Hate. It’s all hate. Because if you can look at the history of women being beaten and battered into silence and second-class citizenship, and still ask if they are at all to blame for the violence visited upon them, there’s nothing else to call that.
There is a tendency to judge the actions of those with the least amount of power the same as those with more power and then ask, “Isn’t that what equality means?” It’s a clever rhetorical evasion of the issue. Equality is the goal, but to pretend that we actually exist as equals right now is to ignore reality. Like it or not, we all carry history with us in our personal interactions. The history of violence against women is one where women’s bodies are a battleground in a struggle for power. Punches, kicks, weapons, and the threat of death have been used to assert dominance and deny women autonomy, at home and out in the rest of the world.
That’s why it’s not a matter of it being wrong for a man to hit a woman because he may be physically stronger than her. It’s not about women being delicate. That line of thinking is standing on the right side of the issue for the wrong reasons. It reinforces patriarchal thinking about a man’s duty being protection.
No, violence against women is a scourge because it establishes a hierarchy of power. It is a means of ensuring submission. It assures the persistence of inequality through terror.
I always think with my heart first and then with my brain. If I want to cry, I cry. I am not afraid of crying. I am not afraid of saying how I am feeling. That is the kind of person I want to be, that is the kind of person I am trying to be.
Today in Solidarity: Incredible Women (and Girls) of Ferguson
Unlike the white artists that surround themselves with black friends (in music videos, at least) and markers of black culture to prove they’re cool and a little bit dangerous, Taylor does the opposite. She surrounds herself with hip hop and breakdancing, but the point is to reject those things with a self-deprecating attitude. When we see Taylor goofily failing to twerk, she seems to be saying, “haha I’m such a white girl, this is so embarrassing,” which is actually code for “haha I fail at being sexual or dirty or threatening, I’m just innocent and endearing.”
Yet Taylor manages to act both innocent and sexy, particularly when she sings about “the fella over there with the hella good hair” who should “come on over, baby, we could shake, shake, shake.” Embodying both sides of the coin is a feat rarely achieved, though if anyone could do it, it would definitely be a white woman. But it’s only one of Taylor’s several balancing acts with in the video—like how she’s bad at ballet because she shakes her hips too much, but she’s bad at twerking because she doesn’t shake her hips enough. Like how she uses hip hop elements and the presence of people of color to prove her newfound edginess while also reassuring (white) America that she’s still sweet as apple pie.
-Celeste Montaño, Taylor Swift can’t shake off white privilege
Taken from MANTRAS zine
This zine is a culmination of how i got myself thru/still getting myself thru things and also things that i love and things that make me happy, mostly Stevie Nicks. I hope i don’t come off as someone who has her shit together, most of this zine is me yelling at myself and it’s really difficult to follow the directions that i give to myself, like “TAKE WHAT’S YOURS” and “DON’T HIDE!” it’s very difficult and on most days i don’t follow these directions and i fail completely. But i still yell at myself because it’s necessary that i always have these things etched in me so i have something to hold on to when shit hits the fan. - Fabiola
Solace is a feature film by Tchaiko Omawale that explores the life of Sole, a black teenage girl struggling with the difficult journey to adulthood—including coping with an eating disorder.
It’s really important for me to share [stigmas of eating disorders] through film and to make this feature film so that other black girls don’t think that they’re the only girls dealing with stuff like that. When I was younger, I didn’t realize that bingeing or compulsive eating were eating disorders, I just thought I had no control.
And it’s true: there’s very little research on black girls and eating disorders, causing people to assume that EDs are a “white people problem,” and leaving black girls to suffer and struggle on their own.
Help bring this important film to life by donating on Kickstarter! The campaign ends on August 31st and is $11,000 away from its goal. These stories need to be told, and we can help!