misspaperlilies:

selfie culture is publishing your series of personal essays

selfie culture is traveling the world and writing a book about it

selfie culture is painting a self portrait

selfie culture is having a newspaper column

selfie culture is creating things that you want to create

selfie culture is existing and telling other people you exist

selfie culture is engaging with the world

selfie culture is not a new thing

selfie culture is fucking great

(Source: bryonycloud, via mymbley)

,,

Most girls are relentlessly told that we will be treated how we demand to be treated. If we want respect, we must respect ourselves.

This does three things. Firstly, it gets men off the hook for being held accountable for how they treat women. And secondly, it makes women feel that the mistreatment and sometimes outright violence they face due to their gender is primarily their fault. And thirdly, it positions women to be unable to speak out against sexism because we are made to believe any sexism we experience would not have happened if we had done something differently.

I cannot demand a man to respect me. No more than I can demand that anybody do anything. I can ask men to be nice to me. But chances are if I even have to ask he does not care to be nice. I can express displeasure when I’m not being respected. But that doesn’t solve the issue that I was disrespected in the first place.

I can choose to not deal with a man once he proves to be disrespectful and/or sexist. But even that does not solve the initial problem of the fact that I had to experience being disrespected in the first place.

As a young girl, I wish that instead of being told that I needed to demand respect from men that I had been told that when I am not respected by men that it’s his fault and not mine. But that would require that we quit having numerous arbitrary standards for what it means to be a “respectable” woman. It would mean that I am not judged as deserving violence based on how I speak, what I wear, what I do, and who I am.

excerpt from “FYI, I Cannot “Demand” Respect From Men so Stop Telling Me That!" @ One Black Girl. Many Words.  (via fajazo)

We need to start teaching all young boys to be accountable. We’ve failed our young boys and girls for too long.

(via allmyfriendsarewhite)

(Source: daniellemertina, via mymbley)

nohetero:

scottthepilgrim:

which fucking fedora wearing friendzoned nerd made this thing

yeah but notice that the seal’s intent is to eat those fish and the shark offers a mutually beneficial relationship for them

in which a dudebro unintentionally makes a really accurate analogy for the reason that they’re single forever

(via hamtaryo)

,,

Let’s have a bloke’s question.

Tony Abbott after being asked 2 questions on Climate Change and Same Sex Marriage by girls. (x)

Tony Abbott: “You there, what’s your favourite football team?”

Male Student: “Did you know it’s a human right to seek asylum?”

(via plastic-pussycats)

(Source: holytrinitay, via kimpine)

prynnette:

Usagi is a great character. We watch her grow from a clumsy, lazy, self-centered teenager into a fearless goddess of justice who takes down the force of chaos itself. But the great thing is? She doesn’t stop being the girl we met back in chapter one. Sure, she’s indomitably powerful and her teardrops turn into the universe’s most potent energy source, but she also likes video games and donuts and napping and she gets crappy grades on tests because instead of studying, she was playing video games and eating donuts and napping. She whines about having to study for high school entrance exams, then stops a Texas-sized asteroid from slamming into Tokyo. Also, she was totally having sex with her star-crossed-reincarnated-prince of a boyfriend.

J.K. Rowling once made a really interesting point about the Narnia books (which I have not read): “There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She’s become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.” Takeuchi avoided this in Sailor Moon with such deftness and grace that I’m only fully realizing it now, at 22. Usagi and Mamoru were totally boning—there are all kinds of dreamy, gauzy artbook pictures of them together in bed or discreetly covered in feathers, not to mention the penultimate scene of the manga, where they wake up in a (seriously awesome) bed together all naked and cuddly. Moreover, check out the illustrations of Usagi in lingerie and just straight up topless that Takeuchi busted out for her self-published artbook. Usagi is pure-hearted, but she isn’t “pure” in the archaic sense. She’s sexual. And I love that she can be both. She’s the amaranthine avatar of goodness and love and serenity in the universe—she is every cherished ideal we hold of what it means to be a “magical girl.”  She stands for truth and freedom and hope. She wears floaty pastel clothes and enormous pigtails and her weapons are covered in hearts and stylized angel wings. She’s often drawn with angel wings herself! And she has sex. It doesn’t make her dirty, or suddenly inappropriate as entertainment for young girls. She doesn’t lose her power or her magic. She is a multifaceted young woman who loves sweets and comics and vanquishes the forces of evil and also has sex.

And the thing is, this kind of attitude in entertainment helps everyone. It’s not just very sexually active girls who need characters like Usagi, or even just girls in general. I was a prudish kid who didn’t have her first kiss until the age of 18 and this particular aspect of the manga has always stuck with me and informed my attitudes about sex. Whoever you are, however you handle your sexuality—it never makes you dirty. You can be queen of the mahou shoujo and have sex and wake up the next day to slaughter the wicked hordes with your bunny-bedecked Magic Rainbow Sparkle Sword. You can do both. You can be both. One does not invalidate the other.

(via mymbley)

,,

When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”

When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.

When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”

(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)

When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.

I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.

No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.

I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.

So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:

In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.

r.d.  (via albinwonderland)

(Source: elferinge, via ouijabored-k)

terribleterribleterrible:

I really hate not posting things, so I posted this??? Anwyays, this comic will be printed in As You Were #3 curated by Mitch Clem! You’d better check it out because it’s awesome! You can find a recent kind of rudimentary page for As You Were here so yeah check it out! I’ll make a post when this issue comes out as well. But these are great and have lots of cool folks involved so you should check ‘em out and yep

I’ll admit when I first wrote this I was really worried it was too similar to a lot of comics I’ve found on tumblr, but then also it’s one of those things that happens to so many people so aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

(via mymbley)

abomasnow:

girls are amazing i just watched my friend change 8 times before picking an outfit you girls are so dedicated to looking good i can’t believe there are men out there sitting in their cum stained sweatpants trying to tell you what you’re allowed to wear

(via languagetapes)

ashermajestywishes:

alabasandria:

lafeianitric:

assbutts-and-sherlocked-idjits:

andrewquo:

portablewhiskers:

no-drama-obama:

This is, in fact, the most important post on the internet.

Every male should be required to read this.

IN PAIN READING THIS. REALLY GLAD I HAVE A DICK

the most perfect post. 

the sad part is this isn’t even an exaggeration

The doctors had to give me morphine cause my cramps were almost worse than labour pains. Amen to this post.

This is possibly the best post I have ever seen

(Source: tom-sits-like-a-whore, via tuesdayblouse)

thescarletwoman:

mennaoawad:

riddle me that, mankind

THANK YOU. Such a perfect way to phrase that. 

(Source: veganmenna, via ouijabored-k)

Mindy Kaling on Elle.

rafi-dangelo:

Let’s play One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other:

image   image

image   image

Hmm…..

(.__. )

Read More

(via milkdodz)

doctaspoopy:

verbalizations:

i-smell-sex-and-coffee:

Why does it always seem pathetic when a girl is in love with a boy who doesn’t love her back, and romantic and heartbreaking when a boy loves a girl who doesn’t love him

you know exactly why

*pulls cord, revealing poorly made banner and confetti*
PATRIARCHY

(Source: pizza-weather, via mymbley)

likeafieldmouse:

Rik Garrett - Symbiosis (2010-11)

Artist’s statement: 

"An integral concept of Alchemy is ‘Solve et Coagula’ – dissolve and combine.  This is the secret key to manifesting the Philosopher’s Stone, Elixr of Life and immortality. This ideal is represented with the image of the Rebis – a two-headed hermaphrodite that holds the assets of both genders."

(via bollykecks)