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from bruxadomangue

houve alguma vez uma chance, eu sei de sentir e amar algo que não fosse mas se pudesse escolher o certo, eu sei escolheria qualquer outra coisa mais fraca

a segurança iludiu a muitos, eu sei iludiu a mim fingindo ser felicidade mas se o risco me encontrasse hoje, eu sei eu me iludiria outra maldita vez

há um quê de desespero aqui, eu sei e que outra coisa pode-se sentir agora? a morte é a vida, e a doença, eu sei a doença não cura qualquer coisa

não existo além de mim mesma, eu sei e se existisse, ainda assim, seria um nada mas se eu pudesse escolher, eu sei escolheria algo que nem eu sei dizer

??/??/2020

 
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from bruxadomangue

meus pés nunca puderam verdadeiramente caminhar sozinhos proibida de andar por meu caminho forçada a seguir os que antes vieram

e agora, descalça, eu saio sozinha e meus pés, frágeis, sangram livres ao contrário de mim, são tristes os que quiseram me proibir a vida

e a dor que eu sinto vale mais, sim que o nada a que fui, antes, forçada a sentir enquanto presa em uma casa e incapaz de respirar, sangrar, enfim

livre; calma, jamais. livre; calma, jamais. livre; calma, jamais. livre; calma, jamais.

??/??/2020

 
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from bruxadomangue

i like writing about death i write of dying in many ways i haven't written of all deaths but i surely will some day and in my heart i do hope that if i should ever die someone will comb my works not resting until they find a death like my very own so they'll say “see?! she knew!” and from eternity i will laugh once i get to see this view like the monkeys at the typewriters it's easy to predict your death when of infinite deaths you write predicting even everyone else's

november 11, 2025

 
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from Ovro

Or, my letter to those who think “AI art” is better and “doesn't need so much meaningless work”.

“I'm sorry for your loss.

I'm sorry for your loss of the feeling of wonder, of excitement, of the feeling of something that did not exist before taking form because you created it with your mind and your hands.

I'm sorry for your loss of feeling frustrated, not quite there yet.

I'm sorry for your loss of the will to grow, to learn, to can, to do and be better.

I am really sorry for your loss.”

-

Originally a reply to this post

 
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from Karin Wanderer Learns

This year we're arting the alphabet from A-Z. Letters like æ, ñ, anything with a diacritical mark, etc., can go anywhere you like.

Watercolor of upper case letter Y in a lovely shade of green with gold swirls.

Congrats on making it this far into the year! We've reached the letter Y Any art subject starting with that letter is fair game, no matter how abstract.

Ink drawing of Miyamoto Usagi looking determined. Y is for Yojimbo

Let's make terrific art!

Each challenge lasts 2 weeks from the day this post was made. You can submit a new picture every day, work on one picture for 2 weeks, or post pics randomly. This is the most laid-back art challenge on the internet, & that means you have plenty of time to make your art however you want.

Use #ArtABCs & tag me @KarinWanderer so I see it!

Pick your social & post your art! Mastodon Bluesky

All art styles & skill levels are welcome- No AI, Yes alt text, CW as needed. Have a fantastic day, draw something for my art challenge, see you next week!

 
Read more...

from humanissome

I just read something I wrote in the 90s, ostensibly to a friend but I didn't send it. Oh no, I put it online instead! Though the color combination & text style I chose was, I believe, intended to discourage readers! See, it was many years before I came out to myself, and the unsent note is addressed to a straight guy friend. We were in our early twenties! I could say a lot more some day when I have time but the basic conundrum is that this guy was drawn to hanging out with me, because I'm one of the most interesting people to talk to 🙃 and at the same time I made him uncomfortable. I am emotionally open, nearly always as much as possible, going back decades. His interest/discomfort puzzled me. In the note I reference a then-recent interview I had seen, starting by saying that I was:

thankful... that we're even able to talk about any of this at all. When Mike Leigh was on Charlie Rose, Charlie made some comment how in “Career Girls” these two old roommates meet up and talk very intensely, about serious personal matters + how Charlie thinks this works cause they're women. Or, really he said: “Women talk about things like this, and men don't. ...I find when I'm with other guys I'm talking about sports or politics.” This made me want to retch — mostly because I don't like Charlie Rose. But anyway I think, before pondering making a similar film with male characters, Mike Leigh just said, “Some men do talk like that.”

So I'm glad to be among the “some” of Mike Leigh than the “all” of Charlie Rose. Of course, that doesn't mean I feel entirely comfortable.

There's a video on YouTube titled, “Terrible Interviewer, Great Interviews” & that's how I felt about Charlie Rose always. Truly I'm not speaking in hindsight. I always felt personal dislike for Charlie Rose while avidly consuming his interviews as a rare example of intelligent conversation on tv. The exchange that I quote above pretty well explains it. For the demographics of his audience Charlie would have on a Mike Leigh. But Charlie is going to talk as if “all men are like ____,” because (as the whole world now knows) Charlie Rose is demented. His conscience clearly wasn't adequately developed, though that did not prevent his ascendence to the heights of broadcasting. Such revelations should cause a thorough reexamination of our media culture, but instead the powers that be in US society will pantomime outrage at a small number of individual failings while ensuring that current systems endure. They will stoke rumblings that changes—any progressive changes ever—are “going too far” and that stability demands regression to the mean, a state in which the powers at be remain the powers that be, minus one Charlie Rose. Even those minor penalties, of individual scoundrels chased from polite society, are only temporary. America can abide no improvement at all, for improvement implies that we weren't already perfect. Exceptionalism!

 
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from bruxadomangue

eram duas da manhã quando tudo aconteceu. eu tinha dormido na frente da tv, quase afundada no sofá, e estava completamente sozinha em casa. o que quer que estivesse passando na TV subitamente foi interrompido por uma sirene estridente, que quase me fez cair no chão. xingando, procurei o controle pra desligar a tv quando vi a mensagem na tela.

FIQUE EM CASA ATÉ SEGUNDA ORDEM. NÃO SAIA NEM OLHE PARA FORA. SUA SEGURANÇA DEPENDE DISSO AGORA.

eu encarei aquela mensagem por um bom tempo. a princípio, achei que fosse algum tipo de erro ou mesmo uma invasão de sinal, mas não demorou muito pra ver a mesma mensagem, palavra por palavra, em todos os outros canais.

extremamente confusa, peguei meu telefone, tentando encontrar algo na internet que explicasse aquela confusão toda. ao invés disso, fui recebida por um alerta oficial me dizendo basicamente a mesma coisa, e eu não conseguia acessar nenhum site que fosse. numa última busca por respostas, liguei um rádio, mas todas as estações que consegui sintonizar estavam transmitindo apenas uma voz robótica que lia uma mensagem semelhante.

eu não sabia o que pensar. parte de mim estava com medo e disposta a se esconder embaixo da cama se fosse ajudar, mas outra parte – a maldita curiosidade – queria abrir as cortinas do apartamento e ver o que diabos estava acontecendo lá fora. eu queria respostas, mas não sabia onde encontrá-las.

andei pela sala tentando me acalmar, mas parecia que só complicava mais. estava quase decidindo abrir as cortinas quando ouvi gritos no apartamento de cima... e em seguida, o som de uma pequena explosão. meu sangue gelou.

“eles abriram a janela”, foi a primeira coisa que pensei. “tenho certeza que ouvi a janela abrindo... mas o que foi que entrou por ela?” não estava disposta a descobrir. a mensagem na TV continuava a mesma, e eu, completamente ansiosa.

então ouvi um estouro, e lentamente tudo escureceu. a queda de energia veio acompanhada de uma gritaria insuportável na rua, como se todas as pessoas possíveis tivessem pegado fogo ao mesmo tempo – adultos, velhos, crianças, todos. um leve brilho vermelho era visível pela cortina, e os gritos ecoavam pela madrugada, gelando minha espinha. tamanho era meu nervosismo naquele momento que ouvir meu telefone tocando quase me fez infartar. era minha irmã.

“o que houve?!”

“eu vim te visitar.”

“agora?!”

“eu fui assaltada, preciso de ajuda.”

“ei ei ei, peraí, como que você saiu de casa no meio dessa confusão toda?!”

“que confusão? você deve ter sonhado.”

“não, eu tenho certeza! a televisão, o rádio e meu telefone tavam mostrando alertas de segurança e eu ouvi o maior pandemônio na rua agora pouco!”

uma risada “não, com certeza foi sonho. eu tô aqui na frente do seu prédio e a rua tá completamente deserta, só olhar pela janela que cê vai me ver.”

eu estava quase convencida e comecei a andar na direção da janela, quando me lembrei de algo.

“você foi assaltada, então?”

“isso.”

“e veio a pé dos estados unidos até aqui pra me pedir ajuda? porque três horas atrás eu vi você postando fotos das suas férias lá.”

silêncio. quem o que quer que fosse, desligou o telefone.

não sem dificuldade, arrastei alguns móveis pra frente de minha porta. em seguida, arrastei outros móveis pra frente das janelas. não demorou muito pra toda minha mobília virar uma barreira protetora, pra impedir a entrada de alguma coisa, fosse o que fosse. sentei no tapete e esperei; certamente aquilo acabaria em algum momento.

ao invés disso, novos gritos ecoavam lá fora. agora, vinham acompanhados de trovoadas e de uma chuva forte. não conseguia sair de onde estava, e respirava com enorme dificuldade.

“isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar...”

pelas frestas de minha janela, o fedor de carne queimando entrou com tudo e quase me fez vomitar; isso bastou pra que eu conseguisse sair dali e me arrastasse pelo chão, em busca de algum cômodo seguro.

“isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar...”

outros gritos, acompanhados dos sons de trovões e outras explosões. a essa altura eu tentava entender se todos aqueles sons vinham mesmo lá de fora ou se estavam ecoando na minha cabeça por conta própria.

“isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar...”

me escondi dentro do armário de meu quarto e fechei a porta. não foi a melhor das escolhas – minha respiração piorou na mesma hora – mas era o único lugar onde, ainda assim, podia me sentir minimamente segura.

“isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar... isso vai acabar...”

não conseguia mais me convencer com esse mantra. me encolhi como pude no armário, cobri os ouvidos com as mãos, e fechei os olhos, esperando por alguma coisa diferente, mas o caos continuava na rua. comecei a contar em voz alta, tentando me acalmar com isso de alguma forma, e quando cheguei em 100, não me lembro de chegar em 101.

quando abri os olhos de novo, estava esparramada no chão do quarto e com minhas pernas dentro do armário. com uma enorme dificuldade, me levantei – tudo doía. me arrastei pra sala novamente, e qual não foi minha surpresa de perceber que o dia havia clareado outra vez. a energia tinha retornado, e meus móveis não estavam mais empilhados na frente de todas as entradas.

mas a televisão continuava repetindo a mensagem da noite anterior. o rádio também.

como em um transe, andei na direção da janela. fechei os olhos.

abri as cortinas e esperei por um longo tempo, mas nada me aconteceu.

abri os olhos.

a cidade estava completamente deserta. sinais de destruição eram óbvios, e o silêncio era absurdo. tudo me dizia que eu certamente era a única que sobreviveu ao terror da noite anterior.

fechei as cortinas novamente, confirmei que minha porta estava trancada, desliguei a televisão e me deitei no sofá outra vez.

nada voltou ao normal.

april 19, 2022

 
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from Karin Wanderer Learns

This year we're arting the alphabet from A-Z. Letters like æ, ñ, anything with a diacritical mark, etc., can go anywhere you like.

Watercolor of upper case letter X in a lovely shade of green with gold swirls.

Congrats on making it this far into the year! We've reached the letter X Any art subject starting with that letter is fair game, no matter how abstract.

Watercolor saguaro cactus growing in the desert under a soft purple sky. *X is for Xeriscape *

Let's make terrific art!

Each challenge lasts 2 weeks from the day this post was made. You can submit a new picture every day, work on one picture for 2 weeks, or post pics randomly. This is the most laid-back art challenge on the internet, & that means you have plenty of time to make your art however you want.

Use #ArtABCs & tag me @KarinWanderer so I see it!

Pick your social & post your art! Mastodon Bluesky

All art styles & skill levels are welcome- No AI, Yes alt text, CW as needed. Have a fantastic day, draw something for my art challenge, see you next week!

 
Read more...

from bruxadomangue

“you can't seem to ever relax”, joan says. “you hold yourself like you must be always ready.”

“that's because i must.” she looks confused after my answer.

“ready for what?”

i shake my head. “i've no idea. i just know i must be ready.”

she clearly thinks i'm crazy. personally, in her place, i'd think the same.


“the radars can't reach that far”, jegerk says. “beyond the three galaxies, we can't find anything. she's as likely to be on galaxy four as she is to be on the other side of the universe.”

elyad looks completely broken. she doesn't say a word. i look from her to jegerk and i ask him; “so what can we do?”

jegerk seems unable to speak. eylad bursts into tears as i comfort her. “all we can do...” he finally manages to say, “all we can do is hope that she's safe, wherever she might be.”


“when did you move here?”

“would you believe me if i said i've no idea?” and before she can voice her confusion, i continue: “i've been moving nonstop for ages. i'm always trying to find a place i can enjoy life, but everywhere i go, i feel like i'm not welcome. everywhere i go, people want to hurt me.”

she's silent. even without telling her all the details of my case, she seems to relate to what i said.

as we watch the sunrise, i ask her, “do you think there's some kind of heaven for misfits like us?”

“i don't know”, she answers. “but if there is, and if i had found it, then i'd be there right now.”

“so would i.”

we remain silent as we watch the sky. she doesn't know that i already ran away from heaven once.


the day comes to an end. elyad has to be medicated in order to sleep. as for myself, i stay behind watching the sky. somewhere, beyond our knowledge, elyad's daughter stays. dead? alive? i don't know.

possibly, none of us will ever know.

wherever she is, whatever drove her to run away... however the hell she ran away... i can't help but envy her. dead or alive, i know she's better off than all of us here.


joan has left. i sit alone on the roof of this old building.

the city is deserted. beyond us, i never see anyone else. the entire world feels deserted, as a matter of fact. but i don't wanna venture beyond here.

somewhere, beyond the clouds above my head, my hell awaits me.

somewhere, beyond the limits of the ghost town, my heaven no longer exists.

and it's my fault.

september 06, 2025

 
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from Ovro

I am the Final Word Moving through the universe From mouth to mouth Rumour speed Light has nothing on me

I am the Final Word On tips of every tongue Rolling easy Finding all who speak

I am the Final Word Tying all tongues The End of spoken world

I am the Final Word Cleansing the Universe

I am the Final Word

#Poetry

 
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from Karin Wanderer Learns

This year we're arting the alphabet from A-Z. Letters like æ, ñ, anything with a diacritical mark, etc., can go anywhere you like.

Watercolor of upper case letter W in a lovely shade of green with gold swirls.

Congrats on making it this far into the year! We've reached the letter W Any art subject starting with that letter is fair game, no matter how abstract.

Watercolor of a narwhal with an extra-long tusk having a great day. W is for Whale

Let's make terrific art!

Each challenge lasts 2 weeks from the day this post was made. You can submit a new picture every day, work on one picture for 2 weeks, or post pics randomly. This is the most laid-back art challenge on the internet, & that means you have plenty of time to make your art however you want.

Use #ArtABCs & tag me @KarinWanderer so I see it!

Pick your social & post your art! Mastodon Bluesky

All art styles & skill levels are welcome- No AI, Yes alt text, CW as needed. Have a fantastic day, draw something for my art challenge, see you next week!

 
Read more...

from RMiddleton

On election eve I'm sharing How 2024 changed me politically A lot & permanently. A major change is that I no longer trust that the career professionals in the Democratic Party know anything. The reason to listen to them & compromise was supposedly to win. They fail their one job. Like many others I feel strong disapproval of the Democratic Party yet I would still vote for them compared to the alternatives. If I lived in NYC I'd vote for Mamdani, in VA Spanberger, & in NJ Sherrill, but of those 3 only Mamdani do I feel enthusiastic about. If I lived in Minneapolis I'd vote Omar Fateh. After decades of paying attention to politics I have concluded that weak, centrist liberals—whether it's the New York Times Ezra Klein or Schumer & Jeffries or the way Barack Obama governed—that's why the Democratic Party loses: not standing for principles that improve people's lives sufficiently. They pass half measures that take too long & aren't universal; & after doing so they lose & Republicans undo what little good they did & much more.

 
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from Ovro

Summer of 2025. Filed under: long and dry. Except for all the rain, and all the crying.

In a month flat From wanted to an un-. From erotic to esoteric, and... somewhat ethereal.

(One starvin' artist, Now 30% less!* * in weight not in value, may contain emotional damage.)

Disintegrated, completely Reconfigured, mostly Knowing now, I am me not an minus one.

Summer of 2025. Filed under: done.

 
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from cobbles

When I was a little girl, like many other little girls I was told the tale of Red Riding Hood. As I got older we learned more about the meta of the tale.

We updated the tale, found sympathy for the wolf. Sometimes we saw it as a dark romance. Sometimes the wolf and the woodman found love together. Tales change. We update them for our needs. Fairytales are encoded folklore, lost memory encoded for a lesson.

We took the metaphor and considered the woods managed. They became forests. But danger still lurked in our forests and the internet is no different.

We still have the dangers. But the villains of the forest like to chop down the trees, drive fast cars and make money.

Beware the Manosphere

Within a space we have a habit as humans of descending into archetypes. The masculine man, the very feminine woman. Good obedient kids. That hateful old scold telling you what you shouldn't do. She's an evil witch, kill her.

People who are no better than they should be.

Do you recognise these? Do you see yourself in them?

How do you find your community when you don't see a path for you in the world?

Who will welcome you?

Some of us queers (before some of us knew we were queer) went online. We found family and some of us learned how to function in a community and see ourselves as part of a collective rather than an individual. Some folks had done this before us, had organised before us in meatspace. So they brought their experience online as well.

But what about the straights? What about the baby queers who don't know they are queer yet but know somethings different. They are lost.

The Lost Boys

I'm choosing to focus on the straight boys here. The mainstream are focusing on the manosphere of Andrew Tate etc. Although these types have always been online. The issue is the sheer scale and availability. Because it's not just about searching, it's about what our addictive websites and apps serve. In service of the algorithm.

So we have a bunch of lost directionless young men, who've been brought up on the idea of the nuclear household. 2.4 Children, go to university, marry, have kids. Be successful.

But our social contract has been broken, with boys and young men feeling very isolated with some very stark prospects of debt. There aren't the youth clubs anymore, furnishing social activities. The church (the other source of local community clubs) is shrinking. The pandemic has also shrunk the social sphere. Although the issue of the manosphere was a concern for a lot longer than that. We've always had toxic abusers on the internet who are good at building up a cult. Which is what this is. A cult with a bunch of devotees. Who started out wanting to improve themselves and looking for community.

'Some of what pulls Men towards the manosphere, is a search for connection and a sense of belonging and meaning,' says David Bartless of Equimundo. A sense of belonging that is lacking elsewhere. [1]

Like I said, looking for community. When I was growing up in my small village we had a community centre with events during the holidays for six up to sixteen. Then the funding got cut. My Father and Uncles had a very rich community centre life even being working class. Their mothers local church had a film club, there were outward bound events. Because of those my Dad and Uncle went hillwalking and across Rannoch Moor. But they learned about how to do that because of the community clubs.

It's not enough to ban apps, or content. The damage is done. What you need to do as a society is invest in community again. Invest in youth. Bring back grants so that further education is affordable. Invest in community sport beyond football. Expand funding out to the charities that already provide activity clubs. Invest in local hacker spaces and repair cafes.

In order to ensure that the kids don't look for community online, you need to give them something offline.

Our digital poppets

I don't think we can truly lay this at the door of the internet entirely. After all what's on the internet is our physical universe manifested with all of our toxic culture. All the internet does is what our media landscape does. Serve all of this toxicity at scale.

Our ephemeral world, our algorithms serve physical masters who use the data that our digital poppets serve them.

But what are our poppets? ​

Poppets and witchcraft

A poppet is a doll made to represent a person. It's purpose is to cast a spell on them, or help them through magic. They are made, then often hidden.

You could make them from anything, but something from the person the poppet needed to affect was needed. So hair clippings, nail trimmings were attached to the poppet.

There's folklore about being very careful about what you did with your hair and nail trimmings. Folks would bury or burn them so that they couldn't be used against them later. [3]

Digital Poppets

Digital poppets are our digital twins, our advertising profiles on our phones. Our metadata from our browsers with our buying preferences, our Internet addresses we access the web from. It's our browser settings including our accessibility preferences. Our poppets are created from what we put up there, what we send to one another unencrypted. All little pieces of data, which on their own doesn't seem like that much.

Data leaks, data gets sold. What happens when that data is collated together from different sources? When we use google as a login, or various payment providers to pay at different websites.

All that data is our digital clippings and becomes a digital taglock to add to our digital poppets.

With folklore, folks used to be cautious about what to do with hair and nail clippings. As those could give a witch or sorcerer power over you.

We have this now with our electronic clippings, we give our clippings to social networks and that gives a whole heap of power to them and to the buyers of that data who can then analyse it.

There's an analogy for you. – Esther Payne (me) [2]

Digital Puppetry

We know how effective propaganda can be. Humanity is hackable through the meme. It's hackable through our storytelling. We want life to make sense and have a level of control over it. So we are susceptible to propaganda. We have very effective ways to spread this propaganda at scale.

Look at Cambridge Analytica and the Vote Leave campaign. They were able to use targeted ads to Brexit voters as part of a political campaign. Those ads were served everywhere and they weren't always marked as advertisements. They spread through our walled gardens like poison. The poison was also spread and is still being spread across traditional media.

There's nothing particularly special about the internet other than the scale and the personalisation of what can be served to you, thanks to your digital profile. Your digital poppet.

Targeted advertising follows folks around the Internet. It's a harmful part of a complex system. But the harm isn't mythical. Information is leverage, particularly when it's combined with your other information.

Knowledge about a person is power. If knowledge isn't really power, then why are governments threatening E2EE with the Earn IT act. Why do we have to keep fighting against chat control in the EU.

Information applied with targeted analysis is leverage. Your metadata contributes to an organisations' knowledge about you. In various circumstances it can be life threatening to investigative journalists etc. Your digital poppet snitches information about you to all sorts, to hackers, governments and big tech.

That's before we even get to who want's to send you a message and reel you into buying what they sell.

The Manosphere

So we can see what lures in young folks. It's a subculture. We've had sub cultures before. The difference is, how much access young folks are getting. The sheer scale of what's being served to them.

They aren't getting adult supervision, and it's like letting your kids onto the motorways on a balance bike. They don't have the initial training. The cognitive and critical thinking training.

Then we allow them to access this information motorway through a smartphone.

But we also need to remember it's not just the internet to blame for our culture. Gen X came of age having internalised some pretty hetero normal stuff. So did the millennials. We shouldn't be surprised at the grifters telling young folks that “feminism and diversity” has gone too far.

We know that's not true. But when you have a system that depends on objectifying people so that the grift can keep happening a narrative needs to be told. A point of view.

So boys much like girls are taught a fairy tale. Except boys aren't taught to be Disney princes. They are told the fairy tale of masculinity. We're taught it in sitcoms, in our media, with the majority of our politicians. We're taught the average, so there's no space for diversity when you're looking for the norm. Which leaves no space for the rest of us.

As a woman, I struggled under the expectation of dating and being expected to marry and have kids one day. Yet I also wanted a career. The women in my family being working class worked. We couldn't afford to not to. Yet the workplace also didn't have accessibility affordances so one parent couldn't work. We didn't fit the mold. So I get why boys feel they must be doing something wrong. Especially with the lack of opportunity available for young folks.

Folks are taught you must find a wife, marry have kids and life will be complete. So when the social contract is broken, who will young men blame?

The Traditional Roles of the household

However as we've seen in this idea with the “Tradwife” women are objectified reduced to a doll, a servant, expected to service a man's needs. A sexbot, a mother for the children. A confident, a cheerleader, a domestic servant to curate the house and keep it clean. A hostess for dinners. Be his validation. His purpose is to take care of you. Like he takes care of all his possessions.

In return women can just settle in and be taken care of. A man will take care of everything

But what happens when a man's earning potential is damaged? What happens when the man dies. Is there a succession plan? Does another man take over the responsibility for the wife and kids?

I don't think a devotee to the manosphere particularly thinks about that or cares. When you treat women as disposable objects and kids as extensions of yourself, how, or if your woman and kids can survive your death doesn't matter. In extreme cases some men try to take us with them, a la the myth of the Pharaoh's in Egypt taking their servants with them via murder.

A very middle class idea.

Historically and socially, the idea of the trad wife at home is a very specific white idea of the family. This idea is very rooted in white supremacy. It's the Patriarchy. It what defines the middle class from the working class. It's aspiration. It's also not realistic. It's another fairy tale.

Both of my Grandparent's working class families had both parents working. The only reason my Grandmother stopped working for a short while was when her local factory closed.

When my Grandfather was killed in a car accident, she had to go back to work. She'd grown up in a family where her father died young at 34. It was the 1930s after all. There was no social safety net.

The dream of the manosphere is a very specific individualistic idea, but it attracts a lot of lonely boys and the addictive nature of app's like Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and TikTok peddle more of it to make money. That's not to say that what's being peddled to the rest of us is great either.

While the kids are watching their digital poppets get filled in with bits of metadata. So more of these libertarian individualistic ideas get peddled. White supremacy packaged up to be more palatable.

I don't have an answer for what we do about the manosphere, other than advocate for a social safety net offline. Where we aim for Universal Basic Income, Universal Healthcare, Free Education and Free Public Transport. Where we aim for the commons rather than the individual.

It's soulless to chase status for money and a partner. It feels soulless having to work to just survive. It's isolating, but there's a false sense of community. Because you're being told by the cult leader “just do this next thing bro. Just keep going bro. You'll be successful with women, have money like me.”

It's modern folklore with none of the learned wisdom. It's fake.

I'm horrified by the abusive potential of the manosphere and the abuse that's already been done by Tate and his ilk. I'm horrified by the idea of Women's choices being limited, of being negged so much by abusive men that we feel we have no choice.

Which isn't true. Some of us in the past have managed. It's not easy and poverty sucks. There's a reason why the right wing gradually sought to disable the social safety net to help capitalism thrive.

What parts of Folklore to keep?

As I've got older, I stopped believing in faeries. But I work in a world that I access through a screen and keyboard. My world is the unseen. Coders create code, a series of incantations to tell the device of zeros and ones what to do. We have words like daemons, so magics always been a part of my vocabulary.

So perhaps in order for folks outside our fields to understand our world with all of it's risks; we need to update folklore to explain what's happening with our technology and our online spaces. To use the idea of the digital poppet and explain how those poppets have helped to shape our democratic choices. How those poppets have helped to peddle the manosphere to our kids. But also how our mass media plays into that.

Our internet peddles fairytales the same way our folklore used to. To tell the tale of a point of view, how to act. So choose your fairytale wisely. In the old days we used to say don't give your real name out. I've broken that old rule. Our world is built that way so we have to break the rule. But it's also why we need to push back against age verification and ID verification that takes our biometric data. [5]

You have to work really hard on youtube to not get peddled right wing videos. You have to work hard to not see AI slop. Youtube doesn't really do moderation. You can't block content creators.

But this has always been the case. Free Speech without Free Association in safety. No techbro ever considers the right of Free Association. Or the other Human Rights listed in the UDHR, if they did, they'd never use github. [6],[7]

It's why the Fediverse is important, although even then, there will be a bastion of the manosphere somewhere on the Fediverse. If not now, give it time. How we build our online communities and how we build our tech is determined by the political ideals of the builders.

At least with the Fediverse we do have other options, with developers who do care about these sorts of things. [8]

The idea that information must be free for everyone to take part in and consumer is the mainstay of the internet. But within our physical community spaces there are rules. So we must consider when we build our online communities what our tools are. We must consider how do we enable boundaries? We must consider consent and what we do with our community members data.

Remember the old ways. It's a dark forest out there.

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/technology/ng-interactive/2025/oct/21/why-the-manosphere-clicked-for-young-men-a-visual-deep-dive

[2] https://chaos.social/@onepict/107780763058678202

[3] https://magickalspot.com/taglock/

[4] https://dotart.blog/cobbles/defiance

[5] https://www.techdirt.com/2024/06/28/yet-another-id-verification-service-breached-exposing-private-info-collected-on-behalf-of-uber-tiktok-more/

[6] https://www.ohchr.org/en/universal-declaration-of-human-rights

[7] https://www.vox.com/recode/2019/10/9/20906605/github-ice-contract-immigration-ice-dan-friedman

[8] https://freefediverse.org/index.php/Main_Page

 
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from Karin Wanderer Learns

This year we're arting the alphabet from A-Z. Letters like æ, ñ, anything with a diacritical mark, etc., can go anywhere you like.

Watercolor of upper case letter V in a lovely shade of green with gold swirls.

Congrats on making it this far into the year! We've reached the letter V Any art subject starting with that letter is fair game, no matter how abstract.

Watercolor foxes sitting, sleeping, & jumping. One of these foxes is actually an orange cat in disguise. V is for Vixens

Let's make terrific art!

Each challenge lasts 2 weeks from the day this post was made. You can submit a new picture every day, work on one picture for 2 weeks, or post pics randomly. This is the most laid-back art challenge on the internet, & that means you have plenty of time to make your art however you want.

Use #ArtABCs & tag me @KarinWanderer so I see it!

Pick your social & post your art! Mastodon Bluesky

All art styles & skill levels are welcome- No AI, Yes alt text, CW as needed. Have a fantastic day, draw something for my art challenge, see you next week!

 
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