©

I blog what I want

"

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

"

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

154,040 notes · reblog

spookbot:

i just found out my (female) cousin has a girlfriend

i wish i could message her like

but if YOU’RE the gay cousin

and I’M the gay cousin

THEN WHO’S DRIVING THE CAR???

132,956 notes · reblog

"

Him: I don’t date black women. It’s just a preference.

Me: Based on what?

Him: Nothing, it’s just how I feel.

Me: Impossible, deliberate aversions come from somewhere.

Him: Its just a preference, that’s all.

Me: No, a preference is preferring broccoli to asparagus. You can say that because asparagus will always taste the same, even when prepared differently.

Him: And?

Me: And we’re not always the same at all. There are hundreds of millions of us and we’re each completely different from the next. If an employer said not hiring Black people was a preference would you agree?

Him: No, but that’s based on stereotypes.

Me: … And what is yours based on, facts?

"

37,539 notes · reblog

"

[TW: rape]

This is the rape joke:
My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons.

This is the rape joke:
I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’

This is the rape joke:
Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds.

This is the rape joke:
I believed him.

This is the rape joke:
I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.

This is the rape joke:
I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend.

This is the rape joke:
When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’

This is the rape joke:
When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing.

This is the rape joke:
I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable.
What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.

"

This is the Rape Joke | d.a.s

After Lora Mathis’s poem “the Rape Joke

(via backshelfpoet)

63,621 notes · reblog

systemofadowny:

misandry-mermaid:

ellestanger:

cumber-hiddles:

scorpswimmer:

This is why you cant trust women, even when theyre mouth is closed theyre still lying to you

you do realize that this is really hurtful right?
i did not do this to show how i am ‘lying’ to men or anyone, it’s not about how you, as a man, should feel about it - it’s about myself. 
to me your statement sounds as if the left side of this picture is something awful or horrible. and no, it’s not. it is my face - with and without makeup. and whether i chose to wear it or not is MY AND JUST MY decision. and when i do, i do it for myself - so that i feel good about myself - not for you.

Women aren’t born with makeup on, guy. Just like penises don’t circumcise themselves, and air conditioning isn’t ‘natural’. Makeup is no different than brushing your hair, or bubblegum. It’s elective. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re not very loved by the ladies.

Male logic:
Treat makeup-less women like shit for looking “less attractive”
Pressure women to wear makeup in order to receive basic respect
Treat women like malicious liars for wearing the makeup they were told they HAD to wear


She’s not ‘lying’ to you. She has no obligation to prove anything to you. If she wishes to wear makeup it’s her choice, if she doesn’t, it’s her choice. It’s not to please you, it’s not to deceive you, it has nothing to do with what they want you to feel, it’s for themselves. Stop being a cunt.

systemofadowny:

misandry-mermaid:

ellestanger:

cumber-hiddles:

scorpswimmer:

This is why you cant trust women, even when theyre mouth is closed theyre still lying to you

you do realize that this is really hurtful right?

i did not do this to show how i am ‘lying’ to men or anyone, it’s not about how you, as a man, should feel about it - it’s about myself. 

to me your statement sounds as if the left side of this picture is something awful or horrible. and no, it’s not. it is my face - with and without makeup. and whether i chose to wear it or not is MY AND JUST MY decision. and when i do, i do it for myself - so that i feel good about myself - not for you.

Women aren’t born with makeup on, guy. Just like penises don’t circumcise themselves, and air conditioning isn’t ‘natural’. Makeup is no different than brushing your hair, or bubblegum. It’s elective. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re not very loved by the ladies.

Male logic:

  1. Treat makeup-less women like shit for looking “less attractive”
  2. Pressure women to wear makeup in order to receive basic respect
  3. Treat women like malicious liars for wearing the makeup they were told they HAD to wear

She’s not ‘lying’ to you. She has no obligation to prove anything to you. If she wishes to wear makeup it’s her choice, if she doesn’t, it’s her choice. It’s not to please you, it’s not to deceive you, it has nothing to do with what they want you to feel, it’s for themselves. Stop being a cunt.

cadburycreamcoolator:

let-it-fucking-be:

cadburycreamcoolator:

american people who use british slang

image

We just want to be one of you and watch BBC on the telly and drink tea and ride the trolley :)

image

34,697 notes · reblog

mama-panther:

[cries but also keeps eyeliner intact]

89,428 notes · reblog

"

What To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,
Right?”
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.

Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tindr
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’t want to be a bitch
because you don’t want to cause a scene
because when you were seventeen
your sister told you
no one likes an angry feminist

Tell him,
Hey, Asshole:
Let me explain something to you.
Every goddamn motherfucking month since I was eleven,
a part of me
tore itself to shreds
ripped itself apart inside me
and then remade itself.

So yes, I bleed for seven days
and I don’t die
You know what else can do that?
Gods.
Immortal beings.
Things of legend.
Fuck, I can even
create life.

So I say, never trust anything that can’t
bleed for seven days and not die.
You know what that makes it?
Weak
Fallible
Mortal.
So let’s see, hon,
What you’re made of.
If you can bleed for seven days
and not die.

Rip out his jugular with your teeth.
And when he bleeds for seven seconds
and dies,
spit on his corpse and say,
I thought not.

"
Katherine Tucker (via alchemy)

109,285 notes · reblog

jedavu:

Artist Creates ‘Decaying’ Paintings As Visual Representation Of Neglect

by Valerie Hegarty

idaresayihavetoomany:

its-always-funnier-in-enochian:

timelord-castiel:

rosskemp:

do i have cramps or has my appendix exploded

does my boob hurt or am i having a heart attack

am i on my period or do i have internal bleeding

these are our struggles

Thinking of dirty thoughts and getting an erection in awkward situations

The struggles of a man

boo hoo

thinking of my naked grandma isnt going to suck the blood back into my vagina

you need an award right now

533,348 notes · reblog

lustyloveylady:

gingerhaze:

HUNGER GAMES COMICS

PART 2

What the books are actually like

nextyearsgirl:

The absence of women in history is man made.

nextyearsgirl:

The absence of women in history is man made.

"You deserve Steve Buscemi. So I left."
Six Word Story #30  (via magicconchshell)

264,426 notes · reblog