If I hear one more guy insinuate that we don’t need to address sexism and that feminism is obsolete because ~Islam gave women rights~ I will throw a desk at his face, like, yes I’m aware that Islam gave me rights, that doesn’t take away from your misogynistic tendencies; I’m not here to “fix Islam”, I’m here to address sexism among Muslims.
Angela Yvonne Davis
Born January 26, 1944 (70 years strong)
Scholar, Author, Philosopher, Activist and Freedom Fighter!
This is EVERYTHING to me. Like…the joy that comes from someone recognizing her LONGEVITY and not just idolizing the years of her trial. Because she does work NOW you know; fights NOW. TODAY. And sometimes being a martyr is more respected than managing (or coincidentally, if not assassinated) to survive. Those who die fighting matter and those who survive and keep fighting matter.
Heart is heavy.
I’m a cup of tea,
And she’s a piece of sugar.
Nobody melts her but me,
And I don’t get sweeter unless by my piece of sugar.
“But what we should know from the situation of gay people of all colours and black people of all sexual preferences is that simply being a victim does not radicalize your consciousness. If that was the case, we would all be fighting the revolution right now together and he fact is we’re not because people want their particular form of victimhood to end with caring about what the implications of that are for other people…We have to move past the idea that our sexual preferences will radicalize our consciousness. Essentialized identity, whether it is race or sex, sexuality, etc. and the notion that just being the victim of something will enlighten you is also the big lie now.”
“Today the individual has become the highest form, and the greatest bane, of artistic creation. The smallest wound or pain of the ego is examined under a microscope as if it were of eternal importance. The artist considers his isolation, his subjectivity, his individualism almost holy. Thus we finally gather in one large pen, where we stand and bleat about our loneliness without listening to each other and without realizing that we are smothering each other to death. The individualists stare into each other’s eyes and yet deny each other’s existence. We walk in circles, so limited by our own anxieties that we can no longer distinguish between true and false, between the gangster’s whim and the purest ideal.”
Ingmar Bergman. (via x-89)
“Write to me only once a week, so that your letter arrives on Sunday—for I cannot endure your daily letters, I am incapable of enduring them. For instance, I answer one of your letters, then lie in bed in apparent calm, but my heart beats through my entire body and is conscious only of you. I belong to you; there is really no other way of expressing it, and that is not strong enough. But for this very reason I don’t want to know what you are wearing; it confuses me so much that I cannot deal with life; and that’s why I don’t want to know that you are fond of me. If I did, how could I, fool that I am, go on sitting in my office, or here at home, instead of leaping onto a train with my eyes shut and opening them only when I am with you?…”
Love Letter from Franz Kafka to Felice Bauer
(11 November 1912)