"...followed by a brisk mauling."
| Alhamdulillah |
| Adopt this trustmark on Trustmarker |
-
I need feminism because other people shouldn’t shame me for wanting to be a single mom
This. Fucking this. Always.
-
Love this! It’s so true & perfect!
-
This is why gender neutral bathrooms are necessary
Some places around here have gender neutral bathrooms...
-
All things truly wicked start from innocence.
-
His shirt reads “They gave me a medal for killing two men, and a discharge for loving one.”
You are a bad-ass.
I don’t know if rape jokes encourage rape culture. I don’t care. You still shouldn’t tell them.
Statistically, if you have told a rape joke to a group of more than five people, one of the people you told it to was a rape survivor, possibly of multiple rapes. They will not necessarily disclose this to you; rape apologism is endemic in society and most rape survivors are cautious about whom they tell. Some may even be too ashamed of their rape to admit it to anyone, or because of rape-minimizing narratives like “men can’t be raped” and “I consented to oral, so I couldn’t have been raped” may not admit it even to themselves. The fact remains: if you’ve told dozens of rape jokes in your life, then you have almost certainly told a joke that minimizes or trivializes rape in front of a survivor.
And if you put as your Facebook status “I totally raped at Halo today” for your two hundred Facebook friends to see, statistically, you have just reminded thirty-three people of one of the worst experiences of their entire lives.
To describe how well you did at a video game.
Good job!
An Addendum, On Rape Jokes. (via transformfeminism)
THIS.
I seriously don’t get why so many people—including my best friends, who know exactly what I’ve been through because I’ve sat down and told them—insist on making rape jokes in front of me, or using that word for anything other than what it’s intended.
Because I really don’t want to relive this each and every day. Okay? Okay.
(via subtletysmyweakness)
(via vicktorina)
I hate my body.
I make myself nauseous when I see myself. My body sickens me. My body disgusts me. I disgust me.
I have internalized so much anger and shame and guilt and hatred that it’s become a part of me.
I am disgusting.
I want to take pictures of my body and post them here. I want to scream as loud as I can that I am beautiful, that this fucked-up society that helped create me hasn’t broken me, that being beaten and raped hasn’t broken me, that being called a hippo, elephant, and cow hasn’t broken me, that you abusive misogynistic ex-boyfriends and lovers who have placed all of my worth solely on my body are wrong—I am and always will be more than how I look; my body is the least important part of me and I refuse to let you redefine me as simply an object. I want to shout until my voice is gone that you’re hurting me, Goddamnit, and by pointing out how fat and gross I am—well, maybe you’re trying to help, but it just hurts.
But I am disgusting. I have a double chin, a roll of fat on my neck. My torso is all fat: breasts, stomach, ass. I used to look pregnant. I don’t anymore; now it’s quite clear that I’m just fat. I’m cartoon-character, Harry-Potter’s-aunt, balloon fat.
While I was walking on the sidewalk today the wind was blowing blossoms off the trees. I want to be like that: lithe and graceful, thin and pretty.
I’m not. I don’t think that I ever will be, but I certainly am not now.
And for fuck’s sake, I want to be one of those beautiful girls who really believes that her beauty comes from something other than the pure fetishization and objectification of her body. I want to be one of those wonderful women who truly understands how fucked our system of beauty is, that there is nothing wrong with looking the way she does, that she is gorgeous and has the right to be so.
But I’m not. I’m not. I base my worth on my body and my body is hideous.
I don’t want to feel like this. I want to have worth. I want to love myself. I want to practice what I preach, damnit. But I don’t and maybe I can’t.
I think the worst part is feeling shame for feeling shame. My entire political and philosophical mind recognizes that the way I feel about my body and self is unhealthy. Feminism teaches me to love myself the way I am, because everyone is beautiful. Islam teaches me to love myself the way I am, because Allah created me thus and anything created by Allah is holy, sacred, and worthy of love.
So many counter-culture images tell me to love myself regardless of how I fit into the average female ideal. So I’m 255 lbs. So I’m a size 22. So I’m heavier than anyone in my entire family. I need to love myself.
One of the men who means the most to me, one of the men who is honest about me, took me aside the other day when it was quite clear that I was really loathing myself. He tried to insist there was nothing wrong with me. There was nothing wrong with the way I looked. Our ideal woman is based on some really fucked-up principles, and 100, 200, 300 years ago, I would basically be the ideal. That I’m beautiful, and it’s our society that’s fucked.
But I’m still constantly turned down based on how I look. I’m still constantly judged based on my weight. The people who try and make me like myself are the same people who think sleeping with me—as I now look—would mean they’d be ridiculed by our friends (who are my friends too, supposedly).
So society tells me to hate the way I look And then society tells me that I should love myself no matter how I look. So then I feel guilt and shame and hatred based on how fat I am, and then I feel guilt and shame and hatred for feeling badly about how I look. It’s this spiral of self-loathing and I’m stuck in it and completely unsure of how to get out.
I hate myself, and I hate myself for hating myself. It’s pretty messed up
(And if someone drops the word “Rubenesque,” I will slap you. That word’s become a cop-out, at least in my life, to make me feel momentarily better for being ugly).
Ryan Gosling, actor and feminist, in a letter protesting the NC-17 rating of Blue Valentine. The rating was based on one consensual sex scene, in which he goes down on Michelle Williams. (via ladiebear)
Let’s bring this back.
Word.
(via itscandidlycara)
(via eloquentandbrave)
Because we have.
When a fetus’ right to life is legally more valid than its mother’s, we have a SERIOUS DAMN PROBLEM.
It violates medical ethics by forcing doctors to perform medically unnecessary procedures and discounting women’s ability to make personal health decisions without the government’s interference.
“The court has resoundingly affirmed what should not be a matter of controversy at all — that women have both a fundamental right to make their own choices about their reproductive health, and that government has no place in their decisions,” said Nancy Northup, president and CEO of the Center for Reproductive Rights.
Finally some good news. At least for the moment, it’s no longer legal to rape women seeking abortions in Oklahoma (and for those of you saying it’s not rape? Fuck off. If the woman chooses not to consent to having something shoved into her vagina, it’s rape. Go read Oklahoma’s sexual assault and rape laws; I have. This counts as rape in OK, and most other states as well).
Yes, it’s about sparkly vampires and werewolves fighting over a girl. Yes, normal vampires don’t sparkle..I get it. As a Twilight fan, I’ve heard it all.
Why do Harry Potter fans and Hunger Games fans, etc, bash on it so much? It’s a different genre, so it’s not like it’s competing with HP. That would be a bit different.
It’s the haters of the saga that make Twilight fans embarassed to be Twilight fans. And the books are so much better than the movies. And give it a chance before you hate and call it gay. It’s not gay.
We all have different intrests, deal with it and accept me for who I am instead of judging me for what I like.
Oh, and for the record, I am a Hunger Games fan too.
nose-stuck-in-a-bookk.tumblr.com
You’re right… it’s not gay… it’s paedophilia.
People wouldn’t hate it so much if it wasn’t so problematic against women’s rights and the whole pedophilia issue.
Don’t forget the abusive relationship part.
Yes, OP has rather missed the point. Sparkly vampires are inherently silly, sure, but that’s not the problem. I like a lot of silly things myself! You want to read about a sparkly vampire love story, I won’t stop you.
My problem with Twilight, and why I (and a whole lot of other people) ‘hate on it’ is the sexism, racism, glorification of abusive relationships, thinly veiled religious propaganda, highly questionable morality on the part of the protagonists, constant undermining of women’s rights, worrying subtext on vital and complex issues such as rape and abortion, and the fact that all this shit is aimed at pre-teen girls.
The fact that there might be young people growing up today who think that removing your girlfriend’s car engine so that she can’t visit her friend is a romantic gesture, scares me.
The fact that a guy falls in love with a baby and then grooms her throughout infancy to love him, even giving her a ‘promise ring’ when she is still a child and this is seen as a healthy relationship, scares me.
The fact that at one point two of the male ‘heroes’ have a conversation about forcibly knocking a girl out with drugs and aborting her baby without her consent, scares me.
The fact that this series of books is so popular really fucking scares me. As someone who has read all of them, I have nothing but anger and contempt for the series. So no, I won’t ‘judge you for what you like’. I will however, continue judging the shit out of these books, and I will not stop openly speaking out about how terrible and damaging they are.
All the awards my friend, all the awards.
THAT
Standing ovation, my friend.
Reasons why I hate Twilight.
THIS
(via eloquentandbrave)
The following day, I attended a workshop about preventing gender violence, facilitated by Katz. There, he posed a question to all of the men in the room: “Men, what things do you do to protect yourself from being raped or sexually assaulted?”
Not one man, including myself, could quickly answer the question. Finally, one man raised his hand and said, “Nothing.” Then Katz asked the women, “What things do you do to protect yourself from being raped or sexually assaulted?” Nearly all of the women in the room raised their hand. One by one, each woman testified:
“I don’t make eye contact with men when I walk down the street,” said one.
“I don’t put my drink down at parties,” said another.
“I use the buddy system when I go to parties.”
“I cross the street when I see a group of guys walking in my direction.”
“I use my keys as a potential weapon.”
The women went on for several minutes, until their side of the blackboard was completely filled with responses. The men’s side of the blackboard was blank. I was stunned. I had never heard a group of women say these things before. I thought about all of the women in my life — including my mother, sister and girlfriend — and realized that I had a lot to learn about gender.
Why I Am A Male Feminist (via meggannn)
Side note: For me, I do all these things. And if there are people I do not know at a party, I might not drink at all.
(via clgomalley)
I’m lonely and desperately want to make some friends, and start dating again. I don’t, because I’m too stuck in this trying-to-protect-myself-from-being-raped mode. And here’s the thing that really fucks with me: It’s not only expected of me to be in that mode, it’s actually probably a good idea. I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than be in a situation where I could get raped again.
(via clgomalley)
