“The sewing bloggers, however, were already voicing their concerns. They called out the chains who ripped off styles by independent designers to a comically exact degree (clothing isn’t copyrightable under current laws, so the chains got away with it) and cited Overdressed, a 2012 Fast Food Nation–style exposé about the fast-fashion industry that brought the horrors of speedy garment production to light. I learned that any new clothing I could ever afford would be far from a fair price for all the skill and labor involved in its creation. Garment workers were toiling in bleak conditions, working sixteen-hour days, seven days per week for pennies in crumbling factories full of toxic chemicals in China, India, and Vietnam; cheaper price tags pointed to worse conditions and, unimaginably, even worse pay. I also learned about the environmental costs — the oil to run the equipment, the factory pollution spewed into the air, the energy required to fly and ship garments around the globe, and the billions of pounds of fabric waste destined for landfills, never to decompose.
In 2013, the Rana Plaza Garment Factory collapsed, killing nearly twelve hundred low-wage garment workers. The eight-floor Bangladeshi factory complex had manufactured clothing for Walmart, JCPenney, Primark, and Mango, among others. The collapse was a tragedy, a Triangle Shirtwaist Factory disaster at eight times the scale — and a media tipping point. For a while it really felt like the realities of fast-fashion production were reaching the masses. How could anyone read about the deaths of those workers and stomach walking into a Primark again? Wasn’t it clear that the conditions and exploitations at Rana Plaza were endemic to the entire fast-fashion industry?”

“Strangely, for street queens in the midcentury, the problem of becoming a woman created a situation that shared much in common with the monarchs after which they were named.
The street queen, like a monarch, had two bodies. One was the earthly body into which she was born as a mortal: male and flawed. The second was a metaphysical body, the promised form of high femininity and womanhood to which she strived. Miss Destiny had received a divine messenger early in childhood to announce the dilemma, a fairy voice and femme conscience named Miss Thing. At a young age, Miss Thing explained what it meant to have two bodies as a comedy of errors. "Why, how ridiculous!-
" she reassured the frightened
trans child. «That petuh between your legs simpuhlee does not belong, dear."6 That "petuh" was not an intractable mark of failure, the proof that she could never be a girl. On the contrary, Miss Thing taught Destiny that it was a signal of her fate. She was destined for a higher calling. She would transcend the ridiculous and become a real woman.
The idea that a king or queen had two bodies was the legal foundation of the Tudor-era monarchy in England.37 Although the king was a human being with a mortal body called the
"body natural," he was understood to have also a second body as ruler, his "body politic." This second body was metaphysical and angelic, invisible to be sure, but perhaps the aura of power that accompanied him everywhere.” - Jules gill-Peterson - short history of trans misogyny - pg118-9

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