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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@feldmaus92
I’m gonna go fucking apeshit over this.
@vague-humanoid
I remember as a schoolboy being told by artist Roger Dean that Chris Ross’s SF book covers, featuring enormous space ships, were actually pictures of Vaccuum Cleaners, Irons, and things you’d find around the house. (Also being told by Roger that Chris Foss could indeed draw people and had illustrated The Joy of Sex.) Which meant I could never again see a Chris Foss spaceship without imagining it in a kitchen.
I’ve never seen this with the update and it makes it so much funnier
Photos from Sabelo Mlangeni’s series ‘Country Girls’, an intimate portrait of gay life in the countryside of rural Mpumalanga, South Africa.
2003 - 2009.
Because I just witnessed another argument about this just today: privilege has nothing to do with your level of “success” in life and is literally just the idea that people suffer different kinds of discrimination that you might not share.
You’re a white American but you’re poor, you say? Well hey, guess what? You still got “white privilege” because a poor minority has all of your problems and all the problems that can come with being a minority…but YES, ACTUALLY, a millionaire minority has privilege over you! It’s not racial privilege but it’s class privilege! All rich people have class privilege over all poor people! Different people can all have different advantages over each other at the same time and nobody’s trying to SHAME you for it! They just hope it might make things better if everybody knows about it!
“We cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever. We must stand up and move on to the next action.”
— Haruki Murakami (via purplebuddhaquotes)
“You don’t have a soul…You are a soul. You have a body, temporarily.”
—
Walter M. Miller Jr.
(via purplebuddhaquotes)
“When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it. That’s what I think. It’s just a form of sincerity.”
— Haruki Murakami (via purplebuddhaquotes)
There’s something about Studio Ghibli’s Water physics that I love
While it is a liquid, it tends to behave more gelatinously
It’s so beautiful while almost being awkward *bloop*
Gravity? Surface tension? No? Well, just let me hug her!!
Not even seeming to make skin or cloth wet
It looks so satisfyingly bouncy
Tell me what you guys think and what’s your fav movie thing about Ghibli
I remember hearing/seeing a post where Ghibli’s water always -looks- like how water -feels-.
Like when you’re crying it just feels like
And when it’s raining it’s like
Like Ghibli has that perfect look of water where yeah, it’s not exactly -realistic- but they capture the perfect feeling.
I love this and now I need to find a collection of gifs oh Ghibli hair. I love when it does the poof thing. None of this is realistic, but it is wonderfully emotive. Emotions usually feel more talk than physics anyways.
Ghibli movies tend to exude an almost dreamlike feeling or a feeling like nostalgia– like, the general mood of the films feel like summer in the country when the sun is shining and it’s quiet and there’s a breeze going, or the smell of fresh cookies from the oven or the way a freshly-laundered quilt feels when it’s wrapped around you by someone you love.
They just FEEL good. Even the sad movies still give off that same feeling. It’s almost tangible, but still feels like a fond memory.
It’s really hard to describe kfjhsfjk.
i LOVE BEING IN BED !!!!!! i love being all cuddly and warm and curling up into a ball and feeling tiny !!!!! this is what life’s about !!!!!!!!!!!
This is great thank you
Some reminders about Dr. King before tomorrow:
The United States Government was convicted in court of his murder.
He spoke out against police brutality, capitalism, and war.
He believed that white moderates were and are the greatest threat to civil rights, moreso than any hate group.
He was arrested over 10 times.
He was considered a dangerous radical by the majority of white Americans.
He refused to condemn rioters, because “a riot is the language of the unheard.”
Any white person who voted for Trump who tries to use MLK or his words as a rhtetorical tactic to justify their bigotry and complain about people protesting can personally come to my apartment in the next 24 hours for an ass-kicking.
Unpopular opinion: straight people using “partner” to refer to their SO actually helps normalize the term so that lgbt folx can use it without automatically outing themselves to strangers. It also helps other straight ppl get comfortable with the fact that strangers aren’t entitled to information about other people’s gender or sexuality.
Give op their hard-earned notes
Tbh I hear “partner” and assume gay, I didn’t know straights used it. Very fair point, OP
I hear ‘partner’ and think ‘gay’ too. A girl at work used it for months and I just went with it. When she would say ‘he’ I even thought maybe he was trans*. Anyways, someone using partner makes me more comfortable and I came out to her. She was just an intelligent straight girl that liked the term and was knowledgeable in human sexuality so definitely someone I should have felt comfortable coming out too. It’s a good sign of a straight person uses it IMO.
As a mental health clinician, this is actually my blanket term when discussing any romantic relationship. I agree it normalizes it, but I also think it’s a relatively safe term to use to describe most romantic relationships without making any assumptions about the person’s orientation or identity. I also use the word “partnered” when describing a monogamous relationship status.
The term “partner” also removes the implied hierarchy of boyfriend/girlfriend vs husband/wife. This is relevant both to non-monogamous people, and unmarried individuals for whom the importance of their relationship isn’t dictated by its legal status.
also you can make cowboy jokes
as a straight, it also helps me weed out homophobes. if they act suspect when i say “partner” i know they gots to go
Me, trying to explain my obsession with southern gothic and weird alt country: look I don’t know why, but if a song is acoustic, in a minor key, and about murder, god, or america, i just go absolutely batshit
Here’s my song “God’s going to murder America” in G minor
I’d listen to that on repeat for five weeks
my policy for “they’re just doing it for attention” has always been and always will be “then someone needs to pay attention to them”
I’ve always thought this
Let me tell you about the time I worked as a computer teacher for a small private school. My first day went well, but in the staff room that day I was told I was lucky that this one kid was out sick. No one could control him.
Next week, he was in. It took me 10 minutes to determine that I was dealing with a 10 year old kid who was incredibly intelligent, more than a little bored, and loved being the center of attention.
He was also black. I say this because I think that a intelligent, somewhat bored, attention-seeking white kid might have been treated differently.
So, day one I made him sit by himself where no one could see him to stop him from taking over the class (which he was clearly used to doing).
Day two: I paid close attention to when he finished (not surprising, he was first and did everything correctly). I immediately told him he was helping me, and paired him with a struggling student.
My hunch was right; he made a excellent teacher. He thrived on having this other kid’s attention. He wasn’t bored. He was one of my best students.
He was a bright kid. And he needed people to pay attention to him and would settle for any kind of attention he could get. But when he was able to channel that positively, he was a great student and a really helpful classmate.
IMPORTANT POINT HERE
Legend of Zelda Posters made by Barrett Biggers
HOW I DISCOVERED I AM WHITE
By renegademama (Janelle Hanchett)
RENEGADE MOTHERING
When I was 14 or so, I asked my grandmother why we didn’t have a “white club” at school. I don’t recall her response, but I do remember feeling particularly smug and vaguely angry that there was a “Latino” club and a “Chinese” club but not a “white” club.
Oh the unfairness! Oh the disparity! Why do we celebrate their heritage but not ours?
And I didn’t think about race again, at least not much, until I dated an African American man in college and a stranger whispered “nigger lover” in my ear one night as he walked by us in a grocery store. Disgusting.
I figured he was a strange exception of horrible racist creature. He was, after all, approximately 97 years old. (Well, 70, but he appeared 97 to my fresh young eyes.)
And then, a few months later, when my boyfriend’s roommate took me aside and asked why I have to “take a good black man who was in college,” when so many black men were incarcerated. I concluded she was crazy. And mean.
She hurt my feelings. Poor Janelle.
Beyond these few moments, and a couple others, I didn’t really think about race. Well, I thought about how people made arguments “about race” when clearly they were not. I mean why do they make race an issue? It’s obviously not.
Oh yeah, I had America all figured out: If ya work hard, you get ahead. And if you don’t get ahead, it’s because you made bad decisions. And if you get arrested it’s because you’re breaking the law, and people who break the law are more likely to be black. Obviously. That’s why they’re always getting arrested. (How’s that for some cyclic logic?)
I knew this to be true because:
America was awful to black people but that was fixed during the Civil Rights movement;
Therefore, we are all on equal footing now and if you don’t succeed it’s because you aren’t trying.
I learned it in school. It was fact. School teaches the truth.
And then, graduate school, and Professor Lee.
Oh, shit.
“Not all white people are white supremacists, but all white people benefit from white supremacy.”
WHAT THE WHAT?
She made us repeat it like a mantra. At least 3 times. I read Tim Wise’s White Like Me (I have mixed feelings about him now, but I digress) and bell hooks and David Roediger’s Wages of Whiteness and learned how our economic systems benefit from racism and we read about thehistory of American immigration laws (have you ever read them?) and colonialism in the Philippines and elsewhere (yes, America has colonies but we call them “territories”), and we read about redlining and white flight (ever wonder how black people ended up in urban centers?), and we read some DuBois and Omi & Winant and literature by people of color and all of the sudden I realized I had been fucking lied to.
I understood America through white eyes. I understood the world through the mainstream, polished glasses of a nice clean history of “we used to be bad now we’re not the end.”
Go team.
I discovered I was white.
“Not all white people are white supremacists, but all white people benefit from white supremacy.”
She wanted us to see that as individuals, not all white people are bigoted. But she also wanted us to see that every white person – whether they are bigoted or not – benefits from the racially structured hierarchies in America. They benefit from racism.
Yes. Even me. Even though I am not “racist.”
How? And she explained whiteness. She explained that “white” is the standard. White is the background against which difference is measured.
In other words, it’s “white” until further notice. It’s “white” until proven otherwise. It’s “white” or it’s the “other,” and it has nothing to do with actual numbers, percentages of “minority” population. It has to do with power. It has to do with the culture of power. What do I mean? If a comedy film features a white family, it’s a comedy. If it features a black family, it’s a blackcomedy.
Think about it.
White is the standard. And I’m white. Therefore, I am standard, and that benefits me.
When I walk into a room, I don’t fear that I’m representing my whole race. I have never acted badly then thought to myself “Oh shit, I sure hope they don’t hate all white people now.”
Or, in other words, even though pretty much every Columbine-type-school-kid-murderer is white, I’ve never developed a distrust for white, socially awkward high school kids.
A few do not represent the whole.
“Privilege is passed on through history.”
Whatever. I grew up POOR!
But then I thought about how, in the late 1940s, my grandmother was the first woman editor of the University of Washington’s newspaper. After she graduated, she and my grandpa bought and ran small newspapers in northern California. The family business they built employed my family members for 40+ years.
In the late 1940s, black people were not allowed to sit in the front of the bus.
How can I deny that my grandparents’ access to education and economic success did not materially affect me in a positive way, directly, through my father? I thought about the loans my parents were able to take with financial backing from my grandparents, and how that benefitted me. My life. My quality of life. The neighborhoods we lived in. The schools we attended. My cultural knowledge.
“Why don’t we have ‘White History Month?’”
Because White History Month is every month other than February, asshole.
Oh, shit indeed.
“The culture of power determines which version of history is told and retold.”
Prior to the Women’s Rights Movement, women were stuck in the home while men went to work and supported them. But then women were liberated and able to get jobs working outside the home.
Right?
WRONG. White, middle to upper class women were “stuck in the home.” Women of color have ALWAYS “worked out of the home.” In fact, the women of color were probably working in the homes of the white women about which our history is written.
So one of the most oft-repeated, trusted narratives about American history erases the history of women of color. It is dead fucking wrong. It isn’t even kind of right. They are erased. Non-existent. Unseen.
They are Chapter 10. They are a chapter that ends with “but then Martin Luther King, Jr., and all is well.”
They are Chapter 10. I am chapters 1 through forever, and every day I cash in on that fact, whether or not I support the systems making that happen for me.
I realized the reason I had never thought about race was because I was of the privileged one, because I didn’t have to, NOT BECAUSE RACIAL DISPARITY DIDN’T EXIST. I didn’t have to think about race because I was having a fundamentally different life experience than people of color. But I could ignore them, because of my privilege.
I was able to hang out in meltin-pot, “post-racial” land was because the structures of that society allowed (and encouraged) me to “not see race” while continually feeding me narratives about “equality,” “multiculturalism,” “color-blindness” and “ghetto urban lifestyles.”
I spent a lot of time in graduate school in the library, writing at a computer. Like, hours. Whole days. When I had to pee, I would ask the person sitting next to me to watch my stuff so I didn’t have to pack it all up and carry it down the hall to the bathroom. I did it a 100 times.
Once I looked over at the person next to me and my first thought was “Oh you can’t ask him. He’ll steal your stuff.
He was a young black man wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt.
I was sickened at myself. I was horrified at my response. There was absolutely nothing different about him than the 100 other people I didn’t hesitate to ask, except he was black.
I realized that not only do I benefit historically and presently, every day, from the color of skin, I have also internalized cultural narratives regarding blacks and whites that manifest whether or not I support them.
“Hey, would you mind watching my stuff for a minute?”
But what now?
Does it mean my grandmother’s accomplishments are less badass? Nope. Does it mean I do not “deserve” success? Nope. Does it mean that I am a bad person? Nope.
It means that we live in a highly racialized society rooted in a history of discrimination and that we have a long way to go. It means that I have had an advantage over people of color. Yes, always. Yes, no matter what. Because even if you’re poor and white you can join the culture of power by learning the walk and talk. But you can’t change your skin color.
From the day I was first introduced to this “other story,” I couldn’t get enough. Not because I’m some sort of saint or conspiracy theorist, but because I was curious. I was interested out of a sense of shared humanity. And I was fucking angry that I had been swindled. I wanted the truth. Or, I wanted a fuller picture. I wanted more sides.
That, my friends, is pathetic in its privilege.
I learned in graduate school what every person of color knows through life experience. I learned in graduate school that we weren’t “fixed” during the Civil Rights movement.
But when this information was presented to me I felt a sense of relief, because I think deep down I always knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I don’t understand the white rage I keep reading on the internet.
Just another dead thug.
He got what he deserved.
Run over the protestors. They’re making me late for work.
STOP PLAYING THE “RACE CARD.”
I don’t understand it. What’s at stake, people? What’s at stake in accepting that racism exists? Or even entertaining the thought? Are people really so stupid they can’t fathom that other people might be having a different experience than they are? Is it really that hard to comprehend that something can exist EVEN THOUGH YOU DON’T PERSONALLY SEE IT?
(Although you’ll see your privilege if you’re willing to examine your life honestly.)
Why the hell are people so unwilling to listen?
Let’s think about this for a moment. A whole community of people are saying this exists. Data shows racial disparities in economic, education, justice, and healthcare systems. Basically, ALL OVER THE PLACE. Unarmed black boys and men are killed without recourse. Repeatedly. The comment sections of these crimes are riddled with assholes shouting “Good. One less loser.”
But people still claim “Racism doesn’t exist.” But here’s the thing: The only way you can discount the words, lives, efforts and voices of hundreds of thousands of people is THROUGH THE RACISM YOU CLAIM DOESN’T EXIST.
You can only ignore them if they’re aren’t worth hearing.
You can only ignore them if they’re liars. If they’re just looking for a handout.
If they’re not human like you.
You can only ignore them by using the very narratives you claim aren’t happening.
And let’s be honest, we can only ignore them because it’s easy, because we’ll never have to walk a day in their shoes, and it’s just so much more pleasant to turn away, look away, focus back on our lives.
But the sand is getting skimpy and our heads are showing. At this point, if we’re not part of the solution we’re part of the problem.
I’m using my voice to talk to you. I’m using my voice to talk to my kids. But it isn’t enough. We’re looking for places to volunteer. I’m looking for actions I can take.
We’re at a crossroads. This cannot go on. We’re crushed under the weight of hatred, history, silence, violence, bullshit media and the insidious defense of systematic unequal distribution of resources, and at some point, none of us will be able to breathe.
It feels small and pathetic to be one person in this mess. I feel stupid and vulnerable and slightly insane to be writing this here, now. But fuck my feelings. Fuck feeling uncomfortable. Fuck the nonsense that keeps us quiet and content and cozy in our little post-racial dreamland.
They can’t breathe, and I’m breathing just fine.
And that is precisely the problem.
FUCKING SPREAD THIS TRUTH AND GIVE THAT PERSON A MEDAL DAMMIT
Share!!!!
WHY DOESNT THIS HAVE MORE NOTES?????
Wow….can this please make it over to white tumblr
READ IT ALL
AMAZING essay.
Wonderful content, but that quote isn’t by Dubois, it’s actually a tweet by Van Newkirk and I hate being that person, but every time I see it improperly credited I die a little and have to say something.
