Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
- Sylvia Plath (via larmoyante)
I got that comic con, comic con sadness
What I said: Watch this show it's really good
What I meant: For the love of God please watch this I need friends who understand my pain I need someone to talk about it with that hasn't heard all my opinions a billion times please I am begging you
Wow, They Killed Another One Of My Favourite Characters, I Honestly Don’t Know What I Was Expecting: a novel by me
men in bars: wow I sure hope this girl doesn't reject me
women in bars: wow I sure hope that guy looking at me isn't a literal murderer
One of the most durable paradoxes of white supremacy - the idea that those who are closest to an experience of oppression are its least credible witnesses.
Walter Johnson, Soul by soul: life inside the antebellum slave market
This is the type of violence, from microaggressions to epistemic violence to emotional/physical violence to enslavement/genocide, that gets justified by asserting that the oppressor is “objective” and “logical” and thereby “credible.” As if there is objectivity in choosing to oppress. As if the emotions of entitlement, indifference, greed or hatred aren’t involved.
*sees spoiler warning for a thing i like* oh no *reads it anyway* shit i’ve been spoiled
There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”.
- My First Name Ain’t Baby: ‘Hey Baby’ and Street Harassment (via official-mens-frights-activist)
You think I’m not a goddess?
This is a torch song.
Touch me and you’ll burn.