KIROKAZE
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RMH
EXPECTATIONS

titsay
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
$LAYYYTER

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@theartofmadeline
The Stonewall Inn
Sweet Seals For You, Always

izzy's playlists!
Not today Justin
Keni
tumblr dot com
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
One Nice Bug Per Day
sheepfilms
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@owlinginflight
I might get some hate for saying this but
….some things are good
name one
[SLAMS FISTS ON THE TABLE] DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do you ever see people whose faces echo another era? I’ve seen women with the round faces, sparse brows and high foreheads of medieval illuminated manuscripts. Men with dark brows that meet in the middle, olive skin, strong noses and jaws–Byzantine men, ghosts of Constantine, reanimated faces from the Fayum Mummy Portraits. Women with soft figures and the large eyes and prim, petaled mouths of the 19th century. Grizzled men whose brows predicate their gaze, whose wrinkles track into their thick beards and read like topographical maps of hardship and intensity–the wanderer, the poet; Whitman, Tolstoy, Carlyle. Faces sculpted into the perfect, deified symmetry of the pharaohs–almond eyes, full lips, self-assurance 3,000 years in the making staring at you at a stoplight. Plump, curved white wrists curled over purse handles in the waiting room and you think Versailles, Madame Pompadour, Marie Antoinette, Catherine the Great. Wide cheek bones, courage and sorrow in the scrunched face of the old man in line behind you and it’s Geronimo, Sitting Bull, Tecumseh. Reddened skin, thick forearms, hair and beard and brows burned by the cold into a reddish corn silk and you think Odin, the forge and the hammer and skin stinging from the salt of the ocean. Virginia Woolf’s quiet brand of gaunt frankness surveys you in passing in the parking lot. Queen Victoria’s heavy-lidded stare and beaked nose are firmly, uncannily fixed on a sixth-grade classmate’s face. Renaissance voluptuousness on the boardwalk by the beach. Boticelli’s caramel androgyny in a youth smoking on a bench outside the mall. Jazz age looseness spurs the tripping gait of the man who watches you paint with his hands in his pockets, and he smiles a Sammy Davis Jr. smile and tells you that you look familiar, that he’s sure he’s seen you somewhere before, but he doesn’t know where or when.
“Portrait of Elisabeth of Austria, Queen of France ” (detail) by François Clouet, circa 1510-72.
Paolo Sebastian 2016 A/W Couture.
Paris by Gail Albert Halaban
Man eating rice, China, 1901-1904
this is an extremely important picture
Ive never seen someone from 1904 having fun omg
"Okay, so here's why girls don't get flattered when guys comment on their bodies."
A few months ago, you said I looked “objectively really hot, actually, you’re definitely the hot one of us.” I laughed and thanked you because we have the kind of relationship that allows for that kind of banter. Your phrasing amused me. I took a little bow.
You asked me why girls get upset when guys comment on their bodies, and wondered why my reaction to you was different than, say, a girl’s reaction to a random guy on the street. Why I was mildly flattered, instead of scared or angry. You honestly didn’t understand, and wanted to know.
I tried explaining, but I think I left you more confused than I found you.
I have a better explanation now.
The first time I can remember a guy staring at my boobs, I was in eighth grade. I didn’t even notice; I was still a kid and was largely oblivious to such things. My dad, however,didnotice, and started glaring at the twentysomething stranger ogling his thirteen-year-old.
I couldmaybehave passed for fifteen back then. There was no way anyone would have mistaken me for an adult. That wasn’t the issue, though. To that guy, it wasn’t about who I was or how old I was. I was a set of boobs to him, not a person, certainly not a child.
My experience is pretty common. Girls start getting unwanted attention at a young age, and it happens for the rest of our lives. Men yell things at us on the street and invade our personal space on the bus or trolley when there are plenty of other seats. They try to look up our skirts when we sit down. They don’t listen when we try to rebuff them. We see reports of yet another girl raped on her way home last weekend, another woman whose body was found in a ditch. We’re told not to go out alone at night, to take someone with us even if we’re only driving to the store or the library or the gas station. We’re told to carry our keys like weapons, to park in the lot instead of the structure because it’s better to get rained on than raped and murdered. We’re told not to walk alone even during the day. We’re told close friends might rape us if they’ve had a bit to drink because they’re men, that it’s wrong, but it happens sometimes and we should be on our guard.
Imagine hearing that from the age of five. Imagine being told from childhood that men are more likely to hurt you than women are. Imagine knowing that, though you might be smart and well-trained, men will almost always be bigger and stronger than you, and you wouldn’t be able to beat most of them in a full-on fight. I can best my brother at arm-wrestling, yeah, but that doesn’t have many practical applications.
Now imagine that one of the people you’ve been taught to regard as a threat to your body says he wants your body. If he really does, you’ll have a hard time stopping him, and people will treat you as an object lesson for others, like you’d done something wrong for “letting” him hurt you. They’ll ask why you didn’t do more to protect yourself, why you wore that dress, or walked into the parking lot at that time, or talked to that person. Why you went out after dark or flirted with someone at a party.
I’m not saying all men are awful. I’m saying that decent men should be the norm, but there are a lot of men who aren’t, and who make us feel unsafe in our normal lives. We can’t tell the difference between decent people and potential rapists by looking.
What you said to me was meant as a compliment, and I took it as such. That’s because I’ve known you since we were kids, and I know you didn’t mean any harm. We have the kind of relationship where words like yours are appropriate, and you’ve never strayed outside the bounds of what’s okay. I don’t have that kind of relationship with the car full of drunken guys I walked past on the way home from D&D last weekend.
Girls get upset when guys comment on their bodies because we’re being treated like sources of pleasure, not people. We get angry because we can’t go about our business without having to worry about sexual predation. We get scared because, when it comes down to it, if a guy tried to act on his shouts of “Hey baby, nice tits, keep it up” we probably wouldn’t be able to stop him, and some would blame us.
Girls get upset because we’d much rather be seen as people, not just bodies.
being emotionally abused has made me incredibly defensive towards being told what to do, but at the same time has made it hard for me to do things without someone telling me that it’s ok to do out if fear of doing something wrong and getting in trouble
Neutral details at Valentino Fall 2016 RTW
Alexander McQueen Fall 2016. London Fashion Week.
i swear to god, men raising their voice is the most terrifying thing in the whole world. they dont understand, like its an immediate panic response, game over
I actually had no idea women found this so scary
my downstairs neighbors fight on a regular basis, and every time he starts yelling i’m a little afraid he’s going to kill her. i have no reason to think this except that he is a man and he is angry
My math teacher has a loud voice and a temper and he scares the living shit out of me almost everyday. He’s made me and other kids cry more than once and he and his teacher buddies make a joke out of terrifying students.
this was women in general? i knew my gf didn’t like it but I was unaware if this affected most women
Yes, it does
As a woman, I had no idea it effected other women like this. I was too afraid to even talk about it. I thought I was weak. Thanks for bringing attention to this.
My dad has a horrible temper and when he yells it scares me and my mother both badly. He got into such a hissy fit over one of the cats while my moms friend was over, and her friend said that it brought on her abuse PTSD. He’s horrid.
any guy comes along and gets loud, boom, instant shutdown. Lights are off, nobody’s home, ready to leave the building
Women are raised on horror stories of how dangerous the world is for us. We’re told not to ride too far on our bikes because there have been so many cases of grown men snatching little girls off the side of the road. Our mothers tell us not to wander away when we’re out shopping because someone could grab us, and if we don’t listen and go off on our own our mother’s panicked response when they find us confirms that we were in real danger. When we get a little older and start going out on our own we’re given countless lectures about how many women get attacked every year, often by people they know and are close with, to instill in us a need to be constantly vigilant about our own safety. This creates an automatic response. When a male starts getting aggressive our subconscious reminds us that we could end up a statistic, we could be the next victim that a parent will see on the news and use our story to warn their little girl about the dangers of the world. Not all men who raise their voices are going to get violent but we have no way of knowing what kind of man you really are until it’s too late. Aggressive anger causes us to panic because we’ve been trained to take that as a warning and worry that it might escalate.
All men are potential threats. A man who raises his voice or loses control of his anger confirms that he is a man we need to be afraid of.
I really like that this is a…conversation.
My boss is a very large man with a very loud voice and is very intimidating, even when he’s not angry. I’ve heard from multiple people about a woman that used to work here that would cry almost every time he spoke to her. And everyone I’ve heard this from, even HR, acts like it’s a joke, like “can you believe it?”
The next scariest thing is when they raise their voice and start slamming doors or doing things aggressively. That’s like guarantee that it’ll bring on panic from ptsd
anytime a man yells at me or throws things or slams doors, I shut down. it scares the living shit out of me.
angry men love to hit inanimate objects loudly to make sure you know that it could have been you instead.