August 20, 2014

officialbutts:

adolf-clitlor:

drakeamez:

awesomenerdyfangirl:

anonymous-dudette:

I’m glad that Ferguson is getting attention, seriously I am, but I haven’t seen ONE post about what is happening over seas. Not even one post about the pictures above. Children are being beheaded and dragged into the streets where they are then shot because their families are Christian. Women are being raped and murdered. Men are being murdered. PEOPLE are dying. It’s a Christian Holocaust. And I haven’t seen anything on Tumblr.

Why aren’t any of you furious about this?! Where’s the “social justice?” ISIS is murdering people who don’t convert to Islam (yes, I know they’re extremists and not all Muslims are like that. Save yourself the rant) but I really want to know why this hasn’t been given the attention it deserves.

Seriously, guys. This is really scary, and we need to raise attention for these people. They so desperately need our prayers and support.

This happening to christian KURDS and yezidis

There has also been over 100 girls under the age of 15 that have been raped by ISIS soldiers and have been forced into committing suicide. The Kurdish Christians and Yezedis that are on the run are begging for a quick death. The ISIS leader has threatened to ‘drown our enemies in their own blood’ which includes non-muslim Kurds, Americans and other countries that have offered to help stop this genocide. What the Kurds are going through is completely tragic, and they’ve already been through so much. So many Kurdish peshmerga have been slaughtered, this is going to turn out to be a total massacre….

Sources: (x) (x)

(via essayofthoughts)

August 18, 2014
vmagazine:

*ALERT: 22 year old Sudanese model has been missing for almost 2 weeks. 
Full name Ataui Deng Hopkins (niece of Alek Wek)
Lives on Essex Street on the Lower East Side (NY)
Last seen on August 6th around midnight, exiting a night club in the vicinity of 251 West 48th Street in Manhattan (the location of two nightclubs, XVI Lounge and The Attic, The Village Voice reports. Friends claim they saw Deng at the latter, where she was attending an event for Major Model Management.)
Police describes her as 6’1” - 110lbs - black hair - dark complexion - slim build
1-800-577-TIPS (8477) www.nypdcrimestoppers.comtext: 274637 (CRIMES) then enter TIP577
all calls are confidential
photo: kristiina wilson

vmagazine:

*ALERT: 22 year old Sudanese model has been missing for almost 2 weeks. 

  • Full name Ataui Deng Hopkins (niece of Alek Wek)
  • Lives on Essex Street on the Lower East Side (NY)
  • Last seen on August 6th around midnight, exiting a night club in the vicinity of 251 West 48th Street in Manhattan (the location of two nightclubs, XVI Lounge and The Attic, The Village Voice reports. Friends claim they saw Deng at the latter, where she was attending an event for Major Model Management.)
  • Police describes her as 6’1” - 110lbs - black hair - dark complexion - slim build

1-800-577-TIPS (8477)
www.nypdcrimestoppers.com
text: 274637 (CRIMES) then enter TIP577

all calls are confidential

photo: kristiina wilson

(via commovente)

August 14, 2014

extendedburning:

you’re not a bad person if there are actual reasons why looking at ferguson stuff makes you terribly anxious or paranoid and im not going to fault you if you can’t. but, if you are humanly able, please reblog the posts on how to help, how to avoid tear gas, how to help pay for legal fees, the vigilsetc., and please, if you have the hd space, download and archive every video/picture of this you can, they are being taken off of social media. 

(Source: extendedburnings, via essayofthoughts)

August 14, 2014
lora-does-things:

stars-collected:


Michael Brown was an 18 year old that was killed by a Ferguson Police Officer on Saturday, August 9th.  His family is now seeking justice for Michael’s death.  Their pursuit for justice will be lengthy and hard but with the support of the community they will get justice.  If you are willing to support Michael’s family please donate to Michael Brown’s Memorial Fund.  These funds will assist his family with costs that they will acquire as they seek justice on Michael’s behalf.  All funds will be given to the Michael Brown family.  We appreciate your support.

Donate here.

This is a legitimate fundraiser confirmed by the family’s lawyer’s official twitter account and multiple news sources. This family has suffered so much, please help relieve one small worry from their life.

lora-does-things:

stars-collected:

Michael Brown was an 18 year old that was killed by a Ferguson Police Officer on Saturday, August 9th.  His family is now seeking justice for Michael’s death.  Their pursuit for justice will be lengthy and hard but with the support of the community they will get justice.  If you are willing to support Michael’s family please donate to Michael Brown’s Memorial Fund.  These funds will assist his family with costs that they will acquire as they seek justice on Michael’s behalf.  All funds will be given to the Michael Brown family.  We appreciate your support.

This is a legitimate fundraiser confirmed by the family’s lawyer’s official twitter account and multiple news sources. This family has suffered so much, please help relieve one small worry from their life.

(via essayofthoughts)

August 14, 2014
"If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them."

anonymous reader on The Dish

One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.

(via mysweetetc)

(via bowiesongs)

August 12, 2014

aurajones:

To say that the past few days have been emotionally taxing is to greatly understate and trivialize how hurt & fed up I am with the treatment of people, my people, in this country. 2014 and we’re no further from persecution & slaughter than we were since….ever. Since forever. At what point have we not been given the treatment of a rabid dog? Of subhuman? Of beings undeserving of fair & humane treatment? Of beings deserving of protection?

I am not impressed with your president’s statement regarding the death of an entertainer before that of a boy being senselessly put down by an officer of the law. Or the lack of transparency in the media & by the police. Or the fact that several eyewitnesses have corroborated & confirmed the story that Michael Brown, an 18 year old who was to be furthering his education post-high school as of yesterday, was shot multiple times and ultimately murdered with his hands raised in surrender pleading not to be, for j-walking. Though the media speculated shoplifting or a struggle with the officer, who has YET TO BE NAMED, there is still no justification for the fact that the victim was unarmed (though the pressing of the fact is problematic in & of itself) was executed and left on the cement to stew in a pool of his own blood for hours. Peaceful protests were met by canines and riot gear. The media failed, unsurprisingly to report that. Your president failed, unsurprisingly, to report that.

How many more innocent brown people are to be put on micro-trial & executed by law enforcement before it’s acceptable to be upset? Before it’s acceptable to be angry, stop asking for permission to have change & demand that it be given before there is consequence? I’m not satisfied. I won’t be until there is accountability and reform. We are tired, we angry, and we are well within our right to be.

I can’t see this happen again. I need to do more.

(*Note: Photos provided by the timelines of people on the front lines in Ferguson & are not my own. To keep track of what’s happening as it happens or and get involved, vandalyzm & @antoniofrench (to name a few) have been my go to.

(via anarcho-queer)

August 11, 2014
"You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it."

Robin Williams (via violentwavesofemotion)

(Source: meduesa, via commovente)

August 11, 2014
"

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

"

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

(via sugarbooty)

July 14, 2014
"

When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.

Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”

When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.

Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”

I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.

She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”

“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”

He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”

Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”

When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”

Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”

Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.

He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.

Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.

Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.

One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.

I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”

Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.

It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.

It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.

It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.

There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.

I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.

"

By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

this is me once a weak, only more like “i hate people” and “i hate this world.”

of course i love it too.

(via markargent)

(via flyingteacosy)

July 2, 2014
panic/anxiety attack

chris-sid:

jaspinder:

  • breath in for 4 seconds
  • hold your breath for 7 seconds
  • exhale breath for 8 seconds

repeat once or twice more.

This causes an autonomic nervous system shift from a sympathetic (fight or flight reaction) state to a parasympathetic response.

Use this for panic/anxiety attacks, exams, presentations.

Never not reblog

(via flyingteacosy)

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