Bitches have privilege. Be aware.

May 31

quote Plenty of oppressive bullshit goes down under the guise of nice. Every day, nice, caring, friendly people try to take our bodily autonomy away from us (women, queers, trans people, nonbinaries, fat people, POC…you name it, they just don’t think we know what’s good for us!). These people would hold a door for us if they saw us coming. Our enemies are not only the people holding ‘Fags Die God Laughs’ signs, they are the nice people who just feel like marriage should be between a man and a woman, no offense, it’s just how they feel! We once got a very nice comment on this site that we decided we could not publish because its content was ‘But how can I respect women when they dress like – sorry to say it, pardon my language – sluts?’. This is vile, disgusting misogyny and no amount of sugar coating and politeness can make it okay. Similarly, most of the people who run ex-gay therapy clinics are actually very nice and polite! They just want to save you! Nicely! Clearly, niceness means FUCK ALL.

The Revolution Will Not Be Polite: The Issue of Nice versus Good (Social Justice League)

Bitches with privilege are always trying to be “nice” or are oppressive for “our/your own good.” Niceties don’t erase privilege or oppression.

May 31

quote The only reason “coming out” is still even a thing is because it’s presumed that people are straight until they tell us otherwise. “The Other must identify itself, or else it is decieving us” is a fucked up, dangerous idea.

Anon (via victor-the-richter)

When you assumed someone is straight, or cis, or any non-physically identifiable societal norm, your privilege is right on display bitches.

May 31

quote Being “anti-PC” is not sticking it to the Man, it’s sticking it to all the people whom the Man routinely stomps on.

Baby-stepping away from racism: A guide for white people (via fangirlmarena)

And bitches it means your privilege is showing.

May 02

Trigger Warning for racist violent image

subtletysmyweakness:

stfuconservatives:

An anon sent me this image, which is extremely disturbing so TRIGGER WARNING. Basically some fucking idiot thought a photo showcasing racial violence was appropriate as his Facebook timeline photo.

(very, very sorry in advance if the cut doesn’t work — you know how Tumblr is)

Read More

Signal boosting, go report!

Apr 30

Jesus fuck.

dumbthingswhitepplsay:

A 16 year old (of course black) boy accidentally shot a basket ball and hit a staff member, was tackled by 6-8 teachers to the ground and fucking DIED.

OF FUCKING COURSE.

^White privilege is too soft a word, this is white supremacy. An accident by a black kid results in teachers KILLING HIM. Fuck that.

Apr 30

quote

Mansplaining isn’t just the act of explaining while male, of course; many men manage to explain things every day without in the least insulting their listeners.

Mansplaining is when a dude tells you, a woman, how to do something you already know how to do, or how you are wrong about something you are actually right about, or miscellaneous and inaccurate “facts” about something you know a hell of a lot more about than he does.

Bonus points if he is explaining how you are wrong about something being sexist!

Think about the men you know. Do any of them display that delightful mixture of privilege and ignorance that leads to condescending, inaccurate explanations, delivered with the rock-solid conviction of rightness and that slimy certainty that of course he is right, because he is the man in this conversation?

That dude is a mansplainer.

karen healy (via feministsbakecupcakestoo)

This is male privilege. Ignoring the experiences of women in order to explain to them why they are wrong about those experiences. So, men, STOP.

Apr 30

[TW Rape] Rapist Rachel is back and still harassing black people. →

polerin:

dumbthingswhitepplsay:

withrevolutionarycries:

dumbthingswhitepplsay:

If you need more information on who Rachel Pointer is, read this. You might know this person better as 1900fuckoff and 21fatstreet.

Please report them.

I really hate that I was nervous about posting this shithead’s info because i don’t want them coming back and violating me and my space *again.*

It’s the definition of stalking.

I’m done with letting people stalk and harass others online.  Reporting.

I would appreciate my followers, ALL OF YOU, reporting this awful person (and avoid reading the links if you’re triggered by racism, rape threats, threats of violence or stalking.)

Apr 30
rubybruise:

Trigger Warning: rape & sexual violence.

This man is a serial rapist & he lives in Adelaide. 
Two weeks ago he attacked Adelaide based escort, strangled, he dragged her across the floor by the throat, spat on & threatened to rape her.
He is currently out on parole. 
In time after this attack she has dug up 4+ unreported rape cases.  
You can read about his previous history here:
http://www.abc.net.au/news/2006-11-17/rapist-jailed-for-nine-years/1312140
Be safe, be aware, pass the word on. 

rubybruise:

Trigger Warning: rape & sexual violence.


This man is a serial rapist & he lives in Adelaide. 

Two weeks ago he attacked Adelaide based escort, strangled, he dragged her across the floor by the throat, spat on & threatened to rape her.

He is currently out on parole. 

In time after this attack she has dug up 4+ unreported rape cases.  

You can read about his previous history here:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2006-11-17/rapist-jailed-for-nine-years/1312140

Be safe, be aware, pass the word on. 

Apr 30

MASSIVE (ish lol) BINDER GIVE AWAY!!!

kinkyturtle:

thecuntmentality:

chaseross:

Hey guys! So this isn’t MASSIVE, BUT, I have a couple binders (4 new, 2 used) that I want to give away. This will be TOTALLY random, I know the sizes are different and some people might need different sizes, but if you’re one of the last picked and your binder isn’t available, I will try to hook you up with the one you like from this place I know.

SO! I have:

  • 2 BLACK double front compression (LONG) in MEDIUM (both used-ish but still in amazing condition)
  • 3 WHITE tri-top in LARGE (100% new)
  • 1 Medium “ftm” swimsuit!!!! (NEW)

(if you need to know what these look like click this link —-> http://ftm.underworks.com/)

HOW TO ENTER: REBLOG/ LIKE THIS (like if you cannot show ‘trans’ things on your blog of course)  - IF YOU REBLOG IT TO SPREAD THE WORD BUT YOU DO NO WANT TO ENTER THEN JUST WRITE IT WHEN YOU REBLOG IT!!!!

HOW TO WIN?!: I WILL CHOOSE 6 RANDOM PEOPLE - the first people I choose will be COMPLETELY random, not from top, not from bottom, so if you reblog late, don’t worry - you still might be the first one (with first pick!). Remember, if you are picked last, dont worry if you’re binder isn’t there - I will find a way to get you one!!

CONTEST ENDS: May 14th, 2012 at 12:00AM EST



thanks guys!!! good luck! :)

These won’t fit me but I’m signal boosting for others.

Love,

Taylor

Signal booooost! 

Signal boost for my followers!

Apr 25
crankyskirt:

My bestie is insightful and amazing for a ton of reasons, this post being but one of them. So, so, so worth the read. Seconding everything written below.
ETA: This is what I believed as a little girl. That if you open your mouth and say the wrong thing, someone with a badge can take your brown dad away from you. That line hit so damn close to home that I’m crying hard at my desk right now. Don’t give a shit if I look a mess - that’s real.
ohmija:

‎”Is this your father?” The police officer loomed above me, partially obscuring my dad from view as he leaned into the car window to get a closer look at me in the passenger’s seat. I was about seven or eight years old. My dad was taking me to school, a private christian outfit where I was one of the few “minority” students.“Is this your father?” he asked again, his tone adjusted to mimic friendliness, “Are you OK?” but I was mute with fear. This wasn’t the first time a police officer pulled my Chicano dad over for no reason at all. It would not be the last. But this was the first time an officer questioned his paternity while I was in the car. I looked at my dad, his face barely hiding his humiliation and rage.I didn’t have the words then, but I what I wanted to say was “No, this is not my father. This is not the dad I know. My dad is strong and you’ve made him weak. My dad always has to get the last word but around you he grows silent. You’ve made my dad a suspect. What did you do to him? Where did you take my dad?” But instead I said nothing and stared at my hands trembling in my lap. My dad was/is brown. My dad had tattoos on his arms before it lent hipster cred — when it meant that you were either in a gang or spent time in prison. This was enough reason for a police officer to pull my dad over on a sunny morning and grill him about his past, present and future while I squirmed in the passenger’s seat, believing that if I said even one wrong word they would take him away from me.This is what I believed as a little girl. That if you open your mouth and say the wrong thing, someone with a badge can take your brown dad away from you. Even the thought was enough to paralyze me.Terror. Terrorism. Flash forward seven/eight years. I’m a rebellious teen who steals my stepdad’s car at 15 and takes it on the highway to visit friends in another city. I have no license and don’t know how to drive. I teach myself, weaving between lanes at 1am at night. Soon enough, I hear sirens.“Are you ok?” The officer is friendly as I exit the car and approach him, hiding my fear behind a big smile. In the police car there is another officer. Two of them. My teen mind and body saturated in adrenaline comes up with a lie: I left my purse with my license at the home where I was babysitting. I have to get home so my mom can take the car to work — she works nights. The officer sizes me up. I’m fair skinned, my hair is dyed a blondish brown and I’m thin and pretty. My jeans are tight. He smiles, drinking it in, oblivious to the carelessly strewn cases of beer in the back seat. All signs point to me being arrested, and yet I’m not. They let me go. They let me go. After driving like a maniac on the highway at 1am. After not having any registration or a license. After being visibly very young, with suspicious looking packages in the backseat that blatantly reveal with their packaging that I’m transporting alcohol. After they ask me where I’m going and I can’t give them a definite address, or cross streets.They let me go. Eight years earlier: “‘It’s just the world, mija,” my dad said as we pulled up to my private elementary school — the place my parents sacrificed a lot to send me to. “It’s how the world is.”As I entered my classroom, greeted by my white best friend as we hustled to get into our seats before our stern white teacher began glorifying Manifest Destiny, a thought lingered in my head: “But why is the world like that?”————————————-I shared this personal experience to raise a point: When you hear or think about Trayvon Martin’s death and the ongoing case, you may experience an assortment of feelings: confusion, outrage, sadness, etc.Now imagine that your father was Trayvon Martin, or any other innocent black male over the past several decades who was gunned down because someone was afraid of his blackness — of his perceived threat of violence.This is how many people of color feel when they see a badge — even if they’ve never committed a crime in their life. They know — from personal experience — that sometimes all it takes to get you questioned, detained, arrested or killed is to be not-white.I’m actually not sharing this post for white people (although if you’re reading it and you are white, hi ♥).I’m sharing this post for my POC friends and subscribers who continue to lie to themselves about their status in this world, even as they watch their darker-skinned relatives and friends experience the same injustices, over and over again.Turning a blind eye to bigotry and racism isn’t solving anything. Do you, of course. Get your money, education and career. But remember that JUST “doing you” gives you a role to play as well in this horror show that is a perfect storm for results like George Zimmerman. The role of the apathetic minority. In many respects, this role is even more dangerous than the apathetic white person. When you, as a person of color, demonstrate that apathy is an acceptable path, you are endorsing your white friends’ apathy. You are their excuse for you being their only “close” POC friend. You become the reason why they never have to grow as human beings because saying “one of my best friends is black/latino/etc. friend” often secretly ends with “so this means I never have to examine my white privilege or give a shit about inequality.”When you, as a person of color with privilege, work at a company where you are the only (or one of a few) POC, and don’t see anything wrong with this, you’re a part of the problem.When you, as a person of color with privilege, never question your white friends when they say something completely ignorant in front of you, always letting it slide because “I know what they meant,” you are part of the problem.We don’t live in a bubble. What we do and say affects the people around us. I see the transformation in my own life, in the lives of others. Blaming everything on whitey may have been relevant a few decades ago. But it’s become far more complicated. Many of us are accomplices in this complex charade that confuses society into thinking that some people deserve happiness and freedom more than others. It’s not your job to educate white people 24-7. But when you alter your life and responses to avoid addressing inequality because it makes you uncomfortable, you are making a choice to justify apathy. You are an accomplice.More innocent black boys, men — more innocent people of color will die. They will keep dying because it’s far too easy to just blame the white man than to examine our role in this continued horror show. If you really care about what happened to Trayvon, prove it. Do one thing this week that you normally would not do that will tangibly make a difference towards achieving equality.Donate an hour or two to mentor a young person of color. Volunteer at a homeless shelter. Organize a boycott against Urban Outfitters or any other store that blatantly rips off artists and poc communities while turning your cultural icons into cute panties for white girls. Talk about your job and what got you there at an organization that serves young people of color.Don’t say “I would but I don’t have time.” That is a lie. If you have time to be on here for even one hour straight, you have time to do something. Time management is a skill everyone should cultivate. Also, if you need a purely selfish motive, often volunteering widens your network and can lead to profitable endeavors. To sum up the longest post I’ve ever written: posting your outrage on Facebook or Tumblr alone is not enough and it never will be. And thinking that the struggles of black people are not your struggles is a very dangerous game to play that, as demonstrated throughout history, does nothing but divide us.http://www.volunteermatch.org/
This is a cross-post from my Facebook page.


She may not be writing it for white people, but bitches with privilege should definitely read it anyway.

crankyskirt:

My bestie is insightful and amazing for a ton of reasons, this post being but one of them. So, so, so worth the read. Seconding everything written below.

ETA: This is what I believed as a little girl. That if you open your mouth and say the wrong thing, someone with a badge can take your brown dad away from you. That line hit so damn close to home that I’m crying hard at my desk right now. Don’t give a shit if I look a mess - that’s real.

ohmija:

‎”Is this your father?” The police officer loomed above me, partially obscuring my dad from view as he leaned into the car window to get a closer look at me in the passenger’s seat. I was about seven or eight years old. My dad was taking me to school, a private christian outfit where I was one of the few “minority” students.

“Is this your father?” he asked again, his tone adjusted to mimic friendliness, “Are you OK?” but I was mute with fear. This wasn’t the first time a police officer pulled my Chicano dad over for no reason at all. It would not be the last. But this was the first time an officer questioned his paternity while I was in the car. I looked at my dad, his face barely hiding his humiliation and rage.

I didn’t have the words then, but I what I wanted to say was “No, this is not my father. This is not the dad I know. My dad is strong and you’ve made him weak. My dad always has to get the last word but around you he grows silent. You’ve made my dad a suspect. What did you do to him? Where did you take my dad?” But instead I said nothing and stared at my hands trembling in my lap. 

My dad was/is brown. My dad had tattoos on his arms before it lent hipster cred — when it meant that you were either in a gang or spent time in prison. This was enough reason for a police officer to pull my dad over on a sunny morning and grill him about his past, present and future while I squirmed in the passenger’s seat, believing that if I said even one wrong word they would take him away from me.

This is what I believed as a little girl. That if you open your mouth and say the wrong thing, someone with a badge can take your brown dad away from you. Even the thought was enough to paralyze me.

Terror. Terrorism. 

Flash forward seven/eight years. I’m a rebellious teen who steals my stepdad’s car at 15 and takes it on the highway to visit friends in another city. I have no license and don’t know how to drive. I teach myself, weaving between lanes at 1am at night. Soon enough, I hear sirens.

“Are you ok?” The officer is friendly as I exit the car and approach him, hiding my fear behind a big smile. In the police car there is another officer. Two of them. My teen mind and body saturated in adrenaline comes up with a lie: I left my purse with my license at the home where I was babysitting. I have to get home so my mom can take the car to work — she works nights. 

The officer sizes me up. I’m fair skinned, my hair is dyed a blondish brown and I’m thin and pretty. My jeans are tight. He smiles, drinking it in, oblivious to the carelessly strewn cases of beer in the back seat. All signs point to me being arrested, and yet I’m not. They let me go. 

They let me go. After driving like a maniac on the highway at 1am. After not having any registration or a license. After being visibly very young, with suspicious looking packages in the backseat that blatantly reveal with their packaging that I’m transporting alcohol. After they ask me where I’m going and I can’t give them a definite address, or cross streets.

They let me go. 

Eight years earlier: “‘It’s just the world, mija,” my dad said as we pulled up to my private elementary school — the place my parents sacrificed a lot to send me to. “It’s how the world is.”

As I entered my classroom, greeted by my white best friend as we hustled to get into our seats before our stern white teacher began glorifying Manifest Destiny, a thought lingered in my head: “But why is the world like that?”
————————————-

I shared this personal experience to raise a point: When you hear or think about Trayvon Martin’s death and the ongoing case, you may experience an assortment of feelings: confusion, outrage, sadness, etc.

Now imagine that your father was Trayvon Martin, or any other innocent black male over the past several decades who was gunned down because someone was afraid of his blackness — of his perceived threat of violence.

This is how many people of color feel when they see a badge — even if they’ve never committed a crime in their life. They know — from personal experience — that sometimes all it takes to get you questioned, detained, arrested or killed is to be not-white.

I’m actually not sharing this post for white people (although if you’re reading it and you are white, hi ♥).

I’m sharing this post for my POC friends and subscribers who continue to lie to themselves about their status in this world, even as they watch their darker-skinned relatives and friends experience the same injustices, over and over again.

Turning a blind eye to bigotry and racism isn’t solving anything. Do you, of course. Get your money, education and career. But remember that JUST “doing you” gives you a role to play as well in this horror show that is a perfect storm for results like George Zimmerman. The role of the apathetic minority. 

In many respects, this role is even more dangerous than the apathetic white person. When you, as a person of color, demonstrate that apathy is an acceptable path, you are endorsing your white friends’ apathy. You are their excuse for you being their only “close” POC friend. You become the reason why they never have to grow as human beings because saying “one of my best friends is black/latino/etc. friend” often secretly ends with “so this means I never have to examine my white privilege or give a shit about inequality.”

When you, as a person of color with privilege, work at a company where you are the only (or one of a few) POC, and don’t see anything wrong with this, you’re a part of the problem.

When you, as a person of color with privilege, never question your white friends when they say something completely ignorant in front of you, always letting it slide because “I know what they meant,” you are part of the problem.

We don’t live in a bubble. What we do and say affects the people around us. I see the transformation in my own life, in the lives of others. 

Blaming everything on whitey may have been relevant a few decades ago. But it’s become far more complicated. Many of us are accomplices in this complex charade that confuses society into thinking that some people deserve happiness and freedom more than others. 

It’s not your job to educate white people 24-7. But when you alter your life and responses to avoid addressing inequality because it makes you uncomfortable, you are making a choice to justify apathy. You are an accomplice.

More innocent black boys, men — more innocent people of color will die. They will keep dying because it’s far too easy to just blame the white man than to examine our role in this continued horror show. 

If you really care about what happened to Trayvon, prove it. Do one thing this week that you normally would not do that will tangibly make a difference towards achieving equality.

Donate an hour or two to mentor a young person of color. Volunteer at a homeless shelter. Organize a boycott against Urban Outfitters or any other store that blatantly rips off artists and poc communities while turning your cultural icons into cute panties for white girls. Talk about your job and what got you there at an organization that serves young people of color.

Don’t say “I would but I don’t have time.” That is a lie. If you have time to be on here for even one hour straight, you have time to do something. Time management is a skill everyone should cultivate. Also, if you need a purely selfish motive, often volunteering widens your network and can lead to profitable endeavors. 

To sum up the longest post I’ve ever written: posting your outrage on Facebook or Tumblr alone is not enough and it never will be. And thinking that the struggles of black people are not your struggles is a very dangerous game to play that, as demonstrated throughout history, does nothing but divide us.

http://www.volunteermatch.org/

This is a cross-post from my Facebook page.

She may not be writing it for white people, but bitches with privilege should definitely read it anyway.