1. 06:00 16th Jan 2014

    Notes: 216681

    Reblogged from 1-more-reason-to-love

    the-uncensored-she:

    a-la-maquina:

    thehealthyhusky:

    Why I hate going on Facebook.

    Yeah, rape culture doesn’t exist…

    Feel free to publicly expose these guys. They’re all potential rapists and accomplices as far as I’m concerned.

    The most disgusting thing about this is that half of these people have their as a profile picture…

     
  2. 06:07 12th Jan 2014

    Notes: 184351

    Reblogged from hummingbirdswings

    dudah-misc:

    If only guys were so aggressive towards rapists as they are towards the possibility of a woman not shaving for a month

     
  3. 08:48 11th Jan 2014

    Notes: 352668

    Reblogged from ctrlaltsex

    (Source: thetygrinecat)

     
  4. 08:47

    Notes: 16

    Reblogged from ctrlaltsex

    image: Download

    thecsph:

“Sex positivity is an approach to sex and sexuality that promotes personal awareness, exploration, and self-acceptance, and that recognizes sexuality as a positive force that enhances all aspects of life.  This approach values sexual diversity, and regards sexual pleasure and expression in all safe and consensual forms, as a right to which every individual is entitled.”
[Part of our weekly Sex Positive Saturday (current interns) series! Visit http://thecsph.tumblr.com for more, or to submit your own definitions.]

    thecsph:

    Sex positivity is an approach to sex and sexuality that promotes personal awareness, exploration, and self-acceptance, and that recognizes sexuality as a positive force that enhances all aspects of life.  This approach values sexual diversity, and regards sexual pleasure and expression in all safe and consensual forms, as a right to which every individual is entitled.”

    [Part of our weekly Sex Positive Saturday (current interns) series! Visit http://thecsph.tumblr.com for more, or to submit your own definitions.]

     
  5. 16:27 9th Jan 2014

    Notes: 133293

    Reblogged from 1-more-reason-to-love

    nosoytuchiste:

    I’m Not a Joke is a campaign spreading awareness for the LGBTI community through art and design, created by Daniel Arzola (@Arzola_d) in light of the recent violent acts against the sexually diverse community in Venezuela. It initially seeks to expand in the online community. If you’d like to share your opinion please do so via twitter using the hashtag #ImNotaJoke. Like my page on Facebook and share the posters to support the cause! 

    Shop: http://society6.com/Arzolad/tshirts

    #ImNotaJoke

     
  6. 01:13 6th Jan 2014

    Notes: 65436

    Reblogged from 1-more-reason-to-love

    loki-this-is-madness:

    ATTENTION THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT!!!

    RIGHT HERE, LADIES AND GENTS, IS THE FULL EPISODE OF SHERLOCK THAT JUST AIRED JAN 1ST. REBLOG IT EVEN IF YOU HAVE SEEN IT SO THOSE WHO HAVE NOT CAN COME ACROSS IT! 

    It was a life saver for me finding it because the live stream link was very busy so it had to buffer and the screen was disfigured so here to anyone who missed it or just wasnt able to see it all the way through. Thanks!!

     
  7. 12:50 4th Jan 2014

    Notes: 217227

    Reblogged from heilseitann

    Rape culture is when I was six, and
    my brother punched my two front teeth out.
    Instead of reprimanding him, my mother
    said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?”
    When my only defense was my
    mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him.
    Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.”
    As if it was my sole purpose, the reason
    six-year-old me existed,
    was to not rile up my brother.
    It’s starts when we’re six, and ends
    when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man
    is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to
    not “rile him up.” Right, mom?

    Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation,
    my father says that women who get raped are asking for it.
    He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City,
    with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.”
    When I used to be my father’s hero but
    will he think I was asking for it? (will he think)
    Will he think I deserved it?
    Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me,
    even though the touch of a man - especially my father’s -
    burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand.

    Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would
    be easier for your parents to find you dead,
    than to say, “Hey mom and dad,”
    It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it.
    I never asked for this attention, I never asked
    to be a target, to be weak because I was born with
    two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me,
    in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey.
    I never wanted to spend my life being something
    someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved.
    I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore.
    I will not let you eat me alive.

    Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when
    an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass,
    because standing up for her body “makes me a target.”
    Women are afraid to speak up, because
    they fear their own lives - but I’d rather take the hit
    than live in a culture of silence.
    I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined
    by the DNA in my weaker, softer body.
    I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance.
    I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time.

    Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child.
    When he even has some form of a justification
    and all I have are the things that provoked him,
    and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest
    and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin.
    Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me.
    A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee.
    There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take
    me years to methodically extract him from my body.
    And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later?
    Proof of the past.
    Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for.
    Somehow I am permanently inked.

    Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore
    without feeling dirty, without feeling like
    you somehow earned it.
    You will feel like you are walking on knives,
    every time you wear the shoes
    you smashed his nose in with.
    Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels,
    thinking, maybe this will heal me.
    Those shoes are your freedom,
    But the remains of a life long fight.
    You will always carry your heart,
    your passion, your absolute will to live,
    but also the shame and the guilt and the pain.
    I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives.

    Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were
    one of the lucky ones.”
    Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis,
    but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky.
    I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you.
    Thank you for being so kind.
    Rape culture is “things could have been worse.”
    “It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.”
    “You’ll have to get over this eventually.”
    “Don’t let it ruin your life.”
    Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you,
    no one would ever want you again.
    And you believed him.

    Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped,
    instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women.
    That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this.
    The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a
    slut, a whore, a bitch.
    The worst possible thing you can call a man is a
    bitch, a pussy, a girl.
    The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl.
    The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl.
    Being a woman is the ultimate rejection,
    the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the
    absolute insult.
    When I have a daughter,
    I will tell her that she is not
    an insult.

    When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight.
    I will look at her like the sun when she comes home
    with anger in her fists.
    Because we are human beings and we do not
    always have to take what we are given.
    They all tell her not to fight fire with fire,
    but that is only because they are afraid of her flames.
    I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that
    when she hears it, she will not question it.
    My daughter,
    Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love
    you have for yourself
    and the lengths you go to preserve it.

    My daughter,
    I am alive because of the fierce love I have
    for myself, and because my father taught me
    to protect that.
    He taught me that sometimes, I have to do
    my own bit of saving, pick myself off the
    ground and wipe the dirt off my face,
    because at the end of the day,
    there is only me.
    I am alive because my mother taught me
    to love myself.
    She taught me that I am an enigma - a
    mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and
    I must love myself enough to see how I turn out.
    I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back
    against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me
    worth fighting for.
    And for that, I thank my parents.

    Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up,
    I will show her how to be exposed.
    Because no is not “convince me”.
    No is not “I want it”.
    You call me,
    “Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.”
    But I am not any of these things for you.
    I am exploding light,
    my daughter will be exploding light,
    and you,
    better cover your eyes.

    — 

    slk

    Rape Culture (Cover Your Eyes)

    (Source: aseriesofnouns)

     
  8. 13:51 22nd Dec 2013

    Notes: 43

    Reblogged from nerdygirlnoodles

    image: Download

     
  9. 20:28 19th Dec 2013

    Notes: 8334

    Reblogged from 1-more-reason-to-love

    Unwed white girls who became pregnant in the postwar years were considered psychologically disturbed but treatable, whereas their black counterparts were presumed to be biologically hypersexual and deviant. Historian Rickie Solinger demonstrates that in the 1950s an unwed white girl who became pregnant could go to a maternity home before her pregnancy showed, deliver the baby and give it up for adoption, and return home to her community with no one the wiser. (White parents concocted stories of their daughters being given the opportunity to study for a semester with relatives.) She could then resume the role of the “nice” girl.

    Unwed pregnant black girls, on the other hand, were barred from maternity homes; they were threatened with jail or termination of welfare; and they were accused of using their sexuality in order to be eligible for larger welfare checks. Politicians regarded unwed pregnant black girls as a societal problem, declaring—as they continue to declare today—that they did not want taxpayers to support black illegitimate babies, and sough to control black female sexuality through sterilization legislation
    — Leora Tanenbaum, Slut!: Growing Up Female with a Bad Reputation (via cailleachmuir)

    (Source: janersm)

     
  10. 11:34

    Notes: 114532

    Reblogged from 1-more-reason-to-love

    nortonism:

    Here are 10 photos (out of 22) from my series Racial Microaggressions. I have asked my friends on the Fordham University Lincoln Center campus to write down an instance of racial microaggression they have faced on a poster for me to take a picture of them.