The strange phenomenon of saying pointless yet hurtful things

The fact that Dune -Ya takes our side is a great things. She posted a lot of awesome messages about transgender inclusion, and I thank her for that, but as she said in a later tweet, she got really mean replies to that message, and didn’t know why people are so mindlessly cruel. And I don’t know either.

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Today, I came across this tweet (I put the transcription under the tweets in case they get deleted somehow):

 “trans women r .. women .. if ur a straight boy attracted to trans women u r still .. straight . quick maths — dune -Ya (ya ya ) (@dounia)”

The fact that Dune -Ya takes our side is a great things. She posted a lot of awesome messages about transgender inclusion, and I thank her for that, but as she said in a later tweet, she got really mean replies to that message, and didn’t know why people are so mindlessly cruel. And I don’t know either. One reply that caught my eye was this one:

“Trans women are not women they are….trans women. Trans men are not men they are….trans men. Just because you decide to change how you look doesn’t mean you can relate to/identify with people who were naturally born that way. — M (@fiyamayaa)”

And because it wasn’t clear enough, she followed up with that:

“Like I said, they can turn into whatever they want to be but they cannot relate to me as a female woman. No matter how hard they try. This doesn’t mean they deserve any disrespect or pain but they aren’t female women. They are male women. — M (@fiyamayaa)”

And the fact that she says that we don’t deserve any disrespect is quite funny when she basically shits on excludes us in the same sentence. Also, she posted a handful of other mean tweets after that, but I don’t think I need to show them all, I guess you got the idea.

So, I don’t want to go into the debate of this very binary view of gender, because it’s not the point and anyway, when we do that, it’s like punching air. Bigots are just not receptive. No, I want to talk about another part of her message, when she declares that trans-women cannot relate to cis-woman (and changing “trans” and “cis” by “male” and “female” doesn’t make it more accurate, just fucking rude). And I’m sorry to break it to you, but of course, I wasn’t born with a woman’s body, and I didn’t grow up being identified as a woman, so obviously I didn’t have to experience what women get when they grow up. Also I don’t have some of the annoying things that come with the female body, like periods. That’s one thing hormone therapy or surgery doesn’t provide, and unless they come up with a way to shove a functional uterus in a trans-woman’s abdomen, it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I had problems of my own, you know, growing up with the wrong body, and even though I identify as a woman, I’m not asking cis-women to relate to it. And don’t think I would hesitate a second to trade everything for a fully functional female body, so people would genuinely see me as a woman. I’d do it in a heartbeat.

But I wonder. Why state the obvious? I know I’m trans, and not cis. Why bother telling me? Who are you trying to convince? Transphobes are way beyond recognising it, they’re straight out calling us “male with a face full of make-up” (2). And tolerant people already know that, but they’re not saying it. Because they know we know, and that saying it to our face is just rude. You can’t say that people don’t deserve any disrespect, and be rude at the same time. They don’t cancel each other. Disrespect beats respect to a pulp.

Now, I can’t relate to what a cis-woman have experienced as a child or as a teen. I totally agree with that. But… can you? And don’t misunderstand me, you may have very similar experiences with your neighbour, or people who were in the same school, even the same country, but beyond that? Do you think you can relate, even in the slightest, to a girl born in a slum in a third world country. Or a woman from the 18th century or earlier? What do you have in common? If you were even to meet an early 20th century woman, she would probably think you live like a man (3).

So, how is the fact that I can’t relate to a white woman from my neighbourhood important? How is it different from the fact that said woman can’t relate to another woman who doesn’t fit her very geo- and chrono-centered definition of a woman’s life? Who can just tell what it universally feels to be a woman? I sure can’t. I know how I feel, but I have no idea if there is one person who feel the same way I do. I don’t even know if I feel the same way as any other trans woman. It’s like trying to explain a colour. We all see blue (4), but we have no idea if it looks the same for everyone nor we can explain it (we know the wave length, and yet we can’t describe a colour). We just know it’s blue because one day, someone pointed at it and said “this is blue”, so we matched the colour we saw with the word we were told. And that’s that simple.

So, the bottom line is, I know that I feel like a woman, because I am one. And sorry to break it to you, but there is no debate about that. It’s maybe not the same way another woman feels, but there is no point in comparing something we can’t explain. No one else than me can know how I feel, so no one has anything relevant to say about it. I can’t relate to everything a cis-woman have experienced, but you can’t either, and I’m still a woman. End of story.

(1) A lot of us would love to have a baby, but have to freeze their sperm before starting hormones, so they can have a baby with their own genetic heritage later. I’d rather adopt, because I don’t really care about the genetic part, but that’s down to a personal choice at this point.

(2) Real transcription of a comment I heard yesterday coming up Granville Avenue (in Vancouver, BC), and it’s only a small sample. I was in for a treat. People are mean.

(3) In “The Marvelous Mrs Maisel”, which is set in 58, there is a running joke at the beginning, that parodies this, where Susie is constantly called “young boy” by people who actually think she is a man because she dosn’t conform.

(4) If we are not blind or colour-blind, but that’s not the point here.

How [not] to react when you misgender someone, and they tell you

I’ve been playing RPG with a small group of people for a few months and we are having a lot of fun. Except when they start misgendering me, which usually is just a “slip”. It’s inconsequential, right? RIGHT?

[…]

I’ve been playing RPG with a small group of people for a few months and we are having a lot of fun. Except when they start misgendering me, which usually is just a “slip”. It’s inconsequential, right? RIGHT?

Well, you know what I’m about to say. It’s bad, really bad.

I’m a very tolerant person when it comes to isolated events. Sometimes, someone uses the wrong pronouns. If I know them, I will tell them, they apologise, and we move on. If I don’t know them, the effort is not worth the result and even if it’s hurtful, I can’t blame them, especially since I don’t go out of my ways to look more feminine (and if I do and they still misgender me, they’re just assholes who don’t even deserve that I spend time on them).

I am more tolerant about my friends and family; they’ve known me for such a long time that they’re deeply used to the way it used to be, and it’s genuinely hard to get used to the new pronouns. But when I get into a group, and introduce myself as female, I expect people to get it right away, and after 6 months, the “slip” should be a thing of the past. It shouldn’t happen. My RPG group falls in that category. They’re people who only know my female identity, even if they know I am transgender (I joined them before starting HRT), so they should use the right pronoun all the time, without even thinking about it.

I probably should have enforced it more from the very beginning; I let it slide too many times before I started HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy), but now I definitely need to correct them every single time, and if they get annoyed by that, then it will stick in their head. Because this week, it reached an apex. They kept misgendering me, I kept correcting them, and only one of them realised it and apologised (even sent me an email, thanks). One had the complete opposite reaction, so he made the case for the worst behaviour ever (well, the worst before violence):

  1. I misgender someone. No big deal, they didn’t notice, let’s move on (1).
  2. I misgender again. That time, they correct me. Ok. Got it, you noticed. Let’s move on.
  3. I misgender once again. They correct me. That’s starting to get annoying, but I don’t want to make a scene, so let’s shut up.
  4. After we split, they come to me, and they ask me to be more careful. Shit, what have I done wrong. It’s just a slip, it happen, relax a bit, it’s not like it happens every time.
  5. I run away before they can actually explain why it’s problematic to misgender someone.

It happened exactly like that. I’m not making that up. So here is why it is problematic to misgender someone. It has been explained by many other people who probably said it better than I do, but here is my take.

First, I just want to stress out that if you misgender someone, even if you apologise, it’s still hurtful. But at least you acknowledge that you made a mistake, and the person can still respect you after that. It’s like stepping on someone’s foot. It hurts, and you can’t change that, but if you don’t apologise, you’re a dick. So apologise.

Now, what happens when someone gets misgendered. It goes beyond simple respect. It’s a very personal thing. When someone uses the wrong pronouns, I just feel like my treatment is not working, that my efforts are pointless and that I’m that far away from my objective. I know how I look, and I know how people see me, that doesn’t mean I want them to remind me every time they get a chance. Calling me by the gender I choose shows that you acknowledge that I am a woman, even thought I may not look like one (2). It builds confidence. Using the wrong pronouns, you take that confidence away. My life is subjected to an never-ending tidal wave of confidence (3).

  • If you misgender me, you’re telling me that you can’t go past my appearance.
  • If you do it several time even after I correct you, your lack of effort means that you don’t understand how important it is; and if you don’t realise that I’m getting gradually upset, you have a cruel lack of empathy.
  • If you don’t apologise, that means that you don’t care about my feelings at all, which puts you straight in the asshole category.
  • And if you act offended, I completely lose respect for you. You’re hopeless.

And the appearance thing is bullshit. There are people out there who don’t know me, and get it right even when I don’t give any information (not even my name). Some people actually told me they didn’t know I was transgender before I told them. The physical value of gender is way overestimated. If you just tell people your gender before they can really judge it by themselves, they have to mentally fight to go against it. It’s not worth it, so they comply. Tell them you are transgender, they only see that. Tell them later that you are transgender, and they will tell you (and convince themselves) that they totally saw it. It’s really not worth telling people.

So, here is an advice for when you misgender someone you know:

If you notice right away, correct yourself, and apologise. If they correct you, apologise. And DON’T. DO. IT. AGAIN! Seriously!

But staying silent or, worse, getting offended when you’re corrected is never the right behaviour.

 

(1) FIY: I always notice, even if I don’t say anything.

(2) I am a woman, there is no debate here. I don’t have to argue about that and you don’t get to disagree.

(3) In this analogy, the Moon is “misgendering”. Sorry Moon, I don’t have anything against you. You’re just playing the villain here. I promise you’ll get a better role next time.

Emotional Wasteland; how to tear down the stronghold defence

I’ve been living in an emotional wasteland for more than 15 years. It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel anything, it only means that I’ve been forbidding myself to let a particular set of negative feelings affect my life. Of course, it didn’t go as planned, I did feel a lot of stuffs, but by denying those feeling, I created a situation where I forgot how to recognise them.

[…]

I’ve been living in an emotional wasteland for more than 15 years. It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel anything, it only means that I’ve been forbidding myself to let a particular set of negative feelings affect my life. Of course, it didn’t go as planned, I did feel a lot of stuffs, but by denying those feeling, I created a situation where I forgot how to recognise them. And as I pointed out in my previous post, it becomes problematic when it builds up and I can’t see the threshold being atomised. I should be able to identify the early signs of distress and take preventive action, or at least prepare my defence. But to know why I have so much problems with this now, I have to come back years and years before.

When I was in middle school, I was quick to cry for any stupid thing. And when you grow up as a boy, your peers are quick to shame you for being so emotional. Heck, in the 90’s, even the girls were shaming you for that by calling you… a girl (not sure that changed actually, but I’m not in middle school anymore). After that, high school was a boring hell hole where every one but me was in a group, I started my college years with my first big “romantic” deception, I’ve been mugged a couple times, and by the time I was 20, I was fed up of being emotional and victimised. So, I basically decided to change all of that, trying to be more the person that people want you to be. But it turns out, when people want you to conform, they don’t mean that you should behave like a cold anti-social butthole.

After a few years of being like this, and refusing to feel anything, or to be vulnerable in front of someone, your body gradually accept the changes, and stop giving you any warning signs. You live like nothing can get to you. It’s boring, and lonely, but even that doesn’t feel as bad as it sounds, because your body stopped giving a rat’s ass about your feelings anyway. But, of course, it’s only illusion. If you have as much empathy as I do, you can understand how this wall is just a prank your mind loves to play on you, and all those feelings build up until the illusion crumbles and you as well.

And that’s where the weirdest thing happens. You would think that after a breakdown, you’d get a wake-up call and decide that all this was a terrible way to deal with your problem, and you should start working on it but no, you just go full 2nd amendment on it and you decide that you need more of your stupid idea to protect yourself. Mix it and shake it for a few years, and here you go, you built yourself a gigantic fortress full of cracks and, ironically, you end up an inmate in a prison you designed. And it’s the kind of prison where you can smuggle anything in, but nothing comes out. So you keep feeling, but to other people, you still look like a cold anti-social butthole.

Jump-cut to 2015: Crap! I’m transgender. I knew it already (1), but hey, now it’s messing with my sanity, so I really need to do something about it. My shrink tries to break into my defence, but she does that by finding workarounds. Bad luck, my wall is designed against that kind of evasive action. However I realise it fails in the face of direct action. Who would have known? I’ve always been honest, and somehow I was always waiting for someone to notice and reach out. So ask me a question bluntly, I will answer the same way, try to go around, I can play for hours, and we’ll both waste time.

So I realise that I need to let my guard down, but I have two problems: first I can’t just withdraw everything because, since I’ve now come out as transgender, I shifted in a particularly unsafe category of people, and I need to be careful. And second, I forgot what feelings feel. As I said, my body stopped warning me, so I have no idea what to let through, because I don’t receive relevant emotional inputs. I only know when it’s too late, and that puts me in annoying or embarrassing situations, to say the least.

So now I am trying to dismantle that wall, but it’s really complicated. It’s a piece-by-piece project. I need to really think about what constitutes a feeling and how it is supposed to trigger me. To give a bold example, when I experience something that is supposed to be sad, I have to tell myself that it is sad, and I know that an appropriate response to that feeling is crying. So I may try to force myself to cry. Think it’s messed up? I actually do it for real. I have some cues that gives me the tears right up. It’s kind of a cheap trick, but after learning some basic neuroscience, I realise that it’s a good way to reinforce a behaviour (2).

However it’s a very long process. It’s not a one-off thing. You don’t get it when you do it once. It’s like any other trained behaviour, it only reinforces when you do it enough times that it becomes natural (like driving, or flipping crèpes without folding them). And most often, you forget to do it because you’re too busy already to notice the stimulus. So I’m in for years and years of remediation. Hopefully, I’ll be prepared when Death comes knocking at my door. So when He says “I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY, ARE YOU READY YET?”, I can say proudly “I saw that coming!”

 

 

(1) Actually I knew since I was about 15, without really putting words onto it. But society puts so much pressure on you to conform that it’s really hard to accept it, or to find help. Especially back in the 90’s when Internet wasn’t yet the go-to place to find useful information. And as my friend Bria says: 

 

(2) There are some stimuli that have never failed to make me cry, and I think it’s because of some things I cared for when I was a kid, like the dog my family used to have. Shit, just writing about him gives me tears. And it actually makes me cry every time something sad happens to a pet (and that’s why I have a hard time with animal deaths in movies). So thinking about this when another supposedly sad stimuli comes up helps associate the response to the stimuli. And then it reinforces by itself, since crying when the stimuli happens makes me realise that the stimuli is something sad.

Getting an EMR certification: Two weeks of emotional roller coaster

The past two weeks have been hectic. I should include the two previous weeks too, when I had to work twice as much as usual while pre-studying for my paramedic course, so I wouldn’t have to worry about money during the course. But it was just busy, not especially emotionally charged. That’s why I wanna focus on the two weeks during which I was doing the actual course.

[…]

The past two weeks have been hectic. I should include the two previous weeks too, when I had to work twice as much as usual while pre-studying for my paramedic course, so I wouldn’t have to worry about money during the course. But it was just busy, not especially emotionally charged. That’s why I wanna focus on the two weeks during which I was doing the actual course.

And it was a hell of a ride!

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Both wonderful and horrible things happened. It’s also when I realised how fragile being transgender is in a social context, and how your confidence can be shattered by one unexpected event at the worst possible time.

Actually, the first week was pretty uneventful. It was more like the first climbing slope of a roller coaster. You reach the top very slowly but you can’t see what’s over the edge of the slope.

I had contacted the instructor early on to tell him that I was transgender and that I used a different name than my legal one. When we arrived on the first morning and he distributed the prop bags (tools we were about to use during the course), he handed mine with my chosen name written on it. I thought it was a nice touch and built up my confidence. Then, we had to introduce ourselves, but in a particular format. We were to first introduce to 2 other persons, who subsequently had to introduce us to the rest of the group. So I told my two follow classmates that I was transgender, and the guy who introduced me to the group used “she/her” pronouns right away and that was it. Except for the only person who didn’t get it and misgendered me quite a few time before I took him apart to make things straight, I didn’t have to complain about anything. It’s quite important to note, because that’s what was coming around to bite me at the end of the course.

So, the first week was quite uneventful. The most difficult things for me was to catch up every night with the study we had to do for the next day, because we received our books quite late and I couldn’t get ahead quickly enough while working twice as much as usual. Which was a problem later because I couldn’t stay after the class to practice the skills. And unlike the youngest persons in the group, I really can’t afford to skip sleep time, or I don’t function anymore, and I needed my brain fresh everyday if I wanted to remember the huge amount of stuff we were learning in a very small amount of time.

So here we are at the second week. Things start to be complicated.

Monday: the top of the slope. That the highest point in the track. You can contemplate everything from there. You have a wide view of the bottom and you may see the end of the track, but it’s kind of blurry. You’re just expecting the first descent, but also worried about how steep it is, because you still can’t see it yet.

Tuesday: It’s steep. Very steep. I crashed that day. I had a total mental breakdown. Everyday, after we had the lesson of the day, we were applying the new knowledge in role-playing-type scenarios. Everything we couldn’t do for real, we were stating them out loud, and the instructor, or the patient, was giving out the result. And I messed up big time. Like, I did everything wrong. I couldn’t asked the right question and I only took wrong decisions. I felt like I was so out of it, I went home completely depressed. And I couldn’t just decompress. I had to cram again for the next day. Maybe that’s what saved me somehow, because I didn’t have brain time to spiral into this depression. I had to stay on track. And I came back the next day, deciding to take it slowly but do all the required steps in order. Speed would come later with practice.

Wednesday and Thursday: Going with the flow. Turns after turns, loops, rolls, you just readjust your arse on your seat knowing something else is coming next. In a martial arts flick, it’s when the hero gets back on their feet and start again from the basic, and prepares for the incoming battle. It’s a reborn. And that’s what happened: I went back to the basics, reaffirmed my knowledge of the protocol and carefully asked the right questions to get to the right conclusion and provide the best treatment, while absorbing the constant flow of knowledge dumped on us. So I was prepared for the grand finale, the battle of the chosen.

Friday: And I lost! The villain cheated, as all villains do to undermine the hero. More seriously, the examiner who came that day, rounded up everyone to explain how it was going to happen and… outed me, in front of everyone. For some people, it’s probably not a big deal, or maybe it happens so often that they are used to it. For me, it was the first time. And it came after two weeks of being around people who were too busy with their own learning to actually give a fuck about whether I was transgender. So, for my whole session, she kept misgendering me and every time I needed a result, I had to insist several times because she was too busy looking at her phone. I was completely disoriented and made critical mistakes. So she failed me.

I can back home in shambles. It was a disaster. I had spent so much money and effort into this, and for what result? I couldn’t think straight. I had a choice: either to retake the next day, risking to fail again and definitively, or spend more time in practice and retake at the next course exam. For the past two weeks, even in my sleep, all I could think about was scenarios and protocols, but that day, when I came home, and all night, I was thinking about how I could get my money back. I talked with one of my classmate, who tried to encourage me to go right away, saying I knew the stuff and I could do it. But my confidence was utterly shattered. Still I went early to bed, and though I did not sleep well, I decided to pop up at the exam, and to decide then whether to retake it again.

Saturday: An emotional victory. When I arrived in the morning, there was a new examiner. He was obviously way more professional and I felt more confident in my abilities. I also came mentally prepared to be misgendered, and I actually didn’t tell him I was a woman, I just gave him my legal name right away, which cut the need for explanation and let him use male pronouns. Only my friend let him know at the end of the exam (mainly because I had to play the patient once and my follow classmates kept referring me as a woman, which must have surprised him somehow). I still did a few mistakes, but not critical ones, and I was a bit too slow, because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t cutting any corner.

When the examiner called me in to give me the result, and showed me the green paper, all my body suddenly relaxed and I almost cried in front of him. I had been gradually stressed for two weeks, at a point where I completely burst, and then I found myself in a spot where I didn’t have anything more to do.

But I learnt a lot more than a skill. I learnt that the stress of being transgender in a social undertaking exacerbates any other stress that you may currently be subjected to. It is something that I have to be careful of, and I need to be able to identify it before it becomes a problem (I shall write an article about that later). And I also learnt that I can totally pass as a woman (1). Which amazed me, to be honest.

 

(1) I didn’t expand on that because it’s already a long article, and it was not the main point, so I’m doing this side note to talk about it but it’s totally not necessary to read it to understand the article.

So, as I said, no one but the instructor and two classmates was told that I was transgender. I basically spent two weeks assuming that everybody knew but played along, not giving a fuck (although I had to tell one guy especially, whom I heard talking about me to another person later on). Therefore it came as a surprise, on Friday, after the examiner asked for my *legal name* in front of everyone, that a classmate asked me if I was going by my middle name (my legal name may sound a bit like a female name for English-speaking people, so she wasn’t surprised). When I told her later that I was upset about being outed in front of everyone, she didn’t understand. She genuinely thought I was a cis-woman, and that was a huge comfort at the end of a horrific day.

So I am really wondering if people knew I was transgender, and who actually knew. Also, I had to use the women’s washroom, and it was quite stressful, because I didn’t know, if I ran into someone else (not someone taking the course), would they complain about it and rat me out. I was always timing my exit depending on people coming in or going out. I ran into an employee only once (I didn’t hear her coming), but she didn’t say anything. We just smiled at each other while I was stepping out of my cabin.

I can say that these two weeks have been weird on several accounts. Now it feels like a dream. I just woke up in the real life, but I still want this to have happened, I can’t believe it was all just a dream. And it wasn’t, because I have my certificate that proves it.

Oxenfree and the power of sound design

I play a lot of video games, and I wish I had the time and energy to review every one of them. But it’s not my job, and honestly, I don’t really want to talk about games that I didn’t like. And most often, I lack the skill to talk effectively about games I like. So what I will try to do, is pick a game that I loved from a previous year and do my best to give it justice, and hopefully, someone will discover something and will want to play it too.

[…]

I play a lot of video games, and I wish I had the time and energy to review every one of them. But it’s not my job, and honestly, I don’t really want to talk about games that I didn’t like. And most often, I lack the skill to talk effectively about games I like. So what I will try to do, is pick a game that I loved from a previous year and do my best to give it justice, and hopefully, someone will discover something and will want to play it too.

So today, I want to talk about Oxenfree (Night School Studio, 2016). And since it’s just out on the Switch, it’s a pretty good timing.

People who know me, know that what I like in a game (or a book/movie), is a good story and interesting characters. And also a good sound design (not in books obviously). Because you can have an compelling story and deep character arcs, if your sound sucks, it takes you out of a story. Personally, I don’t think the story of Oxenfree is that great. It’s good, and it’s consistent with the atmosphere it’s trying to convey. But it’s mainly a character-driven game. To me at least.

It’s a coming-of-age story about a group of friends who go to an island for the weekend. There is only one boat trip to go, and the next trip back is the following day, so they have to spend the night on the island. And of course, there is no cellular network. As you might expect, things start to happen, involving radio interference, friends disappearing out of the blue, and a WWII submarine stranded in time (that escalated quickly). And between all that, the characters spend their time talking about their life and Alex’s (you) brother (who died).

As you might expect from this brief synopsis, there is a lot of time-related issues, of the kind that will mess with your head. I am not sure that everything actually works, but who cares, because that’s not what’s important. It’s a game that focuses on grief and gives you the role of the younger sister who has to deal with it, and also with a bunch of friends who all have a different way to dealing with grief, and some will take it on you. And of course, you choose how to handle it.

To do that, it uses a very common system of branching dialogues. You hear someone talking to you and you’re given the choice in your response. It sounds like a pretty boring, overused system. But it’s done the perfect way. First, every dialogue prompt is timed. Not to pressure you (although some are really fast), but because you never have to actually choose anything. You can even play the whole game as a mute if you want, the other players will react in consequence. Also, the game makes trying to optimize your choice of dialogue pointless. Choices that seem good, may have bad consequences. And antagonizing some character may have good effects in the end (for some characters, at least). If I have one advice in playing this game, it’s this one:

PLAY OXENFREE WITH YOUR GUTS!

oxenfree_screen_2

Play the first time like you would be this character, with your own feelings, because that’s how you’re going to have the best experience and immersion. Don’t hesitate the second or third time around (1) to settle for a type of character and play it until the end, to see how it may turn the story, but again, don’t optimize. It kills the experience and there is no right answer anyway.

Now, about what makes this experience possible: sound design.

You’ve all played to games that use choices in dialogues; there is this awkward pause before you choose, and there are always weird transitions between each piece of dialogue, with the wrong tone, or other discrepancy that doesn’t feel right. In Oxenfree, there is nothing of that. Everything plays seemlessly. It’s perfect, and I don’t just say that because I love the game. It’s actually an amazing feature of this game, and that’s what makes it stand out. Every dialogue feels like a real dialogue, that plays along whatever you choose. The character will cut the other character or wait until they finishes, depending on your choice, or the character will talking continue even if you didn’t choose anything. The voice acting is always right, the sound editing is perfect, with no level difference or glitches, and it integrates amazingly with the soundtrack for the best experience possible.

For me it’s way more important to have a good sound experience than amazing graphics. Here, the graphics are good. They’re not extraordinary, but the artistic choice is interesting and it works well with the story, but the focus on sound is really a top-of-the-shelf performance. Something that has to be commended and rewarded. So I hope this review gives it credit, and I wish more people would play it, so Night School Studio, the developer/editor, would make more of that kind of game.

(1) The game is actually different the second time you play, thanks to a feature added later on (for free, which is amazing in the era of game-as-a-service) that uses the choices you make in your first run to change the story on the following runs, which makes for a good re-playability.

Game available on PC (Steam, GOG, Humble Bundle), PS4, Xbox One, Switch.

Editor’s website: http://nightschoolstudio.com/oxenfree/ (where the image is from)

Case Study on stereotypes and how to deal with them: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Yesterday was Halloween, and since I had nothing planned, I decided to go watch a midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

[…]

Yesterday was Halloween, and since I had nothing planned, I decided to go watch a midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

So I asked a friend if she wanted to join, and she told me she didn’t like it and that it perpetuated harmful stereotypes about transgender and gender variant people. I had never seen the film before (yes, totally saw the film with a V stamped on my forehead), but looking at trailers and various images, I could see what she meant.

Why I decided to go anyway

First, I had already bought a ticket. Second, I like to get my own opinion of something before judging. And after some research online, it was pretty clear that nobody was taking this film seriously, so I was really curious, and went anyway.

So, how are the stereotypes?

Bad. They’re very, very bad. And it’s not just transgender, it’s everything. Every character is a bad stereotype who acts in a very stupid way. (1)

But?

But I don’t think it’s harmful.

See, there are a lot of movies throughout history where you can actually debate whether it’s alright to watch them. There are great films that show very harmful stereotypes, and you can definitely wonder if you could put them in context to decide if it’s still worth seeing, or if you consider that art and historical context doesn’t justify going through such things. I really think this matter needs to be taken into consideration case by case, and depends on your own feelings and the reasons why you want to watch these films. If you need an example, let’s say that in Blade Runner, Deckard sexually assaults another character. How do you think about that?

But RHPS is not such film. It’s a stupid 1975′ horror-SF-comedy musical that tried to capitalize on stereotypes, bad acting and terrible art choices (again, see note 1). 40 years later, it’s a curiosity that people love to make fun of. They even came up along the years with a very codified way to enjoy it, mixed with live performance and improvised audience participation. In the end, it’s not a screening, it’s a humiliation/execution for the enjoyment of the crowd (if you think about it, that’s even more disturbing). As I told my friend, in my opinion, it’s like the school bully who ends up being mocked by everyone. All its power has vanished by being ridiculed by the crowd. And in the end, that makes for a very enjoyable show. And it correlates with what I saw online before watching the film.

But you’re saying people who thinks it’s offensive are wrong.

Of course not. I just want to point out that the audience coming to see the show are not stupid enough to fall for these stereotypes. They don’t mention them? Well, it’s probably because they’ve seen it 20 times over, and they don’t feel like the need to go over this every single time. Quite frankly, I’m talking about that because it’s my first time watching it, but after a few time, I’ll be like “what, are we still on that?”

For me, it’s like Cards Against Humanity. If you know what kind of content may come out and if you feel like you may be offended, it’s probably safe not to watch it. But if you want to have some fun at the expense of a terrible film with a cheerful crowd, then don’t hesitate to give it a try. Just don’t watch it alone in your living room. That would totally suck.

And on a final note…

LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!

 

(1) There are people who honestly think there is a real plot with social themes and that the movie is made stupid on purpose to be critical of other musicals. To me, it looks like people are trying too hard to justify why they enjoy it, but I guess it’s debatable. I’m just not really interested in that debate.

To be a freelance translator (or not to be)

I am a freelance translator, meaning I translate stuff for clients respectful of my skills and experience while drinking coffee and watching Youtube from my home computer wearing only my panties, right? RIGHT?

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how2bto2bcalm2bdown2ba2btranslator

I am a freelance translator, meaning I translate stuff for clients respectful of my skills and experience while drinking coffee and watching Youtube from my home computer wearing only my panties, right? RIGHT?

FUCK NO!

Well, while some of it is true (I do work in my panties sometimes and watch Youtube instead of working), it’s not the joyful and peaceful ride everyone tend to think it is (that is, everyone who’s never worked from home). Matt Inman made a comic a few years back describing pretty accurately the pros and con of working from home (and it’s funny too, so you should check it). But I want to focus on one particular bad side of that kind of work: stress. Not the good stress that increases adrenaline levels and makes you more focus and causes the work high of workaholic people. I’m talking about the one that, if you build it to unreasonable levels, leads to anxiety and depression.

It’s a lot due to the social side of the work. In the translation business, work is mostly done via Internet, so I never meet my clients. They contact me by email to offer me a job, and we negotiate the rate and deadline until we agree on the terms and I do the job for them. I can also contact them out of the blue to whine about not having jobs, but ultimately, they are the ones offering. But that’s the thing, even if I work a lot for some clients, if they don’t have anything to offer at a certain time, I won’t get paid and they won’t give a single crap whether I manage to find some other gig. That’s a huge source of stress. And worst of all, I worry about that even when I’m overloaded. I can’t help but think that it could end right after the project I’m currently working on.

And it’s cumulative with the fact that sometimes, I go on vacation, so it’s a week here and there when I don’t get paid. I could also get sick, which would reduce my productivity and therefore my income depending on how sick I am. The other day, I went to my  part-time job (which I do because if I were only to do translation, I would never go out and never see the sun have a social life in a city where it’s already so hard to make contacts), and I got upset by something that normally wouldn’t trigger me, but I realized that I had built so much anxiety in the previous weeks that just a small thing could make me breakdown.

And there is something about translation that nobody usually know. It’s supposed to be a very interesting job, but really, it’s a crappy industry, and it’s not getting any better. It’s a disrespectful industry, where the translator’s skills and experience are not valued as they should. It’s like a food chain, and the translator is at the bottom of it. They get fucked from every direction, and they can’t do anything about it, because they have literally no mean of leverage against the companies they work for.

To understand that, we shall see it from the perspective of the translation company. Those companies never hire translators, because it’s not financially rewarding. It’s more interesting for them to give projects to freelancers. It’s cheaper, and they can go for different project types or language pairs without being specialized in it. So they hire project managers, who contact clients and then find a freelance translator who can do the job. So the translator can start negotiating, but ultimately, it’s the company that decides the price (you can accept it or refuse the job) because, like in any industry, there is a huge competition (obviously, the price also depends on the type of content, and the language pair, so it’s interesting for the translator to specialize).

So, now, how do companies assess the skills of the translators. Well, they follow strict regulation to meet the ISO 17100:2015 standard… just kidding! (1) Well they say they meet the standards, and their client are not gonna check that, because it’s way too complex. But, for example, standards specify that one can only translate to their mother tongue. I have translated to English for some companies, so I know that’s bullshit (2). Another one says that editors should preferably be experienced translators and specialized in the project content; well, nobody likes editing, so the experienced people refuse it, and it falls in the hand of the rookies. Again, I know that because those were almost the only jobs I was getting when I started. And how do they know if the translators are skilled enough?

032-2bultimate2btest2bfor2bintern2bproject2bmanagers

Now, let’s talk about Internet. It’s a progress that has awesome and horrible consequences in translation. It’s great because it makes things so much easier; you can contact clients rapidly, get work, annoy and/or block people, and you don’t have to actually meet anyone. But the flip side is that just anybody can now say they are translators and nobody can tell if they’re bullshitting. And there are a lot of bullshitters.  Actually, it’s pretty easy to know if someone is a crappy translator: they usually don’t have a proper registration (meaning they work illegally), but the translation companies don’t check that, and it’s not because they can’t, it’s because by hiring illegal workers (or, if you prefer, by looking the other way…), they drive the prices down (3).

The current situation is so bad that in France, some people in the translator’s union wish to implement licensing for freelancers and standard prices. For the record, I am totally against that. I don’t really want to develop on that because it’s not the topic (and it’s pointless anyway since it’s an international business), but the point is that the companies should be more respectful of their freelance collaborators.

There is a problem that makes me look at other line of work: there is virtually no career path. You can’t progress because there is no hierarchy (4). The only thing you can do is train yourself to get another specialization, and you’re always behind the trend because you can only react to the change in your specialization topic. Seriously, would you do a work if you knew it would not change at all in your entire life?

And then, there is technological advancement. The killer of many industries. It’s not gonna kill human translation. At least not in the next decade. And right now it’s actually helping in many areas. One thing happened with Internet was that it made industries work faster, which resulted in higher loads of production, and therefore documentation, that need to be translated. So a good thing about technology, is that it takes care of all the boring, repetitive stuff, so you only have to focus on the more important parts. Well, almost. A new thing that came out is called Post-Editing. Basically, it’s an editing job, but you correct a translation made by a machine. Exactly, like Google Translate. It’s paid a little better than usual editing, but it’s way under translation rate, although you often have to rewrite everything because, well, you know why. Once, I’ve got a company that asked me to do a “fast” post-editing: meaning I didn’t have to write well, I just had to make it “understandable”. I drew the line there. You don’t get to ask me to write like shit so you can barely pay me.

So there, this job is a stressful hellfest, because it’s hard to be respected, and I tend to always work with the same people since we develop an understanding and it makes it easier to work together, and they supply me with a consistent load of work. But I can’t help but worry about my future in this industry, and sometimes, I break.

 

(1) There are other standards for various specialties, that tend to be respected, especially in legal or medical industries, because a translator error can lead to terrible outcome (let’s say some people can die in clinical trials due to a bad translation).

(2) It’s a sound rule, but one can translate in a different language, especially in technical translation where it’s very codified. It’s more complicated in literary works where style is very personal.

(3) Illegal worker don’t pay tax, so they can accept lower income. Even the most respectful companies I work with never asked me about my registration number (but I put it on every invoice).

(4) You can get hired as a project manager or expand your business to make it a normal company. But then you’re not a freelancer anymore, and you have to go by company rules, so you don’t enjoy said advantages of being a freelancer anymore.

*Comics illustrations are from Mox’s blog. It’s hilarious, go check it out