Untitled

tiger-ly:

Nicki minaj is an excellent and dynamic rapper, lyrically and stylistically, she’s topped charts in a male dominated space, she started from the absolute bottom and knows how to hustle and work her image, I don’t care wether you care for her style of music or not but if you dismiss her as a trash artist I’m gonna heavily side eye you

My grandmother’s name is Sala
Sa-la
A hard L- the kind where your tongue has to push against the back of your front two teeth
My grandfather’s name was Mustafa
But we always called him Tati
Ta-tee
They grew up in the same village
And played together until the age that boys and girls are separated to learn their roles
My grandmother retreated to her father’s house, learning to cook and clean
And my grandfather started going to school
My grandmother blushes when she admits to me that she used to sneak up to the roof of her house when dawn came
Just to see my grandfather walking to school, books clutched against his chest
Every morning, him and the sun
It seemed to her that the sun rose with him,
That it could only be coaxed eastward if he pulled it with him
My grandmother married the boy who pulled the sun up for her every day
And they had six children
Seven, if you count the one who died before his first birthday cake could be made
My grandfather was, as they say, “ahead of his time”
He was an intelligent and forward-thinking academic living in Communist times
His children came home from school each afternoon singing songs about the benevolent nature of their leader
Tito belongs to us and we belong to Tito, they hummed
But when Tito died, the tides changed
And when my grandfather spoke up opposing the nationalistic movement against Albanians- which would one day grow into full-fledged ethnic cleansing-
He didn’t make it home from work
And my grandmother wondered how to explain ‘political prisoner’ to her children
One night, months after my grandfather’s disappearance,
My grandmother saw a blue-eyed stranger trudging up the village hill
In his hands- a note scrawled in my grandfather’s handwriting
Sell everything. Meet me in Rome.
So she did
She sold everything, kissed her weeping relatives goodbye
And trudged across Europe with her children
In Rome, a reunion
We’re going to America, my grandfather said
We’re refugees, he said
America- the word was bulky in my grandmother’s mouth on that sundrenched day in Rome
And even now she can’t quite wrap her tongue around it
Amer-eek, she said
Amer-eek, their children mimicked in high-pitched voices Amer-eek!
My mother, an 8-year old pig-tailed refugee in Rome
On her way to Amer-eek
New York City, to be precise
Their first house was right off of Ditmas Avenue in Brooklyn
A crumbling 3-family home shared with other Albanian refugees
Where, during that first year, English was spoken so rarely that you could almost forget you’d left home
The house was right underneath the Cortelyou Road subway station
Every time the trains rumbled past, the walls of the house shook and trembled and my grandmother prayed under her breath
My grandmother- a woman who gave birth to seven children and raised six of them
But never learned to read
Every morning she sent her children to school, a place she would never set foot in, a mystical land where knowledge and learning were the status quo
They came home speaking English, which my grandmother was glad for only so that they could translate for her at the grocery store or the doctor’s office
My grandfather worked days in a factory and spent his nights smoking and reading about the land that he’d left behind
As his sons and daughters grew into young men and women,
Their old country smoldered-
A fire quietly growing
It would spread soon, my grandfather knew
It wouldn’t be long before the name of his country became famous for all the wrong reasons
Blasted out of radios, smeared across CNN
Serbian forces move to Kosovo
Ethnic cleansing
Genocide

But that wasn’t until the ‘90s
And in the decade before his country was ripped apart by misplaced nationalism,
My grandfather sent my 18-year old mother back home
Go to college, he said, get a degree
Meet a nice boy
, my grandmother said, get married
She did both
And when she finally returned to America a couple of years later,
It was with my father and oldest sister in tow
My parents made their own home in America in the mid-80s
By 1985, my second sister made her appearance-
the first of the Latifi’s to be born in America
Meanwhile, my father was studying for his medical boards and his ESL class at the same time
And my mother was raising my sisters in the bustle of Brooklyn
The 80’s faded and in the first year of the 90’s, my brother joined our family
My father named him Kushtrim, which means battle cry
And was fitting because as my brother was taking his first steps,
Our Bosnian neighbors were being brought to their knees
By the time the war spread from Bosnia to Kosovo,
I was 5 years old and living in Virginia with my family
In a sprawling brick house surrounded by a lush green lawn that my father mowed every Sunday
Just like a real American
But the news was on every hour of every day
And some of my earliest memories are of peeking over the living room couch,
Straining to see what was happening in the country where my family started-
Where my grandparents met as children
Where my parents fell in love as college students
My brother and I were deemed to young to watch the news with my parents
So we snuck looks from behind doorways,
Sat on the stairs that wrapped around the back of our house-
Anything to catch a few words from Christiane Amanpour’s mouth that would explain why my mother jumped every time the phone rang
And my father sat in front of the TV with his mouth pulled into a tight line
My brother and I whispered to each other from our hiding spots,
Pulled dictionaries into our room and blew the dust from their pages
Genocide: the deliberate killing of a large group of people, especially those of a particular ethnic group or nation
My brother read the definition aloud and I tilted my head to the side
Why us?
He slowly shook his head side to side
8 years old
How was he supposed to know?
In the spring of 1998,
I sat on top of my father’s shoulders as we marched through Times Square,
Chanted in front of the United Nations building in Midtown Manhattan
Around us, the crowd swarmed
Red and black t-shirts, the Albanian eagle stamped on every single one
Free Kosova, U.S.A.! we yelled
Free Kosova, U.S.A.!
In 1999, Bill Clinton became the hero of Albanians everywhere when he ordered NATO to launch an air strike against Serbia
78 days later, the war was over
But what we didn’t understand then was that it had just began
The first time I saw the country of my ancestors was in the summer of 1999
British army tanks rolled down the streets instead of cars
And my mother tried to distract me by pointing out landmarks
That’s where your father and I used to have coffee
That’s where my dorm was

But all I could see was the soldiers guarding the entrance to my aunts’ apartment building
And the pile of rubble that used to be my father’s childhood home
I looked out with my big brown eyes
And saw an entire country bleeding and breaking
I went back to America after the summer of 1999 with the taste of my homeland burning my tongue
My grandfather-
Tati, remember?
He lived to see the war start and end
But died before anyone recognized our independence
A snowy New Year’s Eve
2003 slipping into 2004
A heart attack
A widow
A funeral
The first time I saw my mother cry
My youngest uncle washing my grandfather’s body
My baby sister only three months old, screaming like she felt our pain
It’s been 10 years and my grandmother is still mourning my grandfather
It’s been 15 years and my country is still mourning our lost souls
But my grandmother has stopped wearing all black and she laughs with her grandchildren like we’re the only thing that keep her breathing
And my country just celebrated 6 years of independence
I know my grandmother is lonely
She talks about my grandfather like he just stepped out of the room for a moment
And I know my country is hurting
We still hang flowers on the mass graves of our countrymen
But we’re all healing
Which reminds me of the best advice my grandfather ever gave me-
Shpresa le te v’des e fundit-
Let hope die last
Fortesa Latifi - The Plight of the Refugee & Their Family (via madgirlf)
jewlesthemagnificent:

curiousgeorgiana:

babstheartist:

themindislimitless:

tw: abuse, rape, domestic violence
feministblackboard:

A few weeks ago my mom stapled pages of a story in one of her women’s magazines together and handed it to me. She gave it to me pretty much with the tag lines “for your feminist blog” and “something new to consider.” Indeed it was; she knows me well.
The story is titled “I was forced to be pregnant.” With a title like that, reading it was actually not on the top of my to read list. I thought it was about women not exercising their right to choice. I was very, very wrong on that one.
Have you ever heard of Reproductive coercion? It is a term that was quite recently coined by the advocates against domestic violence to describe a certain type of abuse some women face. It occurs when a man pressures their partner to have kids and/or impregnates them against their will. Reproductive coercion comes in three different types:1. Emotional pressure that turns into verbal and physical abuse.2. Sabotaging birth control3. Marital rapeOver 75% of women 19-49 who reported once experiencing domestic violence also endured some type of reproductive control by men. It’s all about control and domination over a woman’s body.
The first story in the magazine is about a woman who got married around 36 years of age. After a few months of dating her boyfriend talked excitedly about having children. After he proposed he began calling her “The Babymaker.” She then confided with him that one of her fallopian tubes was blocked. He in return insisted she see a fertility doctor. She recounts, “I had finally met a great guy who was eager to start a family with me. What woman wouldn’t fall for that?” Soon after her honeymoon he persisted on in an obsessive manner, but his efforts had to be temporarily halted as she had to get emergency back surgery. Alas, 6 months into recovery he was back to pressuring her again. She was in much pain at the time due to her back, but she agreed to In Vitro Fertilization. She then became pregnant, but soon miscarried. In response, her husband grabbed her by the neck, choking her. He apologized, blaming his outburst on his grief and had her sign up for another round of IVF. And then a third round. She tried to put him off with the excuse that she needed to weigh more before she could take treatments, her husband forced her to get on the scale often and filled the fridge with fattening foods. “It hurt that all I was good for was getting pregnant.” She recounts. At the end, he screamed at her, threatening to replace her with a maid if she couldn’t get pregnant and she told him she no longer wanted to have his child. He destroyed bedroom furniture, pushed her down the stairs and threatened her with a gun. She fled to a domestic violence shelter.
The second story was about a woman who faced marital rape. This woman was 40, had a then boyfriend and two children from a previous marriage. After telling her boyfriend she did not want any more children, her boyfriend refused to wear a condom and began to rape her.  She then became pregnant with her third child. Birth control was never an option for her because she couldn’t hide pills anywhere for he went through all of her belongings. Three months after giving birth, he raped her again, impregnating her with twins. She lost the twins in a physical fight with him, but soon became pregnant again. During her recovery she begged her obstetrician to remove her ovaries and devise a lie to tell him; that she had cancer. After a decade of sexual abuse and violence she was able to get a job that kept her out of the house and often times traveling.
One in four callers to the National Domestic Abuse hotline said that their partners had tried to force them to become pregnant. Why? As one woman stated, “Its like he wants to own me from the inside out.”  Having a baby is the perfect tie that binds. These type of abusers want to create a circumstance in which their partner is dependent on him.
WHAT’S THAT HAVE TO DO WITH PLANNED PARENTHOOD?
Many voters never consider how defunding these clinics could hurt victims of domestic violence who turn to them for counseling as well as pregnancy prevention. Abused women will turn to health care providers long before they will turn to domestic abuse hotlines and organizations. Many women in abusive relationships rely on life saving, affordable care programs such as Title X. It is critical that such places are open and operation when women and children need them so desperately. 


holy fuck im crying.

I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control.  I was on the pill until he found them in my purse. 
I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.
Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo. 
When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.
And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.
I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy. 
I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.

If you can read this, and still think there is no situation in which a woman should have access to safe abortions, basically you’re saying that you value women as little as the abusive assholes in these personal, true stories did. That you’d rather have a woman die at the hands of her abuser than terminate a pregnancy, and that you’d rather have numerous children born into a dangerous, damaging, terrifying home than allow a woman to have control over her own body and her own reproductive choices.

jewlesthemagnificent:

curiousgeorgiana:

babstheartist:

themindislimitless:

tw: abuse, rape, domestic violence

feministblackboard:

A few weeks ago my mom stapled pages of a story in one of her women’s magazines together and handed it to me. She gave it to me pretty much with the tag lines “for your feminist blog” and “something new to consider.” Indeed it was; she knows me well.

The story is titled “I was forced to be pregnant.” With a title like that, reading it was actually not on the top of my to read list. I thought it was about women not exercising their right to choice. I was very, very wrong on that one.

Have you ever heard of Reproductive coercion? It is a term that was quite recently coined by the advocates against domestic violence to describe a certain type of abuse some women face. It occurs when a man pressures their partner to have kids and/or impregnates them against their will. Reproductive coercion comes in three different types:
1. Emotional pressure that turns into verbal and physical abuse.
2. Sabotaging birth control
3. Marital rape
Over 75% of women 19-49 who reported once experiencing domestic violence also endured some type of reproductive control by men. It’s all about control and domination over a woman’s body.

The first story in the magazine is about a woman who got married around 36 years of age. After a few months of dating her boyfriend talked excitedly about having children. After he proposed he began calling her “The Babymaker.” She then confided with him that one of her fallopian tubes was blocked. He in return insisted she see a fertility doctor. She recounts, “I had finally met a great guy who was eager to start a family with me. What woman wouldn’t fall for that?” Soon after her honeymoon he persisted on in an obsessive manner, but his efforts had to be temporarily halted as she had to get emergency back surgery. Alas, 6 months into recovery he was back to pressuring her again. She was in much pain at the time due to her back, but she agreed to In Vitro Fertilization. She then became pregnant, but soon miscarried. In response, her husband grabbed her by the neck, choking her. He apologized, blaming his outburst on his grief and had her sign up for another round of IVF. And then a third round. She tried to put him off with the excuse that she needed to weigh more before she could take treatments, her husband forced her to get on the scale often and filled the fridge with fattening foods. “It hurt that all I was good for was getting pregnant.” She recounts. At the end, he screamed at her, threatening to replace her with a maid if she couldn’t get pregnant and she told him she no longer wanted to have his child. He destroyed bedroom furniture, pushed her down the stairs and threatened her with a gun. She fled to a domestic violence shelter.

The second story was about a woman who faced marital rape. This woman was 40, had a then boyfriend and two children from a previous marriage. After telling her boyfriend she did not want any more children, her boyfriend refused to wear a condom and began to rape her.  She then became pregnant with her third child. Birth control was never an option for her because she couldn’t hide pills anywhere for he went through all of her belongings. Three months after giving birth, he raped her again, impregnating her with twins. She lost the twins in a physical fight with him, but soon became pregnant again. During her recovery she begged her obstetrician to remove her ovaries and devise a lie to tell him; that she had cancer. After a decade of sexual abuse and violence she was able to get a job that kept her out of the house and often times traveling.

One in four callers to the National Domestic Abuse hotline said that their partners had tried to force them to become pregnant. Why? As one woman stated, “Its like he wants to own me from the inside out.”  Having a baby is the perfect tie that binds. These type of abusers want to create a circumstance in which their partner is dependent on him.

WHAT’S THAT HAVE TO DO WITH PLANNED PARENTHOOD?

Many voters never consider how defunding these clinics could hurt victims of domestic violence who turn to them for counseling as well as pregnancy prevention. Abused women will turn to health care providers long before they will turn to domestic abuse hotlines and organizations. Many women in abusive relationships rely on life saving, affordable care programs such as Title X. It is critical that such places are open and operation when women and children need them so desperately.

holy fuck im crying.

I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control.  I was on the pill until he found them in my purse. 

I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.

Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo. 

When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.

And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.

I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy. 

I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.

If you can read this, and still think there is no situation in which a woman should have access to safe abortions, basically you’re saying that you value women as little as the abusive assholes in these personal, true stories did. That you’d rather have a woman die at the hands of her abuser than terminate a pregnancy, and that you’d rather have numerous children born into a dangerous, damaging, terrifying home than allow a woman to have control over her own body and her own reproductive choices.

me to all my friends: YOU CAN DO IT. YOU MAKE YOUR OWN LIFE. LET'S DO THIS TOGETHER. COME ON!!!
me to myself: you fucking piece of shit you will amount to nothing nothing is worth it your feelings are irrational go sleep for 22 hours
Aug. 27 1:35 pm

justice4mikebrown:

vasundharaa:

This is a resource post for all the Good White Person™s out there. You know, the ones who say things like “It’s not my fault I’m white! Don’t generalize white people!”, or “I’m appreciating your culture! You should be proud!”, or “Why do you hate all white people, look I’m a special snowflake who’s not racist give me an award for meeting the minimum requirements for being a decent human being”.Well, if you are actually interested in understanding racism and how it ties into cultural appropriation, please read instead of endlessly badgering PoCs on tumblr with your cliched, unoriginal arguments and repeating the same questions over and over.
On White Privilegeaka don’t blame me just because I’m white:
It’s Not My Fault I Was Born White: Basics of White Privilege x
Racial Divide x
Endless Examples of White Privilege x
You Cannot Know What It’s Like To Be A Racial Minority x
Intersectional Feminism x
White Privilege Does Not Mean White People Have Perfect Lives x
White Privilege and White Supremacy: A Presentation x
You Will Never Experience Racism x
Understanding White Privilege x
White Privilege and Double Standards x
Systematic White Ignorance x
The Invisibility of White Privilege x
The Luxury of White Privilege x 
White Privilege: The Harry Potter Analogy x
Privilege Denial Bingo x
Privilege and Cost x
Check Your Privilege 101 x
Whiteness x
Whiteness is Not A Culture x
White Privilege and Racism x
Deeply Embarrassed White People Talk About Race x
When White Anti Racists Talk About ~Their Struggle~ x
White Privilege As A System x
On Reverse Racism aka you are being racist against white people:
Are White People Racially Oppressed x
White People, the new Racial Minority x
People Don’t Value Pale Skin!! x
There Is No Such Thing As Reverse Racism x
Racism vs. Not Racism x
But White People Are Discriminated Against In Foreign Countries x
The Myth of Reverse Racism: Why Cracker is Not N**** x
Satire: A Step Wise Guide on Being Reverse Racist x
Racism Against White People vs. Racism Against POCs x
On Cultural Appropriationaka I’m just appreciating your culture:
The Basics x
Identifying Appropriation x
But When We Wear It … x
Why Can’t I Wear It (Hipster Headdresses) x
Not Yours x
If You Take The Bindi x
White People Do It Better x
Multiculturalism and Appropriation x
Cultural Appropriation and Portrayals In Print Media x
Diminishing the Cultural Significance of the Bindi x
The Cultural Appropriation Bingo x
Why We’re Fed Up of Your Responses x
Identities Are Not Costumes x
Hinduism And Appropriation x
Religion and Privilege x
Bindis Are Cool x
Exotic India x
What’s Wrong With Cultural Appropriation x
Racism, Bindis and Ganesh Tattoos x
BUT YOU’RE SPEAKING ENGLISH! x
Cultural Appropriation Trolls x
Guide to Being An Appropriating Douchefuck x
New Age ~Culture Mixing~ x
In case you’re tired of the prose, here’s poetry x
Why You Shouldn’t Wear A Bindi x
Appropriating and Sharing x
Our Culture is A Punchline Until It’s a Trend x
Homage Or Insult x
Tattoos and Appropriation x
Bollywood is Not Synonymous With Indian x
College Party Costumes and Stereotypes x
Dotheads x
Bindis and Racist Humour x
Hindu Iconography x 
Misuse of Hindu Iconography x
Your Appreciation Doesn’t Help Us x
Assorted Vials of White Tears and Miscellaneous Antidotesaka I can’t change that I’m white/not all whites are racist/we are all humans:
Unoriginal Arguments Refuted x
Quick Checklist: You Might Be Racist If x
Your Opinion Isn’t Necessary x
I’m Not Responsible For My Ancestors x
The Kumbayah Myth x
Proud to Be White x
Good White Person x
We Don’t Hate White People x
Brutality of Colonialism And Why You Can’t Tell Us To Forget the Past x
People Who Claim Not To See Race Are More Likely to Be Racist x
All Races are Beautiful Said the White Girl x 
Race Blindness Is A Luxury x
Well, You’re Racist For Calling Me Racist x
I’ve Read About Its Significance, I Know What It Means 
Angry Because Someone Called You Racist x
We’re Not All Like That x
People Only Care About This Trivial Shit On The Internet x
I Can’t Apologize for Being Born White, It’s Not My Fault x
Why Can’t You Tell Me What I’m Doing Wrong x
It’s Easy to Be Color Blind When You’re White x
A Diagrammatic Guide To White Tears x
Conversations I’m Sick Of Having With White People x
Why Do You Hate White People x
I’m Trying To Be Cultured x
Sisyphean Conundrum x
What is Your Problem x
We Are All Human, We All Bleed Red x
It’s Just A Bindi x
How Not To Respond To Accusations of Racism x
I’m Italian And 0.009% Native American x
What White People Think Racism Means: A Venn Diagram x
White Guilt x
White Pride!!!111!!! x
I Like *Insert Foreign Country* I Want To Live There x
You Have So Much Hate, Fighting Fire With Fire Won’t Help x
BooHoo, Don’t Call Me Racist x
Not Everything Ended With Your Ancestors x
The Racist Reaction x
I Don’t See Why That Is Racist x
Crummy Apologies x
Okay. I agree. I’ve been socially conditioned not to notice racism and recognize my privilege. What can I do?
Listen x
A Step Wise Guide x
I don’t care about this bullshit; you’re making a big deal out of nothing, go home and delete your blog:
The Clueless White Person Bus x

vasundharaa:

This is a resource post for all the Good White Persons out there. You know, the ones who say things like “It’s not my fault I’m white! Don’t generalize white people!”, or “I’m appreciating your culture! You should be proud!”, or “Why do you hate all white people, look I’m a special snowflake who’s not racist give me an award for meeting the minimum requirements for being a decent human being”.

Well, if you are actually interested in understanding racism and how it ties into cultural appropriation, please read instead of endlessly badgering PoCs on tumblr with your cliched, unoriginal arguments and repeating the same questions over and over.

On White Privilege
aka don’t blame me just because I’m white:

On Reverse Racism
aka you are being racist against white people:

On Cultural Appropriation
aka I’m just appreciating your culture:

Assorted Vials of White Tears and Miscellaneous Antidotes
aka I can’t change that I’m white/not all whites are racist/we are all humans:


Okay. I agree. I’ve been socially conditioned not to notice racism and recognize my privilege. What can I do?

I don’t care about this bullshit; you’re making a big deal out of nothing, go home and delete your blog:

olidel:

Rest in Peace, Sir Richard Attenborough (1923–2014)

odinsblog:

Racial bias in America: from higher suspension rates in preschool, to disproportionate rates of capital punishment, to everything in between, structures of authority routinely allow anti-Black racial bias to color the “facts”, and warp the narrative. And frequently (whether unintentional or otherwise) the police and the media often work together to further criminalize innocent Black victims

1Criminalizing Blackness in America

2. 14-year-old Tremaine McMillian attacked and choked by police, literally while holding a puppy…because McMillian made them “feel threatened” and gave them “dehumanizing stares

3. Author and CNN contributor keithboykin: how the AP slandered Renisha McBride even in death

4.  The Associated Press: when can skin color alone determine who is and who isn’t a looter? (hint: don’t be Black)

This implicit racial bias does not magically stop at innocuous events like the VMAs, or in Hollywood. So far, it doesn’t ever turn off. There are two Americas and racial bias is as ubiquitous as the air we breathe

beaky-peartree:

mariahwolf:

beaky-peartree:

Why do people act like being a vampire is so fucking great. You can’t eat garlic bread so what’s the point

Okay first of all fuck garlic bread

What the fuck. What thef. Uck. You come on here, you come into my house, you take a shit on my post you shit on garlic bread, you shit on everything I stand for, on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding… .