Shelbsterr

[feministfront]

“I say no to people who prioritize being cool over being good. I say no to misogynists who want to weaponize my body against me. I say no to men who feel entitled to my attention and reverence, who treat everything the light touches as a resource for them to burn. I say no to religious zealots who insist that I am less important than an embryo. I say no to my own instinct to stay quiet. It’s a way of kicking down the boundaries that society has set up for women - be compliant, be a caregiver, be quiet — and erecting my own. I will do this; I will not do that. You believe in my subjugation; I don’t have to be nice to you. I am busy. My time is not a public commodity”

— Lindy West, Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman

[rapunzelie]

The idea that racism will die out with the white baby boomers is a myth perpetuated by white millennials who do not want to take action and responsibility for calling out racism in their own generation. White millennials are not inherently less racist than white baby boomers and racism does not disappear with a generation. Racism is a construct that exists in all aspects of society, from politics to economics to social norms and activities. It can only be eradicated with constant and fervent dismantling of these powerful constructs in place and new generations must keep working at it. I’ve heard too many fellow white people say that when all these ‘racist old people’ die off then we’ll be fine but we all know that racism is not limited to old white people and that the alt-right is littered with white millennials. Check your friends and family on bigoted and racist remarks. Be a good ally. Sitting back for old people to die is not good allyship and you’ll soon see that they are not the only racists in power.

[feministfront]

It can only be eradicated with constant and fervent dismantling of these powerful constructs in place and new generations must keep working at it.

We can’t afford to be complacent.

[chickpeabb-deactivated20180117]

It’s me, your dream girl, in scrunched up socks and a blanket cape.

[arabwife]

I can’t wait for the day a woman’s strength isn’t dictated by how much abuse she can endure

[thepsychologyscholar-deactivate]

SLAMS REBLOG BUTTON

[hollybourneauthor]

I AM A FEMINIST

“Feminist: A person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of all genders, regardless of race, ethnicity, socioeconomic class, religion, ability and sexual orientation.”

I am a feminist because I am too scared to walk alone at night.

I am a feminist because I got lined up in a classroom in order of who had the nicest arse, aged thirteen, by all the boys in the class.

I am a feminist because everyone asks me if I’m feeling OK on the days I don’t wear makeup.  

I am a feminist because a man I was managing was paid the same as me.

I am a feminist because every girl I know was sexually harassed before the age of sixteen.  

I am a feminist because women write insightful and beautiful books about relationships and they’re labelled chick lit. I am a feminist because men write insightful and beautiful books about relationships and get longlisted for the Booker prize.  

I am a feminist because 50% of the films nominated for Best Picture Academy Awards did not pass the simple Bechdel test.

I am a feminist because whenever I watch a movie, music video, or open a magazine, I feel instantly insecure about my body.

I am a feminist because my two-year-old niece pointed to a picture of a blue hat in a book and said, “Boy’s hat”.

I am a feminist because I am regularly interrupted by men whenever I dare to open my mouth.  

I am a feminist because when I do mixed-sex school visits, the girls never, ever put their hand up to ask a question. But, when it’s just girls, we usually have to leave extra time for questions.

I am a feminist because I feel I need to hide my tampon up my sleeve on the way to the toilet.

I am a feminist because teenage boys come up to me at events and ask if they’re “allowed” to read my books.

I am a feminist for all the boys I supported, working at a charity, who would rather harm themselves than cry.

I am a feminist because my wonderful, caring, brilliant feminist father has still never cleaned a toilet in his life.  

I am a feminist because this is only the tip of it. The tip of it in my privileged, first-world, pale-skinned, straight, fully-abled life.  

I am feminist for all the women for whom it is unimaginably harder than it is for me.

I am a feminist because I am angry and exhausted and terrified and frustrated and confused. And even though it’s so much harder to fight, so much easier to roll over, I am a feminist because… how can you not be a feminist?  

I am a feminist for all the things I’m damaged by that I don’t want to share here today.  

I am a feminist. And I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty and defensive. I’m not saying that because I think you’re a bad person. I’m not saying that because I hate half of the human population and want them all punished.  

I am saying that because I believe every human being should have an equal shot at a healthy and happy life, no matter what body they are born into. And that’s not going to happen unless we fight, unless we speak up, unless we occasionally make people feel uncomfortable, unless we – at the very freaking least – TRY.

That’s why #IAmAFeminist. Now, how about you?

[jdizzleeee]

[yayfeminism]

👏 

[stupiduglyfatcunt]

Man and of course the comments confirm every terrible stereotype about men

[bedabug]

[misandry-mermaid]

THIS IS SO SCARILY ACCURATE

[fandomsandfeminism]

We had a lock down drill at school today.

We had a lock down drill at school today.

Imagine, if you want to, 25 thirteen year olds, sitting on the floor of their classroom, in the dark, backs against the wall, blinds closed, lights off, their 27 year old teacher sitting in the chair between them and the door.

Lock down drills are hard. They are always hard, but they are especially hard when it’s right after a shooting. Most of the kids are scared. You can tell the ones who are the most anxious, the way they hug their knees against their chests, their straight-lipped expressions, their eyes staring at the tiled floor. A few others are less scared and more annoyed, more frustrated, more bored. They try to whisper to their friends, to crack small jokes, to break the weird, uncomfortable tension that settles over a group of children practicing acting like they don’t exist. They think this is stupid, a waste of time. It wouldn’t really help them anyway, would it? Would THIS, sitting quiet and still in the dark, REALLY be enough to save them if THAT happened? If a man with a gun was coming for them? Would this REALLY be the best we can do?

And then there’s me. A lot of teachers have posted a lot of things over the last few days, about how this feels, about what this means. And it’s true- without even being asked, I would take a bullet for these kids.

For the sweet little girl who brought me a Dr. Pepper when I had a headache last week. For the quiet boy who always turns in his homework on time. For the girl who never turns in her homework at all. For the kid who called me a fat bitch last Tuesday. I would take a bullet for each and every one of them. I know it unconditionally. If I didn’t, I don’t think I could do this job anymore. That’s why I’m here- in the chair closest to the door, the last thing between them and whatever might come for them.

It’s hard to explain how it feels to get that email in the morning, from the Assistant Principal, about the lockdown drill scheduled for 9am. Turn off the lights. Doors locked. Window covered. Silence. Wait for 2 administrators to end the drill. If we shake the door handles or pound on the doors, don’t make a sound. Push a few desks against the door to practice making a barricade. Tell the kids to hold their library books against their chests- they could help act as a shield.

Imagine- telling kids to grab their copy of Harry Potter, of Dork Diaries, of Warrior Cats and hold it against their chest. As if the newest Diary of a Wimpy Kid is going to save them. As if Hunger Games will stop a bullet.

I was 8 when Columbine happened. I don’t remember it, at least, not very well.  I remember having lockdown drills after that in school. I remember hating them.

I was 16 when Virginia Tech happened. I was in my chemistry class. My teacher turned on the news, white as a sheet. We watched in silence.

I was 21 when Sandy Hook happened. In college. Learning to be a teacher. I remember sitting in my Adolescent Development class as the news started pouring into our phones. I remember the grief. I remember the anger. I remember the fear that filled that room full of young adults on their way to be teachers.

I’m 27 now, and there’s Parkland. A teacher, with my own classroom, with 25 7th graders sitting in the dark, listening for our principal’s footsteps in the hallways, pretending to be a shooter.

I don’t know what the solution is. I’m not even sure what the problem is. People will tell you it’s so many things- guns, kids these days, a lack of discipline, a lack of respect, toxic masculinity, white male entitlement, mental illness, violent video games, everything is on the table. Maybe all teachers just need guns in their classrooms (an idea that makes me physically ill.) Maybe we need to ban those damn AR-15s (The guns used in Orlando, Las Vegas, Newtown, Sutherland Springs, and now Parkland.) Maybe we need to have a real conversation about how we raise our boys, how we stop radicalization and violence before it boils over into this. Maybe we need more gun training and more school counselors and more honest conversations about who we are as a people. I can’t say exactly what we need.

But we need something.  And we need it now.

[extramadness]

[perrfectly]

Photo by Thought Catalog

[profeminist]

Source

[oncelerfucker69-deactivated2019]

even if the fraud was like 5% it wouldn’t compare to rich people cheating the system by trillions lmao

[anarchapella]

Also, SNAP “fraud” is like exchanging some of your stamps for cash to buy necessities you can’t buy with stamps, like soap or deodorant or tampons

[gei-ayanami-deactivated20190430]

TBH even if one hundred percent of people on food stamps were committing food stamp fraud I’d still be in favor of keeping the program around

[constant-instigator]

Hey I wanna talk about this.

I work at a drug addiction counseling center. A ton of my clients have, at one time or another, sold their food stamps. This is basically exactly what the GOP is afraid of, right? Drug addicts selling their food stamps.

I have learned, now, to ask them WHY they sold their food stamps. Here is an incomplete list of the answers:

- I need tampons, and you can’t buy them with foodstamps

- See above RE: toilet paper

- I was living in a hotel with no kitchen then. I had to buy pre-prepared food

- The homeless shelter won’t let me keep food in my locker or room, so I have to buy pre-prepared food (Yes, really)

- I had to make rent

- My sister had to make rent

- My son had to make rent

- I needed co-pays to get my medication or I’ll die

- I needed co-pays to get my medication or I’ll loose control of my mental health

But the absolute most common form of food stamp fraud I see? Giving away food stamps to other family members who get no food stamps or insufficient food stamps to feed their families. I see that every month. People glassy eyed and hungry because they gave away their food to their adult kids, their grand kids, cousins, siblings etc.

So, is food stamp fraud rampant? In some places, yes. And I’m not about to chastise people for it.

[weavemama]

my toxic ass thoughts as they keep me up at 2 am:

[whatsfreebaseandwhatsfreeabouti]

[brunettes-n-sunsets]

All I can ever ask of you is to please never settle for me. If I’m not what you’re looking for, if I’m not good enough for you, then don’t stay.

Because you’ll end up leaving anyways (via brunettes-n-sunsets)

[meanwhilepoetry]

No one warns little girls that being a woman is often going to be the art of holding yourself together because the wolf world around you was built to shatter you, to rip your courage out of your own arms so it can tear you apart.

Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)

[smittenmami]

If I cut off all my hoes for you and you waste my time, you deadass owe me a new set of hoes