Fuck you very much, the TSA.2
Nov. 17th, 2010 09:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressHello there! This is your nine AM report that yeah, opting out of the backscatter machines really is as unpleasant as you've been led to believe.
I had the time when I arrived at the airport, and the security lines were blesséd short, so yeah, why wouldn't I choose to opt out? Cause someone else a bit of hassle, and not have naked pictures of me leaked to the internet in a couple weeks. I am quite okay with this plan, and so, at the point where you are meant to be removing your shoes and putting everything on the little moving belt, I smiled oh so cynically at the woman directing things, and asked what procedures one must take to opt-out.
She didn't quite sigh, and directed me to put my things on the belt --make sure there was nothing in my pockets, no paper, no anything, no belt, and of course, no shoes. "We have a female opt-out" she said wearily into her walkie-talkie, which nearly broke me in two right there --I am not female, and I hate being called such, and I know that it is only a hundred times worse for so many more people.
I had to walk through the backscatter machine to get to the area in which they would scan me --directly on the other side of the backscatter machine, causing a slight bottleneck as more compliant people had to squeeze around me. And there I was and there was a young woman who was not the slightest bit comforting as she told me that she was going to have to touch me.
And proceeded to do just that. She, as the one account has been saying, stroked my hair, which felt far more violating than I ever would have expected. She ran her hands down my back, over my ass, down my legs, then came 'round to the front to stroke my chest, down between and under my breasts, my stomach. Waistband search is apparently mandatory --she slid a finger into my waistband, both front and back, and ran it back and forth to make sure I wasn't concealing contraband in the waist of my panties or some such.
Perhaps the part that made it worst for me was the way she kept emphasizing "I'm going to use the back of my hand" when she went to touch the so called "private" parts of my body. I'm sorry, if you are rubbing something against my butt, my breasts, it really does not matter whether it's the front of the hand, the back of the hand, or a six inch rubber dildo. I will still feel violated by the pressure and by the fact that you are stroking my body in a way I do not consent1 to. Her reassurances that it was "only" the back of her hand felt rather like being told that it's okay, the stabbing you're about to receive is "only" going to be done with a blunt knife.
I waited patiently afterwards, to gather my bag --ohwait, I forgot that I have evil Massachusettsian water in my bag. This simply won't stand! So I had to wait for the agent to dump out my water and send my bag through again (she wanted me to go do it, which would have involved going through the line again...um, fuck no, much? One, it's not my fault you can't tell the difference between a bottle of water and a bottle of EVIl, two, I am so not fucking going through that unpleasantness again.).
Now I am about to go refill my water bottle with more evil Massachusettsian water (somehow MAGICALLY DISTILLED by being from an airport water fountain *after* security instead of an airport water fountain *before* security) and continue to try not to cry about the fact that I feel like I was just molested.
Banner fucking way to start the day, especially after how impossibly shitty last night was.
Fighting the good fight, and all that. Just wish it didn't feel so damn futile.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I do not consent to being photographed naked by the TSA, and I sure as _hell_ do not consent to being molested by a TSA agent. However, apparently if I want to fly in this country, I have to let the people in power molest me, so I'd better just be a good girl and shut my mouth about it. Charming!
2: (from the title) Is anyone else thinking that Eric Idle's song from 2004 could really use an update? It scans and *everything*
I had the time when I arrived at the airport, and the security lines were blesséd short, so yeah, why wouldn't I choose to opt out? Cause someone else a bit of hassle, and not have naked pictures of me leaked to the internet in a couple weeks. I am quite okay with this plan, and so, at the point where you are meant to be removing your shoes and putting everything on the little moving belt, I smiled oh so cynically at the woman directing things, and asked what procedures one must take to opt-out.
She didn't quite sigh, and directed me to put my things on the belt --make sure there was nothing in my pockets, no paper, no anything, no belt, and of course, no shoes. "We have a female opt-out" she said wearily into her walkie-talkie, which nearly broke me in two right there --I am not female, and I hate being called such, and I know that it is only a hundred times worse for so many more people.
I had to walk through the backscatter machine to get to the area in which they would scan me --directly on the other side of the backscatter machine, causing a slight bottleneck as more compliant people had to squeeze around me. And there I was and there was a young woman who was not the slightest bit comforting as she told me that she was going to have to touch me.
And proceeded to do just that. She, as the one account has been saying, stroked my hair, which felt far more violating than I ever would have expected. She ran her hands down my back, over my ass, down my legs, then came 'round to the front to stroke my chest, down between and under my breasts, my stomach. Waistband search is apparently mandatory --she slid a finger into my waistband, both front and back, and ran it back and forth to make sure I wasn't concealing contraband in the waist of my panties or some such.
Perhaps the part that made it worst for me was the way she kept emphasizing "I'm going to use the back of my hand" when she went to touch the so called "private" parts of my body. I'm sorry, if you are rubbing something against my butt, my breasts, it really does not matter whether it's the front of the hand, the back of the hand, or a six inch rubber dildo. I will still feel violated by the pressure and by the fact that you are stroking my body in a way I do not consent1 to. Her reassurances that it was "only" the back of her hand felt rather like being told that it's okay, the stabbing you're about to receive is "only" going to be done with a blunt knife.
I waited patiently afterwards, to gather my bag --ohwait, I forgot that I have evil Massachusettsian water in my bag. This simply won't stand! So I had to wait for the agent to dump out my water and send my bag through again (she wanted me to go do it, which would have involved going through the line again...um, fuck no, much? One, it's not my fault you can't tell the difference between a bottle of water and a bottle of EVIl, two, I am so not fucking going through that unpleasantness again.).
Now I am about to go refill my water bottle with more evil Massachusettsian water (somehow MAGICALLY DISTILLED by being from an airport water fountain *after* security instead of an airport water fountain *before* security) and continue to try not to cry about the fact that I feel like I was just molested.
Banner fucking way to start the day, especially after how impossibly shitty last night was.
Fighting the good fight, and all that. Just wish it didn't feel so damn futile.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I do not consent to being photographed naked by the TSA, and I sure as _hell_ do not consent to being molested by a TSA agent. However, apparently if I want to fly in this country, I have to let the people in power molest me, so I'd better just be a good girl and shut my mouth about it. Charming!
2: (from the title) Is anyone else thinking that Eric Idle's song from 2004 could really use an update? It scans and *everything*
no subject
on 2010-11-17 03:11 pm (UTC)I am so incredibly sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart, and I am sending happy thoughts and hugs your way so hard right now. Unless you're in a no-hugging state of mind, like I get sometimes, particularly when having physical contact meltdowns, in which case I'm just sending the good thoughts.
Also, I want to check on something, now that you've reminded me. You've said you're not okay with the word female being applied to you. Are you okay with "she" and "her" or do you want me to avoid pronouns when talking about you? I've been using them for you and I don't want to if it bothers you, but I know you're not male either. I talk a more slowly when I have to avoid pronouns, since I have to think harder about what I'm saying, but I've done it before.
no subject
on 2010-11-19 08:49 am (UTC)I really appreciate the non-hug thing, and I send the same kind of good vibes back at you. (I am good for hugging now, but yeah, right after there was that little bit of "but now I feel dirty and don't want to be touched." Which is, you know. Totally unfair.)
I actually am more or less okay with the word female being applied to me, as long as it's done by people who actually understand, or are willing to understand, that my gender is more complex than that. I consider myself to be a cisbodied multiplygendered person, which I define to mean as having many different mental genders which may or may not feel right at any given moment, but pretty much always being okay about being in a body that has breasts and a vagina. I don't know if this makes my whole genderqueer thing a scam, except sometimes there are days where I really just don't feel like a girl, or anything close, and wish the world could see me the same way.
You may use whatever pronouns you would like for me. She and her are fine, so are he and his, so are e and hir and zie or sie. I will not be offended by you --my big problem with the agent was that she was a complete stranger to me, and yet felt entitled to assign me a gender. I get a _lot_ bitchier about the female thing when I feel it's being done by people who don't get why maintaining the binary is hurtful.
~Sor