Cause it’s the first of May, first of May Outdoor fucking starts today So bring your favorite lady Or at least your favorite lay Water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto Grass below you, sky above Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
When POC characters are turned white:this isin't about race, if you think it is then you're the racist one, lets just enjoy the book/film as it is, this is about the character's personality god you're so sensitive, the new skin tone actually fits the character's personality IMO, I never imagined them as POC anyway, not all whitewashing is racist god get over it!!111
When white characters are turned into POC:omg how could they!?!?!? this is soooo racist and unfair! why cant they present that white character as WHITE, how dare they change the original skin color to suit their own terms! this is reverse racism!! this is about race! I NEVER imaged that white character to be a POC that is so weird, it doesn't fit, this is political correctness gone crazy!!
When POC characters stay POC but readers/viewers imagined them as white:THIS IS SO WRONG. This isn't how they looked. i don't care what it says in the booooook because i imagined they lookd different. ugh the film is ruined now. Ruined.
“Anger is an appropriate reaction to racist attitudes, as is fury when the actions arising from those attitudes do not change. To those women here who fear the anger of women of Color more than their own unscrutinized racist attitudes, I ask: Is the anger of women of Color more threatening than the woman-hatred that tinges all aspects of our lives?”—Audre Lorde, “The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism” (via so-treu)
“Queerplatonic is a word for describing relationships where an intense emotional connection transcending what people usually think of as ‘friendship’ is present, but the relationship is not romantic in nature; people in a queerplatonic relationship may think of themselves as partners, may plan on spending their lives together, etc.”—
lez be real pals, i get really fucking bogged down sometimes. i have recently started to realize that having whimsical experiences and having heart connections with others are coping mechanisms form me and make me feel ‘spiritually rich’ as jessica would say. here are some examples of how i make myself feel better when shit feels hard. this list is really incomplete and will be very different for everyone, but maybe it will get your imagination flowing.
1. light sparklers and drink whiskey in the gnarled garry oaks on an eerie spring night with someone you love
2. bake a pie for someone or a group of people you really care about (preferably strawberry basil) and surprise them with it!
3. share food and love and words with others
3. don’t hang out with people if you don’t want to and try not to apologize for finding large group hangouts where only small talk is possible insufferable and shallow. invite only blanket forts are more my speed.
4. MAKE YOURSELF A BAKED DIP OF ANY KIND (you will never, ever regret this) and watch some fantasy movies (if you’ve never seen legend, start there)
5. dress up in fun outfits and go play outside. don’t be afraid of your imagination.
6. take pleasure in the beauty of nature and get as close to it as you can. i like to bird watch, or lie back and look at the clouds. i like to watch sunsets and splash in puddles and smell flowers.
7. adorn yourself with as many sparkly things as possible, take excessive vanity shots or just enjoy the way you look on your own
8. say the things that you are grateful for about yourself, your body, your loved ones out loud or write them down.
SPARKS NOTES: food, nature, love, rhinestones
“don’t be afraid of your imagination” and “don’t hang out with people if you don’t want to and try not to apologize for finding large group hangouts where only small talk is possible insufferable and shallow. invite only blanket forts are more my speed.”
are so fucking important to me right now. And also like, crafting for myself feels really important right now. I love crafting for other people, but I think just taking the time to craft things for me right now feels awesome and whimsical and lovely.
Like today, I’m going to pick some lavender from outside, boil it in water with mint tea, make it into ice cubes, put the ice cubes in a bowl with hand towels, and then take a warm bath while the icy applying the lavender-mint hand towels to my face.
“So if you – the oppressed – hurt someone’s feelings, you’re just like the oppressor, right? Wrong. Oppression is not about hurt feelings. It is about the rights and opportunities that are not afforded to you because you belong to a certain group of people. When you use a racist slur you imply that non-whiteness is a bad thing, and thus publicly reinforce a system that denies POC the rights and opportunities of white people. Calling a white person a racist fuckhead doesn’t do any of that. Yes, it’s not very nice. And how effective it is as a tactic is definitely up for debate (that’s a whole other blog post). But it’s not oppression.”—» The Revolution Will Not Be Polite: The Issue of Nice versus Good Social Justice League (via mmmajestic)
The revolution will not begin in your backyard because you do not have a backyard. What you have is a back door that shits you directly onto the streets of your city. What you have is a back staircase of wood that resembles splintered matchsticks. It trembles each time a bus rolls down Mission. What you have is a patch of concrete, a splotch of weedy grass clumped with trash, and this is not a backyard. What you have is a cement slab that pools with rainwater, that catches the tumble of beer can and sludgy condom that falls from the apartments above you. What you have is empty of anything green but the slugs still find a way to work it out, inkiest green like mold breathed to life, they slide a wet trail across what is not a backyard. Maybe you have never had, will never have a backyard, but you still could have slugs, and always you will have the pigeons.
The revolution will begin at your curb, in the shallow pool of shade that is your gutter. The revolution will begin with the pigeon bobbing hungry in the street — it is now your job to love her. It is now your job to not avert your eyes from her feet, your job to seek out and find the one pigeon foot that is blobbed in a chemical melt, a pink-orange glob, a wad of bubble-gum. The pigeon splashed in a pool of chemicals laid out to kill it because so many of the people hate the pigeons. This is now why you must love them.
We must love nature that does not make it onto the Discovery Channel, onto Animal Planet. We must love the nature that crawls up onto our doorstep like sparechangers and scares us with the thickness of their feathers, their mutant feet and orange eyes. Someone could have made dinner with the rice on the corner but instead they sprinkled it on the curb with the hope that the hungry pigeons would eat it, and that the grain would expand in their stomachs, tearing them open, falling them in the street, plump and feathered and dead in the gutter. I think perhaps this does not even work, because i watch the pigeons peck at the rice and fly off on grey wings. I hardly ever see them dead in spite of how many people try to kill them.
Pigeons are doves. They are rock doves, and I wonder if we began to call them that again if people would hesitate to hate them, as doves have that history as being messengers of peace. It is true that in my neighborhood nobody hates the mourning doves, dusky and elegant with wings that squeak like they flap on rusty hinges. They roost on the wires like little Audrey Hepburns, while the pigeons troll the ground, tough and fat, they look like they should be smoking cigarettes, some of them. They look poor and banged-up, they look like they could kick the mourning doves’ asses but they are wide to the divide and conquer tactics we use on one another, they coo wearily at the mourning doves and waddle forth in search of scavenged delights.
What you might not know is when you call a pigeon a rat with wings you have given it a compliment. The only thing a rat lacks is a pair of wings to lift them, so you have named the pigeon perfect.. When you say to me I hate pigeons I want to ask you who else you hate. It makes me suspicious. I once met a girl who was so proud to have hit such a bird on her bicycle, i swear, I thought it was me that she hit. I felt her handlebars in my stomach, and now it is your job to feel it also.
The pigeons are birds, they are doves. They are the nature of the city and the ones who no one loves. When people say they hate pigeons I want to ask if they hate themselves too. Does it prick the well of your loathing, do they make you feel dirty and ashamed, are you embarrassed about how little or how much you have, for how you have had to hustle? Being dirty is not a problem for the pigeon. You can ask it, How do you feel about having the city coating your feathers, having the streets gunked up in the crease of your eye, and the pigeon would say, Not a problem.
You will now stop blaming the pigeon. It is not the pigeon’s fault. The pigeon was once a dove, and then we built our filthy empire up around it, came to hate it for simply thriving in the midst of our decay, came to hate it for not dying. The pigeon is your ally. They are chameleons, grey as the concrete they troll for scraps, at night they huddle and sing like cats. Their necks are glistening, iridescent as an oil-slick rainbow, they mate for life, and they fly.
EW, Romeo and Juliet is so fucked and creepy if you think of it in terms of how it’s this really tragic teenage romance that has been heralded as a great love story. It is definitely one of the stories that teaches young people about what love looks like and is a widely understood and watched/shared/read story for young people (I remember being so whet 4 it when I was 13). Dean Spade sometimes talks about dominant narratives about romance (“romance myths”) that shape our understandings of how we should love or be loved and I think R&J is an interesting example of one of those really destructive ways that we learn about love from the culture around us when really (when it plays out in a contemporary context) it is mostly just a story of tormented heteronormative lusttttttttttttttttt
Native American language teaching won a victory March 21 when a bill that would help to preserve tribal languages sailed through an education committee of the Colorado House of Representatives by unanimous vote. The bill, already approved in a Senate hearing, appears destined for the governor’s signature and enactment.
Checking in with yourself is an act of self-affirmation, a way of reminding yourself that your inner being matters. It is also a way of giving yourself credit for all your efforts. Some good times to check in with yourself include: when you are being triggered, right after talking about what you’ve experienced, right after a therapy session, etc.
Suggestions for How to Check In
Think about the following questions/statement, and if you journal, consider writing your answers.
What are you thinking right now?
How are you feeling? Empowered, drains, frightened, ashamed, hopeful, angry, or some other feeling? Recognize these feelings as valid and true.
What physical discomforts are you experiencing?
Do you need to contact a trusted friend or seek medical care?
If you are feeling very frightened, afraid or distressed what can you do right now to take care of yourself emotionally, physically, or mentally?
Acknowledge the work you have done thus far in healing.
Share your happiness or joy with someone close to you.
Followers, what are some ways you check in with yourself? Do you have any suggestions for others? What works for you and what doesn’t? What has been your experience with checking in? Is it beneficial for you? Or try these tips and lets us know how they worked! Submit your story or ask questions!
The Colorado Plateau of New Mexico still bears the unhealed sores of the Uranium Boom of the last century – radioactive waste piles, contaminated water and hundreds of mines on Navajo land abandoned by companies looking to make a quick profit. Despite the massive contamination, companies want to start a new era of mining in this region.
I know this because I am Diné (Navajo) and live in Church Rock, New Mexico - only yards away from a proposed new uranium mine. As a resident and former miner, I have experienced the effects of uranium exploitation first-hand. Many of my relatives and neighbors, including myself, have suffered health problems due to working at or living near the mines. In fact, one study has found that cancer rates among Navajo living near mine tailings are 17 times higher than the national average.
Knowing the inherent risks of this industry, I am concerned about the long-term effects and threats to the safety and health of our people, our water, and local plants and animals. An elementary school sits near the proposed uranium processing plant and I am concerned about the safety of my community.