We read Persepolis, and watched the adaptation, in the 10th grade, and it's stayed with me ever since. I'm eternally in awe of Marjane Satrapi's bravery and resilience, and may she rest in peace.

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@everything-minni
We read Persepolis, and watched the adaptation, in the 10th grade, and it's stayed with me ever since. I'm eternally in awe of Marjane Satrapi's bravery and resilience, and may she rest in peace.
romantic moodboard
Incredibly violent take of mine but I actually don’t think you need to relate to a story in any way to enjoy it. You can enjoy a story even if you can’t point at a character and insert some aspect of your personality or identity into them. In fact I would argue the need for a character like that to be present in every single story you experience is a sign of stunted growth.
it gets better!!
I was closeted for six years, in a queer relationship for five of them. My family did not know because they would not have supported me, in fact my home life could have genuinely become dangerous. However, during this time their views slowly started changing because of new friends they made and experiences they had.
Last year I came out to them. And it went better than I ever expected. My parents asked if I had a new name I wanted to go by, use my pronouns, ask what terms I prefer. They ask about my partner and invite them to family events.
Change can take years, but it can happen. You might find support from people you never expected to support you.
what a change, so glad to hear this has turned around for you! <3
“No one is coming to save you.” I disagree ! I believe many people made up of many small moments come to save pieces of you , even if just briefly. The mentor who believed in you . The friend who said they’re proud of you. The family member that makes you laugh . The random person who held the door for you out of nothing but kindness. The teacher who took extra time to help you understand. The person who smiled at you when you walked into a store. The little kid who looks up to you. The person who randomly complimented you. Being “saved” isn’t about being whisked away and all your hardships gone, it’s about the people and things that remind you life is not all hardships, it is kindness, love, gentleness, softness, care, thoughtfulness. It is many moments made up of your lifetime that keeps you going and showing you the world is still beautiful, and will always be. Despite.
You know every show that the premise is like “people find out ghosts/monsters/demons are real and are charged with stopping them” appeal to me way more now as a post-graduate not because I believe in ghosts more or whatever but because can you IMAGINE just being handed a job that you don’t even need to apply for? Like just being told “basically there’s this bad thing and all you do is make sure it doesn’t do what it wants” that’s just customer service baby and I worked that for 6 goddamn years! Just TRY getting past “I have a job to offer you” before I can jump down your throat agreeing.
some idiot with a dumb ghost-hunting name who joined the Cause because they love the paranormal: oh fuck oh shit this is really scary guys I’m having second thoughts
me, who knows that if we run away I have to apply to like, a real actual Jobbe again: wakey wakey demons it’s this or retail so guess who’s got nothing to lose
a character who truly, legitimately goes “but why does that matter?” about their feelings when someone who cares about them asks. and the sudden falling of everyone around them’s faces as they realize that this person doesn’t recognize themself as someone who needs or should be taken care of. i want Everyone to hurt. surprise at the idea, worry for them, horror at not having noticed. do you see this person who doesn’t think of themselves as a person?
Minnesota’s Giant Rainbow and Leather Pride Flags
June 28, 1998. Both flags measured approximately 50 feet wide and 75 feet long.
Friendly reminder that the leather flag predates almost every other flag. We owe this community to leather daddies and kinksters
In the era of corporate sanitization never forget it was leather daddies and S&M folks who protected some of the earliest pride parades.
The FBI cut the phone lines during the 1977 disability rights sit-in. Then they turned off the hot water.
They locked the doors from the outside. One hundred and fifty people were trapped on the fourth floor. Half of them used wheelchairs. The government assumed they would leave.
Kitty Cone was thirty-three. She had muscular dystrophy. Her muscles were failing, but her logistics were flawless. She knew how to organize people.
The federal government had promised to sign regulations protecting disabled Americans from discrimination. The policy was known as Section 504. They printed the promise on paper. Then they stalled. Without a signature, it was just typography.
The protesters entered the regional Health, Education, and Welfare building in San Francisco on a Tuesday morning. They took the elevators to the director's office. They brought sleeping bags and catheters. They informed the staff they were not leaving until the law was signed.
By sunset, the police surrounded the exits. Kitty sat near the windows. She organized the floor plan. She assigned committees for security and sanitation. She kept her medication in a small cooler.
According to federal memorandums released decades later, the strategy to end the occupation relied on medical attrition. The building was not equipped for long-term habitation. The FBI calculated that a population requiring ventilators, specialized diets, and daily medical aides would voluntarily evacuate if the environment became sufficiently hostile. They instituted a blockade.
The blockade went into effect immediately. No food deliveries allowed. No medical supplies permitted through the lobby. Guards stood at the main doors checking identification.
Kitty's muscles deteriorated faster under the physical strain. She couldn't walk. When the phone lines went dead, the fourth floor lost contact with the press. The government waited for the quiet.
Kitty dropped to the floor. She realized the barricades were designed for standing adults. The police had blocked the hallways at waist height. They hadn't blocked the linoleum.
The floors were covered in cigarette ash and spilled coffee. She dragged her body through it. She crawled under the barricades to reach the restricted elevator shafts and unguarded offices.
She carried notes in her pockets. She found a single working payphone the FBI missed. She called the local news desks. She called the mayor's office.
She crawled back. When her arms failed, someone pulled her by her ankles. The Black Panthers heard the news reports. They crossed the police lines with hot meals. The FBI could not stop them without a riot.
They shut off the elevators, so she crawled.
The occupation lasted twenty-five days. It remains the longest non-violent occupation of a federal building in American history. On April 28, the Secretary of HEW signed the regulations without a single alteration.
The protesters left the building the next morning. They went back to their apartments. The Rehabilitation Act regulations laid the groundwork for every accessibility law that followed. The HEW building still stands on United Nations Plaza. The elevators run on a schedule. The doors are heavy glass.
Kitty Cone: the woman who crawled under the barricades.
Source: Kitty Cone's oral history, Bancroft Library.
Verified via: National Museum of American History.
(Some details summarized for brevity.)
i've been phasing the phrase 'google it' out of my vocabulary and going back to 'look it up'. fuck you youve lost your generic trademark privileges
this guy’s awesome fujoshi wife…
I just want you all to know i am planning to drive across the country to steal this street sign and hang it over my toilet
DON'T announce your crimes, idiot
The purpose of my pervious posts on this matter were a distraction from my true plan to dig a big hole underneath the street pole in the sewer line and pull the entire sign underground like buggs bunny sucking down a carrot