Oh hey look, a 12 year-old just grasped the main concepts of The Hunger Games more accurately than most media networks.
THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG WITH THE GENERAL MALE MENTALITY WHEN I, AS A MALE WITH MANY FEMALE FRIENDS, HAVE TO FREQUENTLY PRETEND TO BE MY FRIENDS’ BOYFRIEND SIMPLY SO OTHER DUDES WON’T BE CREEPY AND FUCKING GROPE THEM
THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG WITH THE GENERAL MALE MENTALITY WHEN THEY RESPECT COMPETITION MORE THAN THE ACTUAL PERSON THEY’RE TRYING TO GET WITH
You do not love all animals you love cats. If i hear one more meat eater claim to be a fucking “animal enthusiast” i’ll jump off a cliff.
It’s really fucking easy to be vegan. and while still supporting murder and torture it’s even easier to at least be vegetarian, that’s a fucking cake walk. These abused, smart and beautiful animals don’t need your shit excuses.
Don’t even give me the cheese excuse, the shits full of pus and smells like my brothers feet, get over it.
I may be your friend but if you support animal abuse ^ I do not respect you.
I’ve been told that being a vegan is:
- A waste of time
- Unsatisfying because without meat what’s the point of eating
- A diet and therefore it’s paying too much attention on something that shouldn’t matter.
- Depriving myself of good food
- A form of starvation
Yet no one has denied to me the fact that:
- We’re mistreating animals
- It’s completely possible to live off only plants
- That it’s a luxury to eat meat.
- That most of our crops go to feed cattle
- That it’s unnecessary
- That the meat they’re eating is full of harmful shit
Carnists are very clearly being ignorant in front of the facts. They don’t want to change because they don’t want to seem weak or they just can’t give up the addiction they have. Every day we grow in numbers. As they say, don’t break veg!
Katie Makkai - Pretty
When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.
“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?” But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.
“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6. Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed!” She would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that, as if it were a cabbage she might buy.
But this is not about her. Not her fault. She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs. Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.
Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”
All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”
And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.
About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.
This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.
“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”
The ending OMG
I couldn’t break up with her. Well, I tried to, I hinted at it and she seemed like she was thinking about it, and then she tells me to give her another chance. She told me that she needed me and that she would try harder. Honestly, I don’t think anything is going to change and we’re just wasting our time. She is who she is and I am who I am; I wish she saw how a turning what we have into a great friendship would make this situation turn into something beautiful from something dysfunctional.
I, also, feel like I’m lying to her because to me it’s over. I already think of her as a really good friend. I love her, I really do, but not in the same way. I care about her, but I don’t want to be together like that. I wish her the best in life and I’d love to be there for her, but I just can’t see us being on the level she wants. I feel really shitty, but I think I deserve to feel shitty. Breaking up with her would really hurt her and she’s doing so great in school! I don’t want to affect her in such a negative way. Why can’t she see how much better our lives would be? It’s the most emotionally difficult decision, but it’s also the most logical.
I would’ve had more courage and been bold about it if I had someone, but I don’t. I’m telling myself that I’m not missing out on anything else. Which is probably very wrong. I really just want to feel free. I don’t want to get back into a relationship. Why can’t two people just be really close and not have to put a label, a barrier, a lock, on what they have. Can’t we just accept that it will probably end, and just enjoy the good while it lasts? I’m definitely not making the same mistake twice. I’m not going to make a compromise on who I want to be with. I know what I want, and I don’t mind waiting for it.
Meanwhile, in #Athens Warzone ~ December 6, 2013 Riots (Location Exarcheia)
December 6 marks the day where a 15 year old boy was shot dead by a policeman in the Exarchia area of Athens, Greece in 2008, a moment in time that turned into a wildfire of riots that quickly spread across the country and shook Greece for more than a month, stayed in history as the December Revolt, inspired solidarity actions all over the globe and influenced the resistance movements around the world in the years that followed.
Since then Decmeber 6 remains in history as a symbolic day of resistance against the State and Police Brutality
Jane Elliott giving a lecture on “Color Blindness”
seeing these white people squirm gave me joy.
Mad respect to her bc she made that vid FREE instead of making ppl pay her to repeat us like Tim wise does
Jane Elliot is the definition of a true anti-racism ally.
Loved this video. I also loved when the white girl started crying and she didn’t go running to make her feel better as she had no reason to be crying any way.
No, you are not GOING natural darling, you are returning to it. Welcome back to divinity.
i’ve been doing this on twitter lately. it’s been good to remind myself of these things and it’s good to share them with people too.
OMFG, this is amazing.