How many rules am I to break before you understand that your double-standards don’t mean shit to me? I know exactly what you say when I turn and walk away but that’s ok cause I don’t let it get it to me
So the moral of this story is: Who are you to judge? There’s only one true judge, and that’s God so chill, and let my Father do His job
really tho why does no one talk about how important salt-n-pepa are? this track dropped in 1993 - they’ve been callin bitches out on their bullshit double standards for women waaaaaaay before most of us were even around. this a feminist /anthem/ and if you think any less then i suggest you hit the replay button real quick.
like damn tho the sheer girl power that these girls preached was unbelievable. “push it” and “let’s talk about sex” both were female power anthems about seizing your sexual identity and not apologizing for shit. they pulled a collab of the fucking century with “whatta man” with en vogue, giving us a prime example of what can happen when to ballin-ass girl groups collide and work with each other, and /NOBODY/ has topped that yet.
too many of yall are sleepin on the feminist classics that are these wonderful women - pay homage to the hip-hop queens that laid the ground work for all this shit and think about that the next time you wanna try and pit modern day artists against each other to see who’s “the baddest bitch.” you’re not helping anyone with that shitty attitude and not a damn one of these women would thank you for it.
“Where is the line between fiction and history for a people whose histories have been blown off the face of the earth by slavery, by genocide, by colonialism, by the horror regimes and the endless erasures and calumnies of modernity? What is history to those who live in the amnesiatic heart of that great trauma we now euphemistically call the New World?”—Junot Diaz [x] (via mujeristaxicana)
The stress of growing up in a poor and unstable household affects children as young as 9 years old on a genetic level, shortening a portion of their chromosomes that scientists say is a key indicator of aging and illness, according to a study released Monday. The researchers say their findings are the first that document this type of genetic change among minority children, and make a strong case for the importance of early-childhood intervention in vulnerable communities.
Researchers examined the DNA of a small group of 9-year-old African-American boys who had experienced chronic stress as a result of growing up in families with poor socioeconomic status. They found that the boys’ telomeres were shorter than those of boys the same age and ethnicity who came from advantaged families.
“The bottom line is that saying there are differences in male and female brains is just not true. There is pretty compelling evidence that any differences are tiny and are the result of environment not biology,” said Prof Rippon.
“You can’t pick up a brain and say ‘that’s a girls brain, or that’s a boys brain’ in the same way you can with the skeleton. They look the same.”
Prof Rippon points to earlier studies that showed the brains of London black cab drivers physically changed after they had acquired The Knowledge – an encyclopaedic recall of the capital’s streets.
She believes differences in male and female brains are due to similar cultural stimuli. A women’s brain may therefore become ‘wired’ for multi-tasking simply because society expects that of her and so she uses that part of her brain more often. The brain adapts in the same way as a muscle gets larger with extra use.
“What often isn’t picked up on is how plastic and permeable the brain is. It is changing throughout out lifetime.
“The world is full of stereotypical attitudes and unconscious bias. It is full of the drip, drip, drip of the gendered environment.”
Prof Rippon believes that gender differences appear early in western societies and are based on traditional stereotypes of how boys and girls should behave and which toys they should play with.
The attack on her ‘sovereignty’ that Celeste accuses me of is none other than my being Black. The affirmation of terra nullius of which Celeste accuses me is nothing more than my existence as a Black person and my defence of a Blackness that includes me…
…I don’t accept that, as an Australian of African descent, I am obliged to deny my own identity, and my own existence as a Black person in Australia, in the pursuit of that goal. No one else is asked to deny her own existence as contradictory to Aboriginal self-determination – least of all white Australians, who are left with an unchallenged monopoly on (non-Indigenous) Australian identity.
I refuse to tell lies about myself and my experience, to render myself invisible, to deny that I am real.
The opposite of depression is not happiness, but vitality, and it was vitality that seemed to seep away from me in that moment. Everything there was to do seemed like too much work. I would come home and I would see the red light flashing on my answering machine, and instead of being thrilled to hear from my friends, I would think, “What a lot of people that is to have to call back.” Or I would decide I should have lunch, and then I would think, but I’d have to get the food out and put it on a plate and cut it up and chew it and swallow it, and it felt to me like the Stations of the Cross.
And one of the things that often gets lost in discussions of depression is that you know it’s ridiculous. You know it’s ridiculous while you’re experiencing it. You know that most people manage to listen to their messages and eat lunch and organize themselves to take a shower and go out the front door and that it’s not a big deal, and yet you are nonetheless in its grip and you are unable to figure out any way around it.
“I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologize because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be.”—Azra T. (via jaeboogie)
This is the passage in Pablo Neruda’s Memoirs where he describes how he raped a Tamil woman when he was a diplomat in Ceylon. He does not use the word rape (as explained in the paragraph below).
This passage is in Memoirs by Pablo Neruda (pp. 99-100) [which is quoted in Zizek’s Living in the End of Times (pp. 24-25)]
One should take this equation very seriously: elevating the exotic Other into an indifferent divinity is strictly equal to treating it likeshit.
ie. is strictly equal to treating her as an object (hell neruda goes so far as to call her a statue) that can be raped with no consequence.
this woman is also not only part of the minority Tamil community but also labelled a “pariah” under the caste system by neruda. white folks refer to various communities of the “lower castes” as pariahs so i wouldn’t rely on neruda in order to determine which lower caste community she was a part of. all of this is to say that there were lots of factors at play that would have led to this woman being vulnerable to the violence of this rapist.
If we teach women that there are only certain ways they may acceptably behave, we should not be surprised when they behave in those ways.
And we should not be surprised when they behave these ways during attempted or completed rapes.
Women who are taught not to speak up too loudly or too forcefully or too adamantly or too demandingly are not going to shout “NO” at the top of their goddamn lungs just because some guy is getting uncomfortably close.
Women who are taught not to keep arguing are not going to keep saying “NO.”
Women who are taught that their needs and desires are not to be trusted, are fickle and wrong and are not to be interpreted by the woman herself, are not going to know how to argue with “but you liked kissing, I just thought…”
Women who are taught that physical confrontations make them look crazy will not start hitting, kicking, and screaming until it’s too late, if they do at all.
Women who are taught that a display of their emotional state will have them labeled hysterical and crazy (which is how their perception of events will be discounted) will not be willing to run from a room disheveled and screaming and crying.
Women who are taught that certain established boundaries are frowned upon as too rigid and unnecessary are going to find themselves in situations that move further faster before they realize that their first impression was right, and they are in a dangerous room with a dangerous person.
Women who are taught that refusing to flirt back results in an immediately hostile environment will continue to unwillingly and unhappily flirt with somebody who is invading their space and giving them creep alerts.
People wonder why women don’t “fight back,” but they don’t wonder about it when women back down in arguments, are interrupted, purposefully lower and modulate their voices to express less emotion, make obvious signals that they are uninterested in conversation or being in closer physical proximity and are ignored. They don’t wonder about all those daily social interactions in which women are quieter, ignored, or invisible, because those social interactions seem normal. They seem normal to women, and they seem normal to men, because we were all raised in the same cultural pond, drinking the same Kool-Aid.
And then, all of a sudden, when women are raped, all these natural and invisible social interactions become evidence that the woman wasn’t truly raped. Because she didn’t fight back, or yell loudly, or run, or kick, or punch. She let him into her room when it was obvious what he wanted. She flirted with him, she kissed him. She stopped saying no, after a while.
Being privileged doesn’t make you a bad person, denying your privilege does. Having privilege doesn’t mean that your life is sunshine and rainbows. It means that society favors people like you. Your personal experiences do not erase your privilege. Don’t be upset about being told you are privileged, be upset that the things systematically given to you are denied from others.