Video

I’m not afraid to be your lady
I’m not afraid to be your whore
I’m not afraid to be your future
I’m not afraid to be your soil
In which you plant your seed
Flowers, they sprout for me
My fragrance in the breeze
You must nurture me please
I’m not afraid to be your baby
I’m not afraid to be your strength
I’m not afraid to be open wide
I’m not afraid to be glutinous
The essence of glue
I will stick to you
Through earthquakes and moods
If ever one thing was true
I’m not afraid to wind it, wind it
I’m not afraid to keep your pace
I’m not afraid to create my queendom
I’m not afraid to take my place
I’m not afraid

(Source: Spotify)

Photo
Text

how i practice domesticity

mortar-pistol:

domesticity means i mop the entire house by myself to mykki blanco

domesticity means i daydream about building a deck for our summer sublet while buying plywood

domesticity means i lift weights so i can pick up heavy sacks of potting soil without breaking a sweat

domesticity means i make a damn good hot toddy

domesticity means i can patch the crotch in your pants so it will last

domesticity means i can make a eucalyptus peppermint tea bath to clear out your sinuses

domesticity means whilst eyeing the rope at the hardware store i try to decide which would be most appropriate for bondage

domesticity means i cut everyone’s hair in the house

domesticity means finding the last jar of peaches i canned over the summer in the pantry on a wet march day

(via dancing-with-diversity)

Photoset

dinobearthemighty:

our-lady-of-misandry:

bitchtitsagainstcapitalism:

yellow-dress:

workneverover:

ceasesilence:

green—street:

White men as props and accessories? I dig it!

Well, this is a lovely change!

*cough* 

Well, at least I didn’t have to say it. No, wait:

“… to a black woman.”

*briskly dusts off hands*

There we go. 

Imagine the uproar if these kinds of pictures were shown in magazines all the time. But nobody bats a fucking eyelid when we do it to women. Everyone (men (white men)) would be up in arms about ~misandry~ and hypersexualization, but do these dudebro MRAs care that women are subjected to this type of imagery /reversed/ in our own magazines on every second goddamn page? Didn’t think so.

THAT is why these images showing the reversal is important. Dudes will cry “you won’t get people to join your cause if you respond to degradation of your gender by degrading another gender” - no, fuck you. We are sick of the constant hypersexualization, and one photoset relieving us of our plight that makes you uncomfortable is NOTHING compared to what we deal with every day.

Brilliant. These photos are by Xevi Muntané, for anybody who’s curious. 

Noémie Lenoir & Dylan Garner by Xevi Muntané for Ponystep FW 11.12

(Source: browngurl, via worsethanqueer)

Photo
dormantgenius:

One of my favorite poems from “The Moments, the Minutes, the Hours: The Poetry of Jill Scott”
 
Quote
"Patriarchy has always seen love as women’s work, degraded and devalued labor."

bell hooks (via dancingonembers)

Whoa. Whoa.

(via thetemerity)

And, of course, also things done out of love - making clothes for bodies, cooking food to feed a family, making a home livable, etc….

Bring your child to work and nurse it? Any work she’s doing there becomes devalued, too. “You should have gotten a sitter - what a terrible mother - what a terrible employee.”

Can’t win.

(via versatilequeen)

(via kristalclearly)

Quote
"

For myself, identifying as femme is not about adhering to any code or strictures of conduct. It is about loving my body, even when I am told I am too skinny or not in shape. It is about respecting and revering the women in my life without objectifying or essentializing them, but also without pretending that we are the same. It is about loving who I love, desiring who I desire, and not worrying about what types of roles I or my partners should take on in a relationship, or in bed. It is about dressing the way I like, and moving the way my body wants to move.

It is about making people uncomfortable in ways that I hope will make the world a safer place. It is about speaking loudly. It is about placing myself in a linage of other queer folks of all identities who also stood by their communities while challenging them to change. It is about remembering the riot, and never being comfortable with the way things are. It is about dancing and laughing, gathering and organizing. It is about feminism. It is about fearlessness. It is about always being ready to fight.

"

- We Are All Subversives: Femme Strength and Queer Solidarity (via grrrlstudies)

this is who I will always strive to be

(via frozenrapids)

This is really wonderful; Thank you, Juana.

(via itsamerishanow)

(via queerasinfuckyou)

Photo
dinfinite:

The original painted ladies: Vintage photographs reveal incredible head-to-toe tattoos on women in the Twenties, Thirties and Forties
Text

nom-chompsky:

ugly-feelings:

sometimes i just want to get a fake orange spray tan and bleach my hair blonde and wear hollister and a&f and american eagle and uggs exclusively and wear frosted lipglosses and make ducklips faces and care about jersey shore and gossip girl. because apparently “nice” dudes hate when girls that because it’s “fake”, it’s “slutty”, it’s overdone/tasteless/”dumb” but fuck you. everything is fake. all persona is persona including what you’ve been conditioned to perceive as a “neutral”/”inoffensive” appearance.

because i don’t want your “respect”, and i certainly don’t need your advice on how to “respect” a body. i don’t need your fake concern about skin cancer and burns on my scalp when my body doesn’t even feel like mine sometimes. when breast cancer becomes selling sex to teenage boys who wouldn’t tell you about the lump in your breast they felt while they were feeling you up. your concern for my body will always be mediocre until it is mine to create/destroy/create, and even then it wouldn’t even matter because you do not inhabit this flesh, or these organs, or this mucus/snot/bile/blood/spit/fluid/fluid/fluid. so stop trying to crawl into my bed of skin, asshole. stop trying to own my ugliness. you can’t have it. too bad, so sad.

i don’t want you to wait before i leave the room to talk about how gross i am. i want my skin to be greasy and leave big orange stains on every man who touches me and who i choose to touch. i want my hair to make you puke. i want my clothes to remind you of how capitalism lives in tube tops and booty shorts just as well as it does in jeans and a t-shirt or whatever the fuck makes you feel like the girl you wanna fuck is real “authentic”, real “down-to-earth” or whatever. i want to remind you that every picture is posed. no expression can be pure when you can see the camera and the camera can see you. i want you to know that i spent three goddamn hours straightening my hair and putting on my eyeliner over and over again and removing it over and over again so there’s light grey rings under my eyes and when i reapplied my lipgloss for the 20th time tonight in the backseat of my best friend’s car it hit a pothole so it’s smudging against my lipliner and i’m still not “sexy” to your pretentious jonh lennon art school ass. my labor is MINE, and it’s ugly because god loves ugly. i wasn’t put on this earth to give you a hard on. i want to scream and drink and grind to shitty club music because i want to scare the living shit out of you. i want you to go home and post a facebook update about how “our generation is doomed” and get twenty likes from all your pretentious john lennon art school friends and all your fedora-wearing self-entitled pasty sarcastic bros and all your edgewatch xvx police officers and all your “nice guy” indie rock microbrew date rapists who all secretly wish they could make a man want to remove himself from this earth just by getting a spraytan.

i don’t want you to want to fuck me, BRO. i want you to have to look at me. i want to be the bright orange flesh you don’t want to fuck but you also can’t ignore. i want you to be very, very scared of what is going to come out of my mouth. i want you to cringe at the sound of my voice because it is both too feminine and too loud. your disgust makes me even louder, even more powerful. and it’s so funny to me, so funny to me, because you know and i know we are both just pretending we aren’t aware that deep down you so badly wish you could be a monster, too.

FUCK YES. FUCK YES.

(Source: volatile-bodies, via sexgenderbody)

Text

unsubtle-knife:

jackrad:

boredangry: “Empowering femininity” has to mean more than just supporting people who wear pink stuff

kiriamaya:

This was going to be a long post, but it really doesn’t need to be, because the thought I’m having is pretty simple:

I agree with Serano when she says that a major key to gender liberation is “work[ing] to empower femininity, in all its forms.” But I don’t think that a lot of us have given enough thought to what that means.

Cultural constructions of “femininity” involve much more than just clothing, or even personal dispositions. Loving, nurturing, befriending, fostering deep emotions and connections — these things are considered “feminine”, and therefore these things are relentlessly derided and demeaned by our patriarchal society. It’s all too easy to dismiss these things in favor of aggression, “badassery”, and other things that are typically coded “masculine”.

You’ve done it. I’ve done it. We’ve all dropped the ball on this one big time.

**In our social context, empowering femininity doesn’t just mean empowering people who like dresses. It means empowering mothers. It means empowering caregivers and nurturers. It means refusing to see these people, and these things, as “lesser”, and instead uplifting them. It means not seeing ourselves as lesser when we help, support and love, just because these acts don’t appear “strong” in the eyes of patriarchy. It means recognizing that “strength” isn’t everything, and that sometimes “weakness” is not only okay but absolutely necessary.**

Only once we’ve gotten that through our heads will we start to liberate our own selves and the people we love.

Am I making sense?

so when i was younger, i strongly identified as femme but over the years i’ve stopped identifying that way.  maybe partially because identifying as femme always felt like it was a thing where people expected me to preform extreme radical femme femininity when femininity is not a preformative thing for me at all.  it’s not about wearing glitter or pink or whatever for me and i used to feel like it meant that i had to act completely over the top and try to be recognized as a this loud radical femme to be accepted which is really just not who i am at all.  it kind of makes me think of nic bravo’s piece a week or so ago where she talked about miss piggy being this femme icon because she’s so over the top but sometimes people just are feminine in ways that are not over the top or glamourous, it’s just the way we are (that’s not the only thing i got from that essay and you should read it for many other reasons)

for me, the ways in which i am feminine are coded into the way i talk and the way i move and the way i treat people and the way i act and the core of just how i am in a way that i don’t necessarily want to get rid of but definitely couldn’t take off as easily as clothing if i tried.  i also think it’s probably the number one thing that makes me initially seem like such a catch in terms of boyfriend material but really really quickly is also the thing that makes the types of people i like to date lose interest in me so quickly. and it sucks and it sometimes makes me wish i could take off my femininity as easily as a pair of gold hotpants (the fact that i feel the need to ask whatever happened to my gold hotpants goes back to the fact that femininity has to be performed to be cool).

kiriamaya’s piece above really resonated with me because when it comes down to it, yeah, there’s a little bit of a queen in me (maybe there’s a little bit of a queen in everyone though) but i often feel like i have to bring her out way more often than she wants to because she somehow covers up for or apologies for the ways that femininity is just a part of me that people look down on and won’t date me because of.  why is that?

you know the number one reason people want me as their boyfriend, but also the number one reason people quickly decide that they’d rather have me as their girlfriend than their boyfriend is that i’m “too nice.” basically.  i guess men aren’t supposed to be nice and that’s a horribly unsexy quality and it fucking sucks.

the fact that i’m nice, the fact that i’m non-violent, the fact that i’m good at building bridges, the fact that i’m really (really really) sensitive to other people’s feelings, the fact that i’m gentle and soft-spoken, the fact that i’m a caring person—those are all qualities that i like about myself.  i guess they’re also qualities that are usually associated with femininity and thus equated with weakness.  i’m a peaceful and caring person and i’m secure enough in myself most of the time that i am comfortable picking my battles and not getting worked up about things that don’t matter much to me.  i think most people’s best qualities can be dangerous without a strong sense of self confidence and that’s definitely true of these qualities in me, but this is also just the most basic core of who i am.  at this point, these are all things that make me stronger, not weaker.

so isn’t it just… i don’t know—i guess femmephobia (i mean i don’t really identify as femme but i guess i kinda fit into that?) that stems from this misogyny that says that stereotypical qualities found in/projected onto women are inherently weak and bad.  that the only way to really be a badass is to be loud and rowdy and get up in people’s faces and that’s all fine and i love people who are like that but isn’t the idea that you are stupid and have low self-confidence and are weak and a victim if you don’t do that just more of the same femmephobic shit?

i am so sick of people not wanting to date me because i’m “too nice” and they see that as my being weak and not enough of a man for them and a pushover or something—i stick up for people i love and just because i usually do it with love instead of by cussing people out and making the situation more dramatic and horrible than it already was doesn’t make me weak or un-chivalrous or whatever.  it makes me a good person and a good friend and a good date/boyfriend/whatever.  somehow, it’s only cool to be femme, though, if you can embrace being a total bitch/diva and that’s just, like, the opposite of who i am.  this is why i don’t identify as femme anymore

bolding mine. this is so relevant to so many things i have discussed with @cuntext.

AUUUGHHHH YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES ALL OF THISSSSSSSS.