I Doubt Anyone Will See This, But Here You Are

Hi. Haniya | Pakistan | Feminist | Writer | Teenager

[spock-me-hard-deactivated201401]

did someone say…

star trek

[apple-duty]

The introvert version:

[dykespeare-deactivated20181228]

reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful

[weavemama]

America is about to be that part in the lion king where where pride rock became all shitty bc Scar became king

[0fthem0untains]

have yet to see a better analogy

[mysticmoonhigh-deactivated20211]

Are you implying Hilary Clinton’s daughter will assassinate Donald Trump because I’m okay with this

[breelandwalker]

Actually, if we follow the narrative, I think it would be the Obama daughters. Which would be even MORE awesome.

[qi-mera]

Malia’s gonna fight Trump on the roof of the Whitehouse while it’s on fire.

[kyraneko]

Didn’t Scar get killed by the hyenas, who turned against him when he tried to throw blame at them while begging for his life?

The equivalent would be Trump cornered by both Obama sisters on the White House roof (yes, while it’s on fire, I can totally believe that Trump will somehow lead to the White House catching fire at some point) insisting that “we’re all friends against the Republican establishment, it’s their fault” and Sasha and Malia quote one of Trump’s tweets back at him to tell him to get the fuck out; Trump scurries away and runs right into Pence and Cruz. 

“Our fault, is it, Donald?”

[bemusedlybespectacled]

Alternatively, since Scar originally gained the support of the hyenas by promising them a better life with lots of food, Trump is clearly going to fall off the roof of the White House into the arms of the Republican base that voted for him because he promised them a better economy.

[damnitrj]

Okay but then who’s going to dress in drag and do the hula?

[urboyrosanov]

Joe Biden??

[nodaybuttodaytodefygravity]

Definitely Joe Biden.

[crookedtidalwavepizza]

Let’s talk about oppression.

Hi. I’m a teen. A Pakistani Muslim teen raised by Pakistani Muslim feminist parents. I am a Pakistani girl privileged enough to be born to a family that can afford to send me to an American school, and a family that believes their only daughter is worth a thousand sons. A few years ago, I realised there was a name for the notions I was raised with: feminism. I found feminism on the internet, in cheery pink-hued articles that told me I was beautiful, that I could do anything a man could do, that my body wasn’t something to be objectified.

And while these twee posts were enough to quench my thirst, in time I began to hunger for something more. I found essays on the evils of manspreading, mansplaining, and cis straight white men. This was feminism, then? The idea that men were in fact, inferior to women? I found this belief in webcomics, listicles, joke sites, even TV shows. In comment sections I watched battles unfold: how dare a man suggest these mentalities are toxic? How dare a woman agree with him?

On twitter I’d find women sharing anecdotes about Joe from work, who’d sit sprawled across his chair in a show of dominance, and how in doing that Joe was an oppressor. How the old white man across the street was probably a racist misogynist homophobic Nazi because he was white. How they were oppressed because the man in the meeting talked over them.

Here’s the thing about that. You are not silenced because a man dared to interrupt you. You are not objectified because a man had the audacity to hold a door open for you. You are not oppressed. You are not oppressed.

Spend a day with me. Walk the streets with me. I’ll show you what oppression is. It is a father forcing his daughter to cover her head, instilling in her a hatred for her religion. It is the teenage girl crying tears of mascara as she is escorted to her marriage and given into the hands of her betrothed. It is the transgender woman fearing for her safety because she lives in a country of homophobes.

Suppression is the woman whose husband forbids her from having a life outside her married one. Objectification is the girl sold as a sex slave because her family couldn’t pay their debts. It is not a man beating a woman in a foot race or performers at a strip show. Accompany me to rural Kashmir, where it’s commonplace for girls to be married off at ten, eleven years old. To the village from where our cleaner hails, where the bodies of young women wash up on the shores of the canal.

Talk about how Dave from IT mansplained programming to you to the women who never received an education because their fathers believed it unnecessary for them. Discuss internalised misogyny with the girl who has to listen to people telling her that her brothers are worth more than her. Please try. Debate the gender binary with my parents, who took years of garbage from relatives and friends on why they chose to have a single daughter.

Nobody forced you to get married at fourteen. Nobody told you that you weren’t worth sending to school because bearing children was all you were good for. You never saw the corpses of murdered girls floating in the canal. You are lucky enough to never have to experience that. You are not oppressed. This is not something to be ashamed of. Please be thankful for it. Please know that there are women in the world who would die to be where you are now. You are not oppressed.

Because look at you. You are educated, you were allowed to thrive, you can do what you like to do. Nobody views you as a unit. When you were born, they were just glad they had a baby; they didn’t care about your gender. Growing up, you had access to all the same privileges as boys. Don’t forget that.

I am not oppressed. I am educated in a country where 62% of illiterate children are girls. My father never forced me to cover my head, or stopped me from having friends of the opposite sex. My mother never told young tomboyish me to be more ladylike. I attend a private school, and I have a college fund. I am privileged, and I am not ashamed, but I want to help women in my country. I aim to be a politician or a journalist and use my platform to speak about women’s issues. Someday, I will make a change. And you can too.

Peace.

[fit-2-fly-blog]

This is a really beautiful sentiment, and I agree that white feminism is toxic, though it has been the face of feminism. That being said, female oppression is still very real in western countries. Not with mansplaining or man spreading, and not to the same degree that it occurs in other countries, but it exists.

Women can work, but they get paid less than men and face workplace discrimination all too often. Women are harassed and raped, and are told they’re guilty (a reality in basically every country). Women are constantly being shamed and told to be less, change their face, sit down, be subservient to men. Women…pretty much always get the short end of the stick.

I know I am privileged. I know the sexism and oppression I have faced is a mild flavor, but it is real. I want to have a platform that makes it better for ALL women. I don’t want to settle for “you can work, but you’re not going to be treated the same”.

[crookedtidalwavepizza]

That’s true. Thank you for your input. :) This was targeted toward people who undermine the very real struggles of women. I agree that women have always gotten the short end of the stick, and harassment and rape are very real all over the world. Nowadays, the word “oppression” is overused to the point where it doesn’t mean anything, and people tend to forget that what you describe exists too, or they just brush it off as “overreactions”, which is one of the reasons I wrote this. Similar to you, I have faced sexism and milder forms of what you could call oppression, but I would say compared to a majority of women I am very privileged. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. ❤️ stay strong

[fit-2-fly-blog]

I’m glad we can have a conversation about this! Women like you make me proud to be a woman.

[crookedtidalwavepizza]

Aww, thank you so much!

[crookedtidalwavepizza]

Let’s talk about oppression.

Hi. I’m a teen. A Pakistani Muslim teen raised by Pakistani Muslim feminist parents. I am a Pakistani girl privileged enough to be born to a family that can afford to send me to an American school, and a family that believes their only daughter is worth a thousand sons. A few years ago, I realised there was a name for the notions I was raised with: feminism. I found feminism on the internet, in cheery pink-hued articles that told me I was beautiful, that I could do anything a man could do, that my body wasn’t something to be objectified.

And while these twee posts were enough to quench my thirst, in time I began to hunger for something more. I found essays on the evils of manspreading, mansplaining, and cis straight white men. This was feminism, then? The idea that men were in fact, inferior to women? I found this belief in webcomics, listicles, joke sites, even TV shows. In comment sections I watched battles unfold: how dare a man suggest these mentalities are toxic? How dare a woman agree with him?

On twitter I’d find women sharing anecdotes about Joe from work, who’d sit sprawled across his chair in a show of dominance, and how in doing that Joe was an oppressor. How the old white man across the street was probably a racist misogynist homophobic Nazi because he was white. How they were oppressed because the man in the meeting talked over them.

Here’s the thing about that. You are not silenced because a man dared to interrupt you. You are not objectified because a man had the audacity to hold a door open for you. You are not oppressed. You are not oppressed.

Spend a day with me. Walk the streets with me. I’ll show you what oppression is. It is a father forcing his daughter to cover her head, instilling in her a hatred for her religion. It is the teenage girl crying tears of mascara as she is escorted to her marriage and given into the hands of her betrothed. It is the transgender woman fearing for her safety because she lives in a country of homophobes.

Suppression is the woman whose husband forbids her from having a life outside her married one. Objectification is the girl sold as a sex slave because her family couldn’t pay their debts. It is not a man beating a woman in a foot race or performers at a strip show. Accompany me to rural Kashmir, where it’s commonplace for girls to be married off at ten, eleven years old. To the village from where our cleaner hails, where the bodies of young women wash up on the shores of the canal.

Talk about how Dave from IT mansplained programming to you to the women who never received an education because their fathers believed it unnecessary for them. Discuss internalised misogyny with the girl who has to listen to people telling her that her brothers are worth more than her. Please try. Debate the gender binary with my parents, who took years of garbage from relatives and friends on why they chose to have a single daughter.

Nobody forced you to get married at fourteen. Nobody told you that you weren’t worth sending to school because bearing children was all you were good for. You never saw the corpses of murdered girls floating in the canal. You are lucky enough to never have to experience that. You are not oppressed. This is not something to be ashamed of. Please be thankful for it. Please know that there are women in the world who would die to be where you are now. You are not oppressed.

Because look at you. You are educated, you were allowed to thrive, you can do what you like to do. Nobody views you as a unit. When you were born, they were just glad they had a baby; they didn’t care about your gender. Growing up, you had access to all the same privileges as boys. Don’t forget that.

I am not oppressed. I am educated in a country where 62% of illiterate children are girls. My father never forced me to cover my head, or stopped me from having friends of the opposite sex. My mother never told young tomboyish me to be more ladylike. I attend a private school, and I have a college fund. I am privileged, and I am not ashamed, but I want to help women in my country. I aim to be a politician or a journalist and use my platform to speak about women’s issues. Someday, I will make a change. And you can too.

Peace.

[fit-2-fly-blog]

This is a really beautiful sentiment, and I agree that white feminism is toxic, though it has been the face of feminism. That being said, female oppression is still very real in western countries. Not with mansplaining or man spreading, and not to the same degree that it occurs in other countries, but it exists.

Women can work, but they get paid less than men and face workplace discrimination all too often. Women are harassed and raped, and are told they’re guilty (a reality in basically every country). Women are constantly being shamed and told to be less, change their face, sit down, be subservient to men. Women…pretty much always get the short end of the stick.

I know I am privileged. I know the sexism and oppression I have faced is a mild flavor, but it is real. I want to have a platform that makes it better for ALL women. I don’t want to settle for “you can work, but you’re not going to be treated the same”.

[crookedtidalwavepizza]

That’s true. Thank you for your input. :) This was targeted toward people who undermine the very real struggles of women. I agree that women have always gotten the short end of the stick, and harassment and rape are very real all over the world. Nowadays, the word “oppression” is overused to the point where it doesn’t mean anything, and people tend to forget that what you describe exists too, or they just brush it off as “overreactions”, which is one of the reasons I wrote this. Similar to you, I have faced sexism and milder forms of what you could call oppression, but I would say compared to a majority of women I am very privileged. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. ❤️ stay strong

[crookedtidalwavepizza]

Let’s talk about oppression.

Hi. I’m a teen. A Pakistani Muslim teen raised by Pakistani Muslim feminist parents. I am a Pakistani girl privileged enough to be born to a family that can afford to send me to an American school, and a family that believes their only daughter is worth a thousand sons. A few years ago, I realised there was a name for the notions I was raised with: feminism. I found feminism on the internet, in cheery pink-hued articles that told me I was beautiful, that I could do anything a man could do, that my body wasn’t something to be objectified.

And while these twee posts were enough to quench my thirst, in time I began to hunger for something more. I found essays on the evils of manspreading, mansplaining, and cis straight white men. This was feminism, then? The idea that men were in fact, inferior to women? I found this belief in webcomics, listicles, joke sites, even TV shows. In comment sections I watched battles unfold: how dare a man suggest these mentalities are toxic? How dare a woman agree with him?

On twitter I’d find women sharing anecdotes about Joe from work, who’d sit sprawled across his chair in a show of dominance, and how in doing that Joe was an oppressor. How the old white man across the street was probably a racist misogynist homophobic Nazi because he was white. How they were oppressed because the man in the meeting talked over them.

Here’s the thing about that. You are not silenced because a man dared to interrupt you. You are not objectified because a man had the audacity to hold a door open for you. You are not oppressed. You are not oppressed.

Spend a day with me. Walk the streets with me. I’ll show you what oppression is. It is a father forcing his daughter to cover her head, instilling in her a hatred for her religion. It is the teenage girl crying tears of mascara as she is escorted to her marriage and given into the hands of her betrothed. It is the transgender woman fearing for her safety because she lives in a country of homophobes.

Suppression is the woman whose husband forbids her from having a life outside her married one. Objectification is the girl sold as a sex slave because her family couldn’t pay their debts. It is not a man beating a woman in a foot race or performers at a strip show. Accompany me to rural Kashmir, where it’s commonplace for girls to be married off at ten, eleven years old. To the village from where our cleaner hails, where the bodies of young women wash up on the shores of the canal.

Talk about how Dave from IT mansplained programming to you to the women who never received an education because their fathers believed it unnecessary for them. Discuss internalised misogyny with the girl who has to listen to people telling her that her brothers are worth more than her. Please try. Debate the gender binary with my parents, who took years of garbage from relatives and friends on why they chose to have a single daughter.

Nobody forced you to get married at fourteen. Nobody told you that you weren’t worth sending to school because bearing children was all you were good for. You never saw the corpses of murdered girls floating in the canal. You are lucky enough to never have to experience that. You are not oppressed. This is not something to be ashamed of. Please be thankful for it. Please know that there are women in the world who would die to be where you are now. You are not oppressed.

Because look at you. You are educated, you were allowed to thrive, you can do what you like to do. Nobody views you as a unit. When you were born, they were just glad they had a baby; they didn’t care about your gender. Growing up, you had access to all the same privileges as boys. Don’t forget that.

I am not oppressed. I am educated in a country where 62% of illiterate children are girls. My father never forced me to cover my head, or stopped me from having friends of the opposite sex. My mother never told young tomboyish me to be more ladylike. I attend a private school, and I have a college fund. I am privileged, and I am not ashamed, but I want to help women in my country. I aim to be a politician or a journalist and use my platform to speak about women’s issues. Someday, I will make a change. And you can too.

Peace.

[theguilteaparty]

So my mom told me a story...

Growing up, my mom and her siblings would make banana bread every week.

Literally every week since the first one of them learned how to make it, they started making banana bread- lo and behold though, they liked it with walnuts and they all knew their dad hated walnuts.

So they made a special loaf of banana bread just for him every week, just for him to eat. Nobody else was allowed to eat it because that was his banana bread, baked especially for him.

So anyways, they did this once a week from middle school up until every last one of them moved out of the house (and considering there was at least 10 years difference from the oldest to the youngest, this was quite some time). So that’s like… 16 years of weekly banana bread. And he always finished it. He, without fail, ate the whole loaf of bread by himself.

That’s approximately 835 loaves of banana bread.

Now

Skip ahead a few years…

and they’re all visiting and baking banana bread and they start making a dad’s bread and their mom comes in, “I don’t think he can handle eating one more slice of banana bread!”

“What are you talking about? He loves banana bread! He had it all the time!”

This is when my grandma, their mom, broke the news that my grandfather loathed banana bread with every fiber of his being. He just adored that his kids loved him enough to make him a special loaf of banana bread every week (and he didn’t have the heart to tell them that he couldn’t stand banana bread) and he was incredibly, utterly upset that my grandma told the kids his big secret.

My grandfather was a loving, patient, gentle man who absolutely hated banana bread but loved his kids so much more and I just wanted to share that with you guys. I think this story is just about the perfect example of the kind of person he was.

[theguilteaparty]

I just told my mom this had 1000 notes on it and let me tell you what

She had two responses.

1. Tell them about the mac n cheese

2. Tell me when it hits a million

mOM.

[asunsetdream]

WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE MAC N CHEESE

[somethingwickedthiswaylives-dea]

I need to know about the mac n cheese

[star-spangled-jackass]

guys we need 1mil