plastic flowers

she/her

[the-disney-elite]

Xiangyuan Jie’s watercolor backgrounds for Lilo & Stitch (2002)

[pinkhyungwon]

Stonewall Riots + 5 Names To Know

[enterheavenalive]

Im in the mood to be taken to brunch and fucked hard back at the house by 3pm and then we go grocery shop for the week and picking the flowers for our bedroom that match our mood

[body5000-deactivated20180929]

im 12 years old sitting on my bed reading it’s midnight it’s summer my window is open the crickets are very loud but very soothing my room smells dusty and warm and no one else exists. im 12 years old. the feeling never goes away.

[clementinevonradics]

The past tense of “have” is “ache.” Used in a sentence: “I have a people, we are strong;” becomes “there is an ache where family should be.” The limitation in the combinations of words becomes a symbol of language’s failings: in the communication of magnitude nothing we could say will ever be big enough. There will never be enough words for 6 million, the closest we have is “Never again.”

When We Talk About the Holocaust Too Much, Allya Yourish

Published in The Rising Phoenix Review

(via clementinevonradics)

[blue-voids]

Johan August Malmström - Dancing Fairies, 1866 - oil on canvas

[antronaut]

Adam Cruces - Pumpkin (2016)

[pearlsasinger-deactivated202602]

s/o to every closeted person hearing about the pulse shooting who has to act normal and unconcerned so as not too act ‘suspiciously upset’ I see you & I understand

[classicladiesofcolor]

Dionne Warwick, 1977. Photograph by Norman Seeff.

[954mm]

A line of roses lines the street where Michael Brown was shot

[ivn-a]

everyone should have this on their dash.

[tlcinit]

Always reblog

[maryjblige]

[saintjoan]

romantic edition

are you a secret garden or secret library person… are you a love letter or cameo locket person… are you a candlelight or moonlight person…

[lavendergin]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BCz7e51vTMH/

[nataliepnails-deactivated202006]

🌹 for you

[motionality]

i’m taking this commitment to not wearing any more black very seriously

[ethiopienne]

A white person I know and love once sent me a Bitmoji that said “Bye, Felicia,” and I stared at it for a minute, wondering what I had done wrong. The blonde cartoon posed with hands sassily on hips, the catchphrase spread playfully beneath. I felt my stomach freeze up. Slowly, it dawned on me that my friend thought she was just saying “goodbye.” I asked her about it. She had no idea at all where the phrase originated. Not knowing where something comes from is not a crime. But before responding, I spent some time thinking about how moments like this come to be. A person who never saw Friday, whose relationship to black culture is tangential at best, uses an app that furnishes lots of cute sayings. Maybe she’s seen #byefelicia in a comment on Facebook or Instagram, typed by a black woman she knows from college under a particularly ridiculous Trump quote. It seems fun and harmless, so she starts using it herself and never thinks about it again. “Bye, Felicia” is no longer a pointed moment from a meditation on hood life. It is no longer from anywhere. By the time it reaches her, it’s just something from the internet. This is what happens when bits of a culture are snatched up, repackaged, and separated from their context. It’s as though people are buying stolen goods from a reputable store. The initial crime of theft is scrubbed away, hidden behind whimsical fonts and bright colors. It is, in essence, the fencing of pilfered intellectual property. And it’s a key part of how our cultural order is maintained. If everyone in America started being really honest about how and where the language we use came from and how it got here, where would it end? What else would we have to admit was stolen? This thought came back to me the other day when I heard Meghan Trainor’s megahit single “NO” in my car. It starts with a sung intro setting up the song’s narrative theme, namely that the dude fixing his face to holler at Trainor in the club is about to get all types of rejected. In fact, the scrub can’t even get a word out before she sings, “But let me stop you there.” Trainor delivers this line in a noticeably weird tone. She actively chooses to leave off the “t” sound in “but” and replaces the “th” in “there” with a “d,” making the line sound closer to bu lemme stop you dere. It sounds forced coming from her, as though she were practicing a language she just recently learned.

Carvell Wallace, “Stolen Language: The Strange Case of Meghan Trainor’s Blaccent” (via ethiopienne)

[duriangoth-deactivated20160718]

Every self-declared rupture is also a repetition. Let other people say it. You declare that you have really changed and epistemologically performed—'Look Ma, no hands!‘—you’re probably just deluding yourself. Let other people say it.

Gayatri Spivak, ‘Envisioning an Aesthetic Education in the Era of Globalisation’ (via sbeebn)