Superopinionated is the personal blog of Courtneys Stanton. Based in Portland, Oregon, their posts examine life through the lenses of addiction recovery, intersectional feminism, and mental illness.

Super Opinionated Power Club #8: Oh my gosh, look at her

Welcome to another meeting of the Super Opinionated Power Club!

There's a trigger warning for rape and some discussion of what false reporting means in this week's Power Club, head's up y'all.

I took a risk and hit the "Send Preview" button within Tiny Letter despite the fact that as far as I can tell, that button isn't documented anywhere, and while I was thinking that button might actually send y'all a truncated teaser version of the newsletter, it actually sends me an email with everything I've written thus far, including any weird tragedies of formatting, so this is it. This is the moment. The time when I was able to use header tags and not ruin everything. It'll also be short this week because I'm short this week.

Also I finally managed to delete my Twitter account this morning, and the only reason it took so long is because I was waiting for my Twitter archive, which I wasn't getting notified of because if you've turn off email notifications from Twitter, then the "your Twitter archive can be downloaded now, here is the link" email also will not be emailed to you. As if I wasn't glad enough to be ending my participation with that product already.

Hi, how's your week going?

We're all shipping them now, right?

The Most Important Thing in the World/Time's Inexorable March

I think this week the most important thing in the world (to me) is that I didn't end up having to cancel a flight out to Portland or aimlessly fly out to Portland and cobble together a "it's fine, whatever" vacation instead of attending a conference in Portland as planned. (I can't be in rooms of people who are applauding known rapists, and XOXO included a known rapist* in their programming this year.) I'm still side-eyeing the fuck out of XOXO even while attending it, because how do you say you want diversity and purport to have a code of conduct then invite a rapist onto your programming bill, but whatever, he's uninvited now. (...or he mutually agreed not to attend? Ah, the ambiguity one creates by prioritizing the rapist. Also, don't look for that post on the actual conference blog; it's a separate web page that's been formatted to appear as if it's part of the announcement flow of the site. It's not. It can't be faved or reblogged like the rest of XOXO's blog content.)

This is why I'm not using any vacation time to attend or speak at conferences next year; they're rarely worth it, even when they wish real real hard they were.

Stare at This Immediately


[...] of the Week

Fanart: Black trans man Batman (THIS. IS. PERFECT.)

Twitter: @StuffDrakeDoes

Subject line song: Nicki Minaj - Anaconda

*"But how do we know he's a rapist" - Because his victim told us. Do you believe someone when they tell you their car was stolen? If your friend's house burns down, do you accept that they aren't the ones who did it? False reporting of rape and sexual assault occurs somewhere around the same frequency as vehicular insurance fraud and arson insurance fraud, depending on which statistical analysis you like (and it's a tough data set, given the low reporting we have at all). It's also worth clarifying that "false report" overwhelmingly means "experienced an assault but for reasons of safety did not initially correctly identify the perpetrator", for example naming a neighbor when it was actually their parent. That kind situation is what's being described by the term "false report". That is reality. Reality is not "vengeful ex-girlfriend inventing an assault that never happened to punish a man."

Disco-Dancing Clark Kent

Because that's how I wanna leave you all today. 

SUPERMAN FAMILY #196. July-August 1979. “Super-Disco Fever!” Written by Cary Burkett, Penciled by Kurt Schaffenberger, Inked by Dan Adkins.

Clark Kent is taken to a discotheque by his fan club and discovers that a madman has hidden several bombs beneath the dance floor.

He slyly uses his super-powers to disarm each one, using only the raw propulsive musk-scented power of … his moves.

This is the kind of comics fan I am: my major complaint with the Spider-Man 3 movie is that there wasn't more dancing in it, but just hear me out: I think they need to make another Superman movie, and I think they need to include this. Go, Clark, Go!!

Promises, Promises

Power Club #7: Ain't never had a friend