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No one is going to give you the education you need to overthrow them

— Assata Shakur (via feministquotes)



I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me.

— Thought Catalogue (via mayflowrs)



Run my dear, from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, from anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred, tender vision of your beautiful heart.

— Hafiz (via freedominlibya)



Depression is useful—it signals that you need to make changes in your life, it challenges your tendency to withdraw, it reminds you to take action. To reclaim body consciousness tienes que moverte—go for walks, salir a conocer el mundo, engage with the world.

— Gloria E. Anzaldua (via cielito-lindo)



imagine this
painting the phenomenal world
there’s talk of dressing the body with strange adornments
to remind you of a vow to empty space
there’s talk of the discourse in your mind like a silkworm
I wish to venture into a not chiseled place
I pour sand on the ground
Objects and vehicles emerge from the fog

— Anne Waldman (via uutpoetry)



To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.

— Anne Carson, Eros: The Bittersweet (via litverve)



I have no mercy or compassion in me for a society that will crush people and then penalize them for not being able to stand up under the weight.

— Malcolm X  (via thenewwomensmovement)



To the end that wars may cease on this old planet,
The suffering peoples of the world have founded a new institution.
So far as I see it amounts to this:
A number of undertakers have formed a company to allot the graves.

—

Allama Iqbal’s poetry regarding The League of Nations.

(via asrar-e-khudi)



To live in diaspora is to be haunted by histories that sit uncomfortably out of joint, ambivalently ahead of their time and yet behind it too. It is to feel a small tingle on the skin at the back of your neck and know that something is not quite right about where you are now, but to know also that you cannot leave. To be un-homed is a process. To be unhomely is a state of diasporic consciousness.

— Lily Cho, The Turn to Diaspora  (via isirsaidwhat)



For those relegated to non-being, to even appear is a violent act.

— George Ciccariello-Maher (via ninjabikeslut)