Hi comrade, I’m John. I’m the angry feminist your friend Chad warned you about. I’m trans/demigender (he/they), queer and white and was born in 1989. Saying it that way is easier than changing my age in my bio every year. I’m very, very depressed and severely unequipped to deal with the trials and tribulations of adulthood. I am a soft and tired bear (the gay kind, I’m not kin or furry, but not I’m not judgy). Trans/sex worker exclusionary radical feminists and MAPs are my enemy.
tbh it’s really sad how most people who are questioning their gender/sexuality will say stuff like “well i feel like this label fits me and it describes my experiences really well and i feel happy using this label BUT i don’t 100% fit the definition so am i allowed to call myself that??”
like yes!! yes yes YES you are ABSOLUTELY allowed to call yourself that!! it’s OKAY if you don’t fit the rigid definition of a label, if it fits you and it makes you happy, you are totally allowed to use it!!
or people will be like “well i feel like BOTH these labels fit me am i allowed to use both?? do i have to pick just one i don’t want to they both fit me so well” you can use both!! even if a label is “contradictory” or whatever if it makes you happy you can use it!! you don’t have to fit the rigid definition, it’s okay!! do what makes you happy!!
at the end of the day it all boils down to what makes you happy!! if you feel like an identity fits you, you can use that label even if you don’t 100% fit the definition or you have another label that might “contradict” it!!
be happy!! live your life use whatever labels you want it’s okay!! laugh and live and smile and breathe go outside and look at the sky and feel the wind rush past you and smile and it’s all going to be okay. do what makes you happy!! i love you <3
awkward when you have a ship full of gay pirates encountering a puzzle with a heteronormative answer.
See I want to know Ragetti’s backstory because of lines like these. I wonder how a man who seems to have been a philosophy student ended up a pirate who plays down his book learning and tells Pintel he can’t read – or was his father the student, and as a boy he picked up big words like ‘dichotomy’ but couldn’t sign his name to save his life? The Ragetti who Barbossa chose as guardian of one of the Nine Pieces of Eight, who is perhaps more consistently loyal to Pintel than Will is to Elizabeth, who casually analyzes a three-way fight between pirates like someone who’s studied Shakespeare, who at one point speaks more gently and honestly to the goddess of the ocean than any other character (“you’re not saying it right, you have to say it right.”), whose first reaction to a ship capsizing is ‘tie ourselves to the mast upside down’ and who sailed to Davy Jones’ Locker just to see Jack again… what is his story?
A 14 year old Ragetti, standing at a dock wearing formal clothing: Father says pirates are the bane of civilization.
Barbossa, the then still beardless buckaneer: Pirates can be gay
Ragetti, looking back just for a second before smiling at the captain: Where do I sign up?!
Yeah, no, see, that’s actually a pretty damn good explanation.
It’s been 47 years, and there’s still thousands of families who, to this day, do not know what happened to their loved ones.
Mothers and fathers who died of elderly age and sadness in the 90s, 00s and 10s, praying for at least a scrap of the clothes their children were wearing the day they disappeared, a lock of hair, a tooth… Something, so they could bury as much as that. So they could at least have a stone to cry on.
There’s records of teenagers as young as 14 among the disappeared.
Children left orphaned, now beyond middle aged, who keep running into the men who tortured and executed their parents, as they walk around their neighborhoods, as if nothing ever happened. Elderly men who get to live in peaceful retirement despite the crimes they committed, while their parents had their lives stolen from them, being thrown in bags, still alive, into the ocean from helicopters, after having been tortured.
Wives, husbands, siblings, friends and lovers with many similar stories to tell, if they have enough strength in them to tell them at all.
People who were arrested and tortured alongside loved ones, who were
lucky to be released after weeks, months or more of military torture, but whose loved ones they went with were not, and they never saw them
again. People living with an undeserved guilt that they survived, but their
loved ones did not.
Children who were never born despite being loved and expected, because their mothers were taken while they still carried them, and suffered the same fate as everyone else. Fathers who lost both their lovers and unborn children at once.
And thousands of bodies crying from the ocean, from the desert, from Los Andes, from military bases. Waiting to be found, waiting to be named.
what is this in reference to?
Yesterday it was Chile’s 9/11. In September 11th of 1973, the democratically elected socialist president Salvador Allende was overthrown by a US backed coup from the Chilean military, which started the military dictatorship of Pinochet. It lasted until 1990, and its horrors were constant, with state terrorism and violence, censorship, political persecution, etc. What you’d expect from a fascist dictatorship.
The coup itself started off with plenty of deaths, which was immediately followed by the Caravan of Death (only lasting between September 30th and October 22nd of 1973, counting 97 executions and forced disappearances), and continued with the arrests, horrific tortures and executions of thousands of civilians (confirmed over 40,000 victims).
Among the thousands of people who were victims of the dictatorship, there’s the over 3000 disappeared detainees; people who were taken from out of the blue (taken from their homes at night, taken in their way to work, etc) by the police or military, and whose whereabouts are still not known to this day.
Them being disappeared doesn’t just mean that they’re dead, it means there’s no answers to what exactly happened to them (due in big part to pacts of silence and other forms of corruption), and the bodies are and will probably always be missing, due to how the bodies were deposed of (re-read the last paragraph of the op to get an idea).
The loved ones of those disappeared are, to this day, still searching for answers regarding what happened to their children, parents, spouses, siblings, lovers and friends. Let alone the elusive hope of ever finding a piece of their corpses to bury. It’s been so long, that now there’s new generations of people who didn’t even live through the dictatorship, that are continuing the search of their parents who died without an answer.
ok but shes clearly older. like she looks amazing and you people have to realize that its not something to be ashamed of when you see someone over the age of 30 and think “damn they are beautiful”. she aged really well but she’s obviously older in the second pic. Like instead of trying to hold black people to this impossible standard of never aging maybe we could just appreciate the beauty of a maturing black person for what they really are: a human who gets older as time goes by
What a unique property! The iconic c.1924 mud adobe
Elysian Grove Market
was a lively spot in the heart of the downtown Tucson, Arizona
growing from a single room shop to the expansive footprint of today.
It operated as a neighborhood market well into the 1960s and since has served as apartments, bed and breakfast, single family home, and a house and guest house.
