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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@mybrainmythoughts
I hate being told not to cry. Yeah, no joke. You think I WOULD be crying if I CAN or KNOW how to control this?! You think there’s a switch for this and I can just turn this on and off? You think I like being told off for “not controlling my emotions”?
If you are scrolling through Tumblr trying to distract yourself from something you don’t want to think about, or you’re looking for a sign. It is going to be okay. Just breathe. You are alive and you matter.
I… I need her to be a superhero.
Expressing my love for the written word the next best way I know how—through illustration and typography. Here’s to all the books that kept us up at night, the pages we turn to for comfort, and to all the words yet to be written.
To motivate you to beat your reading goals for the year, I’ve created a 2017 calendar out of these designs—with each month having its own bookish illustration. If that’s your thing, you can check the calendar here.
As for the rest—prints, shirts, mugs, and more are available at: RedBubble | Society6 | TeePublic
It’s time to bring an end to the Rape Anthem Masquerading As Christmas Carol
Hi there! Former English nerd/teacher here. Also a big fan of jazz of the 30s and 40s.
So. Here’s the thing. Given a cursory glance and applying today’s worldview to the song, yes, you’re right, it absolutely *sounds* like a rape anthem.
BUT! Let’s look closer!
“Hey what’s in this drink” was a stock joke at the time, and the punchline was invariably that there’s actually pretty much nothing in the drink, not even a significant amount of alcohol.
See, this woman is staying late, unchaperoned, at a dude’s house. In the 1940’s, that’s the kind of thing Good Girls aren’t supposed to do — and she wants people to think she’s a good girl. The woman in the song says outright, multiple times, that what other people will think of her staying is what she’s really concerned about: “the neighbors might think,” “my maiden aunt’s mind is vicious,” “there’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” But she’s having a really good time, and she wants to stay, and so she is excusing her uncharacteristically bold behavior (either to the guy or to herself) by blaming it on the drink — unaware that the drink is actually really weak, maybe not even alcoholic at all. That’s the joke. That is the standard joke that’s going on when a woman in media from the early-to-mid 20th century says “hey, what’s in this drink?” It is not a joke about how she’s drunk and about to be raped. It’s a joke about how she’s perfectly sober and about to have awesome consensual sex and use the drink for plausible deniability because she’s living in a society where women aren’t supposed to have sexual agency.
Basically, the song only makes sense in the context of a society in which women are expected to reject men’s advances whether they actually want to or not, and therefore it’s normal and expected for a lady’s gentleman companion to pressure her despite her protests, because he knows she would have to say that whether or not she meant it, and if she really wants to stay she won’t be able to justify doing so unless he offers her an excuse other than “I’m staying because I want to.” (That’s the main theme of the man’s lines in the song, suggesting excuses she can use when people ask later why she spent the night at his house: it was so cold out, there were no cabs available, he simply insisted because he was concerned about my safety in such awful weather, it was perfectly innocent and definitely not about sex at all!) In this particular case, he’s pretty clearly right, because the woman has a voice, and she’s using it to give all the culturally-understood signals that she actually does want to stay but can’t say so. She states explicitly that she’s resisting because she’s supposed to, not because she wants to: “I ought to say no no no…” She states explicitly that she’s just putting up a token resistance so she’ll be able to claim later that she did what’s expected of a decent woman in this situation: “at least I’m gonna say that I tried.” And at the end of the song they’re singing together, in harmony, because they’re both on the same page and they have been all along.
So it’s not actually a song about rape - in fact it’s a song about a woman finding a way to exercise sexual agency in a patriarchal society designed to stop her from doing so. But it’s also, at the same time, one of the best illustrations of rape culture that pop culture has ever produced. It’s a song about a society where women aren’t allowed to say yes…which happens to mean it’s also a society where women don’t have a clear and unambiguous way to say no.
Best explanation of where this song came from I’ve heard, and it illustrates how much things have changed since then.
And a Happy New Year
JD-
I’m still operating partially on pop-culture magic rules, so stop me if I’m wrong- but is there any chance we need to do something to appease the new year?
I’m not talking “virgin in volcano”, but whatever humanity is supposed to do for a lucky new year, we clearly forgot to do it for 2016 and I’m not about to make that mistake again.
Beautiful!
all these little black ballerinas make my heart melt
This is what a real, qualified OBGYN will tell you about what women feel when they get an abortion
Dr. Willie Parker, who is trained as a gynecologist and OBGYN, is a hero for the pro-choice movement because he’s honest about the undiscussed aspects of getting (or not getting) an abortion. Watch how he gives a consultation.
That last statement about regret is so important, because so many people don’t understand what it is or what causes it. Anti-choicers exploit this by manipulating pregnant people and creating doubt, which only increases the likelihood of regret, no matter what decision the pregnant person makes. You know what is best for you, even if it takes some time to figure it out.
A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.
this fucks me up every single time
I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.
After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.
She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.
Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.
The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.
The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.
Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.
I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.
Here’s to all my boys with love handles, stretch marks, ribs that show, who feel they are too big or too small, who feel “unmanly,” who have cellulite, who can’t grow facial hair, who can’t seem to gain weight or lose it, who feel “too short” or wish they looked like a male model. Y'all matter. Love you. 💕
This reassures me very much. :D
In one of my high school art classes we were given the assignment: create a self portrait. To me this meant using my self as a paint brush so I unrolled a long white sheet of paper, put on an old body suit, and started with yellow paint. Rolling and spinning and tumbling across the floor I created a 2-D image of my body’s movement and this is a photograph someone took of the mid-way point in the portrait. I hope it brightens your day.
i drew a pigeon on ms paint when my internet stopped working do you guys like it
i drew pigeon some papaya to eat
I drew pigeon a friend
he brings kiwi
crow brings a single cherry to the party because it was so last minute and this is all he had in his nest
robin was going to bring a slice of bread that she found in the park but she ate it on the way there
can greg come too?
thetrippytrip:
I wish the world would understand..
Honesty is the best policy. So glad I brought things up rather than letting my irrational thoughts stew.
Saying that man and woman are the only genders is actually LESS nuanced than saying that earth, water, air, and fire are the only elements.
This is fantastic.
@tinylionroars
He flyin
