HOME ASK ARCHIVE CREDIT feed


t.s. fixe
angry-hippo:



FIGHTING SPIRIT: A statement from Herman Wallace
 
On Saturday. August 31st, I was transferred to LSU Hospital for evaluation. I was informed that the chemo treatments had failed and were making matters worse and so all treatment came to an end. The oncologists advised that nothing can be done for me medically within the standard care that they are authorized to provide. They recommended that I be admitted to hospice care to make my remaining days as comfortable as possible. I have been given 2 months to live.
 
I want the world to know that I am an innocent man and that Albert Woodfox is innocent as well. We are just two of thousands of wrongfully convicted prisoners held captive in the American Gulag. We mo urn for the family of Brent Miller and the many other victims of murder who will never be able to find closure for the loss of their loved ones due to the unjust criminal justice system in this country. We mourn for the loss of the families of those unjustly accused who suffer the loss of their loved ones as well.

 
Only a handful of prisoners globally have withstood the duration of years of harsh and solitary confinement that Albert and myself have.  The State may have stolen my life, but my spirit will continue to struggle along with Albert and the many comrades that have joined us along the way here in the belly of the beast.
 


In 1970 I took an oath to dedicate my life as a servant of the people, and although I’m down on my back, I remain at your service. I want to thank all of you, my devoted supporters, for being with me to the end.

angry-hippo:

FIGHTING SPIRIT: A statement from Herman Wallace
 
On Saturday. August 31st, I was transferred to LSU Hospital for evaluation. I was informed that the chemo treatments had failed and were making matters worse and so all treatment came to an end. The oncologists advised that nothing can be done for me medically within the standard care that they are authorized to provide. They recommended that I be admitted to hospice care to make my remaining days as comfortable as possible. I have been given 2 months to live.
 
I want the world to know that I am an innocent man and that Albert Woodfox is innocent as well. We are just two of thousands of wrongfully convicted prisoners held captive in the American Gulag. We mo urn for the family of Brent Miller and the many other victims of murder who will never be able to find closure for the loss of their loved ones due to the unjust criminal justice system in this country. We mourn for the loss of the families of those unjustly accused who suffer the loss of their loved ones as well.
 
Only a handful of prisoners globally have withstood the duration of years of harsh and solitary confinement that Albert and myself have.  The State may have stolen my life, but my spirit will continue to struggle along with Albert and the many comrades that have joined us along the way here in the belly of the beast.
 
In 1970 I took an oath to dedicate my life as a servant of the people, and although I’m down on my back, I remain at your service. I want to thank all of you, my devoted supporters, for being with me to the end.

Do you know children in Palestine fly kites to prove that they are still free?
Can you imagine how that string must feel between their fingers
as they kneel in the cinders of our missile heads
I wonder what the dead in warsaw would say about the taxes we pay without thought
of funding another holocaust.


The bough is breaking.
The cradle is falling.
Right now a six-year old girl is crutched in a ditch in Lebanon
wishing on falling bombs.
Right now our government is recording the test scores of black and Latino 4th graders
to see how many prison beds will be needed in the year 2015.
Right now there’s a man on the street outside that door
with outstretched hands full of heart beats no one can hear.
He has cheeks like torn sheet music,
Every tear a broken crescendo falling on deaf ears.
At his side there’s a girl with eyes like an anthem
that no one stands up for.

Doctor, our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there.
It’s that we ignore the ones who are.
Till we find ourselves scarred and ashamed
walking into emergency rooms at two a.m.
flooded with a pain we cannot name or explain
because we are bleeding from the outside in.
Skin is not impervious.
Cultures built on greed and war do not pick and choose who they kill.
We all fill the graves.

— snippet from When The Bough Breaks by Andrea Gibson. read the rest here  (via fallintoyourarmstonight)

401 notes (10:36)

boyhands:

i identify with fight club a lot because i also like to express my nonconformity through traditional masculine violence and misogyny. it really goes against what society wants me to do. no wait

13,586 notes (5:12)
thats-the-way-it-was:

August 29, 2005: Hurricane Katrina makes landfall on the U.S. Gulf Coast near New Orleans. Katrina became the worst natural disaster in U.S. history causing approximately 1,300 deaths and $150 billion in damages.
Photo: The damaged Superdome in New Orleans, Louisiana. 9/29/05 (Chris Graythen/Getty) 

thats-the-way-it-was:

August 29, 2005: Hurricane Katrina makes landfall on the U.S. Gulf Coast near New Orleans. Katrina became the worst natural disaster in U.S. history causing approximately 1,300 deaths and $150 billion in damages.

Photo: The damaged Superdome in New Orleans, Louisiana. 9/29/05 (Chris Graythen/Getty) 

Every morning I sit at the kitchen table over a tall glass of water swallowing pills. (So my hands won’t shake.) (So my heart won’t race.) (So my face won’t thaw.) (So my blood won’t mold.) (So the voices won’t scream.) (So I don’t reach for knives.) (So I keep out of the oven.) (So I eat every morsel.) (So the wine goes bitter.) (So I remember the laundry.) (So I remember to call.) (So I remember the name of each pill.) (So I remember the name of each sickness.) (So I keep my hands inside my hands.) (So the city won’t rattle.) (So I don’t weep on the bus.) (So I don’t wander the guardrail.) (So the flashbacks go quiet.) (So the insomnia sleeps.) (So I don’t jump at car horns.) (So I don’t jump at cat-calls.) (So I don’t jump a bridge.) (So I don’t twitch.) (So I don’t riot.) (So I don’t slit a strange man’s throat.)

Jeanann Verlee, Good Girl

15,161 notes (11:07)
vanillaandlavender:

thisisnotjapan:

cuntofdoom:

vasundharaa:

This is a resource post for all the Good White Person™s out there. You know, the ones who say things like “It’s not my fault I’m white! Don’t generalize white people!”, or “I’m appreciating your culture! You should be proud!”, or “Why do you hate all white people, look I’m a special snowflake who’s not racist give me an award for meeting the minimum requirements for being a decent human being”.Well, if you are actually interested in understanding racism and how it ties into cultural appropriation, please read instead of endlessly badgering PoCs on tumblr with your cliched, unoriginal arguments and repeating the same questions over and over.
On White Privilegeaka don’t blame me just because I’m white:
It’s Not My Fault I Was Born White: Basics of White Privilege x
Racial Divide x
Endless Examples of White Privilege x
You Cannot Know What It’s Like To Be A Racial Minority x
Intersectional Feminism x
White Privilege Does Not Mean White People Have Perfect Lives x
White Privilege and White Supremacy: A Presentation x
You Will Never Experience Racism x
Understanding White Privilege x
White Privilege and Double Standards x
Systematic White Ignorance x
The Invisibility of White Privilege x
The Luxury of White Privilege x 
White Privilege: The Harry Potter Analogy x
Privilege Denial Bingo x
Privilege and Cost x
Check Your Privilege 101 x
Whiteness x
Whiteness is Not A Culture x
White Privilege and Racism x
Deeply Embarrassed White People Talk About Race x
When White Anti Racists Talk About ~Their Struggle~ x
White Privilege As A System x
On Reverse Racism aka you are being racist against white people:
Are White People Racially Oppressed x
White People, the new Racial Minority x
People Don’t Value Pale Skin!! x
There Is No Such Thing As Reverse Racism x
Racism vs. Not Racism x
But White People Are Discriminated Against In Foreign Countries x
The Myth of Reverse Racism: Why Cracker is Not N**** x
Satire: A Step Wise Guide on Being Reverse Racist x
Racism Against White People vs. Racism Against POCs x
On Cultural Appropriationaka I’m just appreciating your culture:
The Basics x
Identifying Appropriation x
But When We Wear It … x
Why Can’t I Wear It (Hipster Headdresses) x
Not Yours x
If You Take The Bindi x
White People Do It Better x
Multiculturalism and Appropriation x
Cultural Appropriation and Portrayals In Print Media x
Diminishing the Cultural Significance of the Bindi x
The Cultural Appropriation Bingo x
Why We’re Fed Up of Your Responses x
Identities Are Not Costumes x
Hinduism And Appropriation x
Religion and Privilege x
Bindis Are Cool x
Exotic India x
What’s Wrong With Cultural Appropriation x
Racism, Bindis and Ganesh Tattoos x
BUT YOU’RE SPEAKING ENGLISH! x
Cultural Appropriation Trolls x
Guide to Being An Appropriating Douchefuck x
New Age ~Culture Mixing~ x
In case you’re tired of the prose, here’s poetry x
Why You Shouldn’t Wear A Bindi x
Appropriating and Sharing x
Our Culture is A Punchline Until It’s a Trend x
Homage Or Insult x
Tattoos and Appropriation x
Bollywood is Not Synonymous With Indian x
College Party Costumes and Stereotypes x
Dotheads x
Bindis and Racist Humour x
Hindu Iconography x 
Misuse of Hindu Iconography x
Your Appreciation Doesn’t Help Us x
Assorted Vials of White Tears and Miscellaneous Antidotesaka I can’t change that I’m white/not all whites are racist/we are all humans:
Unoriginal Arguments Refuted x
Quick Checklist: You Might Be Racist If x
Your Opinion Isn’t Necessary x
I’m Not Responsible For My Ancestors x
The Kumbayah Myth x
Proud to Be White x
Good White Person x
We Don’t Hate White People x
Brutality of Colonialism And Why You Can’t Tell Us To Forget the Past x
People Who Claim Not To See Race Are More Likely to Be Racist x
All Races are Beautiful Said the White Girl x 
Race Blindness Is A Luxury x
Well, You’re Racist For Calling Me Racist x
I’ve Read About Its Significance, I Know What It Means 
Angry Because Someone Called You Racist x
We’re Not All Like That x
People Only Care About This Trivial Shit On The Internet x
I Can’t Apologize for Being Born White, It’s Not My Fault x
Why Can’t You Tell Me What I’m Doing Wrong x
It’s Easy to Be Color Blind When You’re White x
A Diagrammatic Guide To White Tears x
Conversations I’m Sick Of Having With White People x
Why Do You Hate White People x
I’m Trying To Be Cultured x
Sisyphean Conundrum x
What is Your Problem x
We Are All Human, We All Bleed Red x
It’s Just A Bindi x
How Not To Respond To Accusations of Racism x
I’m Italian And 0.009% Native American x
What White People Think Racism Means: A Venn Diagram x
White Guilt x
White Pride!!!111!!! x
I Like *Insert Foreign Country* I Want To Live There x
You Have So Much Hate, Fighting Fire With Fire Won’t Help x
BooHoo, Don’t Call Me Racist x
Not Everything Ended With Your Ancestors x
The Racist Reaction x
I Don’t See Why That Is Racist x
Crummy Apologies x
Okay. I agree. I’ve been socially conditioned not to notice racism and recognize my privilege. What can I do?
Listen x
A Step Wise Guide x
I don’t care about this bullshit; you’re making a big deal out of nothing, go home and delete your blog:
The Clueless White Person Bus x

always an important reblog

because I always get the same tired arguments that white people don’t realize or care has been adressed 1,000+ times

all white “allies” better read this

vanillaandlavender:

thisisnotjapan:

cuntofdoom:

vasundharaa:

This is a resource post for all the Good White Persons out there. You know, the ones who say things like “It’s not my fault I’m white! Don’t generalize white people!”, or “I’m appreciating your culture! You should be proud!”, or “Why do you hate all white people, look I’m a special snowflake who’s not racist give me an award for meeting the minimum requirements for being a decent human being”.

Well, if you are actually interested in understanding racism and how it ties into cultural appropriation, please read instead of endlessly badgering PoCs on tumblr with your cliched, unoriginal arguments and repeating the same questions over and over.

On White Privilege
aka don’t blame me just because I’m white:

On Reverse Racism
aka you are being racist against white people:

On Cultural Appropriation
aka I’m just appreciating your culture:

Assorted Vials of White Tears and Miscellaneous Antidotes
aka I can’t change that I’m white/not all whites are racist/we are all humans:


Okay. I agree. I’ve been socially conditioned not to notice racism and recognize my privilege. What can I do?

I don’t care about this bullshit; you’re making a big deal out of nothing, go home and delete your blog:

always an important reblog

because I always get the same tired arguments that white people don’t realize or care has been adressed 1,000+ times

all white “allies” better read this

فرح: we say it every year — we say why on earth do we celebrate our mothers...

aloofshahbanou:

we say it every year — we say why on earth do we celebrate our mothers once a year when we can honor them daily? but we don’t honor mothers daily. we continue to live in a world that guarantees the subjugation, exploitation, and desecration of the mother. we continue to live in a world which bites…

143 notes (11:26)
Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.

— Bell Hooks 

3,160 notes (8:15)
Not everyone is okay with living like an open wound. But the thing about open wounds is that, well, you aren’t ignoring it. You’re healing; the fresh air can get to it. It’s honest. You aren’t hiding who you are. You aren’t rotting. People can give you advice on how to heal without scarring badly. But on the other hand there are some people who’ll feel uncomfortable around you. Some will even point and laugh. But we all have wounds.
11,334 notes (6:08)
I will forget you and if that doesn’t sound romantic, it’s because it isn’t. It’s a simple inevitability, a truth colder than the last night we spent together. Remember that night? When I woke up in the morning and felt nothing familiar, that’s when I knew it was over for good. At least, that’s what I think happened. I fill in the blanks sometimes because I’ve already begun to forget.

I remember the color of your hair, but not the color of your laugh. I remember your name, that one’s easy; I don’t remember how your parents say it in their native tongue (I forgot that one the second you told me). I remember that you exist, that we spent some of our time together for what now feels like a blip, a sneeze, a little nothing. But I forget everything else, like what brought us together and what drove us apart. And mostly everything that happened in between that.

I forget what it’s like to kiss you and what it’s like to want to. I forget what it feels like to hold your hand, if we ever even held hands, it feels like we didn’t. I forget what it’s like to trust you, to believe in you, to need you. I forget what it’s like to think that I’d never forget any of it. For a long time, I thought I never would. You and I both know you left ghosts behind, but they seem to have found someone new to haunt. Maybe it’s you.

The inside jokes have already dissolved into unordered words with no punchline. The gifts have been reduced to objects whose saving grace is their monetary value, no meaning and all function. There are photographs, somewhere, but I’m not the person posed in them anymore and whoever that is sitting next to me, all dressed up in your costume and wearing your mask, well, that’s not you either. But what do I know about who you are? I forget that part, if I ever knew it to begin with.

I won’t forget you the way I won’t forget the Blizzard of ’96 or the pain of getting a wisdom tooth removed. Like something that happened to me once and then unhappened to me and then didn’t matter anymore.

But I will forget you where it counts, like in the eyes and in the mornings and in the moments that felt and looked and tasted a lot like love. I will forget you in those places because I already have.

— Stephanie Georgopulos

2,744 notes (11:06)
clutchmag:

Find Our Missing: Daja Blount

The New Orleans Police Department is searching for Daja Blount. The 13-year-old has been missing…

View Post

clutchmag:

Find Our Missing: Daja Blount

The New Orleans Police Department is searching for Daja Blount. The 13-year-old has been missing…

View Post

The worst of all possible things that could happen would be to lose that language [that black people love so much]. There are certain things I cannot say without recourse to my language. It’s terrible to think that a child with five different present tenses comes to school to be faced with those books that are less than his own language. And then to be told things about his language, which is him, that are sometimes permanently damaging… This is a really cruel fallout of racism. I know the Standard English. I want to use it to help restore the other language, the lingua franca.

1. He ø runnin. Standard American English (SAE )= He is running.

2. He be runnin. SAE = He is usually running or He will/would be running.

3. He be steady runnin. SAE = He is usually running in an intensive, sustained manner, or He will/would be running in an intensive, sustained manner.

4. He(’s) been/bin runnin. SAE He has been running–at some earlier point, but probably not now.
Other examples: I been knowing her. SAE = I have known her.
About eleven o’clock he been eating. SAE = … he was eating.

5. He BEEN/BIN runnin’. SAE = He has been running for a long time, and still is.
-This is a use of the African American English (AAE) stressed been/remote BIN.

My mother Toni Morrison on AAVE (via howtobeterrell)

this is for whoever was telling me that AAVE isn’t a real thing… UGH

(via glassaquarium)

Note how precise each AAVE phrase is. 

(via thecrayonboxes)

Cries from perfection

(via youngbadmanbrown)

For anyone who thinks aave is just slang.
-Morgan

(via pocproblems)

8,407 notes (6:16)
…Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.

— Chinua Achebe, great Nigerian author and often considered the father of modern African lit, who just passed away. Rest in Peace. (source)

3,100 notes (5:25)
Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers; take me to your deaths.

— Margaret Atwood 

124 notes (1:50)