Fine, I'm gonna do something I never do for security reasons and also because ain't nobody got time for that shit - reveal secret Nina lore.
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Fine, I'm gonna do something I never do for security reasons and also because ain't nobody got time for that shit - reveal secret Nina lore.
When I was about 13, or 14, I was going through a pretty tough time in my life. I knew I was trans very early, but it was around this time I figured out that wasn't going to "get better" anytime soon. I should also note that by this age, my father's borderline homicidal (he wanted gay ppl dead) homophobia and fascist tendencies were apparent to me.
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My response to all this was apparently to go through a rapid series of image changes, including, at one point, keeping a very short military style box cut and wearing a bomber jacket. I wasn't a skinhead (I grew up in inner city Detroit, I'd met precisely one skinhead at that point and avoided him because he felt like a beatdown magnet) but I was aping their aesthetic out of some desire to find a version of me my father wouldn't want dead.
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Anyway, I say all that as a way of explaining why, again, at the age of 13, maybe just barely turned 14, I was standing in a head shop, forking over a Jackson for... an Iron Cross.
Now in my head, this was edgy but okay, because it's not a swastika, and the Iron Cross was a symbol of fascist terror from WW1, not necessarily WW2. But on some level, I was aware I'd get a reaction out of people. My logic was, and forgive 14 year old me, "it's a free country; I'm allowed."
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So, I get it home, put it on my again, very skinhead-esque bomber jacket, and I'm feeling like the smartest donkey on the block. My parents, who definitely know better, say nothing.
This goes on for about, 10 days, maybe two weeks. I'm tooling about a majority nonwhite neighborhood with an iron cross, just daring anyone to question me and my "rights."
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Finally, a kindly neighbor pulls me aside and says, in no uncertain terms, that nobody wanted to hear my bullshit about world war 1 versus world war 2, the only people wearing Iron Cross jewelry were fucking nazis, and the only reason I hadn't gotten a massive beatdown is the neighborhood knew I was a good kid (unlike my father) and they were all hoping I'd grow up a little faster.
I took it off right there. I threw it in the street. Really, my broke ass just paid 20 bucks for it but whatever.
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I say this to explain how I simply do not believe you can go through life with a literal fucking SS tattoo you have apparently been making little effort to hide, and not know what you're doing.
Sooner or later, someone is gonna pull you aside and say "this is what that means" and if you're not a PIECE OF DOGSHIT you will do what needs to be done to rectify it.
If I can understand that at 14, buddy can understand it in his 30's.
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G gustavinobevilacqua@mastodon.cisti.org shared this topic
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Yeah, I can't see past two scenarios: he doesn't fucking care or he's sincerely a Nazi. Difference without a distinction.
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@angelastella @AnarchoNinaWrites
When someone declares to be fascist, I usually told I agree with some points of the 1943 fascist manifesto (almost nobody knows it, too much to read!).
Specially I agree on the point telling tax dodgers and profiteers must be executed.
At that point the fascist generally remember he has to urgently wash the dog, or something similar, and disappears.
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@GustavinoBevilacqua @AnarchoNinaWrites
Yeah, I'm with Eco about that: there's not a single fascism, and within each species there's no ideological consistency either. It's a very loose political toolkit to grind people's heads under the capitalist's boots when we get too uppity. Accordingly, it's present everywhere in our "democracies" even if at a low intensity.
