So, here is something else going on with Lady Gaga: there is a video of her ladybits circulating the Internet. Some people claim that they appear to be the ladybits of an intersex lady! I have seen the video, though I’m not embedding it here (although it is at the link, because it is everywhere) because it is gross and ties into the whole fetishization of trans and intersex folks and also the whole “DECEPTIVE TRANNY” meme where it is somehow your business to know exactly what is happening in the underpants of everyone around you. But, yes, there is a video of Lady Gaga’s ladybusiness on the Internet. And here is a quote attributed to Lady Gaga “about” her ladybits, and it runs like this:

“It’s not something that I’m ashamed of, just isn’t something that I go around telling everyone. Yes. I have both male and female genitalia, but I consider myself a female. It’s just a little bit of a penis and really doesn’t interfere much with my life. The reason I haven’t talked about it is that it’s not a big deal to me. Like come on. It’s not like we all go around talking about our vags. I think this is a great opportunity to make other multiple gendered people feel more comfortable with their bodies. I’m sexy, I’m hot. I have both a poon and a peener. Big f*cking deal.”

If were true, and Lady Gaga had said it: good job, Lady. This would be a very lovely thing to say, were you the first intersex pop star to be publicly outed as such, and it would quite possibly make me love her whole postmodern Sexy Lady Pop Star Sexiness project even more.

Oh, too bad it was all made up, though! The quote is from a “satire” site, apparently. And why a perfectly reasonable statement about being cool with your ladybits and your intersexness is “satire,” I have no idea, but here’s my first guess: the world hates intersex and trans people.

Oh, and here’s the reaction on Bossip:

Not that anyone wanted to before but are any dudes still trying to chop this down now that she’s the one with the axe?

Sex as an act of force? The idea that trans and intersex people are inherently unfuckable? Oh, hurrah! And the commenters file suit, contributing perceptive thoughts such as, “That’s just plain ol’ nasty….a dick & a pussy yet she say she is bi…I don’t get it,” and, “Why are people staying “she?” Isn’t there a proper pronoun for hermaphrodite?” (Someone else weighs in with INTERSEX SENSITIVITY TRAINING, instructing “Yes, it’s she/he or it.”) And, of course, there are the requisite promises to throw away her CDs.

So, yeah. It will always puzzle me when cisgendered people don’t see how the marginalization and oppression of trans people affects them. Because the fact is that there are a ton of trans people in the world, and you don’t necessarily know who they are, and they’re not required to tell you. But when people get a case of the Deceptive Tranny Fever, nothing – not decency, not tolerance, not basic fact-checking, not even Google – will get in their way.

For starters, you may not be aware of this, but you are reading a blog called Tiger Beatdown. When I look up “Tiger Beatdown” on the Google, I often come across lines such as, “Tiger Beatdown is fucking venomous.” And that is from a positive review. The less positive reviews tend to use the word “cunt” a lot. Which is to say: I have a sharp tone. If you don’t watch out, you might cut yourself. Whoops.

Is this incompatible with maintaining a safe space? I would argue that it is not! Because here is the subject of this blog: structural oppressions and privileges. Lady issues more often than not, but also issues relating to race, class, sexuality, and transness. I want people to come here and see that stuff subverted and resisted, not reinforced. I maintain a “safe” space in that I don’t want anyone to be devalued on the basis of what they are.

As for who they are: well, that’s different. Each and every one of us is a special and unique snowflake, and some snowflakes happen to be more obnoxious and tiresome than others. This blog is about structural oppressions and privileges, yes. But here is what it is not about: your parents’ relationship, your pet cat, your favorite movie stars, or your personal awesomeness in general. The blog also isn’t about my personal awesomeness in general – if it were, the posts would be called things like, “Will I Put On Pants Today? Sources Say No!” – so this does not mean that I don’t like you. I like pretty much every single person I’ve spoken with on or through this blog! I feel very lucky to have the readers that I do! But that’s not what the blog itself is about.

What does this mean? It means that, if I fuck up on covering structural issues – if I say something that is racist, or sexist, or anti-trans, or anti-queer – you can and should call me out. If I say that Cheerios are the best breakfast cereal, and you prefer Frosted Mini-Wheats, and you feel tempted to write a multi-part screed on how I just don’t care about people who love Frosted Mini-Wheats and, you know, you don’t see enough coverage of Fruit Loops either… well, have you considered NOT doing that? You should. You really, really should.

I know, I know. HARSH. And this gets particularly sticky when we are talking about things that are close to people’s hearts – like their pet cats, or their parents’ relationship. I do, in fact, have compassion for people who are extremely sensitive about those things. And I want to tell you why I have this genuine compassion by telling you a little about myself.

Throughout my early twenties, I was a very fucked-up individual.* This is because I was dealing with a variety of things: several incidences of sexual assault, a relationship with a fairly toxic dynamic (which I played a big part in creating, being fucked-up and all), my abusive dad (who FAKED HIS OWN DEATH, basically, in the middle of my junior year of college: literally, there were two months during which we actually thought he had actually died, and then he showed up, and it’s a long fucking story). It reached a peak somewhere in the middle of that junior year, wherein I literally would not stop talking about how horrible my life was, maybe just to be heard, maybe to get empathy, but probably just to get pity. Like, I took all of these non-fiction writing courses and EVERY SINGLE ASSIGNMENT turned into me writing some hyperbolic J.T. LeRoy shit about something awful that had happened to me and then we’d get to the “workshop” portion where everyone would read it and look at me with these “YIKES” faces and, basically, just focus on the grammar, because what else do you say?

I will tell you what else you say. Because, on the last day of junior year, this other woman with a very sharp tone noticed me about to launch into yet another story about how awful my life was, and she said this:

“You do know that everyone else goes through hard times too, don’t you?”

And she also said this:

“I’m really tired of being held hostage to your personal breakdown.”

This is an unflattering story, in case you haven’t noticed! It is a story in which I am the villain! But I get the sense that a lot of people might be in the same place I was, years ago, and that is why I need to speak to you about this. Focus on the issues: sure, fine, great. The issues are often about people being hurt, so noting the existence of pain isn’t taboo either. But, for the love of God, do not try to turn this public forum into a referendum on whether or not your pain matters. Because, basically, that is also a referendum on whether or not you matter. And you have to decide that question for yourself. Some woman you’ve never met who runs a blog can’t answer that question for you. Nor can you resolve it by hosting a My Life Sucks party on the Internet, derailing an entire conversation to talk about whether or not you have worth as a person and how much pain you’re in and doing that passive-aggressive codependent bullshit wherein if people don’t immediately weigh in to talk about how much they pity you they’re all terrible monsters so they’d better do it RIGHT AWAY. You can get all the pity in the world, but at the end of the day, it matters fuck-all, because you still feel like shit. All that matters is where you stand with yourself. And if you don’t get that: let me tell you, you will be chasing the pity forever. You will always want more. There are just not enough people in the world to love and support and care about you, there’s not enough attention, there’s not enough praise, there’s not enough consideration, ever, because deciding that you matter is your fucking job and everything else that is offered to you just gets sucked into the black hole that’s where your self-respect should be and almost instantly disappears.

So, yeah. I get that your life might be tough right now. But don’t make me the person who’s supposed to fix it. Because I’m just writing about ladybusiness.

And, on a ladybusiness-related note: have you noticed that it’s pretty infantilizing, this stuff? I mean, we’ve been demanding the right to be treated like adults, proclaiming our strength, clamoring about how we want to be full participants in society and democracy, for over a hundred years. But here’s the thing: democracy means one person, one voice. It means everyone gets to participate equally, everyone gets to be heard, no-one is privileged based on what they are and no-one is denied access because of what they are. It’s a noble goal. But “one person, one voice” does not ever mean that all of the voices are going to agree with you. You can lay out your arguments, you can discuss, you can converse, but making it all about your personal pain at being challenged or disagreed with: well, shit, if you can’t handle that, why did you get out of bed this morning? You’re not a child. Don’t ask people to treat you like one. Because people can pat you on the head and treat you like a special little princess and continually protect your fragile being, but when the time comes to go to war, to stand up, to be a force to be reckoned with, you’re going to be completely unequipped.

The world is fucked, kids. You know it. You’ve seen it. If you are basically anyone other than a thin able-bodied white dude who likes the ladies and makes truckloads of cash, a substantial portion of the world is convinced that you just do not matter. Wishing aloud that the world catered more specifically to your personal wishes and desires… well, that’s not how it works. It’s missing the point, actually. Because the point is not, and never has been, you. The point is everybody. So you get up every morning, and you put on your armor, and you make things change.

*UPDATE: An e-mail from a reader suggests that this post may be insensitive to people with depression or other forms of mental illness. Some of the behavior that I am describing is, in fact, common to people who are depressed. Here is the official Tiger Beatdown position on this: if you are depressed, or think you might be depressed, please go to the doctor. Seriously. If I could possess your body for 24 hours and drive you there and get you the prescription or the referral or whatever it’s going to take for you to treat your potentially lethal illness, I would do that. But I cannot! Which is good, since I cannot actually drive and would wreck your car! So that is – as I said above – your job! It is really super self-destructive to seek help via derailing Internet conversations: it not only puts people in the position of having to provide help they’re neither trained to provide nor capable of providing, it can – if used as a substitute for real treatment – actually endanger your health still further. People have, historically, tried a lot of substitutes for medical treatment of depression – Jesus, beer, Livejournal – and really, they don’t ever work out well. So don’t try to make this blog one of them.

You know what I’ve never done, though? Designed a personality quiz. Luckily for me, my future husband Tucker Max has just released his new movie trailer. For “I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell!”

(Why is Tucker Max my future husband, you ask? Why, because I cannot think of him without kind of wanting to throw up or cry! There is not a man on this Earth who inspires me to more revulsion, and having watched several romantic comedies, including “The Ugly Truth,” I now know that this means we are going to fall in love and be together forever.)

Anyway, here’s my boyfriend’s trailer!

Okay! Done throwing things at the computer monitor? Super! It’s time for my awesome new personality quiz: Which Woman From The “I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell” Trailer Are You?

1) DO YOU TALK TO TURTLES? If you answered Yes, you are That Lady Who Talks To Turtles! You are crazy and stupid, like a woman would be. Also, you appear to be the only non-white person in the entire universe.

2) ARE YOU NOT A REAL PERSON? If you answered Yes, you are That Fat Girl Over There! You are a barrel full of laughs at your own expense, like all women, but especially fat ones. Also, it’s okay to talk about killing you because you don’t give Tucker Max a boner.

3) ARE YOU A CLINGING, CASTRATING HARPY WHO DOESN’T WANT YOUR BOYFRIEND TO EVER HAVE ANY AWESOME FUN WITH HIS BROS? If you answered Yes, you are The Girlfriend Who Yells Into The Phone! You are a very busy lady, as you were last seen yelling into the phone at Bradley Cooper in “The Hangover” trailer (OH HAI I THINK YOU MADE THE SAME MOVIE TWICE GUYS YOU MAYBE WANNA LOOK INTO THAT) and are currently scheduled to appear in several Judd Apatow movies. You are no fun, because you are a woman.

4) ARE YOU 98% OF THE WOMEN IN THIS TRAILER? If you answered Yes, you are a stripper! You probably don’t have any lines. You do have boobies, though! Boobies that are presented for the delectation of Tucker Max and his awesome bro-band, because you are a woman.

5) ARE YOU FULL OF SELF-LOATHING AND GIGGLES? If you answered Yes, you are The Lady Who Makes Out With Tucker Max! You also do not have any lines, because you are basically a prop to show that Tucker Max can put his penis into a real live vagina if he wants to, because you are a woman.

6) ARE YOU KIND OF GROSSED OUT BY THE SIGHT OF SOMEONE MAKING OUT WITH TUCKER MAX, AND DO YOU EXPRESS THIS BY ACTING LIKE MARGARET DUMONT IN A MARX BROTHERS MOVIE? You are Gertrude. You’re next!

7) DO YOU FIND THAT NONE OF THE ABOVE DESCRIPTIONS ARE AT ALL RELEVANT TO YOU, YOUR LIFE, OR YOUR PERSONALITY? Take it again! This is a professionally made movie, by professionals, who got paid to provide you with their professional film. It is not as if one can become a professional director or screenwriter if one has absolutely no functioning knowledge of what women are like and relies on obnoxious stereotype instead of insight or creativity! So, seriously, take the quiz again, because the only other option is that you are Tucker Max. And nobody wants that. Not even me. His lover.

PLAYER 1: The thing is, there’s nothing wrong with feeling superior to people because you have good taste!
PLAYER 2: Actually, maybe there is, because that means your sense of self is based on the stuff you buy.
PLAYER 1: Ah, but the entire culture is special in various ways, thus legitimating the sense of superiority!
PLAYER 2: How? Where does the “superiority” come from? Is it superiority of morals, of politics, of principle?
PLAYER 1: Sure! Why not?
PLAYER 2: Actually, Isaac Brock may have raped someone, “hipster racism” is so universally acknowledged as to be a catchphrase, and the class dynamics of “ironically” appropriating Poor White People or Poor Black People stuff whilst laughing about how awful it is are really troubling. And I’ve met a fuckload of misogynist hipsters. Also.
PLAYER 1: The thing is, there’s nothing wrong with feeling superior to people because you have good taste!
PLAYER 2: Fair enough, I guess. I am not wearing a Nickelback shirt right now.
PLAYER 1: Ha ha, Nickelback. They suck!
PLAYER 2: They seriously do!

Anyway, I used to live right next to a Diesel store when that was happening! Here is a Diesel ad, via Racialicious.

Oh, here’s another one. Why the heck not!

One of these things is not like the others, yall.

Also, Peggy is better. Sorry! She just is.

Anyway, imagine my surprise at discovering that, when interviewers are not focusing specifically and entirely on the culturally significant breasts of Christina Hendricks, she has interesting things to say! Behold, from this recent piece in New York Magazine:

“What’s astounding is when people say things like, ‘Well, you know that episode where Joan sort of got raped?’ Or they say rape and use quotation marks with their fingers,” says Hendricks. “I’m like, ‘What is that you are doing? Joan got raped!’ It illustrates how similar people are today, because we’re still questioning whether it’s a rape. It’s almost like, ‘Why didn’t you just say bad date?’ ”

Whoa hey! A solid point! About how Joan’s rape would not have been recognized as such in 1962 (because her rapist was the dude to whom she was engaged) and, honestly, many people still have trouble calling such incidents “rape” now!

The interview concludes with Christina Hendricks answering a question about her breasts.