1. 14:07 30th Sep 2014

    Notes: 187720

    Reblogged from just1nbartl3y

    gay-bondage69:

    transschmuck:

    cutevictim:

    Jesus was a homeless Palestinian anarchist who held protests at oppressive churches, advocated for universal health care and redistribution of wealth, before being arrested for terrorism, tortured and executed for crimes against the state, now go ahead and explain to me why he’d vote conservative. I’ll wait.

    i’m sorry that’s just the best sentence i’ve ever read

    Canon Jesus is so much cooler than American Jesus.

    (Source: cutevictim)

     
  2. 14:00

    Notes: 175035

    Reblogged from dynastylnoire

    dynastylnoire:

    tw:rape

    thewarxgoeson:

    fromalittleflower:

    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.

    This is so important.

    Oh my god I haven’t even seen it and I just started tearing up.

    (Source: bbuchanann)

     
  3. 19:13 28th Sep 2014

    Notes: 1021

    Reblogged from bad-dominicana

    The system used the main nonviolent themes of Martin Luther King’s life to present a strategy designed to protect its own interests – imagine the most violent nation on earth, the heir of Indian and African genocide, the only nation ever to drop an atomic bomb on a civilian population, the world’s biggest arms dealer, the country that napalmed over 10 million people in Vietnam (to “save” it from communism), the world’s biggest jailer, waving the corpse of King, calling for nonviolence!
    — Mumia Abu-Jamal (via specialnights)
     
  4. image: Download

    Me and my boys at the Big House! (at The Big House)

    Me and my boys at the Big House! (at The Big House)

     
  5. 12:14

    Tags: 1

    image: Download

    There’s a #1 at Michigan people! (at The Big House)

    There’s a #1 at Michigan people! (at The Big House)

     
  6. 12:37 27th Aug 2014

    Notes: 789

    Reblogged from america-wakiewakie

    america-wakiewakie:

    Beyonce, Nicki Minaj, and Black Feminism | the negress

    August 31, 2012

    It’s easy for black women to like Beyonce. She’s a single female entity of commercial success, unapologetic sass, and Girl Power anthems.

    But it’s harder to see that the success of her persona relies on its ability to balance the dynamics of female power. The tightrope that gives any  woman permission to be independent, sexual, and bold; so long as she is not too tough, not too slutty, not too “bitchy”, so long as she doesn’t pose a real threat to male power.

    The same idea plays out in her music. 2001 brought the release of Destiny’s Childs’ Independent Woman, a so-called salute of financial empowerment that urged you to “throw your hands up” if you bought the car you were driving and the “rock” you were “rockin”. But in 2004, came Cater 2 U, a nod to the 1950s housewife era of man-pleasing that called for running his bathwater or rubbing his feet. Getting his “dinner, slippers, dessert, and so much more.”

    In 2008 it was Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It), a relationship revenge song about “doing your own thing”, but only if your man wouldn’t marry you first. And in 2011, we got Girls Run the World a declaration of female domination that claimed women were “smart enough to make the millions/strong enough to bear the children.”

    Her songs, though with explicit “empowerment” content, have retroactive connotations about relationships, sexuality and gender roles; a woman of modern means who still wants to preserve old fashioned morals. The lyrical nudge that reminds you to “let the man be the man”, be strong but foremost feminine, that after all, you’re still a woman first.

    And what Beyonce doesn’t say about female power, she shows with her body. In every music video centered around salacious curves and how well she can shake and grind in the scraps of fabric that all but cover them.

    Female sexuality in and of itself has the capacity to be subversive and freeing; but when it is only ever seen in simplistic tits-and-ass sort of ways–in the very same context of female “empowerment”–it eventually sends the subliminal message that pussy and power are inextricably linked. That the body determines your final value, and you are ultimately the sum of its parts.

    Enter Nicki Minaj. The eccentric, Queens-bred spitfire who managed to climb the echelons of male-dominated hip-hop and land somewhere on the top. And in many ways, she’s more progressive than Beyonce: She exudes a more complex, subtle version of sexuality, refers to her fans in unisex terms of “Barbz” (and Ken Barbz for gay men) and speaks poignantly about the challenges of being a female MC:

    When I am assertive, I’m a bitch. When a man is assertive, he’s aboss.He bossed up! No negative connotation behind ‘bossed up’. But lots of negative connotation behind being a bitch… You have to be–you have to be dope at what you do, but you have to be super sweet and you have to be sexy and you have to be this and you have to be that and you have to be nice and you have to… It’s like, I can’t be all those things at once. I’m a human being…

    But as much as Minaj tries to break through the chains of a mans’ world, she’s still complacent in the very system that confines her. Instead of denouncing the unrealistic beauty standards for women, she fully embraces them. She fires off lyrics like “pretty bitches only can get in my posse” (Stupid Hoe) and her image of choice, the Barbie, is the most extreme hetero-normative icon of beauty in existence. Instead of rebelling against the double-standard of female sexuality by discussing her own in the same braggadocious manner of male rappers, she boasts about her so-called respectability, in one interview saying: “if every nigga can say that he had you, you’re not exclusive, you’re not a bad bitch.” And instead of forming alliance with the scant of female hip-hop artists, she pits herself against them in girl-on-girl beefs; hurling childish insults and degrading remarks.

    It was at the end of Stupid Hoe that Minaj referred to herself as the “female Weezy”; a sentiment that perfectly describes the way in which she sees herself. Not as her own separate female identity but as an extension of a mans; like Eve coming to life after taking Adam’s rib. And in many ways, that’s true. She’s taken the most negative aspects of mainstream hip-hop—misogyny, materialism, violence, competitiveness—put a dress on it, and called it her own.

    What’s ironic is that Beyonce and Nicki Minaj are perpetually cited as “feminists” or “female role models”. But even when they’re being “feminist” they only tip-toe around the status quo, operating safety within the parameters of patriarchy. They seek to sell a shiny package of Girl Power that is just edgy enough to make us feel empowered, but not radical enough to encourage any real political change.

    The personas of Beyonce and Nicki Minaj embody the exact same masculine/feminine dichotomy of many black women in America who have bought into the myth of the Strong Black Woman. A woman who is either like Beyonce—the herculean superhero seamlessly juggling her independence with femininity —or like Nicki,–the take-no-shit tough girl who thinks playing by a mans’ rules will make him forget she’s a woman.

    But within the Strong Black woman myth lies the reality of the black female experience. The hardcore persona really only manifests itself in cattiness and competitiveness toward other women, but in relation to men, the armor cracks open to reveal a submissive vulnerability that looks more like weakness. It’s a persona that, even while being masculinized, tries to remain extremely feminine; curvaceous and soft-bodied, possessive of European features—light skin, long hair— a baby doll face, a masterful cook and housekeeper, an exuberant sex appeal, and passive demeanor.

    It’s the oxymoronic dance the two personas engage in; two steps forward and three steps back, awkwardly trying to find a way to fit together but only cancel each other out.

    Society likes to perpetuate the idea that black women hold their partners accountable, that unlike the White Girls, Black Girls don’t “put up” with no mans’ shit. But in truth, loyalty runs deep within the black female culture; the Ride or Die mentality, the allegiance to Your Man that means placing his needs above anything and everything else. It’s the reason black women suffer rates of domestic abuse that is 35% higher than white women (22 times higher than women of other races) and make up 1/3 of intimate partner homicides in the country. Or the reason black women account for 30% of the total HIV/AIDs infections among blacks (a rate 15 times higher than that of white women).

    The Strong Black Woman persona also claims to be in control of her decisions at all times. Yet, millions of black women poured over Steve Harvey’s relationship advice books; the ones that would instruct them on  how to walk, talk, dress, and act in order to get and keep a man.

    Many “Independent women” are also deeply religious. They value autonomy but also adhere to the patriarchal structure of the church that insists that a woman be “obedient” to men, that she “know her place.”

    The way these two contradictory images play out also inform black womens’ ideas about gendered politics. The actual pursuit of social, economic, or personal equality is seen as unnecessary and obsolete. Because in many ways I think the Strong Black Woman myth almost feels feminist enough, feels menacing and potent enough to mistake for real power.

    The problem with Beyonce or Nicki Minaj isn’t so much the persona, but what happens when we buy into it: We get so distracted by the empty rhetoric of “girl power” and “Independent woman” that we forget just how much political progress we have yet to make. We get seduced, over and over, with the same images of the Strong Black Woman and its false implications of gender equality. We fall in love with the allusion of power, and walk away broken-hearted every single time.

    Good conversation piece. Real talk, I don’t agree with all of it but some valid points made.

     
  7. 20:45 23rd Aug 2014

    Notes: 1

    image: Download

    Chillin at Ignite gamer lounge with the fam (at Ignite Gaming Lounge)

    Chillin at Ignite gamer lounge with the fam (at Ignite Gaming Lounge)