This dude is like look we gotta protect ppl from false accusations so that real ones aren’t as questioned and I’m like ok yes but you tell me right now why every single conversation we’ve had on rape/ rape culture has to do with you talking about false accusations and the injustice…and never about any rape victims who didn’t get justice (of which there are many many many)
"I’m just one voice what am I supposed to do I don’t have millions of dollars to throw into this"
So apparently you have the mental awareness to recognize that if you talk about false accusations it’ll get more people talking and thus get them justice from abusers but… not the awareness that 1. talking similarly about rape victims/survivors that don’t get justice gives them support and 2. there are too many people who accuse victims/survivors of “lying” even though false accusations is so so so low to begin with
Men make me so sick sometimes.
We need to have a discussion about how within the queer and ally community the framework of bravery is focused around whether you choose to come out or not.
You’re brave if you come out and inversely this implied that if you haven’t came put you lack the bravery to do so.
Some kids aren’t lucky enough to have parent that are understanding or would come around. Some kids’ biggest fears is that their parents would kill them if they came out. I knew mine was.
I was outed, not out to my parents of my own accord or will or with my consent, and I was kicked out made homeless and was left out to die and probably would have unless tumblr came and helped me with donations.
And that’s framing it nicely. To me it was painful to throw away my pride and beg for the mercy of others.
To have ti place my ability to survive in the hands of others was a terrifying experience and I knew the only time I would ever come out to my parents was when they were on their deathbed taking in their last breath or when I was cutting ties with their abusive asses.
So fuck this rhetoric amd framework that coming out is bravery. I applaud those who come out to their friends and family, I truly do, but I’m not gonna fuck with this mentality and framework of how it’s celebrated and congratulated.
So shout out to the kids who can’t come out, this one’s for you.
Plus that being “out” is such a weird concept too. Most people who’re out don’t go around with banners going “LOOK AT MEEE”. It just ends up in conversation. Sometimes people aren’t “out” because…it’s just not relevant to a particular relationship. The idea that they need to explicitly tell everyone for them to count as brave is so pathetic. Explicitly stating such things gets people hurt.Plus it’s none of anyone’s business but their own.
At an interfaith queer panel there was mention of some people about how their friends /social circle probably knew, but others didn’t, they weren’t invested in PRIDE because it was sooo white, and a woman said that we all have a responsibility to be “publicly out” to be a “model” to contribute to the “community” and…no? There’s plenty of people who do plenty of good work without ever “coming out” on a scale that big. Plus there’s no “community” if you’re around racists. I have no allyship to racists. Bye.
Bravery is ridiculous if it’s framed as being foolish behaviour; what’s brave (or, you know, sometimes the only option), is knowing the steps it takes to be safe, then following through with it. Safety for yourself. Safety for those you know. Safety and caretaking. In this world where everything is risky and a threat, safety and care and safe spaces are what are really radical and revolutionary.
on today’s episode of me having feelings, a series of tweets about “anti-rape nail polish.”
They read: “I still can’t believe dudes got funding for “anti-rape nail polish” but rape crisis centers struggle to secure $ for life-saving services” “can we quit perpetuating the myth that strangers commit the most rapes? sorry the reality of acquaintance rape makes u nervous but it’s true” “every man who’s ever assaulted me has known my last name; most have known my family personally. is there a nail polish colour for that?” “victims cant accessorize our way out of violence. stop turning evry part of our lives into moments where we have to prove we didnt deserve it” “i get it, okay. ‘innovation’ is sexy. nail polish is cute. we want badly to believe that we can buy our own safety. but that’s not how this works.”
New class updates: International Relations. Part of the class is that we’re all going to be assigned to a country in groups and doing a simulation game.
After class all the brown people wordlessly come together. Nod. Instant treaties signed. We’re going to do better than the white people. Financially, socially, culturally, environmentally. We’re going to take these motherfuckers out.
Hey how are you?
The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 (2011), Göran Hugo Olsson
You heard it right folks, the FBI considered free breakfasts for poor children to be the most dangerous internal threat to the country. Literally the kind of thing Jesus would do was the most dangerous threat to the country.
It’s not surprising, considering Hoover was a vile racist piece of shit who lost sleep at night thinking about poor people not being miserable or dead.
brassmanticore replied to your post “brassmanticore replied to your post: Talk to me. Good morning, how…”
I’m daydreaming about quitting my job. I wish I had a home to go back to. How do you keep going when you really want to stop?
I don’t know. It’s peculiar. If it’s one thing I can’t do and need to do I usually go to sleep. Like if I have to do a paper I’ll sleep and wake up 5 hours before it’s due and finish it in 3. And I sleep because 1. if I don’t I’ll procrastinate and 2. when I wake up the deadline’s closer and I’m less tired so I actually get to it.
But in general, it’s peculiar. I try to remember things I enjoy. I get something from the internet for under $5 with free/cheap shipping and then I live through the next few days waiting for that gift for myself. I call my sister. I call my mother, sometimes, and just cry. When I’m very overwhelmed and panicked I call my mother and just cry. She doesn’t do the thing she does sometime where she attempts to give religious advice that doesn’t work when I’m very exhausted, funnily. She’ll just tell me to take a deep breath and break down the things I have to do into little little segments and stay with me until I do them. I had a point like that last semester, broke down outside my dorm in tears with 3 papers assigned that day, due in a week. She made me get up and make myself food (I’m bad at remembering to feed myself) and other stuff. It doesn’t always work though. I ask people on the internet to talk to me. Usually they do, but that works because there’s a bunch of people that know me over the years and love me that I love. Sometimes of I have the energy I’ll get up, hunt through my clothes, out something together I haven’t worn. Take a lot of pictures. I try to remember people love me? Sometimes it works. Take a break from reading about awful things and only read about nice things. I usually have a place where I keep things that speak to my soul. Planning on having it on my wall. Wall of soul-stuff might help. Projects to dedicate myself to are always nice. I remember that chocolate chip cookies are wonderful. So is lemon meringue pie. I go on quests to acquire as much as I can. I dunno. It’s different every time. I don’t know how.
HIIIIII i was just gonna message you and say i miss talking to you and seeing your selfies :]
Do you have a snapchat? Or instagram? Cus I mean, I’m pretty vain. Can’t avoid selfies. Will probably get to that “pay attention to me” stage and have them on facebook soon too. Add me on stuff if yo want.
You and me both, ‘non. Here’s what’ll help: