Just A Few More Minutes Please?

nothing I hate more than men “bravely destroying western propaganda”. I’ve met many afghan women in america on asylum. it’s all true. every fucking word.

Dude showed fuck-all and thinks that somehow proves that "the West" is lying about women in Afghanistan being oppressed. As if these men would ever tell the truth regarding a woman's plight.

This is lazy propaganda and anyone who isn't completely delusional can see right through it.

(Channel name is Arab)

It's so draining xo

you’re not a real feminist if you don’t piss off both the left and the right

missing you like the clouds miss the rain, light and free but longing to be heavy again

“So... how do you torture a woman? [.] You can pry her body away from her mind, or you can pry her mind away from her body [...] To pry her body away from her mind, you need to physically humiliate her. Of course, rape is the most traditional method, but it's not the only one [...] You can ridicule her body […]you can make her strap her breasts in. You can make her embarrassed about her periods. You can make her frightened of puberty, frightened of sex, frightened of aging, frightened of eating. You can terrorize her with her own body, and then she will torture herself.” (Gage 21)

Does anyone have the quote that says something like ‘if you want to torture a woman you have to get her to divide her body and mind/get her to hate her body’?????

I can’t remember it, and I can’t find my picture of it (though I may not have the screenshot anymore)

what the heart does best is convince you it’s only purpose is to pump blood like a metal machine housed in your soft body. until something gets to you, then you forget there’s anything else it’s meant to do besides ache, and ache, and ache.

Just wanted to tell y'all how grateful I am that radblr exists. Bright spot of my day to be able to interact with women of similar outlooks and theoretical backgrounds in this cesspool of a culture

we barely move , only breathy laughs between us as we lay together

(we’re trying not to wake Desire)

(Desire, the monster that makes us serious)

cousins

that time you

covered me with your body as i stood in the hot but dimming sunlight, shielding me from the cab driver you said was watching me too intently. your clothed body stepped in front of my bare legs, and the man was embarrassed he was so less than subtle.

you can always tell, when they look away.

the time we tried to make pancakes. despite all of your criticisms, despite the lack of eggs, or a pan that could possibly work, we step outside with that eggless batter and attempt it anyway on the rusty stove. we step cautiously, always-aware of the cockroaches and kitties creeping around that front porch of yours. We fail, over and over, making a mess at 3 am. we leave the pans and spatulas for the morning.

or that night the power went out, and you all put on your phone flashlights and starting checking your battery life. it was dark, so dark it made me wonder what it’s like for people who don’t have power. I waited for my eyes to adjust. we trade stories because it’s hard to play cards without a good field of vision. the power comes back on when your mother begins a story about mine.