U.S. President Barack Obama is expected to pardon “hundreds, perhaps thousands” of federal drug inmates before leaving office. That number might not seem so big. But it’s historic in executive terms. In fact, reports indicate that the potential number will be well above the norm for an outgoing president and may even approach levels not seen since President Gerald Ford gave mass clemency to draft dodgers after the Vietnam War.
An open letter to the ‘nice guy’ who tried to hit me because I stopped him from taking home a drunk girl who was begging him to leave her alone (or: why you should never ask a poet if she’s really an ugly cocksucker or if that’s just her day job):
The thing is, everyone assumes that by taking away our rights, you make us weak.
In reality, just the opposite occurs. We are used to the sling of insults - there is nothing you can say that hasn’t already been said to me. We are used constantly being on the outlook for our aggressor - so yes, I can spot an asshole from across the room and it’s because I often have to.
The thing is: you are making our skins thicker and our spines stronger than anyone who doesn’t have to put up with the shit that we do. We are the same generation that can wear pretty dresses and cut up your corpse in the same moment: because trust me, we know how to get blood out of our clothing.
You think women are little helpless flowers but I know at least a quarter of my lady friends with self-defense classes under their belts, at least half who can fight their way out of a chokehold with nothing but their carkeys like daggers in their fists, at least three-fourths who are so used to any kind of slur you can throw at them that they have four witty comebacks just resting on their backburners, and all of them - all of them - are baptized in the fire of another person’s violation, whether verbal or otherwise. You are not making the submissive housewives or the shy secretaries of your wet dreams. You have made dragons.
You have made mothers with sharp teeth who can balance eight different tasks and still remember your favorite dinner. You have made CEOs who do better work because they’re used to being told they’re sub-par. You are making artists and poets and musicians who’ve seen the dark in the world. You are making social justice warriors - I use this not as a defamation but as a banner, as the way they brand themselves because it is a battle, isn’t it, and nobody’s come out without their share of scars - you are making a generation of caustically beautiful ladies who have seen more shit by six a.m. than you have all your life and they still walk better in heels than you do in your boat shoes.
We do not invite your ‘nice guy’ into our beds, you’re right, because the nice guys of our lives have been our fathers asking us if we ‘are really going out in that,’ have been our best friend telling us that his girlfriend should give up sex because he’s paid for dinner, have been our uncles and brothers and the great gentlemen who hang out of their cars and laugh when the thirteen-year-old they just honked at jumps and looks terrified (but should totally accept the compliment as if it was a gift instead of the moment she recognizes she’s never going to be safe) -
you wanna know why we don’t let nice men into our beds? Because we rarely find them.
They’re out there, I know it, but they’re not the ones wetting themselves when a woman asks ‘why do you think that?’ instead of sitting back and letting him laugh with his buddies about femi-nazis. They’re out there and they’re probably as pissed as we are that at least one third of their population has openly admitted there are times when they think it’s okay to force their significant other to have sex: they’re out there, and the sad thing is, if you’re a male, you’re statistically not one of them. As far as we know, you don’t exist. You are a white knight only you believe in.
Here’s the thing about forcing people down: eventually they’re going to get strong enough to push right on back, and when you’ve spent the whole time sitting on your ass sinking your teeth into your healthy wage gap, you’re not going to be ready for it.
You’ve hurt us, over and over. When the time comes for us to hurt back, do you know how many of us are going to ask ‘Where was the mercy when I was begging like he is now? Where was that mercy when I got pregnant? Where was that mercy when I was called selfish for being a single parent? Where was that mercy when he forced himself on me? Where was that mercy, in anything?’
The thing about oppression is that it can only last for so long. You are not making yourself dominant, you’re making yourself weak. I’ve seen men crumble because they feel uncomfortable when they get hit on by other men as if the stench of their own mistakes is strangling them. I’ve seen them get impassioned because a teacher preferred females and I’ve laughed because I had eight other classes where it was reversed and in all of those eight, it went uncontested. I have legitimately punched a boy who said that a show for girls was shameful because it tries to teach lessons instead of catering to his desire for sex - as if just by liking something, he owns it. I’ve seen boys growl about women’s history month and had to wonder if they’ve ever held a textbook where the only names of girls are tiny footnotes. I’ve seen fathers ask why the curriculum I use for my six-year-olds is carefully gender neutral, why I let his son play at cooking or his daughter be a doctor.
I have never heard a mother complain except to beg me to get her little girl to talk more, to do more, to succeed - do you see? Do you see?
Here’s the thing about stepping on us: we have learned to stop licking your boots
and now we want to ruin you.
|—||trust me, I know actual nice guys and they are nothing like your type. p.s your fly was down the whole time. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)|
Photographer: Caroline + Ben Photography
"An Elegant Roses and Peonies Inspired Wedding Reception Decor"
Minimum-wage jobs are physically demanding, have unpredictable schedules, and pay so meagerly that workers can’t save up enough to move on.
An important reminder of how “the criminalization of poverty has accelerated since the recession” by the author of Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America.
we’ve all had crushes we very strongly regret
|—||Katha Pollitt, "Hers; The Smurfette Principle" (h/t: "Ms. Male Character - Tropes vs Women in Video Games")|
This is the guy that played Neville in Harry Potter.
i like his new wand
This was the outfit I wore to school today. I spent forever doing my hair, made an effort to actually wear makeup, wore jewelry, the whole nine yards, which I seriously never do. I wanted to get away from the normal t-shirt and jeans I usually wear so that I could take cute pictures with the Seniors on their way out of high school for the last time.
If you’ll notice, the front of the skirt is more than halfway down my thigh and I even had shorts on underneath. There’s no way anyone was seeing anything under this skirt.
At my school we have a “knee length” rule for all bottoms. I got through periods 1 through 4 with not even a comment from a teacher or administrator. All I got was compliments from many students, which made me feel awesome about myself.
In lunch, I go to the vending machine to get water. The second I turn around, there’s the Principal right in my face. “Hi there, your skirt is very pretty, but it’s way too short.”
“Well Mr.Crouch, I am pretty tall, and—“
“But that’s not what matters. I’m saying that if the sheer fabric wasn’t there, the part underneath wouldn’t be legal. So you’ve got two options, you can either go to ISS, or change into something appropriate. What do you want to do?”
“Um, well I think I might have something. I’ll change.”
“Okay, and come right back and show me what you’ve changed into.”
I knew I didn’t have anything to change into, because I’d worn this skirt before with no trouble.
I went back to my table to finish my lunch, and shortly after he approached me again.
“I thought you were going to go change?”
“I will, I just wanted to finish my lunch first.”
“Alright. And when you change, go show the front office to see if they approve.”
Now we’re standing at the door waiting to be released from lunch. Bear in mind, this will be 3 times he’s approached me in maybe a 10 minute time span.
“Are you going to change?”
“Yes, I just want to let my 5th period teacher know where I am.”
“What’s your first name again?”
“And who’s your next teacher?”
“Well I’ll let Mrs. Solburg know you’re going to be a few minutes late to class, alright?”
So I went to class and let Mrs. Solburg know Mr. Crouch would be coming by soon because of my skirt and that I had no intentions of changing.
He walks in the classroom through the back entrance and says, apparently before scanning the room to see if I’m even in there, “Emily is going to be a few minutes late because she’s changing clothes. Oh, is she in here?”
“Make sure you change.”
He left, and I told my teacher that I didn’t have anything to change into. We looked in her closet and couldn’t find anything that normal people would wear that was both appropriate and matched what I was wearing. I told her to not worry about it, that I’d have my mom sign me out to go home.
When I hung up with my mom, here comes Mr. Crouch again. Mrs. Solburg tells him that I am signing out because I couldn’t find anything to change into.
“Oh, well she told me she had something to change into.”
“Mr. Crouch, I said that I might.”
“No, you said you had something.”
And he walked out.
Let’s count the things that were more wrong than my skirt, shall we?
1. Him approaching me twice while I was trying to eat in our already short lunch time
2. Him interrupting my theatre class twice just to tell me to change
3. The fact he said my skirt wouldn’t be “legal” without the sheer fabric, and also, why would I wear the skirt without the outer fabric?! It’s the whole skirt!
4. My friend Melissa had been trying to schedule a meeting with him since 2nd period to start up a donation drive for the suffering families in Oklahoma, and he was too busy following me around to help her
5. So many Seniors were dressed way more inappropriately than me with tank tops and booty shorts
6. I would have had to miss the Senior Walk even if I didn’t go home because I’d have been in ISS, so I didn’t get to say bye to all of my senior friends
7. I had to disrupt my mom at work to sign me out
8. I had to miss my last two classes when I had already been absent the previous day and needed to make up work
9. He singled me out to the extreme, embarrassed me, and made me cry in front of my class
10. My friend David wore shorts with a 5 inch inseam a few weeks ago and wasn’t even approached by an administrator. It was just shrugged off as him being a “silly boy”
11. He didn’t even want to hear what I had to say about being tall (proportions, man. Put my skirt on any short girl and it would be fine. They don’t make cute skirts that are knee length on a 5’11” girl. It just doesn’t happen.), and he completely dismissed me when I said that I told him I *might* have a change of clothes, even though it was the truth
If he put just half as much effort as he did checking up on me every 5 minutes into, maybe, /running a school/, then everyone probably wouldn’t hate it so much.
Male Teachers are not even suppose to say anything to you about dress code because that insinuates that he was checking you out which counts as a sexual thing. My mother Explained this to me. He wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t actually LOOKING looking.
do you ever get bored and just poke and squeeze and squish and wiggle and play with your boobs because I mean boobs who doesn’t love boobs right
Sees the fire in my eyes and
wants to play with it.
|—||Haiku by l.s.f. (via 400eurojob)|
instead of proclaiming that every girl in the world is sexy no matter what why don’t we start talking about how it doesn’t matter whether or not you’re sexy because sex appeal is irrelevant and is used as a tool for male dominance
There was a split second there where his like, “wait, what? bro what are you doing?”
On more serious note, PTSD dogs for veterans are so fucking therapeutic. They’re like the one person you can spill your guts to and never worry about ever being judged or have that secret divulged. There are times when I definitely prefer the company of a dog over a human.
Therapy animals save lives.
These dogs are even still so much more amazing. They check rooms before their handler enters, so they can clear it to help the person feel safe. Like in the gif, they are there when panic attacks or nightmares occur, to be something for the person to help ground themselves on, or yes just to turn on the lights. Even more amazing, many people are able to reduce their medication when they have a PTSD service dog there to help them. These dogs are useful for not just veterans, but also victims of abuse, accident trauma, natural disasters, and others. Their training allows them to be useful in situations where medical assistance is needed, as well. Some PTSD dogs are trained to recognize repetitive behaviours in handlers, and signal the handler to break the repetition and stopping the behaviour and possibly injury.
Service dogs in general are just awesome. Remember to respect any that you see out in public. They are not there for you to walk up to and play with, even the puppies!