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We cannot educate white women and take them by the hand. Most of us are willing to help but we can’t do the white woman’s homework for her. That’s an energy drain. More times than she cares to remember, Nellie Wong, Asian American feminist writer, has been called by white women wanting a list of Asian American women who can give readings or workshops. We are in danger of being reduced to purvey­ors of resource lists.

Gloria Anzaldúa

Feminism needs to be authentically intersectional, or nothing at all. This speaks volumes (newwavefeminism added this sentence, to add credit!)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com, via wocinsolidarity)

lareinaana:

esleex:

when are white feminists gonna stop saying “stop teaching your daughter she’s beautiful and start telling her she’s smart!!” to WOC cause WOC teaching their daughters of color that they’re beautiful in a white-beauty standardized society is pretty radical also i’m asian white people always tell me im smart bc of that i dont need my mom telling me that

little black girls need to be told they are smart, magical, beautiful and divine. nothing short of that.

(via angrywocunited)

don’t fucking fold up the poems i write you
into your breast pocket and say,
‘they’re close to my heart.’

rip them to shreds and sprinkle them over your cereal.
digest them. digest me.
if my words are meant to worm their way into your heart,
let them start in your stomach, and work their way into your bloodstream,
because a man’s stomach is the quickest way to his heart, right?

We became the mountains.

-myths about us

– Silvia Ines
hyperallergic:

(via Photographs of the Ecological Healing of WWII Bomb Scars)
Almost masked in nature’s regrowth are craters from World War II in Germany, pocking the ground as reminders of violence that erupted in the landscape. Since the war’s end in 1945, the craters morphed into part of the ecology, offering new pond habitats.
READ MORE

hyperallergic:

(via Photographs of the Ecological Healing of WWII Bomb Scars)

Almost masked in nature’s regrowth are craters from World War II in Germany, pocking the ground as reminders of violence that erupted in the landscape. Since the war’s end in 1945, the craters morphed into part of the ecology, offering new pond habitats.

READ MORE

It is 3 am and we are sitting in your midnight blue Honda, In an empty elementary school parking lot, talking.
You are telling me stories from your childhood.
You tell me that Somali mothers
know how to grin and bare it better than any other women you know.
I listen to you tell me how your mother bared her way through raising four kids alone, in a country that didn’t want her.
You speak of her so delicately, that I almost mistook the word Hoya for a sliver of glass that you were trying not to cut your mouth on.
I imagine your mother,
grinning through the absence of your father and trying to turn you into the man she hoped he’d be.
You say that she says you are just like him when ever she’s mad.
I wonder if he taught you how to pick up and leave behind women as broken as she is.
Women who ache hard for everyone else forgetting to ache for themselves.
I watch your mouth as you tell me how much she worried for you,
how in Somalia, sheikhs would come asking her opinion on Islamic Rulings for women, but how in this country she is an immigrant, with no husband and traditional ways.
You say this place has turned her bitter, it has dried up her youth and her ability to trust.
You say you are nothing like your father.
That you could never destroy a woman so viciously.
And as I watch the beard on your face make everything you say sound pure,
I secretly pray to God that, that is the truth.
– Key Ballah (via keywrites)

(via keywrites)

We cannot educate white women and take them by the hand. Most of us are willing to help but we can’t do the white woman’s homework for her. That’s an energy drain. More times than she cares to remember, Nellie Wong, Asian American feminist writer, has been called by white women wanting a list of Asian American women who can give readings or workshops. We are in danger of being reduced to purvey­ors of resource lists.

Gloria Anzaldúa

Feminism needs to be authentically intersectional, or nothing at all. This speaks volumes (newwavefeminism added this sentence, to add credit!)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com, via wocinsolidarity)

foxesinbreeches:

Pepita Bobadilla by E.O. Hoppé, 1919

foxesinbreeches:

Pepita Bobadilla by E.O. Hoppé1919

(via hifructosemag)

lareinaana:

esleex:

when are white feminists gonna stop saying “stop teaching your daughter she’s beautiful and start telling her she’s smart!!” to WOC cause WOC teaching their daughters of color that they’re beautiful in a white-beauty standardized society is pretty radical also i’m asian white people always tell me im smart bc of that i dont need my mom telling me that

little black girls need to be told they are smart, magical, beautiful and divine. nothing short of that.

(via angrywocunited)

don’t fucking fold up the poems i write you
into your breast pocket and say,
‘they’re close to my heart.’

rip them to shreds and sprinkle them over your cereal.
digest them. digest me.
if my words are meant to worm their way into your heart,
let them start in your stomach, and work their way into your bloodstream,
because a man’s stomach is the quickest way to his heart, right?

We became the mountains.

-myths about us

– Silvia Ines
hyperallergic:

(via Photographs of the Ecological Healing of WWII Bomb Scars)
Almost masked in nature’s regrowth are craters from World War II in Germany, pocking the ground as reminders of violence that erupted in the landscape. Since the war’s end in 1945, the craters morphed into part of the ecology, offering new pond habitats.
READ MORE

hyperallergic:

(via Photographs of the Ecological Healing of WWII Bomb Scars)

Almost masked in nature’s regrowth are craters from World War II in Germany, pocking the ground as reminders of violence that erupted in the landscape. Since the war’s end in 1945, the craters morphed into part of the ecology, offering new pond habitats.

READ MORE

It is 3 am and we are sitting in your midnight blue Honda, In an empty elementary school parking lot, talking.
You are telling me stories from your childhood.
You tell me that Somali mothers
know how to grin and bare it better than any other women you know.
I listen to you tell me how your mother bared her way through raising four kids alone, in a country that didn’t want her.
You speak of her so delicately, that I almost mistook the word Hoya for a sliver of glass that you were trying not to cut your mouth on.
I imagine your mother,
grinning through the absence of your father and trying to turn you into the man she hoped he’d be.
You say that she says you are just like him when ever she’s mad.
I wonder if he taught you how to pick up and leave behind women as broken as she is.
Women who ache hard for everyone else forgetting to ache for themselves.
I watch your mouth as you tell me how much she worried for you,
how in Somalia, sheikhs would come asking her opinion on Islamic Rulings for women, but how in this country she is an immigrant, with no husband and traditional ways.
You say this place has turned her bitter, it has dried up her youth and her ability to trust.
You say you are nothing like your father.
That you could never destroy a woman so viciously.
And as I watch the beard on your face make everything you say sound pure,
I secretly pray to God that, that is the truth.
– Key Ballah (via keywrites)

(via keywrites)

"We cannot educate white women and take them by the hand. Most of us are willing to help but we can’t do the white woman’s homework for her. That’s an energy drain. More times than she cares to remember, Nellie Wong, Asian American feminist writer, has been called by white women wanting a list of Asian American women who can give readings or workshops. We are in danger of being reduced to purvey­ors of resource lists."
"

don’t fucking fold up the poems i write you
into your breast pocket and say,
‘they’re close to my heart.’

rip them to shreds and sprinkle them over your cereal.
digest them. digest me.
if my words are meant to worm their way into your heart,
let them start in your stomach, and work their way into your bloodstream,
because a man’s stomach is the quickest way to his heart, right?

"
"

We became the mountains.

-myths about us

"
"It is 3 am and we are sitting in your midnight blue Honda, In an empty elementary school parking lot, talking.
You are telling me stories from your childhood.
You tell me that Somali mothers
know how to grin and bare it better than any other women you know.
I listen to you tell me how your mother bared her way through raising four kids alone, in a country that didn’t want her.
You speak of her so delicately, that I almost mistook the word Hoya for a sliver of glass that you were trying not to cut your mouth on.
I imagine your mother,
grinning through the absence of your father and trying to turn you into the man she hoped he’d be.
You say that she says you are just like him when ever she’s mad.
I wonder if he taught you how to pick up and leave behind women as broken as she is.
Women who ache hard for everyone else forgetting to ache for themselves.
I watch your mouth as you tell me how much she worried for you,
how in Somalia, sheikhs would come asking her opinion on Islamic Rulings for women, but how in this country she is an immigrant, with no husband and traditional ways.
You say this place has turned her bitter, it has dried up her youth and her ability to trust.
You say you are nothing like your father.
That you could never destroy a woman so viciously.
And as I watch the beard on your face make everything you say sound pure,
I secretly pray to God that, that is the truth."

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