RedHead Confetti

TW: Some talk of domestic violence from parents, and death threats. If you're in a place where the passing mention of this kind of abuse would cause you harm, please skip this one, and go look at kittens on the internet until you feel better! Kittens help that, a lot! If you're being abused, please, please know you're not alone! Please reach out, and get help. You can even email me, and I'll try to research local stuff to help you where you are, if you can't do that safely. Call the police, make a report, speak with your college (or even high school) counselors.  You Fucking Matter! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise! I'm reminded of that old joke: two spouses are arguing, about what depends on the joke teller. Finally one says, exasperated, "I was just giving you my opinion!" The other says, "Well, if I want your opinion, I'll give it to you!" This has been kicking around in my head for about four weeks; I promise the blog t

Call me by my name.  Not the name you created, because mine’s so hard. Not the one you prefer, because the last time you really knew me, I was four years old. Not the one you know was given to me at birth, when I had no say in it. Call me by my damned name! This is a familiar rant for anyone who has changed their name. Whether it was choosing to drop a family nickname, or publicly taking a name of their own choosing when going through transition to the correct gender. For some of us, it’s because we use a different name than our birth name-- sometimes it’s a nickname of our choosing, or just choosing to use a name we like. No matter how we came to this name, it ours, and that’s what we want to be called. Let me explain a little. My birth name is not Emma. This is my chosen name. I’ve used it publicly for almost 20 years. It’s how I sign my name, if I don’t just use an initial. It’s how I answer the phone; it’s the name I am introduced by, and the one I introduce myself by.