fatphrodite

someauthorgirl:

josephinas—bidened:

collababortion:

kittydoom:

salon:

We dare you to say we don’t live in a rape culture.

Amazingly, not The Onion:

“[W]e now have young men telling Bloomberg News that they basically view their female peers as rape bombs just waiting to explode and ruin their lives.”

I REPEAT: THIS IS NOT THE ONION

*flips table*

I wish I could say I can’t believe men would say such dumb shit.

Literally, go fuck yourselves. Bye.

fancybidet
The problem is that white people see racism as conscious hate, when racism is bigger than that. Racism is a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people’s expense, whether whites know/like it or not. Racism is an insidious cultural disease. It is so insidious that it doesn’t care if you are a white person who likes black people; it’s still going to find a way to infect how you deal with people who don’t look like you. Yes, racism looks like hate, but hate is just one manifestation. Privilege is another. Access is another. Ignorance is another. Apathy is another. And so on. So while I agree with people who say no one is born racist, it remains a powerful system that we’re immediately born into. It’s like being born into air: you take it in as soon as you breathe. It’s not a cold that you can get over. There is no anti-racist certification class. It’s a set of socioeconomic traps and cultural values that are fired up every time we interact with the world. It is a thing you have to keep scooping out of the boat of your life to keep from drowning in it. I know it’s hard work, but it’s the price you pay for owning everything.

Scott Woods (X)

he motherfucking dropped the truth.

(via mesmerisme)

THAT’S THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR OWNING EVERYTHING

(via queerfabulousmermaid)

this is a super important explanation to think about whenever you feel like telling someone that something isn’t racist because you don’t hate x person.

(via robotsandfrippary)

I probably reblogged in the past, but here it is again in that case.

(via feministdisney)

“He began producing rap songs with friends … He collaborated on songs that included lyrics such as, “My favorite part is when the bodies hit the ground.”

I’m black, but my closest friends in high school were all white. All but two of them drank. All but one listened to rap music, everything from the vulgar to the high-minded. Most of my friends smoked weed. A few of them sold it. At senior prom, two of my friends offered me ecstasy. Our freshman year, we had a day of mourning to reflect on the death of our hockey team’s goalie, who’d overdosed on prescription meds. But if any of my white high school friends got shot, none of this would matter to The New York Times.

Great piece from Jordan Lebeau.