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"I condemn the whole lot." “And the french as well?” “And the french as well.” “Things aren’t so jolly easy,” said Philip, more to himself than to her.
E. M. Forster, Where Angels Fear to Tread (via aaboutblank)
I think as you grow older your christmas list gets smaller and the things you really want for the holidays can’t be bought
(via theglossiernerd)
Shanghai, China, 1989. By Steve McCurry.
Mother and Daughter, India
Photograph by William Albert Allard
Sunbathers run for cover from a summer rain shower in Rio de Janeiro, September 1962-Winfield Parks, National Geographic
When people say ‘This is my baby,’ they don’t always mean a baby. Sometimes they mean a dog.
A Somali student, on what has surprised her most about the United States. (via africandogontheprairie)
Charlotte Rampling by Helmut Newton, 1976.
The term “illegal immigrant” was first used in 1939 as a slur by the British toward Jews who were fleeing the Nazis and entering Palestine without authorization. Holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel aptly said that “no human being is illegal.”
Why ‘illegal immigrant’ is a slur - CNN.com (via galileogalllei)
Men feed birds in the Yamuna river in New Delhi on November 23, 2012. (Tsering Topgyal/AP)
I’m a man. When I was born my grandfather congratulated my dad for having a son, and thanked my mother for giving my father a son. I got my grandfather’s name. When I was a child, I could play with LEGO, because “Lego is a boy thing” and that helped my creativity. My ability to solve problems was stimulated. I got HotWheels car-washes and gas stations. I also got a box of plastic tools, to assemble and disassemble toy cars and trucks. That also stimulated my creativity and developed my logic capability, which is good for every child. In my school day, the girls wore skirts and my friends lifted their skirts. It was a mess, So they were forbidden to wear skirts. I never saw a boy actually get punished for it though, after all “Boys are just like that. Took after his father this menace” - is what I usually heard At home, with my family, I liked to play house with a younger cousin. We were around eight. I was the dad, she was the mom and the dolls were our children. While playing, when i carried the dolls in my arms my mother would get mad: “Let go of that doll boy, that’s a girl thing”. And my little cousin’s father, when he saw us playing, wouldn’t let her do it either. He said boys play with boys and girls play with girls because “boys are very stupid, and worse, very forward”. I did not consider myself stupid, and did not understand what he meant by “forward”, but I still did as I was told At Christmas, my sister got a Barbie and I got a beyblade. She cried a bit because my toy was much cooler than hers, but every year my mother made the same mistake, and got her a doll, a toy stove, a toy fridge, a blender, everything pink, once mom got her an iron When I turned 15 and started dating, my father bought me some condoms During my teenage years, no one criticized me for kissing lots of girls. Nowadays, that still stands. My father does not get mad at me when I don’t come home for the night, He does not say I need to be a “family boy”. He never slapped me in the face for thinking I’d spent the night at a motel. No one lectures me saying I need to be reserved and play hard to get. No one judges me when I want to be with a girl and take initiative No one cares about my clothes; no one says I have to preserve myself. No one says I have to preserve myself because “women only think about sex” No one think my girlfriends were only with me for sex. No one thinks that, when I have sex, that I’m submitting to the wishes of my partner No one demonizes my orgasms. I was never judged for carrying condoms in my backpack or in my wallet I never had to hide my condoms from my parents. I was never told to marry a virgin because I was a man I was never told that “men have to value themselves” or that I had to “give myself the respect”. Apparently, my gender already makes me worthy of respect. When I go out into the streets no one tells me I’m “delicious” No unknown woman shouts “smoking hot” my way I can walk down the streets having an ice cream cone at ease, because I know I won’t hear things like “drop that and come suck me”. I can even walk down the streets eating a banana I never had to cross a street, even though it was out of my way, to avoid a group of women in a bar, who will probably catcall me when I pass, embarrassing me I never had to walk in sweatpants, because my shorts leave my legs exposed, and that could be dangerous I never heard someone say I was “shameless” because I went out without a shirt No one regulates my work out clothes No one cares about my clothes period. I was never followed by a woman in a car when I was walking back home I can catch a crowded subway everyday and surely no woman will rub against me, to record it and throw it on some porn website No one ever had to create a subway wagon that was “just for men” I never heard of someone of my gender being raped by a crowd I can get on a bus by myself in the middle of the night When I’m not carrying anything valuable, I no longer feel threatened, because I don’t fear getting raped at any moment, at every corner. That risk does not exist in the minds of the people of my gender. When I go out at night I can wear whatever clothes I want. If I suffer any kind of violence, no one blames me for being drunk, or for wearing certain clothes If, one day, I was raped, no one would say it was my fault; that I was somewhere inadequate, that I had on a revealing outfit No one would try to justify the rape based on my behavior I would be treated as a VICTIM and that would be it. No one thinks I’m vulgar because when it’s cold, my nipples show through my shirt When I have sex with a woman on the first date I practically get a standing ovation. No one calls me a “tramp”, or “easy” or a “whore” because I have casual sex sometimes 99% of porn websites are made to please me and men in general No one is shocked when I say I watch porn No one judges me if I say I love sex No one cares if I read erotic literature No one is surprised to hear I masturbate No mother-in-law will tell her daughter not to marry me because I’m not a virgin No one criticizes me for investing in my career When I have the same job position as a woman, my salary is never inferior to hers If I am promoted, no one says it’s because I slept with my boss. People believe in my merit If I have to travel for work and leave my kids with their mother for a few days no one calls me irresponsible No one finds it strange that, at thirty years old, I still don’t have kids No one guesses my sexual orientation based on the length of my hair When my hair starts to grey, people will find it sexy, not think I’m letting go of myself Society does not see my virginity as a prize 90% of military services are destined to people of my gender, even the higher jobs, in which the official only deals with paperwork and management If I go out with a certain outfit no one says I’m “asking for it” If I’m at club and a woman performs oral sex on me, I’m not the “whore” or the “tramp”, she is. If a video of me having sex with a woman gets leaked, no one will call me names, criticize me, stone me. I won’t be the “disgusting little bitch” I won’t be “thrash” or “used” or “cheap”. I’d just be the man, fulfilling my alpha guy position in society. If I lead a promiscuous lifestyle and then fall in love with just one woman, people think its beautiful. No one judges me based on my past. No one says it’s disgusting if I don’t shave myself No one would judge me for being a single dad. On the contrary, I’d be seen as a hero. I’ll never be stopped from occupying a higher position in the Catholic Church for being a man I was never beaten up for being a man I was never obligated to do housework for being a man I never had the obligation to learn how to cook for being a man No one tells me my place is in the kitchen for being a man No one says I can’t curse for being a man No one says I can’t drink for being a man No one stares at my plate if I put a lot of food in it No one justifies my foul mood by blaming it on hormones No one has ever made jokes that undermined my intelligence for being a man When I sometimes mess up in traffic no one says “It had to be a man” When I’m polite to a woman she doesn’t automatically assume I’m hitting on her The term “tramp stamp” did not come into existence because men were seen as cheap No one treats my body as just a tool for giving pleasure to the opposite sex No one thinks I’ll have to be submissive to a future wife I was never judged for drinking beer at table in which I was the only man I’m never the target audience for house cleaning products ads I’m the target audience for beer ads No one’s ever asked me if my girlfriend lets me cut my hair. I cut it when I want to and people understand that. There isn’t haze at USP (a university) that promotes my humiliation and objectification Society doesn’t split my gender in “to marry” and “to whore” When I say “no” no one thinks I’m just playing hard to get. No is no. I don’t have to dress a certain way to avoid having women falling into temptation People of my gender were not raped each 40 minutes in São Paulo last year People of my gender don’t get raped every 12 seconds in Brazil People of my gender didn’t get raped by a crowd during protests in Egypt I’m not a man. But if you are, it’s fundamental to admit that society AS A WHOLE needs feminism Don’t underestimate suffering that you don’t understand.
Camila Oliveira Dias
(This was originally in portuguese and I translated it, there are very slight alterations, because some expressions don’t have exact correspondents in english, I did my best, if you find any typos please message me, and I will correct them.)
r u from europe because europiece of shit
Fast forward ten years. The first thing you will notice is that you are taller. Not necessarily farther from the ground, but closer to the sky. This may at first be dizzying, especially if you never learned how to breathe. Practice. Meet your lungs. Take note of the way your skin fits, how your bones have grown into your skeleton. Your shoulders are perfectly balanced at the top of your spine. Your arms are long enough to reach your hands. This, you will discover, is what people who know anything mean when they say beautiful. Investigate the body you are in. Reach for both horizons at once and discover your wingspan. Crack your knuckles. Lick the gap between your teeth. Place your fingers against the underside of your wrist and feel for a pulse. If you have one, it means you’re lonely. That’s good. This is a good world to be lonely in. Explore the space you take up, the way your body displaces air in the shape of: calves, hips, belly, chin. Trace the path of tingling from lips to nipples to between your legs. Notice that your skin is the color of new skin after the old skin has peeled away. Feel underneath your sternum: there. A scar. Your body has opened up, allowed egress to something it no longer needed, like an appendix. This was painful once, as doorways always are. Excavate yourself. Turn inside out like a pocket and examine what falls to the ground. There should be just enough coins to take a bus to anywhere. A pressed flower with a breath of purple left in it, the exact shade of I will always remember you fondly. Keys meant to open something old and worthy. Lint. The lint means you have been places, smelled dust, shaken off dead cells. A piece of paper with a name on it. Nothing sharp: you don’t carry razor blades under your fingernails anymore. The suitcase you packed before leaving your parents’ house is here, spine-creased books and a one-eyed stuffed dog. The green dress that made your collarbone a lie. Your first lipstick. Jeans that will always have the stain from that night, an empty whiskey bottle. Spread them out like tarot cards on the pavement: the past, the present, the wish. Where the tenth and final card would be, place yourself. Practice listening to sounds other than the grinding of your teeth. Songs are a good place to start, especially songs with piano accompaniment and lyrics about changing seasons. Listen to crickets. Learn how to divine the temperature from their chirps. Listen to the ground underneath you. Gravity will keep you here until you are ready to leave. You can still recite those sad poems from memory, but they don’t resonate in your chest the way they used to. You can walk across a bridge without counting the seconds between your bones and the concrete below. There is an ocean, but it is far away, not filling up your mouth. There will be people who want to touch you gently. You know that you can still feel pain, in your eyes and hands especially. But in this moment, all you know of your body is open arms.
Lindsay Miller, from For The Queer Girls Who Dream Of Drowning (via violentwavesofemotion)