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titsay
Three Goblin Art
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@theartofmadeline
Cosmic Funnies
Jules of Nature
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Xuebing Du
tumblr dot com
styofa doing anything
$LAYYYTER
Show & Tell
if i look back, i am lost
JVL
Mike Driver
d e v o n
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trying on a metaphor
blake kathryn
seen from Kenya
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
@bthelove
Happy #ObamaDay
(photos by pete souza, official white house photographer)
thank you.
Jesus 😭
this is the presidential equivalent of scrolling through your ex’s facebook because you know you fucked up by letting them get away
I’m actually crying right now holy shit I miss him so much😫
😫😫😫
America didn’t appreciate this man, this is why we now have the orange devil.
Celia Cruz 1967 performing “Guantanamera”
“Bad & Boujee” over Earth Wind & Fire “September” is the best representation of who I am as a person.
hi guys.
Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
woo-the fuck-sah
the missionary’s wife who, despite hearing me speak accentless English, kept asking me (in shitty creole, no less), what led me to work with the precious white students. she was old (94) and her behavior towards me reflected it.
her insistence that my family would know of her because she’s been there for 40 million years and that by reading her (white) son’s book, my students would know the haitian people. what makes him an expert? cuz he went to school with other little haitians as a child.
that racist as fuuuck museum, open to to the public, that had artifacts that painted haitians and infantilized them. that said haiti emerged from “the great flood.” that haitians celebrate rara as a way to commemorate the crucifixion of Christ. that haiti’s circumstance is due to its dedication to voodoo. that africans in chains were what was supposed to be for a time.
that somehow, the directors of this school thought that this was ok to bring us to. fuck them. that they had this conversation about race that made me and those like me around the table and nearby invisible. and that i had to swallow my own feelings because this isn’t my bridge to burn.
“on our way out tomorrow, let’s stop by the new women’s prison so you can take pictures!!”
---
there were some excellent things that happened. today was just a complete shit show. we met this swiss artist who calls haiti her home who is doing great work trying to present the history of haitian art to the world. her use of “we” is thought-provoking, to say the least. i’m going to have to sit with that.
the exhibit. oh goodness. the hall. i could make myself an artist and live there.
my conversation with our student, who affirmed everything i was feeling (though, i feel for her and the other students here who have to deal with the fuckshit)
my ability to see areas of haiti i had never been--delmas, fort jacques, petionville.
---
i’m going to seethe some more. then i’ll sleep. then i’ll deeply reflect tomorrow.
Photographer Akasha Rabut spent three years photographing the only all-female African American motorcycle club in New Orleans.
Founded in 2005, the all-female motorcycle club meets every Sunday to cruise through the streets of New Orleans and share in the sisterhood of partaking in what is often a male-dominated arena.
“The motorcycle and MC [motorcycle club] world is very male-dominated, so to be African American and be a woman involved in this predominantly male world was also really fascinating.”
the contrast between their glamorous looks and gritty bikes sets them apart from other riders.
“Watching them dressed so feminine, and then being on these really masculine machines and being able to control them and do tricks on them, is visually stunning,” she said.
That is so damn badass! I’m in love!!!!!!
i’m obsessed with the idea of all black girl gangs.
Black women helping, fighting for and supporting other black women is what we need.
#BlackGirlsMagic
What did you smell?
Odd question to go with, but ok.
Continuing reflection with the students. Today included a trip to the city: the Mupanah, the Artist Village Market.
So, what did I smell:
Petrol---thought about the quality of air with so many trucks, buses, cars, and motorcycles in constant motion. All running on diesel.
Hallowed ground. The museum had that airy, clean smell that comes with storing history. It was comforting to me.
Sweat. My own and others. It was a hot day.
The cologne of the man who was way too close to me as he tried to get me and those around me to buy his art.
Rarely, the comingling of human and animal waste. Especially when the hot breeze picked up.
Sunscreen. Bug spray.
Still waters not running deep, but holding the trash that accumulates on the side of the road, in the middle of the road. Particularly the deeper into Port-au-Prince we went.
Oh, hi! It’s been a while!
What did you see?
This is my third time in Haiti, and unlike my previous two times, I’m here with a small group of students from my job. This is an educational experience for them (their learning about the use of land across Haitian history), and part of that is an immersive experience in my homeland. For me, it’s also somewhat educational--I’m going to visit landmarks and see exhibitions that I wouldn’t normally see if I was with family (a trip to Haiti for them means a trip to see relatives and little else). Anyway, at night, the students and faculty debrief, so tonight, our prompt is: What did you see?
We all went to the market today to buy ingredients for our meal (fritay), and I saw heads whipping around as they stared at the line of 6 "blan” and my black self taking up the rear. I saw people look at our smaller group suspiciously. I felt...very American and very conspicuous being in this crew of white folks. Despite being in a marketplace full of people who speak the language that’s infused in my consciousness, and people who look like my aunties and cousins and me, I still felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t until we paused our trek, and waited to meet up with the rest of the group, and a few female vendors started asking me questions about why “they” were there, that I started to feel better. They treated me like they knew what was up, that I had a job to do showing these white people around. A couple intimated their dislike of white people, and I could only laugh. Nobody questioned my Haitianness or commented on my accent or anything. It was a series of candid conversations, and I loved every minute of it.
I saw an industrious people making a living for themselves. But that is woven in the fabric of Haiti. Nothing new there.
I see students on this campus (also run by white folks) working super hard to be accommodating. And I hope that the school is serving them well. I also see (and hope for) their opportunities.
I see change...I’m not sure in what way, but some things feel different from my last two trips.
I saw children--running through the market. Some were in uniforms, some weren’t (perhaps they had accompanied their parents to sell their wares).
I saw young people holding hands, hanging out, cracking jokes. I saw all sorts of hairstyles in different states of completion. Naturals, relaxed, braids.
I saw an emphasis on security. Large guns ensure safety here.
I humor myself
Me (as we're buckling up): Got a preference for music? Him: Something for date night. Me: (scrolls phone) Radio: "All you ladies pop yo' pussy like this..." Him:
African Curry with Cauliflower
Curious as to which part of Africa...
...but it looks delicious.
I need...
Something.
Spinach and Artichoke Chicken Alfredo Pasta
Really nice recipes. Every hour.
Show me what you cooked!
Soon come.
“Daddy Lessons”
on heavy repeat
For more than three hours last night, my mom and I had a conversation as two women and not just as mother and daughter. I got out of bed this morning understanding her more and having a deeper respect and love for her than I ever realized I could have.
Congratulations Ciara!
