"She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope."

Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bones (via waitingforteaagain)

(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via cestlavieparis)

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@1 year ago with 3384 notes

The Western Woman’s Burden

I’ve always believed it to be true when Jesus said remove the plank from your eye before reaching for the speck of dust in your neighbor’s.

America. I fear you have been staring too long through half blind eyes trying to cut out a misconceived problem with a blunt scalpel

While behind you, your children run around unkempt perpetuating the rape you taught them was “no big deal”

Then you are offended when the women in India cut free from the gauze-thin ropes of your shiny pre-packaged aid.

The boulevards you built with silver are green and run rampant with street rats disguising themselves as civilized men

They shave their fur for the day, don pin-stripe suits and kiss their trophy wives good day

Then at night their tails grow long, their teeth sharpen , and they scavenge for school girls like finding scraps in the gutter,  just to return their broken bodies to the sidewalks like nothing happened, because nothing did, she was asking for it.

And America, you watch, and continue to cook meals in your dirty kitchen for those poor suffering women

But the Amherst college girl was not asking for it.

The young woman in Ohio was not asking for it.

Her resistance was not a come-on

The delicate holy temples of their bodies were not invitations

But we are so doped up with privilege

 our minds are hazy with the false mist of superiority

When will you learn. When will we learn?

Feminism was never meant to be another Panama Canal for capitalism

But the money from your Harvard femme solidarity clubs still draws your eyes from the festering wounds on your daughters

They cry rape and are ignored while their attackers walk free and more victims stay silent

America. You neglect your children but save paint to color yourself mother of the year

And idolize the men who commodify our little girls

America. Hear this. We have struck a match that is burning us up from the inside

How long will we continue to have a fetish for violence?

How long can we pretend that we have no crisis?

How long can we pretend not to feel the flames?

@1 year ago with 1 note
#slam #rape #America #India 
@1 year ago with 8979 notes

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@1 year ago with 311659 notes

does not need your tears
your prayers
your money,
your t-shirts,
your telethons,
your hands ever so lovingly placed
on her buttocks.
your mouth at her breasts.
your fists in her eyes.
she wants you to stop pissing in her face
calling it water.
she wants you to leave.
she is the cradle of civilization.
you hate that.
one day
you will reap
you have sown."

why i will never acknowledge a white person as african/ missionary trips are evil, nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)


(via likewater4chocolate)

@1 year ago with 3897 notes


Not saying Quvenzhané’s name is an attempt, consciously or unconsciously, to step around and contain her blackness. Yes, sometimes black people have names that are difficult to pronounce. There aren’t many people of European descent named Shaniqua or Jamal. Names are as big a cultural marker as brown skin and kinky hair, and there’s long been backlash against both of those things (see: perms, skin bleaching creams, etc.). The insistence on not using Quvenzhané’s name is an extension of that “why aren’t you white?” backlash.

It is easier to be colorblind, to simply turn a blind eye to the differences that have torn this nation apart for centuries than it is to wade through those choppy waters. And Quvenzhané’s very existence is enough to make the societal majority uncomfortable. She is talented, successful, beautiful, happy, loved, and adored–all things that many people don’t figure that little black girls with “black” names could, or should, be. Their answer? Let’s make her more palatable. If she insists on not fitting the mold of the ghetto hoodrat associated with women with “urban” names, let’s take her own urban name away from her.

Refusing to learn how to pronounce Quvenzhané’s name says, pointedly, you are not worth the effort. The problem is not that she has an unpronounceable name, because she doesn’t. The problem is that white Hollywood, from Ryan Seacrest and his homies to the AP reporter who decided to call her “Annie” rather than her real name, doesn’t deem her as important as, say, Renee Zellwegger, or Zach Galifinakis, or Arnold Schwarzenegger, all of whom have names that are difficult to pronounce–but they manage. The message sent is this: you, young, black, female child, are not worth the time and energy it will take me to learn to spell and pronounce your name. You will be who and what I want you to be; you be be who and what makes me more comfortable. I will allow you to exist and acknowledge that existence, but only on my terms.


Brokey McPoverty, “What’s In A Name? Kind Of A Lot,” PostBourgie 2/26/13 (via monkeyknifefight)

(Source: racialicious, via hoybata)

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