Just a little human bean with a temperamental gift for writing.

 

http://privileged-person.tumblr.com/post/93304110830/radicalreboot-privileged-person

radicalreboot:

privileged-person:

sci-universe:

maswartz:

I honestly think people forget that the church and state are supposed to be separate. Give me one non-religious reason against same sex marriage. One non-religious reason against stem cell research. One…

Gonna have to disagree with this one. Being delusional as a symptom of a psychotic disorder is not the same as having a delusion.

Dictionary definition of a delusion; an idiosyncratic belief or impression maintained despite being contradicted by reality or rational argument, typically as a symptom of mental disorder.

Psychological definition of a delusion; symptomatic of such mental disorders as paranoia, schizophrenia, and major depression and of such physiological conditions as senile psychosis and delirium. They vary in intensity, extent, and coherence and may represent pathological exaggeration of normal tendencies to rationalization, wishful thinking, and the like. Among the most common are delusions of persecution and grandeur; others include delusions of bodily functioning, guilt, love, and control.

Context matters. Using an adjective because it accurately describes a characteristic of a group of  people is not inherently ableist because it isn’t necessarily minimizing those that have delusions owing to psychotic disorders…used in this situation it’s just…well, correct.

privileged-person:

[text: Kwadir Felton shot in face by cop, now blind and found guilty.

image: Kwadir Felton bent over onto a chair in a courtroom crying out with a painful look on his face.

image: A police officer kneels near Kwadir’s mother, who is lying on the floor, crying, with her hand on her heart.]

assbutt-in-the-garrison:

bloodwort:

frusturbation:

janefondle:

xpsycho:

eatimitationcrab:

setbabiesonfire:

Sgt. Thomas McVicar of the Jersey City Police Department shot 22 year old Kwadir Felton, leaving him blind, after Kwadir pulled a gun on him, he claims. Kwadir Felton denied the accusation, stating that he doesn’t even carry guns.

"I don’t understand!" Felton yelled at a police officer before his mother was removed from the courtroom. "You didn’t have to shoot me in the head for no reason! You trying to charge me with something I didn’t do!"

Sign the Change.org petition and get this story out there.

SIGN THE PETITION. Still at least 1,000 signatures needed. SIGNAL BOOST THIS or i will judge you.

This post has 140k notes, yet the change.org petition only has 44k. Sign the damn petition! 

This broke my fucking heart.

hey this needs about 16k more signatures

SIGNAL BOOST

(Source: revolutionary-afrolatino)

I've Started Telling My Daughters I'm Beautiful

I’ve started telling my girls that I think I’m beautiful. It’s been so easy to tell them how beautiful THEY are, because it’s obvious. They are the thing beauty is made of. They are the reason we started worshipping beauty. They sparkle and dance. When they’re sleeping, they turn into soft cloud babies, little perfect tufts of white on the moonlight.

There are a lot of people like me. Women who know things. Women who have seen things. Women with diseases in their livers. There are a lot of women with scars on their arms and words that carry themselves like sparrows. There are women who were too big for this town, who had their backs bent carrying things like religion and a history that originated somewhere in the crook of a branch that extended over a stream. A place where a patch of the sky was visible through the leaves, where a little girl let her bare leg dangle too far down.

There are a lot of people like me, because we’re all the same. We’re all blood and electricity. We’re lonely under the gaze of god. We’re all wet with dew and swallowing hard against DO THIS, CONSUME, SHUT UP and BE AFRAID to die.

All of you women with lines on your brow, with cracks between your fingers… it’s been a long winter. All of you, you are beautiful and so am I.

The thing is, my children are perfect. I am the grown up, so I’m supposed to show them everything about life. When they wake up in the morning, though, I stare at them and they’re new. They teach me everything. They are babies and they teach me what it means to be a person. It’s easy to see that they’re beautiful.

I am slow and I am tired. I am round and sagging. I am harried. I am sexless. I am getting older.

I am beautiful. How can this be? How can any of this be true?

I don’t want my girls to be children who are perfect and then, when they start to feel like women, they remember how I thought of myself as ugly and so they will be ugly too. They will get older and their breasts will lose their shape and they will hate their bodies, because that’s what women do. That’s what mommy did. I want them to become women who remember me modeling impossible beauty. Modeling beauty in the face of a mean world, a scary world, a world where we don’t know what to make of ourselves.

"Look at me, girls!" I say to them. "Look at how beautiful I am. I feel really beautiful, today."

I see it behind their eyes, the calculating and impression. I see it behind their shining brown eyes, how glad they are that I believe I am beautiful. They love me. To them, I am love and guidance and warm, soft blankets and early mornings. They have never doubted how wonderful I am. They have never doubted my beauty. How confusing it must have been for them to see me furrowing my brow in the mirror and sucking in my stomach and sighing.

How confusing it must have been to have me say to them, “You think I am beautiful, but you are wrong. You are small and you love me, so you’re not smart enough to know how unattractive I am. I know I am ugly because I see myself with mean eyes. You are my child and I love you, but I will not allow myself to be pretty, for you. No matter how shining you are when you watch me brushing my hair and pulling my dress over my head. No matter how much you want to be just like me, I can’t be beautiful for you and I don’t know why.”

It’s working, a little bit. I’ve even stopped hating myself, a little bit.

I’ll be what they see. They see me through eyes of love. I’d do anything for them, even this.

I am beautiful.

(Source: feministparenting)

beksboys:

sometimes i wonder what the voice actors of this show are thinking when they record scenes like this

beksboys:

sometimes i wonder what the voice actors of this show are thinking when they record scenes like this

danica-joshifer:

sawsan-ff:

gvacamolly:

petitbear:

skittleoakley:

Daughter tells her Dad he’s going to be a Grandpa [x]

When he says “really” ;’)

Never leave this un-reblogged

my heart is not okay.. I’m about to cry

I cried already.

Encyclopedia Dramatica

To everyone saying Tumblr deserved this fucking raid because feminists - read this.