Statistically we know that across the board, men get more resumes accepted than women even in people who believe they’re being fair and equal. Even women, who also make up the bulk of Human Resource positions, do this. But you have to balance your job prospects against your identity and your life, and sometimes it’s worth it to make something a little test of whether you even want to work there.
I think for admin positions, which as you say are predominantly female filled, you could probably get away with it, and if you have a strong feeling about using both your names, then you should use them both. It’s easy to say “your identity is more important than whether you get a job” from the position of a well-paid benefits-able job; harder to say that when I put myself in your position. And this contrasts with the advice I just gave about queer identity. But there’s also the fact that you’re expected to give a name, and the name carries a weightload of information about you.
Again — this is a decision only you can make, based on your feelings about your name, the qualifications you do or don’t have for the job, and the fact that this is the kind of job people don’t expect to find many men in. My advice would be to use both names, especially since it’s important to you, but it has to be your choice.
An additional consideration- from someone with a gender neutral first name, people are often really uncomfortable/embarrassed when they’ve made the wrong assumption about your gender. Which could spill over into their impression of you.
Okay, everybody, I did it! I have a book! (An e-book, to be precise!) (And to be more precise, my girlfriend and I have a book!) It’s called The Emperor’s Mirror, and it’s a YA novel about magic! Mystery! Monks! Other things that don’t start with ‘m’, up to and including dragons! I would like to take a moment to shamelessly plug it and say if you enjoy reading my fanfiction, please go take a look! It’s the first in a series which is intended to be 5 books, the rest of which should be coming out in no time (metaphorically speaking) and the e-book is $4.99.
Here’s the back of the book (so to speak):
A valuable artifact has been stolen from an isolated monastery, and Tallis will have trouble finding it when the temple elder won’t tell him what it is.
The monks have good reason to be secretive, given the centuries of religious persecution after the fall of the Emperor who represented their gods. That’s to say nothing of the cult leader enchanting disciples in the next town over, or of the boy they keep hidden underground while they prepare him to be the new Emperor. Tallis, an orphan himself, feels an instant connection with Brannon, the young boy who can channel the power of the gods but is deeply resentful of the monks who have imprisoned him to keep him safe. Tallis soon finds himself struggling to unravel not only a theft, but the murder of the last Emperor, which fractured the world a thousand years before.
You can read the complete first chapter for free here if you’re so inclined, or if you don’t feel the need and you want to buy it sight-unseen, you can do so right here! (It should be available from Amazon/iBooks/etc shortly, but you can buy it direct from Lulu right now.)
Even if you can’t afford it/can’t buy things on the internet/don’t have an e-reader (this file works with most basic e-reader extensions for chrome and firefox)/et cetera, even just reblogging the post (
and talking about how cool my stuff is) would be awesome. *blows kisses* Thanks for reading!
There’s a little backstory here. Take a seat, grab a cup of coffee.
LGBT(QIAP)+, as you probably realize, is long, unwieldy, and often leaves marginalized peoples out. It also tends to fetishize the L, prioritize the G, criticize the B and forget the T+.
An alternative, GS(R)M was proposed. Proposed in 1966, it stood for Gender, Sexuality (and Romantic) Minorities, and it seemed like a great fit! Until people learned that it was coined by a pedophile, who also wanted to include cishet kinksters, pedophiles, and even rapists in the acronym, as well as other criticisms of the acronym itself. So that was obviously out of the question.
Then MOGII came along, but that one had some evolution. The original term was MOGA, for “Marginalized Orientation and Gender Alignments”. That was cool, but then people began to use MOGAI to include intersex folks who are often left out of important discussions (MOGA… and Intersex). Then it was pointed out that the “A” was somewhat unnecessary and allowed shitty allies a way to weasel themselves in. So, MOGII was born. MOGII stands for Marginalized Orientations, Gender Identity, and Intersex. It’s an excellent catch-all, uses no reclaimed slurs, and makes it entirely about the minorities.
Did you see that video of that baby who stopped crying whenever her parents played Beyonce? I’m pmuch falling into spasms of lols picturing this being the case except Derek is every baby’s Beyonce.
Like, please imagine a situation where Scott’s baby is crying, like NORMAL CRYING, not that anything’s wrong, but it’s just kind of harder to deal with than Scott thought because of enhanced hearing. He can’t really tune her out because hello, goes against every instinct, but also she’s not crying because anything’s wrong. She’s just disgruntled about everything, but especially being put down.
Except Derek walks into a room, and her eyes snap to him and immediately calms down. She super doesn’t care about being put down in her little chair as long as she’s facing Derek, and she just quietly stares at him.
CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE THIS. STILL LAUGHING. STILES RECORDS DEREK ONE AFTERNOON FOR LIKE THREE HOURS. DEREK ISN’T EVEN DOING ANYTHING, IS JUST COOKING AND WASHING DISHES AND SHIT BUT ALL SCOTT HAS TO DO IS PUT IT ON TV AND THE KID STOPS FUSSING AND STARES INTENTLY.
DEREK HALE INADVERTENTLY RUNNING AN INFANT DAYCARE DESPITE HAVING NO QUALIFICATIONS WHATSOEVER JUST CAUSE BABIES LIKE HIM. DEREK GETTING A JOB IN THE NICU BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH THOSE BABIES ARE TOO LITTLE AND SICK TO FOCUS ON HIM, THEY’RE QUIETER AND SEEM TO THRIVE JUST A LITTLE BETTER WHEN HE’S IN THE ROOM. HE JUST BRINGS A BOOK AND SITS IN THE ROCKING CHAIR. EVERY SO OFTEN HE GETS UP AND MAKES ROUNDS, SAYING A GRUFF HELLO TO EACH BABY.
DEREK HALE: EXACTLY HOW HE IS IN CANON EXCEPT SOMEHOW SENDING OUT POSITIVE VIBES TO ALL BABIES.
BUT WE DON’T KNOW THAT HE ISN’T LIKE A BABY MESMERIZER. WE JUST DON’T KNOW. UNTIL I AM SHOWN A BABY THAT STILL CRIES WHEN IT SEES DEREK THIS IS CANON. JUST LIKE THE SHERIFF’S FIRST NAME IS SHERIFF, SCOTT’S DAD’S FIRST NAME IS AGENT AND IT’S ALL A GIANT BAG OF NOMINATIVE DETERMINISM.
"HELLO BABY," DEREK SAYS QUIETLY AS STILES BOGGLES. THE BABY JUST STARES UP AT HIM, EVEN THOUGH DEREK HAS, LIKE, NO BABY TALK AT ALL. STILES CAME IN TO DEREK DESCRIBING THE FUCKING WEATHER TO ONE OF THE KIDS, AND YET THEY STILL COO, AND STARE, AND FIND HIS PRESENCE BIZARRELY COMFORTING. DEREK HALE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT BABIES. STILES HAS TURNED INTO HIS FREAKING PA OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE HE’S THE ONE GOOGLING WHETHER IT’S OKAY TO FEED THEM STEAK, AND HOW TO PREVENT DIAPER RASH WHILE DEREK JUST EXISTS AROUND THEM AND OCCASIONALLY TELLS THEM INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS THINGS. “HELLO, YOU’RE SMALL,” DEREK SAYS SOLEMNLY TO ONE BABY, BENDING DOWN TO RUN A FINGER ALONG THE ARCH OF HIS FOOT. THE BABY LOOKS AT HIM LIKE HE’S JUST EXPLAINED STRING THEORY USING BELL PEPPERS.
"YOU’D BE NOTHING WITHOUT ME," STILES HISSES. "AND YEAH, THAT SOFT SPOT ON THEIR HEADS IS MEANT TO BE THERE."
DEREK SITS BACK DOWN AND STARTS WHITTLING AGAIN. THE BABIES LIE IN A CIRCLE SO THEY CAN ALL SEE HIM, AND STARE, TRANSFIXED.
omega werewolf babies.
Derek gets a reputation eventually. He has a youtube channel which is him reading instruction manuals out loud, sat in a rocking chair in front of a fire, which has had over a million hits. He’s pretty bemused by the whole thing. Then the Werewolf social services call him, and he’s a little twitchy at first because he thinks he got Scott to cosign Isaac’s college applications but he’s not completely sure, but it turns out it’s not because he’s gotten tangled up in werewolf bureaucracy again. It’s because there’s a baby born wolf who’s lost its pack, and they don’t know what to do. They’ve tried everything, and they’ve got five of their best case workers on it, but the cub won’t stop crying, and it’s getting closer to the full moon and it’s getting literally painful to be in hearing range of it.
Derek’s saying yes before he’s really thought about it, then sits down and stares at the table for a few minutes. The first few months after the fire, he and Laura were shunned by other werewolves. Their grief, the taboo of being born wolves without a family, Derek’s guilt and confusion— it was something that carried a scent and sound that made everybody edgy. For a cub to be going through that loss without an anchor is unthinkable. He’s still sitting there when Scott and Stiles come in, still having their eternal fire hydrant on ice skates debate (Stiles is for, Scott against). They’re at his side immediately, their hands on each of his shoulders.
"There’s— there’s a cub. In Oregon," he says, and they both immediately go into planning mode, and before he knows it they’re bundled into Stiles’s jeep, Stiles is trying to persuade Scott that the whole of Tusk is good road trip music and he’s not sure how he thought he was going to get to the cub but this is a better way.
They get there crumpled and tired, smelling of Stiles’s jeep and motel beds. Scott’s on edge as soon as they get in hearing range. Stiles picks up on their uneasiness, does all the talking as they get closer and closer to the desolate, exhausted sounding cries. Scott and Stiles wait in the corridor as the caseworker opens the door, shows him in, her eyes glowing yellow in her distress , nails making gouges in the doorframe.
He nods to her, closes the door behind him and looks at the cub. Her name’s Emma, and she doesn’t have a pack any more. She smells like grief and everything that’s wrong with the world, and he tastes ash at the back of his throat. She hasn’t seen him yet, changing forms as she thrashes on the mattress, leaving tears in the fabric, clouds of stuffing and feathers around her. “I, uh, I like your dress,” he says quietly. It used to have sunflowers on it, he thinks. He can see patches of bright, bright yellow. He comes to the edge of the mattress, sits down, taking deep breaths to keep himself under control. It’s unbearable. “I like yellow. It’s a good color. People— happy people wear it.”
She stills a little, the spaces between her form changes getting longer. “And your eyes go yellow too, when you get your little fangs and your claws. Maybe your mom wanted to match your dress to your eyes, huh?” It gets a little easier to breathe as the pitch of her cries becomes less urgent. He keeps talking to her, stretches his legs out on the mattress, his back to the wall. He doesn’t touch her yet, though, just lets her get used to his scent, the sounds he makes. When she’s quietened down to making hiccoughing sounds, eyes flashing as her body spasms, he puts his hand out and puts it on her foot.
"Hey you," he says, and can’t help smiling when she goes limp and stares at him with rapt, trusting eyes. It feels a little like he’s come through a storm. He can breathe again, without the crushing bands around his chest, his head. He brushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead, tickles her gums where her fangs drop, like his mom used to. "Stiles, Scott. She needs feeding and bathing, new clothes. Come in when you have them, but come in quietly, you hear?"
"Sure thing, buddy," Scott says, starts charming the caseworkers. He doesn’t want too many strange people in here yet. He picks her up, supporting her head, rests her on his crooked-up thighs and just looks at her. She’s filthy, a little dehydrated, and has no control yet. He’s not sure what the werewolf family services will do with her. He smiles as she grabs a handful of his sweater in her hand, starts mouthing at the fabric.
"You’ll be okay. Good cub," and yes, his conversation could do with some work, but she’s a baby. All he needs to do, really, is be in the same room. He’s already trying to work out if being terrible at paperwork is going to count against him in the adoption process. He can always nominate Scott and Stiles as responsible co-parents. Or something.
Two days later, they’re in an office. Scott and Stiles are sitting either side of him, and he feels a little bit like he’s walked into a double act. Three out of the five caseworkers are actually pinching the bridges of their noses. The other two have audibly sighed three times. He’s enjoying it, in a horrified sort of way. “Mr Hale, while we understand that the…situation in Beacon Hills has stabilized now, there is the matter of your personal life. There has been a certain pattern in your choice of partner,” and the woman breaks off there, all delicate pauses and inferences. Stiles leans forwards, a shit-eating grin on his face.