You probably know my name and my story.
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You know, a few months ago this dude friend of mine showed up to hang out with me all dejected. Over a couple of drinks he explained his long face — earlier that night, he’d been walking down the street behind this really cute girl, and when she looked back at him over her shoulder, he thought it was in interest and smiled at her. Now, this guy is tall and skinny, can most commonly be found in glasses and t-shirts scrawled across with math jokes, is kind to animals, considers himself a feminist. What he doesn’t consider himself is threatening, so he was surprised, confused, and even hurt by what happened next: the girl in front of him responding to his called greeting of, “Nice skirt,” by taking off down the darkened street in a dead run.
“Yeah,” I said, “she probably thought you were going to rape her.”
“But that’s not fair,” he said. “I’m a good person; I’d never rape anyone! How could she think that? She doesn’t even know me.”
Out here in the wilds of the internet, I often find myself making arguments about shit like feminism and rape culture unilaterally. For one thing, there’s so much (like, so much) out there arguing unilaterally against this shit that I feel it’s necessary; for another thing, ‘round these parts there’s a lot of people jumping to hostility when it’s painfully clear they don’t have a handle on all the facts. But I’m more lenient with the people in my real life, especially dudes like the one mentioned above. I’m willing to extend to them a patience that I wouldn’t with strangers on the internet, because they matter to me, and it matters to me that they understand. So when my friend sat there that night, whining over his beer and responding to my attempted explanations with, “But I’d love it if a girl smiled at me on the street, or even catcalled at me! Fuck, even if a dude did it, I’d be flattered,” I decided to spend some time thinking about how to clear things up for him. It took awhile, but I finally came up with a metaphor to get the job done:
Consider the bank.
Susan B. Anthony, badass.
Lest we forget Susan B. Anthony sought voting rights for women because she was offended that black men were allowed to vote and she wasn’t, even though, as she said, their brains weren’t capable of understanding politics. Susan B. Anthony, racist.
White privilege is Susan B. Anthony being an American hero. White privilege not understand why black folks should be skeptical of mainstream feminism when this white supremacist is one of the most seminal figures in the feminist movements.
not so friendly reminder that this motherfucking shitstain literally said she would rather cut off her own arm than ever fight for the right of black people to vote (or be considered fucking human, obviously).
c. 1980s: Sharing Moments - Dilip Kumar and Faiz Ahmed Faiz
SOURCE: http://on.fb.me/11K2Qrh
I spent most of May and part of June in my hometown, Karachi this year. Tried to plan a few photography trips here and there. The photos in this set were taken at Clifton, or more popularly known as seaview :)
Paintings by Joseph Zbukvic
The racist chants finally get to Balotelli.
He gives a rare interview to CNN, and his comments lead every sports page in Italy. The next time a soccer stadium echoes with monkey calls, he will take off his jersey and leave the field. All those years ago, at the pitch across from his house, he felt like he belonged. Now every monkey chant is pushing him away.
Boateng walked off in an exhibition game. This is different. Milan needs a win to secure a place in the Champions League, and its star player has drawn a line in the sand. The game is in two days, and Italy focuses on a single question: Will he or won’t he?
I gotta applaud this
Did you know Queen Victoria learned Urdu? Here’s a sample of her work!
I ship will and hannibal
on separate boats
on opposite sides of the ocean
the boat is also a pit of poisonous snakes
except instead of deadly poison
they are rudeness snakes
they make hannibal hallucinate rudeness.
not big things!!! like that doctor asking about infections. little things. like franklyn’s kleenex. franklyn perpetually dropping his dirty kleenex on hannibal’s beautiful glass table.
