neighborhoodstagemanager:

verdazure:

Youtubers and Sexual Abuse - TheThirdPew

This 17 year old kid understands that sexual abuse is completely undignified and wrong, so why can’t these 20-25 year old men understand it?

WATCH THIS EVERYONE

(via bunniesandboba)

lipstickandligature:

thephotogfeminist:

"Losing your virginity" will henceforth be called "your sexual debut".

Because you’re not fucking losing anything.

YES. 

(via inlovewithmyipod)

johanirae:

I reckon if more people understood this there would be a lot less victim blaming when it comes to rape.

johanirae:

I reckon if more people understood this there would be a lot less victim blaming when it comes to rape.

(via ka-blue-y)

driscolldriscollrockandroll:

hooray for the ladies

image

who are using their fame

image

to get shit done

image

(not intended to be a complete list)

(via imbringinthepartytoyou)

jaythenerdkid:

undeadseanbean:

nonhoration:

earthlydreams:

This is so cool! But what country are they from? “Africa” is really vague.

Their names are Duro-Aina Adebola, Akindele Abiola, Faleke Oluwatoyin, and Bello Eniola and they’re from Lagos, Nigeria. There’s a neat video about them here.

#when will people start giving names to young non-white scientists??#bc that shit is getting old

boost the fuck out of this, and make sure you include their goddamn names and country of origin.

jaythenerdkid:

undeadseanbean:

nonhoration:

earthlydreams:

This is so cool! But what country are they from? “Africa” is really vague.

Their names are Duro-Aina Adebola, Akindele Abiola, Faleke Oluwatoyin, and Bello Eniola and they’re from Lagos, Nigeria. There’s a neat video about them here.

boost the fuck out of this, and make sure you include their goddamn names and country of origin.

(via i-am-the-pheonix)

THIS IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT AND EVERY ONE OF MY FOLLOWERS NEEDS TO READ THIS

safety-in-recovery:

http://tswatch.tumblr.com is tumblr suicide watch. They are not affiliated with Tumblr, nor do they work for Tumblr, nor are they healthcare professionals. They are a group of volunteers in the Tumblr community who try talking people out of suicide. 

If you know of anyone on tumblr considering suicide, attempting, or having suicide intentions of any sort, MESSAGE THIS BLOG AND THEY WILL HELP.

(via lixiepixie)

Remember that intimate conversation you had with your son? The one where you said, “I love you and I need you to know that no matter how a woman dresses or acts, it is not an invitation to cat call, taunt, harass or assault her”?

Or when you told your son, “A woman’s virginity isn’t a prize and sleeping with a woman doesn’t earn you a point”?

How about the heart-to-heart where you lovingly conferred the legal knowledge that “a woman doesn’t have to be fighting you and you don’t have to be pinning her down for it to be RAPE. Intoxication means she can’t legally consent, NOT that she’s an easy score.”

Or maybe you recall sharing my personal favorite, “Your sexual experiences don’t dictate your worth just like a woman’s sexual experiences don’t dictate hers.”

Last but not least, do you remember calling your son out when you discovered he was using the word “slut” liberally? Or when you overheard him talking about some girl from school as if she were more of a conquest than a person?

I want you to consider these conversations and then ask yourself why you don’t remember them. The likely reason is because you didn’t have them. In fact, most parents haven’t had them.

The Conversation You Must Have With Your Sons | Carina Kolodny  (via albinwonderland)

(via snoopdogghasjeansanddresses)

mydollyaviana:

disneyismyescape:

carry-on-until-its-gone:

wish-upon-the-disney-star:

This scene is SO important. Maleficent is with someone she trusts, someone she considers a friend. And then the next thing she knows, she wakes up in pain, bleeding, with her wings burned off. A huge part of her has been destroyed.

Rape is so prominent in our culture that it is in a Disney movie. Maybe not explicitly, but it is very clear what this scene represents and it is so sad.

I fucking cried my eyes out during this scene

AJ even confirmed that this is what this scene was a metaphor for (x) - just because i saw someone say today that this is not what this scene is about

'We were very conscious that it was a metaphor for rape': The actress explained how the scene in which her character has her wings ripped off her body while in a drug-induced sleep had to be something 'so violent and aggressive' that it would make her 'lose all sense of her maternity, her womanhood and her softness' 

when a man violates a woman, he cuts off her wings.

(via annoy-me-later)

808kangaroo:

taco-bell-rey:

Ke$ha is a perfect example of how the media loves to make intelligent girls seem dumb and bitchy even though they are actually smart and caring. Ke$ha isn’t far from being a feminist icon but the media continues to label her as a dumb drunk party girl.

and Ke$ha is all for loving yourself and equality but she continues to receive harassment from mainstream media. Enough harassment to the point that she developed an eating disorder because of it. She is an example of how horrible and sexist the music industry is.

Ke$ha stands in the category of “gifted genius”, she scored near perfect (1500) on her SAT’s and has an IQ of 140

(via superwholockian-candy)

micdotcom:

19 #WhyIStayed tweets everyone needs to see

While many cheered the NFL’s move to (finally) punish Rice’s vicious behavior, too many media outlets immediately fell into a tired pattern of victim blaming. 

Writer Beverly Gooden had heard enough. “I was watching the responses to the TMZ on my timeline, and I noticed a trend. People were asking ‘why did she marry him?’ and ‘why didn’t she leave him,’” Gooden told Mic. “When I saw those tweets, my first reaction was shame. The same shame that I felt back when I was in a violent marriage. It’s a sort of guilt that would make me crawl into a shell and remain silent. But today, for a reason I can’t explain, I’d had enough. I knew I had an answer to everyone’s question of why victims of violence stay. I can’t speak for Janay Rice, I can only speak for me.”

Gooden decided to change the conversation. Follow micdotcom

(via typefacenerd)

Survivors Speak Out Presents:

selfcareafterrape:

This poem is about what my Mom said to me after I tried to come out to her as queer when I was fourteen and how I’ve dealt with it over the years. In her response in the piece, she is referring to my sexual abuse.

Elephant in the Room

I was sitting on the fireplace, the cold, hard stone cutting into the backs of my calves and all I could think about was how in the approximate eight feet that lay between her and I there were enough slain truths to start a war.

“I’m sorry you never got over what happened to you.”

For four years I wore those words around my heart like a luggage tag – every building was an airport, every bed a borrowed couch and I was always leaving the next morning. I piled my grief into the trunk of your car and drove until the lines on the map became more familiar than the creases I wore into your forehead, until the tone of the traffic no longer sounded like a stranger so I could at least have one place to call home.

“I’m sorry you never got over what happened to you.”

I spent eight years trying to carve the wrongs out of my body until all that was left were the right angles formed by the bones jutting out of my skin and even then I could still feel my grief bursting at the seams of my jeans.

“I’m sorry you never got over what happened to you.”

I’m sorry you did, I’m sorry you thought it was okay to say those words to me after I had finally decided to take my body back. I’m sorry I didn’t think of you the day I learned that ice cuts like glass and I shattered my shins on the top of that frozen river just because I needed to see something break. And when my scar tissue finally stitched me back together you had the nerve to ask me why I was so callous.

It took me 21 years to learn that children are not band-aids, I am not your hero and I have wasted too many years writing off my pain, so I’m writing it down.

You taught me that silence was the key to peace, but too many kids have died behind locked doors for silence to be the key to peace so I’m going to love myself more than you ever hated me and I’m turning the trunk of our family tree into a trumpet for my truths – I want to be the elephant in the room – and I’m not going to cut myself into pieces just so you can pretend that we have a whole family.

-by: Rowan

greencarnations:

spacethefinalfuck:

mehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh:

Female BAMFs Throughout History

this is fab BUT WHERE ARE THEIR NAMES?

I’m always wanting to read more about these posts immediately and I have trouble finding the sources.

(via thegirlwhobecameobsessed)

cupidmike:

mjwatson:

A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’
Imagine this:
The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.
Your world is full of freedom and possibility.
Then you pick up a newspaper or go online. You read about angry women ranting about sexism and inequality. You see phrases like ‘rape-culture’ and ‘slut-shaming.’ You furrow your brow and think to yourself: ‘What are they so angry about? There is no such thing as sexism anymore.’
Now imagine this: 
The year is 2013. You are a 25 year-old Pakistani woman. A few months ago, you married the man you love. A man you choose for yourself. You are also pregnant with his child. You see your life stretching out before you, filled with hope and happiness. Suddenly, you and your husband are dragged away from each other. You are both beaten with bricks and batons. You can’t fight back. You can’t escape. No one comes to help you. Through your fading vision, you look up, and look into the eyes of one of your assailants: into the eyes of your father.
The year is 2013. You are a 23 year-old Indian woman. You are a physiotherapy student with a promising career ahead of you. You are sitting on a private bus travelling home alone on a warm December evening. You gaze out of the window as the buildings of New Dheli rush past you and feel content. Suddenly, a blunt force hits the back of your head and you fall to the floor of the bus. A group of strange men are standing over you. They bring the metal bar down on you again and again and again until all you can taste is the blood filling up your mouth. You pray that you will die soon. And you do, but not then. You are raped, beaten, and tortured over and over again. Death is slow and agonising.
The year is 2014. You are a 13 year-old girl from Niger. You no longer live there though. You are now living in the neighbouring country Nigeria, sitting alone in small room on a small bed in a small apartment high above the city of Kano. You are not allowed to leave. Your stomach is swollen from the unwanted life growing inside of it. You had no choice. The father is a man in his 40s. He is a businessman. He has bought you as his wife. You were a penniless, uneducated girl when he came for you. You don’t know of any life you could have had. Neither did your family: just one less mouth for them to feed. You still have the body of a child, and it’s straining under the pressure from the one inside of you. You feel like you’re about to be split in two. You don’t wonder if you will survive the birth. A part of you doesn’t want to.
These are fictionalised accounts of real events that have happened to real women living in our world today. They follow the past 250 years of women and men campaigning for women to be given equal rights to men to prevent these kinds of injustices and abuses on the grounds of gender taking place. Over the course of this time, campaigners – Feminists, both female and male – have been locked up, beaten, tortured, and even killed, in the pursuit of equality. They did this with pen and ink and print; they did this with their voices; they did this with their bodies; they did this with art and music; they did in courts of law and halls and houses of government that they fought be to allowed into.
They did this so that women would no longer been seen as property, livestock, breeding machines, sex objects, punching bags, or infantile morons. They did this not just for themselves, but also for their daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters for generations to come. They did this for women they would never meet – women who lived across countries, across vast oceans, across the entire globe, and even across time.
They did this so that women like me – a white Western woman – could attend school and university; to learn to read, write, and think critically; to gain a degree; to get a job and be paid an equal salary to a man in the same position; and to sit here with my own computer and type all of this.
Feminism is a movement for freedom, equality, choice, love, compassion, respect, solidarity, and education. We may argue, we may disagree, we may struggle to understand the choices and perspectives of others sometimes, but these core beliefs of the movement have never changed, and they never will.
That is why I am a Feminist.
If you feel that you have so far lived your life unaffected by even the mildest form of sexism – anything from feeling uncomfortable when a man catcalls you in the street, to feeling scared walking home alone at night in a secluded area – and are treated with love and respect by every man in your life, then to you I say: I’m glad for you. If you don’t think you need feminism, then that is a victory for the movement. You have fulfilled all those dreams that every suffragette being force-fed in prison and every ‘witch’ burnt at the stake dreamed you would one day.
But perhaps take a second to consider the life of the Pakistani woman who was beaten to death by her own family for marrying a man of her choosing. Or the life of the Indian woman who was raped, beaten, and murdered on a bus by a gang of men. Or the life of the little girl in Niger who was sold to a man more than twice her own age and forced to carry a baby that may kill her to deliver. Do they still need feminism?
And perhaps take a second to consider this too: Even in our liberal, Western world, why do women still only fill 24% of senior management jobs? Why are more women than men domestically abused or even killed every week at the hands of their male partner or ex-partner? Why is there still a pay gap (in the UK specifically) of 15% for women doing the same jobs and working the same hours as men?
And what about on a cultural level? Have you ever noticed how comedy panel shows usually only have one female panellist compared to 4-5 male ones? That almost every dieting product on the market is solely aimed at women? How a lot of newspapers and advertising campaigns will use a sexualised or pornographic image of a woman to sell news or products that have nothing to do with sex?
Or perhaps on a personal level: Do you choose to wear certain clothes because you want to or because you feel ‘unfeminine’ if you don’t? Do you choose to cover yourself up because you want to or because you feel ashamed or intimidated by a man looking at your body? Do you shave your legs and underarm hair because you want to or because you will look ‘ugly’ if you don’t? Did you parents dress you in pink as a baby because they liked the colour or because you were born a girl? Do you want to have children because you want to or because you are a woman?
When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, do you see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of the men that will look at you when you walk out the door?
The fact is, like it or not, you still live a world where gender matters. Where gender controls not just the entire course of your life – but the lives of women all over the world. Every second, a child will be born female in a country where she will persecuted for this random biological occurrence for the rest of her life. So before you hold up your anti-Feminist placard proudly and smile at your own sense of empowerment, think not what Feminism can do for you, but what it can do for that one girl. She needs someone to stand up for her. That someone could be you.
[ x ]

Read this. Read all of this. Then read it again.

cupidmike:

mjwatson:

A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’

Imagine this:

The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.

Your world is full of freedom and possibility.

Then you pick up a newspaper or go online. You read about angry women ranting about sexism and inequality. You see phrases like ‘rape-culture’ and ‘slut-shaming.’ You furrow your brow and think to yourself: ‘What are they so angry about? There is no such thing as sexism anymore.’

Now imagine this:

The year is 2013. You are a 25 year-old Pakistani woman. A few months ago, you married the man you love. A man you choose for yourself. You are also pregnant with his child. You see your life stretching out before you, filled with hope and happiness. Suddenly, you and your husband are dragged away from each other. You are both beaten with bricks and batons. You can’t fight back. You can’t escape. No one comes to help you. Through your fading vision, you look up, and look into the eyes of one of your assailants: into the eyes of your father.

The year is 2013. You are a 23 year-old Indian woman. You are a physiotherapy student with a promising career ahead of you. You are sitting on a private bus travelling home alone on a warm December evening. You gaze out of the window as the buildings of New Dheli rush past you and feel content. Suddenly, a blunt force hits the back of your head and you fall to the floor of the bus. A group of strange men are standing over you. They bring the metal bar down on you again and again and again until all you can taste is the blood filling up your mouth. You pray that you will die soon. And you do, but not then. You are raped, beaten, and tortured over and over again. Death is slow and agonising.

The year is 2014. You are a 13 year-old girl from Niger. You no longer live there though. You are now living in the neighbouring country Nigeria, sitting alone in small room on a small bed in a small apartment high above the city of Kano. You are not allowed to leave. Your stomach is swollen from the unwanted life growing inside of it. You had no choice. The father is a man in his 40s. He is a businessman. He has bought you as his wife. You were a penniless, uneducated girl when he came for you. You don’t know of any life you could have had. Neither did your family: just one less mouth for them to feed. You still have the body of a child, and it’s straining under the pressure from the one inside of you. You feel like you’re about to be split in two. You don’t wonder if you will survive the birth. A part of you doesn’t want to.

These are fictionalised accounts of real events that have happened to real women living in our world today. They follow the past 250 years of women and men campaigning for women to be given equal rights to men to prevent these kinds of injustices and abuses on the grounds of gender taking place. Over the course of this time, campaigners – Feminists, both female and male – have been locked up, beaten, tortured, and even killed, in the pursuit of equality. They did this with pen and ink and print; they did this with their voices; they did this with their bodies; they did this with art and music; they did in courts of law and halls and houses of government that they fought be to allowed into.

They did this so that women would no longer been seen as property, livestock, breeding machines, sex objects, punching bags, or infantile morons. They did this not just for themselves, but also for their daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters for generations to come. They did this for women they would never meet – women who lived across countries, across vast oceans, across the entire globe, and even across time.

They did this so that women like me – a white Western woman – could attend school and university; to learn to read, write, and think critically; to gain a degree; to get a job and be paid an equal salary to a man in the same position; and to sit here with my own computer and type all of this.

Feminism is a movement for freedom, equality, choice, love, compassion, respect, solidarity, and education. We may argue, we may disagree, we may struggle to understand the choices and perspectives of others sometimes, but these core beliefs of the movement have never changed, and they never will.

That is why I am a Feminist.

If you feel that you have so far lived your life unaffected by even the mildest form of sexism – anything from feeling uncomfortable when a man catcalls you in the street, to feeling scared walking home alone at night in a secluded area – and are treated with love and respect by every man in your life, then to you I say: I’m glad for you. If you don’t think you need feminism, then that is a victory for the movement. You have fulfilled all those dreams that every suffragette being force-fed in prison and every ‘witch’ burnt at the stake dreamed you would one day.

But perhaps take a second to consider the life of the Pakistani woman who was beaten to death by her own family for marrying a man of her choosing. Or the life of the Indian woman who was raped, beaten, and murdered on a bus by a gang of men. Or the life of the little girl in Niger who was sold to a man more than twice her own age and forced to carry a baby that may kill her to deliver. Do they still need feminism?

And perhaps take a second to consider this too: Even in our liberal, Western world, why do women still only fill 24% of senior management jobs? Why are more women than men domestically abused or even killed every week at the hands of their male partner or ex-partner? Why is there still a pay gap (in the UK specifically) of 15% for women doing the same jobs and working the same hours as men?

And what about on a cultural level? Have you ever noticed how comedy panel shows usually only have one female panellist compared to 4-5 male ones? That almost every dieting product on the market is solely aimed at women? How a lot of newspapers and advertising campaigns will use a sexualised or pornographic image of a woman to sell news or products that have nothing to do with sex?

Or perhaps on a personal level: Do you choose to wear certain clothes because you want to or because you feel ‘unfeminine’ if you don’t? Do you choose to cover yourself up because you want to or because you feel ashamed or intimidated by a man looking at your body? Do you shave your legs and underarm hair because you want to or because you will look ‘ugly’ if you don’t? Did you parents dress you in pink as a baby because they liked the colour or because you were born a girl? Do you want to have children because you want to or because you are a woman?

When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, do you see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of the men that will look at you when you walk out the door?

The fact is, like it or not, you still live a world where gender matters. Where gender controls not just the entire course of your life – but the lives of women all over the world. Every second, a child will be born female in a country where she will persecuted for this random biological occurrence for the rest of her life. So before you hold up your anti-Feminist placard proudly and smile at your own sense of empowerment, think not what Feminism can do for you, but what it can do for that one girl. She needs someone to stand up for her. That someone could be you.

[ x ]

Read this. Read all of this. Then read it again.

(via thetardishasnotlanded)

cyrilmusic:

burairium:

theneverendingdrums:

fejes:

peaceloveandbrittana:

this wins over other pro-gay commercials because you had no idea he was gay and then you can’t tell which one is his husband

they are showing them as people

not as gays and straights

fuckin love this commercial

can we just talk abotu the fact that the husbands arent even bringing the drinks over theyre just standing there next to the drinks and chatting

fuckin useless husbands

they are showing anyone can be useless. Even gay people


they are saying that it doesn’t matter if you are gay or straight. You can still be a useless person

this post got better

(via the-lovely-princess-of-hell)