Tag Archives: gender binary system

Not Your Usual Trans Childhood Narrative


When I was little, my grandmother made me a pink princess costume for Halloween: a little petal pink shift, a darker pink cape that tied with a white grosgrain ribbon and was trimmed with sequins, and a pale pink satin tiara, also trimmed with sequins. I loved it. After Halloween, that costume ended up in my dress up box (a purple box with white hearts), and I played with it all the time. Continue reading

Pretty In Pink: Yay For Jenna Lyons and Her Son

An ad from J.Crew

I just found a really cute ad — a mom painting her adorable young son’s toenails bright pink. The caption reads: “Lucky for me I ended up with a boy whose favorite color is pink. Toenail painting is way more fun in neon.” The mom is Jenna Lyons, the president and creative director of J.Crew, and, predictably, a number of people have decided to freak out over it.¬† Continue reading

Why Is There an M/F Marker On Photo IDs?

It is complete bullshit when photo IDs — like driver’s licenses — require a (misnamed) “gender marker” (you know, that little “F” or “M” on the card). What is the point? There is a photo, and you can’t figure out whether a card matches a person without knowing what’s supposedly in their pants? It’s ridiculous. Continue reading

Is Feminism Outdated? / The Need for Trans Liberation

Or perhaps I should ask, is the word feminism outdated? I’m not questioning whether we live in a postfeminist society, as I think the answer’s pretty clear — compared to (cis)men, (cis)women still make fewer than eighty cents on the dollar, there are still huge double standards, etc. etc. etc. However, the feminist movement’s narrow focus (women’s equality, women’s rights) does not seem expansive enough for the society in which we live. Continue reading

Thesis Trouble

The thesis is such an integral part of the Bryn Mawr experience that it has its own Step Sing song (“I’ve Been Working On My Thesis”), and it’s the beginning of another (“Colossal Pain”). Everyone knows about theses: we’re told horror stories about them for three years.

Perhaps needless to say, I was nervous about the thesis process (“terrified” might be a more accurate word — if some of the seniors I’d talked to were to be believed, my thesis was going to eat my soul). The start of junior year rolled around, and I still had no idea what the topic of my thesis would be. Oh, I had mumbled a little to the philosophy major advisor the spring before about queer theory (not that I had read any Foucault or ever studied queer theory at Bryn Mawr), but after not managing to get through either of the Judith Butler books I had checked out over the summer, that was looking less and less promising. To make matters worse, my thesis advisor was on some kind of emergency medical leave for the first half of the semester. Better and better, right? Continue reading