There is a danger in applying modern labels to historical people. To call Eleanor Rykener a gay man is just as harmful as calling her a straight man. Erasing a queer person’s identity, even for the sake of another queer identity, is harmful. The case of Eleanor Rykener was actually revisited in recent years with the admission that transgender may be a more accurate term for Ms. Rykener. To simply call Eleanor Rykener a crossdresser is reductive; it ignores her life as she lived it.

Sorting through the facts of a whole life lived, no matter how long or eventful, will always be a struggle, but it is one worth going through. Most of the time, it is not the most exciting or even well-known story that is the truth; the truth is that we live our lives for ourselves, and that is enough to inspire many. Those stories, our stories, are worth telling.

Mama didn’t raise a quitter, but she sure did raise one spiteful kid.

Spend enough time in the comments of any fatphobia article and, aside from concern trolls, you’ll find that one comment overwhelms every other. Well-meaning activists parrot the same comment over and over; fat doesn’t mean unhealthy.

Crossposted from Making Queer History

There is something powerful in reclaiming language. There’s the shock value of it, but it’s also a way to take back some of the power. It’s a way to navigate a difficult experience; it’s not right for every person, but for many, it’s empowering. For queer crips, it’s a way to connect, to reject, and to describe the experience of feeling trapped between two communities.