I’ve been fortunate enough to have had a good high school experience. Don’t get me wrong; as any experience would, there’ve been downs and dramas, but the good memories greatly outweigh them.
I went to an all-girls, catholic high school. The impression that gives varies on the person, but when I hear that, I think this. I think affection, spirit, beauty and honour. I think of the friendships I’ve made and — still, after nearly three years graduated — kept not only with the student body, but with the staff. I would always, always be able to round the corner and hug somebody, simply because I wanted to. Because everywhere there’d be somebody I loved, and somebody who genuinely made me happy.
This school is to thank for who I’ve become and who I’m still becoming. It helped shaped the young woman I’m making of myself, instilling beliefs in me that can never be shaken. Every time I visit, there’s a warmth I feel. Every single time I come back, I’m welcomed, I’m asked how I am, if I need anything and when I’ll be visiting again. And it made me realize; we weren’t just a community, we were a goddamn family.
Ubi Honor Ibi Sum, ladies.
• Narrations
i made this for one of my twitter followers a while ago when everyone was doing these and idk i like it
“Native Americans have fought hard to be allowed to have cultural identity — a basic right that was outlawed by the government until relatively recently. So yes, seeing a spray-tan sexy Pocahontas raising her hand in “hau” is more than an annoyance. It trivializes the fight that my parents and grandparents devoted their lives to. It trivializes my life and my sense of self. And I refuse to believe that any decent person would tell me to move on, to get over it, or to be flattered by it. My great-grandmother is not a Halloween costume. This shouldn’t be so hard to understand.”
—
To the people who like to appropriate Native American culture.
(Source: angrywomenofcolorunited, via black-culture)
Stills from Senegalese filmmaker Safi Faye’s 1997 feature length film Mossane.
Mossane is a beautiful 14-year-old girl who has just reached marriageable age in a village in Senegal. She has many suitors, including a simple-minded farmer’s son who plans to drag her away. Even her own brother Ngor is in love with her.
However she is in love with Fara, a poor student who has returned to the village, while the university is on strike.
At birth, she had been promised in marriage to Diogoye, who went away to work in France. Diogoye, who supplied her parents with many things over the years, has now sent a dowry, and asked that she be married to him in the village in his absence; she would then be sent to France.
(via posttragicmulatto)
whitesupremacykilledthedinosaurs:
19th Century Clique
You aint fuckin with my clique
of courageous beautiful black womenz doe
for folks who don’t know, from top to bottom, left to right:
harriet ann jacobs, ida b. wells, sojourner truth, mary church terrell, harriet tubman
(via posttragicmulatto)
“You mean the generation that paid three times as much for college to enter a job market with triple the unemployment isn’t interested in purchasing the assets of the generation who just blew an enormous housing bubble and kept it from popping through quantitative easing and out-and-out federal support? Curious.”
— When comments are better than the article, Atlantic edition (“The Cheapest Generation: Why Millennials arent’ buying cars or houses, and what that means for the economy”)
(Source: bostonreview, via posttragicmulatto)
tears and english essays
oh tis the time of year when the inconsolable ambiguities of life must appear, without invitation, at the doorstep
