"My response to the “I am not a feminist” internet phenomenon….

First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”

But here is what I think you should know.

You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.

You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.

You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).

You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (It is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.

In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.

In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.”

Libby Anne (via newwavenova)

Thiiiis

(Source: dumbledoresarmy-againstbigotry, via misandry-mermaid)

I gave a speech on bisexual health at a medical association conference a few years ago. One of the attendees, who is a mental health professional — he’s a therapist — wasn’t at my talk, but when he heard the topic of my speech, he told me, "Oh, when I have clients who say they’re bi, I really question it. I really make them talk it through, and we examine it very closely."

I said, "What if they say they’re gay?" He was gay, by the way.

He said, "Oh, in that case, we just talk about whatever they came to me for."

Amy Andre in Nothing About Us Without Us from her speech on problems of Physical Health in the Bisexual Community, at a bisexual roundtable on 23 September 2013 in Washington DC USA (via bialogue-group)

It’s this shit right here that gets me so fucking mad at people who trivialise biphobia and monosexism by saying shit like “oh the worst you get is people thinking you are confused and greedy”, as if those stereotypes has no real consequences for bisexuals.

This is a fucking therapist, a man in charge of helping people overcome mental health issues and trauma, admitting freely that he and his colleagues treat bisexuality as if it is a mental health problem and a symptom of mental disturbance to be treated and cured.

He is telling a bi woman that he does treat gay people the same way and I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t treat straight folks that way, he is singling out bisexuals because he thinks there is something wrong with us identifying that way, because we are, in his mind, confused.

It makes me sick to think that he is making clients doubt and dissect their own sexuality, blamed their bisexuality for their mental state, told them that bisexuality was a symptom or something to take centre-stage over everything because he thinks it’s not as natural or mentally healthy as monosexuality.

This attitude towards bisexuality is endemic to the medical health industry, especially mental health, which is already a problematic field given how much stigma is attached to mental illness.

So many times I hear bisexuals express their anger at being told by qualified therapists and doctors that they were confused, greedy and/or unstable and therefore had to jump through pointless hoops, longer and more invasive therapy sessions, or even worse, threatened with having treatment withheld or taken in a direction completely different from monosexuals because “it’s all in their heads” or “just doing it for attention”. All because the person in charge takes Freud a little too seriously and/or believes all the shitty stereotypes that seem ever so trivial and not worth combatting to biphobia-deniers.

And people wonder why bisexuals don’t come out to health professionals? They wonder why we don’t come out at all? They wonder why bisexuals have a rate of suicide and poor health way above straight and gay people?

Don’t ever tell me that is trivial. Bisexuals die because of these stereotypes, they are killed by these so-called mental health professionals telling them that they need to be cured by denying themselves and are erased after death by monosexism. Fuck everyone who doesn’t think that’s worth caring about. (via a-little-bi-furious)

Small reminder of WHY we need out informed Bisexual People at ALL LGBT Health Conferences

(via bisexual-community)

THIS WAS A FUCKING THERAPIST

(via misandry-mermaid)

FFS. How long before the B in LGBT is acknowledged as legitimate?

(via misandry-mermaid)

amykinz97:

List of things straight guys have ruined:
》lesbian porn
》my little pony
》society

This

(via prettyenoughwordsss)

bisexual-community:

The 16 most inspiring things about bisexual artist Frida KahloMexican painter Frida Kahlo was born 107 years ago today July 6, 1907. A feisty free spirit who blazed her own trail and inspired everyone around her.

Frida Kahlo is one of the most revered artists to come from 20th century Mexico. Her distinctive look and style are instantly recognizable and she has been called a diva, a muse and a feminist icon.

A force of nature perhaps best summed up by an art critic who saw one of her very first exhibitions and said: ‘It is impossible to separate the life and work of this extraordinary person. Her paintings are her biography.’

She fought through a great deal of adversity during her life. At the age of six she contracted polio, when she was 18 she was badly injured in a bus crash and later in life she suffered several miscarriages … Kahlo never lost her passion for life. She was well known as an extremely quick witted and sharp woman, always the centre of attention wherever she was. Her strength of character has made her an emblem of hope and determination for many.

Art historians usually focus on her relationship with fellow Mexican painter Diego Rivera (whom she married, divorced and then married again) and her affair with Communist leader Leon Trotsky. But Kahlo was bisexual, and made no secret of her affairs and relationships with women as well as men. Kahlo was linked with African American entertainer Josephine Baker, American painter Georgia O’Keeffe and Mexican singer Chavela Vargas.

Photographers were captivated by her beauty. She was a muse to photographer Nickolas Murray who loved to take her picture in her sumptuous Mexican clothes.

Her work has been exhibited in art galleries all over the world, her diary has been published and many authors have written biographies of her extraordinary life.The house she lived in is now a museum. La Casa Azul is filled with trinkets and treasure collected by Kahlo during her life and is one of the biggest cultural attractions in Mexico.

She defied classification of her work. Art critics tried to label her as a Surrealist painter, which was very trendy at the time, but she defied this label, instead saying: ‘They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.’

In 1938 André Breton, principal initiator of the surrealist movement, described Kahlo’s art as a "ribbon around a bomb".

(via misandry-mermaid)

ellenandportiatruelove:

enamoradadeunahetero:

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Holy fuck!! 


!!!

ellenandportiatruelove:

enamoradadeunahetero:

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Holy fuck!! 

!!!

(Source: swedishfishrule, via rollergirlrant)

harveyspecters:

Orange is the New Black portraits by Geoff Barrenger

I wish I was pals with all of these women

(Source: portraits.geoffbarrenger.com, via wherethequeerthingsare)

reclusieve:

yes

What Red said

(Source: heisenbergww, via daughterofdecadence)

manfeels-park:

***BONUS COMIC***

A visit to Terf House. Terferfield? Terferly? Terfings Park?

For Hal, Mo and Jasmine.

http://www.manfeels-park.com/comic/handmaiden-of-the-patriarchy/

I am too much of a Luddite to understand how to tumblr but yay! An argument my pal and I got into with a TERF is now a comic! Thanks!

(via sestra-act)

flashback poussey outfit appreciation post

Might have to watch season 2 again to continue appreciating Poussey

(Source: trashybooksforladies, via wherethequeerthingsare)

When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”

When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.

When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”

(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)

When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.

I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.

No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.

I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.

So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:

In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.

r.d. (via vonmoire)

(Source: elferinge, via prettyenoughwordsss)