clone of my mother’s maw and a clone of the classroom maw from school that I hadn’t even known was living with me - apparently he’d stowed away with me years ago and was just very good at hiding.
So now I was trapped in my house with a ravenous three-headed thresher maw the size of a Volkswagon who was hungry for my flesh specifically. And I realized that I had a choice. I could let the damned thing kill me, or I could start learning how to fight back.
Of course, in our very pro-maw society, that made me an instant target of hate. Getting eaten by thresher maws was part of the natural order - if it was my time, then it was my time. Fighting back against the maws was a perversion of the highest order.
I did it anyway.
I started small - with not letting people use pro-maw language around me, and even that was a bridge too far for my mother. After multiple visits where she reminisced fondly about the childhood maw that hated me, then broke down in tears because she felt attacked when I told her in no uncertain terms that her maw was homicidal and had almost killed me on many occasions, I finally told her she could either apologize or remove herself from my life.
She chose to remove herself from my life.
My husband was a blessing. “Teach me how to fight the maws,” he said. He didn’t care that they weren’t trying to eat him, that it was something he shouldn’t have to do. “Teach me how to fight the maws”.
And he did. Truthfully, in the beginning he was better than I was at spotting the maws when they were sneaking up on me.
My kung fu school is another blessing. They are emphatically anti-thresher maw. No thresher maw sifus or assistants allowed, and they fumigate regularly to chase off any maws that do happen to sneak in.
It took a hell of a lot of effort, but I chopped the clone heads off of my closet maw, and now… Well. Our relationship is complicated. He’s been with me my entire life, knows how to get through cracks in my foundation that I don’t even know are there. Mostly he just makes a nuisance of himself, forces me to work around him. But sometimes he’ll pitch a fit, and let me tell you - getting chased by a thresher maw isn’t something you recover from as quickly in your 40s as you do in your 20s.
To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of him. He’s a tough old bastard, and no matter how hard I hit him, he never stays away for long.
And.
At the risk of stating the obvious, I should never have been given that maw in the first place. Siccing thresher maws on children isn’t a loving or healthy way to parent your kids. And I shouldn’t have to worry about the people who wish harm on me because of my “anti-maw lifestyle”. Children shouldn’t ever have to accept that carving off pieces of themselves is the price of safety.
I deserved better.
And so do you.
and I must scream
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2021
Oh my god how dare people be confused, surprised, baffled, incredulous or/and not knowing what to do when they are faced with very unusual situation! People are so -phobic! This is obvious micro-aggression and oppression!
This is one of the many, many things that annoy me about troons and other "marginalized" groups: acting like a natural, simple human emotion/state of mind/expression/reaction is some horrible type of oppression. Yes, gay men with 12 years old child is a rather unusual sight so people don't know what to make of it. And that's assuming she passes as a man and doesn't look like a weird balding lesbian with frog voice with a man and 12 years old child, which is even more unusual. So what?! That's how humans react to things that are out of the ordinary. That's how the human's brain works. We recognize patterns and we learn what to do and what to expect in these situations; when something new comes along we don't know how what to do at first, we don't know how to react, we are confused, we don't know what to expect and so we have difficulties modifying our reactions and behaviors accordingly. This is just natural human behavior, this is not some type of intended oppression. Like seriously fuck off with this. This pisses me off so much.
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2019
Wait so is the thresher maw her pussy, or…?
- Joined
- Aug 21, 2024
she is completely oblivious to the fact queers and trans drove most gay couples out of the public eye.
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2015
Remember, it's never good enough.
Let's see what else Anna does when she's not being misgendered.
What could be more trans than fucking a giant alien octopus?
"Also, every time I feel self-conscious about writing about sex with sentient alien octopuses, I remind myself that people have been fantasizing about sex with octopuses for hundreds, if not thousands of years" belongs in random.txt.
Let's see what else Anna does when she's not being misgendered.
What could be more trans than fucking a giant alien octopus?
Last edited by a moderator:
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2013
Doesn't Anna/Ash have her own thread? I hope you've been posting these updates there too.