lesbolution

wocinsolidarity:

blackpowerisforblackmen:

Please sign the petition to stop her deportation! 70,792 people have already signed this petition. We’re almost at the goal of 75,000 signatures. 

SIGNAL BOOST

assbutt-in-the-garrison

fahrlight:

odiedragon:

solitae:

leftenantreece:

2112tryptophanbonfires:

ANNIE - Official Trailer (2014)

I’m not gonna lie, I teared up a little bit when I saw the trailer.

I’m sooo excited for this… cheese fest and all!

this is so freaking adorable and yes i cried. I can’t wait.

I CAN’T WAIT

So I’ll probably get slammed for this (because, tumblr) but here goes anyway.  Ask box is open, slam away.

When the original Little Orphan Annie was written, chronologically we were a lot closer to a time where there was a strong bias against Irish people.  By making Annie red haired, it was implied that she was of Irish descent, and by extension, the audience would have inherently known that was part of the bias against her.

Changing Annie’s race to African American replicates this same dynamic in modern society, and that’s a big part of why so many people were upset by it.  A BLACK orphan?!  Nooooooo, keep her white and red haired and cute I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH HOW THIS IS MAKING ME UNCOMFORTABLE.

Casting Annie as black in 2014 is a much more true to the original character than casting her as a caucasian red head.

THIS! I agree! and I can’t wait to see this movie!

homeland-insecurity
Telling a young girl she can’t wear what she wants because it’s not appropriate encourages the idea that men’s reactions should dictate society’s norms, and that all women are meta-Eves, tempting and ensnaring men with our sultry-eyed gaze. My parents’ culture is steeped in patriarchy, in the philosophy of the one-step machismo machine, where there is just one kind of man, and two kinds of women: the angel and the whore. These limited ideas of masculinity breed men who want ownership of women.
Fariha Roison (via girl-violence)
barricadethedoors
carryonflareon:

misterrad:

The Myth of the Disrupted Classroom
When I was a Junior in high school, my girlfriend was sent home from school for wearing inappropriate clothing.  She was wearing layers of slips on top of each other that, together, broke no established rule of our dress code.  She was told by our principal, formerly the principal of a parochial girl’s school, that her dress was more appropriate “for a garden party,” and therefore inappropriate for learning.  She sat in the principal’s office and told the principal that she was being singled out because her clothes were weird, and because her clothes didn’t cost a lot of money.  She was offered a sweater to cover her arms and go back to class.  She refused.  She got into her gold Cadillac and drove home for the day.
I married that girl.  People should marry those kinds of girls when they find them, and if they can get those kinds of girls to fall for them.
Now I am a teacher.  I went into teaching to, of all things, teach.  I’m not sure I went into teaching to be a Teacher.  Being a Teacher feels like teaching, plus all the other stuff.  I learned a lot from great educators and mentors in my life.  I remember hating most of my Teachers.  I remember Teachers discussing the clothing of students and scoffing and “oh my god did you see”ing.  I say I don’t care what kids wear.  I remember Teachers talking about a disruption to learning.  
I can’t tell you how much I don’t care what anyone wears to school.
I can’t tell you how few times I’ve ever seen clothing of any kind disrupt class in any way.  In fact, let me say this:  I have never seen clothing of any kind disrupt class in any way.
I’ve certainly seen disruption, pretty massive disruption, caused by enforcing dress codes.  Students often, and understandably, react poorly to being told that clothes they have on or body parts they have make them inappropriate for school that day.  There are melt-downs, to be sure, and indignation.  There is yelling and arguing and many things that are massive disruptions to learning.  Sometimes kids go home for the whole day, which is a whole lot of learning not happening.
I’ve seen administrators enter active classrooms, walk around the room sticking their heads under desks to look at the length of skirts and shorts.  Really, in the real world, I’ve seen this.  I’ve seen girls asked to stand up in front of classes, looked up and down and then told, “yeah, I guess you’re ok.  Sit back down.”  I’ve watched administrators leave, and then cared for embarrassed, shamed, angry students.  I’ve seen whole hours and whole days of learning disrupted by enforcing dress codes, and that doesn’t take in to account the emotional damage done to students by a system that should be protecting them.
I’m certainly uncomfortable with the message we are sending.  Kids are self-conscious enough.  Girls especially have enough people commenting on how they look and holding them to an often impossible and moving target of appropriateness, attractiveness, and self expression.  I don’t like the message of a school telling someone that the clothes they put on their own bodies made them a problem for the whole school they attend, so much so that they need to go home, or cover up.  So much so that they need to feel shame.  Shame disrupts learning more than skirts.  I promise.
We’re more comfortable confronting the girl wearing the thing, and not the boys who say the things about her.  We are comfortable putting the blame for the actions of boys onto the girls around them.
We are no one to say what is right or wrong, appropriate or not.  We are no one to say how kids should act or dress or what jobs they should wish for or what friends they should have.  We should give them all the information we have, any information that will help keep them safe and successful and sane, and then we should let them make their own choices.
Schools are not moral authorities.  When we create judgement calls about things like appropriate or not, acceptable or not, we leave room for each teacher and administrator to judge a student against their own moral code.  When we enforce dress codes, we leave room for every staff member to address students that make them feel uncomfortable.
To be honest, I’m not sure why we act as authorities at all.  As a school, we offer something so precious and so valuable.  We offer the skills and ideas, we offer a path to success.  So why do we spend so much time tracking tardies, enforcing behavior and dress codes, demanding silence and a level of respect that is reverential at best and fear-based at worst.
Anyone who knows enough teenagers knows that the more rules you give them that don’t make sense, the happier they will be doing the opposite of what you tell them.  The more you shake your head and act stern, the more they will see you as someone to disobey.
We have this phenomenal power as teachers, as workers in schools.  We control this massive amount of time students are required to be with us.  We control their grades, their access to opportunities, the experience of many years of their lives.  We control great portions of their self image, of their confidence, of their skill levels.
We don’t need to grab any more power than we already have.  We don’t need to feel like we have to control every single thing to maintain the power we already have.  We have important things to do all day.  We don’t need to spend time on other stuff.

Out of all the teachers I have ever had, this man has always been my favorite. 

carryonflareon:

misterrad:

The Myth of the Disrupted Classroom

When I was a Junior in high school, my girlfriend was sent home from school for wearing inappropriate clothing.  She was wearing layers of slips on top of each other that, together, broke no established rule of our dress code.  She was told by our principal, formerly the principal of a parochial girl’s school, that her dress was more appropriate “for a garden party,” and therefore inappropriate for learning.  She sat in the principal’s office and told the principal that she was being singled out because her clothes were weird, and because her clothes didn’t cost a lot of money.  She was offered a sweater to cover her arms and go back to class.  She refused.  She got into her gold Cadillac and drove home for the day.

I married that girl.  People should marry those kinds of girls when they find them, and if they can get those kinds of girls to fall for them.

Now I am a teacher.  I went into teaching to, of all things, teach.  I’m not sure I went into teaching to be a Teacher.  Being a Teacher feels like teaching, plus all the other stuff.  I learned a lot from great educators and mentors in my life.  I remember hating most of my Teachers.  I remember Teachers discussing the clothing of students and scoffing and “oh my god did you see”ing.  I say I don’t care what kids wear.  I remember Teachers talking about a disruption to learning.  

I can’t tell you how much I don’t care what anyone wears to school.

I can’t tell you how few times I’ve ever seen clothing of any kind disrupt class in any way.  In fact, let me say this:  I have never seen clothing of any kind disrupt class in any way.

I’ve certainly seen disruption, pretty massive disruption, caused by enforcing dress codes.  Students often, and understandably, react poorly to being told that clothes they have on or body parts they have make them inappropriate for school that day.  There are melt-downs, to be sure, and indignation.  There is yelling and arguing and many things that are massive disruptions to learning.  Sometimes kids go home for the whole day, which is a whole lot of learning not happening.

I’ve seen administrators enter active classrooms, walk around the room sticking their heads under desks to look at the length of skirts and shorts.  Really, in the real world, I’ve seen this.  I’ve seen girls asked to stand up in front of classes, looked up and down and then told, “yeah, I guess you’re ok.  Sit back down.”  I’ve watched administrators leave, and then cared for embarrassed, shamed, angry students.  I’ve seen whole hours and whole days of learning disrupted by enforcing dress codes, and that doesn’t take in to account the emotional damage done to students by a system that should be protecting them.

I’m certainly uncomfortable with the message we are sending.  Kids are self-conscious enough.  Girls especially have enough people commenting on how they look and holding them to an often impossible and moving target of appropriateness, attractiveness, and self expression.  I don’t like the message of a school telling someone that the clothes they put on their own bodies made them a problem for the whole school they attend, so much so that they need to go home, or cover up.  So much so that they need to feel shame.  Shame disrupts learning more than skirts.  I promise.

We’re more comfortable confronting the girl wearing the thing, and not the boys who say the things about her.  We are comfortable putting the blame for the actions of boys onto the girls around them.

We are no one to say what is right or wrong, appropriate or not.  We are no one to say how kids should act or dress or what jobs they should wish for or what friends they should have.  We should give them all the information we have, any information that will help keep them safe and successful and sane, and then we should let them make their own choices.

Schools are not moral authorities.  When we create judgement calls about things like appropriate or not, acceptable or not, we leave room for each teacher and administrator to judge a student against their own moral code.  When we enforce dress codes, we leave room for every staff member to address students that make them feel uncomfortable.

To be honest, I’m not sure why we act as authorities at all.  As a school, we offer something so precious and so valuable.  We offer the skills and ideas, we offer a path to success.  So why do we spend so much time tracking tardies, enforcing behavior and dress codes, demanding silence and a level of respect that is reverential at best and fear-based at worst.

Anyone who knows enough teenagers knows that the more rules you give them that don’t make sense, the happier they will be doing the opposite of what you tell them.  The more you shake your head and act stern, the more they will see you as someone to disobey.

We have this phenomenal power as teachers, as workers in schools.  We control this massive amount of time students are required to be with us.  We control their grades, their access to opportunities, the experience of many years of their lives.  We control great portions of their self image, of their confidence, of their skill levels.

We don’t need to grab any more power than we already have.  We don’t need to feel like we have to control every single thing to maintain the power we already have.  We have important things to do all day.  We don’t need to spend time on other stuff.

Out of all the teachers I have ever had, this man has always been my favorite. 

thelegsnoseandmrsrobinson
sparklefairydust:

askthegrandhighboob:

fullofsinfullust:

zzazu:

trenzalord:

geometricdeathtrap:

pugsies:

PLEASE READ. WILL NOT HURT TO AND FORWARD. Kids are putting Drano, tin foil, and a little water in plastic drink bottles and capping it up - leaving it on lawns, in mail boxes, in gardens, on driveways etc. just waiting for you to pick it up intending to put it in the rubbish, but you’ll never make it!!!
If the bottle is picked up, and the bottle is shaken even just a little - in about 30 seconds or less it builds up enough gas which then explodes with enough force to remove some your extremities. The liquid that comes out is boiling hot as well. Don’t pick up any plastic bottles that may be lying in your yards or in the gutter, etc. Pay attention to this. A plastic bottle with a cap. A little Drano. A little water. A small piece of foil. Disturb it by moving it; and BOOM!! No fingers left and other serious effects to your face, eyes, etc. Please ensure that everyone that may not have email access are also informed of this. 
Snopes confirms.

I’ve dealt with these before. If you find one:
Do not touch it
Do not touch it
Clear the area around it. It will explode on its own in time.
Once it explodes, do not make contact with the liquid inside. If needed, flush it away with large amounts of water.
Do not try to detonate it. You’ll probably be disfigured.
I’ve seen what these can do. The acidic liquid inside can strip the paint off a car.

when i visited vancouver these were everywhere. it’s not a fucking joke they’re actually scary

Just a reminder that there are awful shitty people out there doing awful shitty things to everyone else

there was a bunch of these at disneyland

i found one in my back yard, when i let my dogs out, i pulled them back inside, took my cousins bb shotgun and shot it from a safe distance (i was in my house and shot from the screen door. When it went off, my family and neighbors came running to see if everything was ok. I told them what happened and to watch out for them. 
These things are not a joke! When we went to check the damage there was a fucking hole in the ground. The dirt in my yard is like CLAY.
This shit is bad news

PLEASE DON’T BE AN ASSHAT. PLEASE DON’T LEAVE BOMBS IN PEOPLE’S YARDS.

sparklefairydust:

askthegrandhighboob:

fullofsinfullust:

zzazu:

trenzalord:

geometricdeathtrap:

pugsies:

PLEASE READ. WILL NOT HURT TO AND FORWARD.

Kids are putting Drano, tin foil, and a little water in plastic drink bottles
and capping it up - leaving it on lawns, in mail boxes, in gardens, on driveways etc. just waiting for you to pick it up intending to put it in the rubbish, but you’ll never make it!!!

If the bottle is picked up, and the bottle is shaken even just a little - in about 30 seconds or less it builds up enough gas which then explodes with enough force to remove some your extremities. The liquid that comes out is
boiling hot as well.

Don’t pick up any plastic bottles that may be lying in your yards or in the gutter, etc.

Pay attention to this. A plastic bottle with a cap. A little Drano. A little water. A small piece of foil.
Disturb it by moving it; and BOOM!! No fingers left and other serious effects to your face, eyes, etc.

Please ensure that everyone that may not have email access are also informed of this. 

Snopes confirms.

I’ve dealt with these before. If you find one:

  • Do not touch it
  • Do not touch it
  • Clear the area around it. It will explode on its own in time.
  • Once it explodes, do not make contact with the liquid inside. If needed, flush it away with large amounts of water.
  • Do not try to detonate it. You’ll probably be disfigured.

I’ve seen what these can do. The acidic liquid inside can strip the paint off a car.

when i visited vancouver these were everywhere. it’s not a fucking joke they’re actually scary

Just a reminder that there are awful shitty people out there doing awful shitty things to everyone else

there was a bunch of these at disneyland

i found one in my back yard, when i let my dogs out, i pulled them back inside, took my cousins bb shotgun and shot it from a safe distance (i was in my house and shot from the screen door. When it went off, my family and neighbors came running to see if everything was ok. I told them what happened and to watch out for them. 

These things are not a joke! When we went to check the damage there was a fucking hole in the ground. The dirt in my yard is like CLAY.

This shit is bad news

PLEASE DON’T BE AN ASSHAT. PLEASE DON’T LEAVE BOMBS IN PEOPLE’S YARDS.

thelegsnoseandmrsrobinson
xekstrin:


A new religious statue in the town of Davidson, N.C., is unlike anything you might see in church.
The statue depicts Jesus as a vagrant sleeping on a park bench. St. Alban’s Episcopal Church installed the homeless Jesus statue on its property in the middle of an upscale neighborhood filled with well-kept townhomes.
Jesus is huddled under a blanket with his face and hands obscured; only the crucifixion wounds on his uncovered feet give him away.
The reaction was immediate. Some loved it; some didn’t.
"One woman from the neighborhood actually called police the first time she drove by," says David Boraks, editor of DavidsonNews.net. "She thought it was an actual homeless person."
That’s right. Somebody called the cops on Jesus.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Since you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.

xekstrin:

A new religious statue in the town of Davidson, N.C., is unlike anything you might see in church.

The statue depicts Jesus as a vagrant sleeping on a park bench. St. Alban’s Episcopal Church installed the homeless Jesus statue on its property in the middle of an upscale neighborhood filled with well-kept townhomes.

Jesus is huddled under a blanket with his face and hands obscured; only the crucifixion wounds on his uncovered feet give him away.

The reaction was immediate. Some loved it; some didn’t.

"One woman from the neighborhood actually called police the first time she drove by," says David Boraks, editor of DavidsonNews.net. "She thought it was an actual homeless person."

That’s right. Somebody called the cops on Jesus.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Since you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.