Lot of feels going around.
Personal / multi-fandom blog.
I celebrate food, comics, ships, poc, ladies, and some other things.
I recently entered university, so I might talk about it sometimes.
Also, I love puns.
Nobody’s going to save you.
No one’s going to cut you down
cut the thorns around you.
No one’s going to storm
the castle walls nor
kiss awake your birth,
climb down your hair,
nor mount you
onto the white steed.
There is no one who
will feed the yearning.
Face it. You will have
to do, do it yourself.
Gloria Anzaldúa; excerpt from Letting Go (via notmanetstype)
I’m looking at you
In the “Cool story babe, now make me a sandwich” t-shirt
The commonly uses
“I raped you faggot”
Your straight friends
The white kid who greets his buddies with the n-word
Who’s OkCupid dating profile describes him as a “nice guy”
He’s just sick of getting friend-zoned
Because being just friends with a woman
Is so terrible
Nevermind the fact that he answers yes to the following:
Are women obligated to shave their legs?
Are racist jokes funny?
When a woman is raped, is it sometimes her fault?
I’m looking at you
guy in every women’s studies class ever
who derails dialogue
About a third of the world’s population of women
Who will be raped
In their life times
“the wage gap isn’t real”
the guy who starts “PimpWalk” in response
a demonstration aimed at ending victim blaming
of rape victims
the guy with the “no fat chicks” bumpersticker on his F150
whos confused why
he cant get pussy
to the guy who calls anal rape
to the one who uses “feminazi”
as a frequent part
of his vernacular
to every guy who has ever thought that a facebook status
about domestic violence
was a good opportunity to practice playing the
to every guy
who has ever dismissed feminism
because it didn’t involve him
to every man who has ever raped a woman
to every man who has ever beaten one
to every guy
who thinks he’s not like those ones
its just a joke
to every guy who is confused why feminists hate him
to every guy
you’re part of a problem
that won’t stop choking us
but tells us
to just breath
nayyirah waheed, “birthmarks” (via nayyirahwaheed)
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
girl is so good at loving everybody (but herself). girl is so good at hating no one (but herself). of course you want to be loved. everyone does. but if your body is a home that even you refuse to live in, why would anyone else ask to move in? (just temporary tenants where your thighs touch under your summer dress) sweetheart, whatever you are running away from, we can all smell.
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)