Video 22 Mar 3,706 notes

(Source: vargesz)

Photo 20 Mar 6 notes
Video 16 Mar 74 notes

foot-on-the-gas:

Angel Haze “Battle Cry” featuring Sia

***TRIGGER WARNING***


If anyone has been questioning Haze’s talent or dedication or purpose, this should put your hesitations to rest.  I cried.

I needed this so much. 

Video 13 Mar 1,061 notes

(Source: martinslydias)

Video 13 Mar 596 notes

(Source: tatiana-evelyne)

Text 8 Mar

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY! 

Photo 1 Mar 16,889 notes apoeticmindset:

psl:

cali-cocaine:

I wonder…

pretty tired of people equating a lot of the names Black Americans give their kids, with being ghetto or ratchet. And really, it all seems to be targeted at Black girls and women. All of those names have roots spanning across various parts of Africa, Asia, and the Arab nations.
Since I obviously have to school the Original Poster, and the 90+ people who liked and reblogged this before me (including the person I’m reblogging this from); get out ya pens n notepads, kids..class is in session:
Laquisha is merely one of a handful of derivatives of the name LAKEISHA.
La - being just a prefix
Keisha - being the root name (and spelling) of Queisha. Ergo the name La-Queisha/Quisha
It’s a peculiar name overall, in that it bears multiple origins; African (Bangi/Bobangi and Swahili), Arabic, and Hebrew.
• In Bangi, Queisha means - ‘favourite’
• In Swahili, Lakeisha means - ‘favourite one’
• In Hebrew, Queisha is most likely the variant of KEZIA, meaning - ‘cassia tree’ CASSIA is the generic name for a variety of trees and shrubs, one of which produces cinnamon. So Queisha is often interpreted as meaning ‘cinnamon’, too.
Further still, it being Hebrew, affords it some Biblical roots. Kezia/Keziah was the name given to Job’s second daughter, who was born after his sufferings (Job 42:14). Interestingly, her name has been seen to symbolise female equality; since Job’s three daughters shared equally with their brothers, in their father’s inheritance (Job 42:15). This was against the custom of things back then. Women did not receive an inheritance, nor could widows claim their deceased husband’s assets. In short, Keziah and her two sisters represented freedom and equality for women, in a time when such a thing was unheard of.
• And in Arabic, Lakeisha means - ‘alive’ or ‘she who lives’
so before you dummies look down on us for our names, keep in mind that their roots date back further than where majority of your great-great-great grandparents can trace their lineage.
We are not jokes. We are not cognitively deficient. And we are certainly not here to appease your ridiculous standards and expectations for what a child’s name ‘should’ be. We are not ghetto, and our names are not rachet. Our names have meaning, and they have soul.
Perhaps next time you feel to make a joke at the expense of our culture, just keep in mind that you’re a lowkey racist for playing on racial stereotypes..and we ain’t really smiling bout’ that.
*bell rings*

Jesus, the commentary. READ THE COMMENTARY AND LEARN.

apoeticmindset:

psl:

cali-cocaine:

I wonder…

pretty tired of people equating a lot of the names Black Americans give their kids, with being ghetto or ratchet. And really, it all seems to be targeted at Black girls and women. All of those names have roots spanning across various parts of Africa, Asia, and the Arab nations.

Since I obviously have to school the Original Poster, and the 90+ people who liked and reblogged this before me (including the person I’m reblogging this from); get out ya pens n notepads, kids..class is in session:

Laquisha is merely one of a handful of derivatives of the name LAKEISHA.

La - being just a prefix

Keisha - being the root name (and spelling) of Queisha. Ergo the name La-Queisha/Quisha

It’s a peculiar name overall, in that it bears multiple origins; African (Bangi/Bobangi and Swahili), Arabic, and Hebrew.

• In Bangi, Queisha means - ‘favourite’

• In Swahili, Lakeisha means - ‘favourite one’

• In Hebrew, Queisha is most likely the variant of KEZIA, meaning - ‘cassia tree’ CASSIA is the generic name for a variety of trees and shrubs, one of which produces cinnamon. So Queisha is often interpreted as meaning ‘cinnamon’, too.

Further still, it being Hebrew, affords it some Biblical roots. Kezia/Keziah was the name given to Job’s second daughter, who was born after his sufferings (Job 42:14). Interestingly, her name has been seen to symbolise female equality; since Job’s three daughters shared equally with their brothers, in their father’s inheritance (Job 42:15). This was against the custom of things back then. Women did not receive an inheritance, nor could widows claim their deceased husband’s assets. In short, Keziah and her two sisters represented freedom and equality for women, in a time when such a thing was unheard of.

• And in Arabic, Lakeisha means - ‘alive’ or ‘she who lives’

so before you dummies look down on us for our names, keep in mind that their roots date back further than where majority of your great-great-great grandparents can trace their lineage.

We are not jokes. We are not cognitively deficient. And we are certainly not here to appease your ridiculous standards and expectations for what a child’s name ‘should’ be. We are not ghetto, and our names are not rachet. Our names have meaning, and they have soul.

Perhaps next time you feel to make a joke at the expense of our culture, just keep in mind that you’re a lowkey racist for playing on racial stereotypes..and we ain’t really smiling bout’ that.

*bell rings*

Jesus, the commentary. READ THE COMMENTARY AND LEARN.

Photo 1 Mar 359,435 notes those-dead-frenchboys:

chasingdreamsasiscream:

eleven49pm:

psychiatral:

Written by an 8th grader

WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS AMAZING

I’m blown away, wow.

hats off to Jordan motherfucking Nichols Grade 8

those-dead-frenchboys:

chasingdreamsasiscream:

eleven49pm:

psychiatral:

Written by an 8th grader

WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS AMAZING

I’m blown away, wow.

hats off to Jordan motherfucking Nichols Grade 8

Video 16 Feb 1 note
Quote 12 Feb 224,807 notes

When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.

Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”

When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.

Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”

I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.

She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”

“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”

He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”

Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”

When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”

Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”

Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.

He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.

Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.

Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.

One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.

I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”

Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.

It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.

It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.

It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.

There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.

I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.

— 

By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

Don’t forget the fear. Anger is easier than fear.

(via delilahsdawson)

Text 6 Feb 4 notes

thepenultimaterolo:

Why are period calendar apps all pink with flowers and “cute” icons? And horoscopes, for goodness’ sake! The interfaces all seem to be designed for children. I don’t want to be patronised by the app that’s calculating when one of my internal organs is next going to disintegrate. If I’m irritable and tired and have period pain, a “cute” little angry face is not going to make it any better.

I feel like there’s a serious gap in the market here…

I want a mildly sinister app that reminds me, “Disintegration due.”

I want to log my pms on a graph of, “Likelihood of murdering a hapless stranger,” and, “Urge to curl up into the foetal position and sleep,” against time.

I want advice on washing blood out of fabric that is, “Also applicable to serial killers.”

Pretending everything’s fine and pretty and lovely is ridiculous, so can we please not do that. Let’s laugh instead. That’s far better, and might actually help in some small way.

Text 4 Feb

WHOOP! SCOTLAND PASSED THE EQUAL MARRIAGE BILL! 

Photo 1 Feb 1 note
Video 21 Jan
Text 17 Jan
whoever that’s for, that’s really amazing =]

Thank-you! It’s for everyone I guess, including myself. From the good part of my brain. 


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