I choose the best people to entangle myself with.
25, feminist, writes some stuff sometimes.
This is JASON FYLES and he goes to my university (Newcastle University, North East of England) He is 19 years old, 5’8, ginger hair and slim. He was last seen in the Sandyford area at 2:45am on Thursday morning and has not been seen since. He was wearing a blue shirt, grey cardigan, beige chinos and brown ankle boots. Everyone in uni is so worried about him along with his family and friends. We are coming together as a university to appeal for his safe return. It is thought that he lost his friends on the night out and tried to make his way back by himself. Please, I am begging for you to REBLOG THIS, even if you don’t live in Newcastle, or England. Every REBLOG means that someone else will see his face, they will know who we are looking for, and your followers could be the one to know his whereabouts. Stay safe Jason, we’re looking for you.
THIS WILL NOT RUIN YOUR BLOG!PLEASE. Nobody reblogged my own post on this which I posted an hour or so ago so I’m wondering if nobody will now. This guy is my friend. If I have ever sent you a nice ask or reblogged something of yours and it made you happy for a second (or even if I haven’t; this is about helping him, not doing me a favour) for God’s sake just help now, help to find my friend Jason. You want me to make him human to you?
- Once we all grew beans in pots as part of a Biology experiment- the experiment failed miserably and made the whole lab stink, but his was the only bean that grew and he was actually pretty proud about it
- He learned to knit as part of a school project where he had to learn a creative skill, and when a couple of people teased him about it he said “gender is a social construct” and carried on knitting like a badass
- He loves the scene in The Great Gatsby where Gatsby throws all his silk shirts around and he and I used to giggle over it together
- Once I asked him if he had a string of tinsel I could use in a photoshoot and he brought me a big cardboard box full of tinsel and fairy lights because he’s a helpful and lovely guy
He’s HUMAN and he needs our HELP and just PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING REBLOG THIS??? He’s been missing for four days now- when he went missing he would have been wearing his contact lenses and he won’t have had his (very thick) glasses with him so by now he’ll have had to take his contacts out and throw them away and he won’t be able to see well and oh God just please signal boost this
(via missgems)
Sick of sitting in an office and calmly explaining why it’s not okay to call Kim Kardashian a disgusting fat whale.
I’ll come back for you i whisper as i caress the books i can’t afford
(via w8ingfornow)
Where are the men? Where are the allies?
So we have seen a Twitter malestrom (typo and I’m keeping it) of men all lamenting the loss of Angelina Jolie’s breasts- as though her choice to undergo a life-saving preventative mastectomy is less important than her secondary sex characteristics. As if her decision to undergo a preventative surgical procedure has somehow reduced her worth.
It seems like any time Tumblr feminists express negative feelings about men, there are a few “allies” who come out of the woodwork.
“We’re not all like that!”
“Well, when do I get an opportunity to help?”
“I want to help. You just have to show me.”
Well, here’s. fucking. how.
You go on Twitter, right now. You reply to these fucks. Not because they will change their minds - they won’t.
But because when only women challenge these Twitter losers, it implicitly reinforces the idea that feminist concerns are a special interest, rather than a human interest. It implicitly reinforces to these men that their ideas are the default, that they are not worth challenging. It silences women - who do not possess as much power or social capital as a general rule - from speaking out against these men. Their opinion is coded as normal; as neutral. It’s hurting your wives, sisters, girlfriends, and daughters. Right now.
Want an opportunity to help? Go do it. Here, you received an engraved invitation from this feminist. Go, be an ally.
So why do I strongly suspect that the “allies” on Tumblr are going to drag their heels and make lame excuses and not want to look like a “pussy” by speaking out?
(via doulaness)
When our breasts arrived
as a kind of currency, we’d tug
our camisoles low, use
our newfangled bodies to haggle
with the ice cream man. The winner
was the girl who received her chocolate cone
for free, who sucked on candy cigarettes
the same way she wore a training bra.
That summer my pockets grew forests
of hand-tied maraschino cherry stems:
tampered evidence that I might one day be worthy
of kissing. In exchange for rides
on the handlebars of their bikes,
we’d let the boys bite
the beads off our candy
necklaces until the chokers
resembled punched out teeth.
From their slobber, blue and violet
stained my throat where the sweetness
had once been, so I suppose,
Your Honor, I was preparing
for him.
as a kind of currency, we’d tug
our camisoles low, use
our newfangled bodies to haggle
with the ice cream man. The winner
was the girl who received her chocolate cone
for free, who sucked on candy cigarettes
the same way she wore a training bra.
That summer my pockets grew forests
of hand-tied maraschino cherry stems:
tampered evidence that I might one day be worthy
of kissing. In exchange for rides
on the handlebars of their bikes,
we’d let the boys bite
the beads off our candy
necklaces until the chokers
resembled punched out teeth.
From their slobber, blue and violet
stained my throat where the sweetness
had once been, so I suppose,
Your Honor, I was preparing
for him.
━ Megan Falley, “Beginning in an Ice Cream Truck and Ending in a Court Room (After Kim Addonizio)” (via petrichour)
(Source: clementinevonradics, via brienneofkobol)
As much as I will continue to judge myself for drinking tequila cocktails alone at home on a Saturday night wearing knitted boots, I really enjoy the fact that I can sit at home on a Saturday night wearing knitted boots and drinking tequila cocktails without anyone to judge me but myself (and maybe now tumblr, but it turns out I don’t give a fuck about that.)
Chicken wings are in the oven.
What I really like to learn how to do is to build sentences that are equal to mental states.
I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours.
━ Rudy Francisco (via juneandafter)
(Source: in-finitus, via juneandafter)
