“humanity is inherently selfish and bad” bbbrrrghuhjfkg. humanity is seeing a stranger’s grocery bag break open on the sidewalk and harvesting fruits and veggies from the branch-like cracks of the asphalt for them, just because you can. humanity is helping a lost child find their mother on a crowded beach, looking for the ladybug-patterned parasol with their hummingbird-small hand in yours. it’s an elder’s fingers wrapped around your arm as you help them up the stairs because the elevator is broken, and feeling like you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing, like this is what you would’ve been doing had you been alive centuries or even millennia ago. there will always be a heavily pregnant woman who will smile at your when you give up your seat, a nice blind man in the fruit aisle who will ask you to please pick the riper plantain for him, a tired cashier whose face will light up when you compliment their tattoo sleeve. humanity is connection
Your body can’t recognise itself, so it’s attacking itself.
Mogul Mowgli (2020) dir. Bassam Tariq
reblog and write in the tags what your favorite scent is
i love the way women talk… every woman has their own fun expressions and mannerisms we have FUN with it men all talk the same
if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it?
if i were writing a feminist myth retelling centered around a female character mostly overlooked and denied interiority in the ancient texts that mention her, i would simply not throw helen under the bus to do so
rip to margaret atwood and madeline miller but i’m different
The Face of Another , Hiroshi Teshigahara , 1966
@ Casino de Paris
White women, do me a favor and read this.
This line, in particular, gutted me:
We eat eggs and I tell Y about how when I was 8 years old, I taught my white friend, B (actually called Becky), how to count to 10 in Urdu. How at school the next day she looked at her feet as she shuffled past me, and the white teacher pulled me aside and asked me why I was bullying Becky, because Becky’s mum said I was bullying Becky, and that maybe it would be best if I didn’t sit next to her anymore. She suggested this with the kind of half-arsed, sad-eyed, apologetic shrug that white women perform when it is less of a scene to administer psychological warfare against a brown child than it is to challenge your fellow white woman.
That was my entire childhood.