To be white, or straight, or male, or middle class is to be simultaneously ubiquitious and invisible. You’re everywhere you look, you’re the standard against which everyone else is measured. You’re like water, like air. People will tell you they went to see a “woman doctor” or they will say they went to see “the doctor.” People will tell you they have a “gay colleague” or they’ll tell you about a colleague. A white person will be happy to tell you about a “Black friend,” but when that same person simply mentions a “friend,” everyone will assume the person is white. Any college course that doesn’t have the word “woman” or “gay” or “minority” in its title is a course about men, heterosexuals, and white people. But we call those courses “literature,” “history” or “political science.”
This invisibility is political.
”—Michael S. Kimmel, in the introduction to the book, “Privilege: A Reader” (via aimmyarrowshigh)
“People are like cities: We all have alleys and gardens and secret rooftops and places where daisies sprout between the sidewalk cracks, but most of the time all we let each other see is is a postcard glimpse of a skyline or a polished square. Love lets you find those hidden places in another person, even the ones they didn’t know were there, even the ones they wouldn’t have thought to call beautiful themselves.”—Hilary J. Smith, Wild Awake (via anditslove)
(This is not a guide.)
Listen to whatever songs make you wish you had heard them years before.
Kiss, long, hard, enthusiastically, and unapologetically.
Find out what you like, do as many of those things as much as you can.
Never use the word ‘should.’
Recognize firsts and lasts. Wave at them as they go by, but never dwell on them.
It’s been years, years that we’ve been sitting these kitchens making brownies. We sit around, a warm breeze brushes through the window, and count the summers since we had that perfect day lying in the sun or since we felt bats flutter in front of our faces on the edge of the canyon.
Friendship isn’t hard, but it isn’t easy either. These are the people I love the most. These are the people who have never gone away. No matter what life is like, no matter how many timezones apart we are, we are each other’s family above family.
We get excited about the same sandwiches. We climb trees. We wander through parks. We travel. We lose each other; we find each other again. We always seem to come back to some kitchen with some brownies. You are my people.
people blow my mind sometimes. like… this shit exists. today, my school banned a student film’s advertising poster because too much of the (brown, female) actress’ CLEAVAGE was showing. tell me more about how we are supposed to be whole human beings, please biola. all I have ever heard from you is that I should hate myself because I am a woman. I also read a comment on an article from a current student who compared high taxation of the white middle class to slavery. sorry, sad white person, but paying your taxes is in no way, ABSOLUTELY NO WAY similar or even remotely related to actual enslavement. I just… I can’t.
If owning a gun and knowing how to use it worked, the military would be the safest place for a woman. It’s not.
If women covering up their bodies worked, Afghanistan would have a lower rate of sexual assault than Polynesia. It doesn’t.
If not drinking alcohol worked, children would not be raped. They are.
If your advice to a woman to avoid rape is to be the most modestly dressed, soberest and first to go home, you may as well add “so the rapist will choose someone else”.
If your response to hearing a woman has been raped is “she didn’t have to go to that bar/nightclub/party” you are saying that you want bars, nightclubs and parties to have no women in them. Unless you want the women to show up, but wear kaftans and drink orange juice. Good luck selling either of those options to your friends.
“I would like to see us stop trying to be so damn civil to the people who are hurting us. I would like for us to stop thinking we need to prove anything to them. They need to prove to us that they can respect our lives enough to make social policy that stops battery.”—Andrea Dworkin, “Freedom Now” (via et—cetera)
“Things are not nearly so comprehensible and sayable as we are generally made to believe. Most experiences are unsayable; they come to fullness in a realm that words do not inhabit. And most unsayable of all are works of art, which — alongside our transient lives — mysteriously endure.”—Rainer Maria Rilke, from Letters to a Young Poet (via litafficionado)
“For you, I wish eyes, capable of seeing signs and glitters of hope in our darkness.
For you, I wish truthful lips, that could break our silence. So, we speak of everything that has put us in chains.”—Ahmad Shamlou (via loveyourpoetry)
The fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter whether or not you think homosexuality is a sin. Let me say that again. It does not matter if you think homosexuality is a sin, or if you think it is simply another expression of human love. It doesn’t matter. Why doesn’t it matter? Because people are dying. Kids are literally killing themselves because they are so tired of being rejected and dehumanized that they feel their only option left is to end their life. As a Youth Pastor, this makes me physically ill. And as a human, it should make you feel the same way. So, I’m through with the debate.
When faced with the choice between being theologically correct…as if this is even possible…and being morally responsible, I’ll go with morally responsible every time.
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
In the family of things.”—"Wild Geese," Mary Oliver (via asongwithnoend)
“But confusingly, misogynists are sometimes men who speak softly and eat vegan and say “a woman’s sexual freedom is an essential component to her liberation. So come here.” It’s a tricky world out there. And while I’d prefer a critical approach to gender from men I elect, read and even bed, in my experience, the so-called feminist men I’ve met deep down have not been less antagonistic or bigoted toward women. What I see over and over again is misogyny in sheep’s clothing, and at this point, I would rather see wolves as wolves.”—
Yes this. All too often they end up being the worst offenders because a.) they assume they’re excluded from your critique of patriarchy and have not done the work of internalizing it and decentering themselves and b.) they expect a cookie for the most basic allowances and understanding and get irritable and shitty (saying stuff like “well your attitude isn’t helping your cause!” or “you should be grateful for allies like me!”) when you don’t give it to them. They are the worst because they have some of the language down and have abstractly accepted some of the concepts but they’ve done nothing to really attack and dismantle their own privilege. Not only that, they’re smug little shits. I really just don’t care for men in feminist spaces at all unless they stfu and listen.