Blackfish - Trailer
Beyond the lies, beneath the deception, the truth will surface.
OKAY, WE NEED TO REBLOG THE FUCK OUT OF THIS. EVEN IF YOU’RE NOT AN ANIMAL PERSON, YOUR FOLLOWERS NEED TO SEE THIS. ESPECIALLY DURING THE HEIGHT OF VACATION SEASON. DO NOT SUPPORT SEA PARKS WITH CAPTIVE WHALES. IT’S NOT ENVIRONMENTAL PROPAGANDA (I can’t believe I even used those words) IT’S A REAL ISSUE AND IT’S NOT A MATTER OF PROOF, IT’S A MATTER OF COVERING IT UP AND IGNORING IT!
Bob Dylan | Subterranean Homesick Blues
Subterranean Homesick Blues was released today, in 1965
Cathy Brennan, radical “feminist” terrorist, has set her sights on a young black activist in Baltimore County, MD. Phylicia Sampson is being taken to court by Brennan, a notorious harasser of trans women and their supporters. Sampson is a recent college grad with few resources, no car and no way to fight back without your help.
As a community, we’ve suffered Brennan’s assaults for a long time—her blog is the best known for outing trans women’s personal information. She believes trans women are men who are infiltrating the feminist community and expends her resources fighting them. The idea that she is now taking her harassment to a legal venue is horrifying. That she has selected a young black woman with few resources to fight back is repugnant.
We can’t let Cathy Brennan get away with this! Share Phylicia’s campaign on Facebook, twitter, tumblr and instagram. Here are some things you can do TODAY to help:
- Tell your friends why it is important that they donate to this campaign.
- Donate what you can.
- Write to your favorite feminist blog and ask them to cover this campaign
i met/or was blued by toni morrison
at chinua achebe’s 70th birthday celebration.
i was invited by my friend, a student at bard, to attend.
was warm with folks of color.
we gathered in a small hall.
writer after writer
offering after offering
to the large life in the chair.
i remembered the title of his book, from the roots album.
remembered the contents of his book, from my high school’s required summer reading.
but i did not remember his feeling, the feeling of africa, until i saw his face.
down in the front row
my young mind was hungry for
had no idea how to pronounce with young tongue.
the offerings continued.
in a way
i thought was going to stop my heart.
in that sonia way.
that cadence and voice way.
that steals you while setting you free.
i felt my body weeping, not my eyes.
when it was toni’s turn.
(she was once a professor at bard. as was chinua achebe, a professor at bard. this was a reunion of sorts.)
she asked no photographs be taken.
no photographs were taken.
i noticed her tone became chill when an african american male student asked her a question about the responsibility
of the younger folk to her work/ what we could do to continue her legacy.
it was odd.
a few minutes prior
there had been honey all through her mouth.
oh, i realized, reluctantly, they were white. the first blue.
the elder achebe spoke, gratitude made his voice cinnamon and heart matter.
we gave him our souls to kiss. we kissed his.
the celebration grew into night, then ended.
i stayed around to meet and speak. waited my turn, as any
young black woman
who’d met pecola breedlove at fifteen
she was there, toni, speaking to a friend.
her back turned to me.
i steadied my neck.
stood behind her, gingerly.
pointed to me.
it had come.
i was going to meet pecola’s mama.
the woman who brought me back from the dead.
finally, her white brown locs
she looked over her shoulder.
the eyes of pecola’s mother
was giving me the look of annoyance.
her eyes, ‘what do you want’
her shoulders, ‘i don’t care’.
i was slung. the second blue.
i managed to get a, ‘i just wanted to say thank you, just thank you for your work,’ out.
she returned to her friend. the third blue.
i was confused. wounded by the blue ice. i don’t even know if she had said anything in return before turning back around. that blue ice ate me.
what was i to think. feel. do.
just a few minutes prior i saw her taking pictures with a group of white female bard students.
didn’t she write the bluest eye for me.
why was pecola’s mother so cold.
i was underwater.
trying to build my feet into boats.
when i lifted my head
i saw sonia.
i slowly swam over
to share with her
how her reading of ‘the middle passage’
had brought the ancestors to me for the first time. that i had never felt anything like that from poetry. that it felt like i was there.
in this tender bridging with sonia,
i was still a car wreck.
water in cracking glass.
that mothers had broken my heart before.
it is a wild knife
you can survive it.
as i was gathering my things from my seat
my group of friends and i,
continued our blended conversation.
was a brillant sense of red and moon.
she was soft spoken.
her energy was wolf balm.
was grandmother song.
was happy prayer.
we were all enjoying each others eyes so much,
but it soon became time for the
so we began to share our
deep gratitude and goodbyes with her.
she stopped and said
‘you, young people aren’t attending the dinner.’
‘no, it is a paid, invite only, affair.’
‘i invite you. you will come sit at my table’
found someone. took
out her checkbook
paid for all of us.
‘you are important. you are our future. you must be a part of this, a part of this history, a part of the conversations that will happen in that room.’
we were stunned.
we followed her into the dining room
we ate and spoke with our favorite auntie.
the one with the magic.
in that moment.
i became this writer.
this writer. who
felt the call.
felt it like new name.
my work must be work.
my work must be work.
this night was no mistake.
i did not go blue
because the stars were running instead of walking.
the ancestors showing me.
showing me how
break or unbreak
showing me there is either silence or words.
|—||how toni morrison blued my heart/ how the indelible sonia sanchez turned it back into moon, nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)|
Brazil June 17, 2013
1. A military police officer pepper sprays a protester during a demonstration in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Monday, June 17, 2013. (Victor R. Caivano/AP)
2. Protestors are reflected on the glass of a building, left, as they march in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Monday, June 17, 2013. Protests in Sao Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and other Brazilian cities, set off by a 10-cent hike in public transport fares, have clearly moved beyond that issue to tap into widespread frustration in Brazil about a heavy tax burden, politicians widely viewed as corrupt and woeful public education, health and transport systems and come as the nation hosts the Confederations Cup soccer tournament and prepares for next month’s papal visit. (Felipe Dana/AP)
3. Demonstrators march in Rio de Janeiro downtown on June 17, 2013, against higher public transportation fares and the use of public funds to disrupt international football tournaments. (Christophe Simon/AFP/Getty Images)
4. Demonstrators face riot police during one of the many protests around Brazil’s major cities in Belo Horizonte June 17, 2013. (Pedro Vilela/Reuters)
5. Demonstrators shout anti-government slogans behind a banner during one of many protests around Brazil’s major cities in Sao Paulo June 17, 2013. (Alex Almeida/Reuters)
6. A demonstrator shouts at police during a protests in front of the Brazilian National Congress in Brasilia, Brazil, Monday, June 17, 2013. (Eraldo Peres/AP)
7. Policemen arrest students during a protest at the National Congress, on June 17, 2013 in Brasilia. (Evaristo Sa/AFP/Getty Images)
8. A demonstrator argues with police during a protest against the Confederation’s Cup and the government of Brazil’s President Dilma Rousseff in Brasilia June 17, 2013. (Ueslei Marcelino/Reuters)
9. Protestors march in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil on June 17, 2013. (Felipe Dana/AP)
10. A demonstrator waves a Brazilian flag by a burning a car in downtown Rio de Janeiro June 17, 2013. (Sergio Moraes/Reuters)
this is a good post on top of the importance of the events happening in brazil rn because it actually gives credit to the photographers, their agencies, and the captions. a+
protests rockin the world atm
But seriously. Love this.
Eve is a boss
What is this from??
What is this from somebody please tell me right now thanks so muchhhhh
White boy thought he was about that life.
You came to the wrong fuckin neighborhood, racist piece of shit.
And I believe the name of this is “4, 3, 2, 1”
here for this