[TW: Sexual Assault, rape culture, victim blaming]
His lips crushed mine, stopping my protest. He kissed me angrily, roughly, his other hand gripping tight around the back of my neck, making escape impossible. I shoved against his chest with all my strength, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His mouth was soft, despite the anger, his lips molding to mine in a warm, unfamiliar way.
I grabbed at his face, trying to push it away, failing again. He seemed to notice this time, though, and it aggravated him. His lips forced mine open, and I could feel his hot breath in my mouth.
Acting on instinct, I let my hands drop to my side, and shut down. I opened my eyes and didn’t fight, didn’t feel… just waited for him to stop.
Twilight: Eclipse p. 331 (Bella and Jacob’s first kiss)
This is rape culture.
Young women are taught to think of this passage - which describes sexual assault - as erotic. Young men are taught to force their will on young women, regardless of any (non)verbal cues, because sex is conquest and women are objects - not something to be done between two consenting individuals because it’s pleasurable for both people.
The most frightening thing about this excerpt is that many survivors of sexual assault who have disclosed to me describe stories that sound exactly like this one.
tumblr user clockward submitted this to us. read at your leisure.
The lines before that:
He still had my chin—his fingers holding too tight, till it hurt—and I saw the resolve form abruptly in his eyes.
“N—-” I started to object, but it was too late.
And after he assaulted her she punched him in the face but due to his “super human strength” she broke her hand, said “Don’t touch me!” and then:
“Just let me drive you home,” Jacob insisted. Unbelievably, he had the nerve to wrap his arm around my waist.
I jerked away from him.
When he got in the driver’s side, he was whistling.
AND THEN while he was driving:
“…There is so much I can give you that he can’t. I’ll bet he couldn’t even kiss you like that—-because he would hurt you. I would never, never hurt you, Bella.”
I held up my injured hand.
He sighed. “That wasn’t my fault. You should have known better.”
He grinned over at me. “You kissed me back.”
I gasped, unthinkingly balling my hands up into fists again, hissing when my broken hand reacted.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I did not.”
“I think I can tell the difference.”
“Obviously you can’t——that was not kissing back, that was trying to get you the hell off me, you idi*t.”
He laughed a low, throaty laugh. “Touchy. Almost overly defensive, I would say.
I took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with him; he would twist anything I said.
Then when she gets home, to where her father, Charlie, the police officer, is:
“Why did she hit you?”
“Because I kissed her,” Jacob said, unashamed.
“Good for you, kid,” Charlie congratulated him.
I didn’t read the citation first. I read the quote. I thought I was reading a woman’s account of how she was about to be raped, not a fucking passage from a romance novel.
This is astonishing. And I am almost never astonished by rape culture anymore.
"oh my god stop criticizing young girls who like 50 Shades of Gray or Twilight you can’t tell them what they can and can’t read"
no we can’t but we have to protect young girls from mistaking abusive behavior for genuine affection at all costs
On Running Errands
It was an entirely typical Friday afternoon and I had to run some errands, namely grocery shopping. My grocer of choice is Trader Joe’s because they have hummus so delicious I could eat an entire tub of it plain if I lacked self-control.
The closest Trader Joe’s is a little ways from my house, but it’s worth it to me for the reasonable prices and high quality food. I put on minimal make up and an airy, shapeless summer dress and headed out.
I’d like to pause here to note why I say what I’m wearing. It’s not important at all what I was wearing or how my make up was done in any real sense. I only state it because any time I talk about a creeper experience, what I was wearing and how I looked gets brought up, as if it is an explanation of some sort. I note what I’m wearing here in an attempt to drive home the point that women get harassed in every different type of outfit. I have been hit on when I’ve been dressed to the 9’s and when I’ve been wearing no make up and shapeless, floor length dresses. What I’m wearing doesn’t matter and does not ever put me or anyone else at fault for the inappropriate actions of others.
I drive to Trader Joe’s playing an old mix CD and get lost in thought. As I am about to turn, I see a shirtless, baseball hat clad gentlemen who looked about 25 staring at me from outside his car. He sticks his torso out to get a better look at me and nods and smiles, making sure I know he is looking. I lower my acceleration so that my car will not end up next to him and eventually switch lanes to avoid him.
I arrive at Trader Joe’s without any other such instances. I buy my groceries and head to my car. A man who looks to be in his early 30’s is standing next to my car. I look at him confused as I fumble with my keys and my grocery bag and he laughs and says “sorry”, while staying put next to my car. I load my groceries in my trunk and when I look up he is still there, staring, standing next to my car, not saying anything.
At first I thought he was maybe trying to walk past my car or something but happened to have awkward timing and wanted to let me load my groceries first, but he’s clearly staying put. As I’m about to enter my car, he corners me next to it and asks, awkwardly, how to get to the 22 freeway. I tell him I don’t live nearby, so the way I know to get to it might be out of his way, but he eagerly tells me that’s fine. I assume he’s just really awkward and maybe feels embarrassed needing to ask for directions. I explain to him how to get on the freeway, and finally he moves aside so I can get in my car.
I close the door and put my seatbelt on and he is still standing there; he hasn’t moved at all. I am about to back out of my parking spot when he motions for me to roll down my window. I comply assuming he needs more clarifications on his directions. He puts his face close to mine and says to me, with a smile
“You’re very beautiful, you know”
NOPE. NOPE. NOPE NOPE.
I loudly start my car and drive out of the parking lot as quickly as I can. As I leave the shopping center, I see him walking away, shaking his head, looking baffled and confused. As if he actually expected his manipulative pick up to work.
I wanted to share this short story to give a glimpse of what myself, and countless other women, experience just about any time we leave the house. If we want to run a quick errand, we have to deal with many instances like this. It’s all too common for me to experience some type of harassment any time I leave my home, whether it’s a cat call from a car when I’m biking, a threatening interaction in a parking lot, or staring and pointing from a car. Every time I leave my house, I wonder what will happen this time, and just hope I can get home safe. It’s not fun feeling like a target every time you leave your house and I hope more men consider how they make women feel when they behave in such manipulative and threatening ways.
"Sometimes I just have to tell myself the thing that is definitely true, the truest thing I can say, which is.. I don’t know. I don’t know.”
I just loved Hank’s recent video so much that I have to make a thing.
Risa works fast!
Broad City, s01e01-04
Broad City matters. It matters a lot. It matters not just because it’s a show created by, lead by, produced by women. It matters, most importantly, because it’s a beautiful and true example of a female friendship.
That hard to explain, over sharing, messy in front of each other, sharing the stupid thoughts kind of closeness is on public display here: and it’s fucking beautiful.
What I’m trying to say is, Abbi and Ilana debating whether they’d rather have Michael Buble or Janet Jackson go down on them is just about the only conversation on television today that I can imagine having with my friends, and it’s incredibly refreshing. [x]
Instead of a million cheap jokes about masturbation that are meant to be titillating to whatever geriatric boob is watching (I’m looking at you Two Broke Girls), sexuality is real and too much or too little or casual in that postmodern way it is. Weed makes mornings better, bosses don’t know what they’re doing, money is tight, and neighbor dudes are daydream stars.
It’s Workaholics starring women.
And Workaholics starring women is really really important.
Female comedy awareness has skyrocketed since Twitter became ‘a thing,’ with many of the most followed comedy accounts belonging to female writers. Bridesmaids ushered in a new era of ensemble female comedy and female physical comics are getting starring roles: Kaitlin Olson, Melissa McCarthy, and Zooey Deschanel inheriting crowns.
It’s okay to be a dork, a loser, pretty, ungraceful, unambitious, sexy, flippant, imperfect, or anything.
Broad City is going to draw a lot of comparisons, mostly to Girls. But let’s set the record straight: one is a comedy in the Greek sense, the other is a straight comedy with teeth. One is a pessimistic view with shades of optimism, the other is an optimistic view with shades of pessimism.
They exist in different New Yorks—they are practically on different planets—but most of all one makes the girls and their lives the joke and the other makes the world around the girls a joke which in turn makes you forget that they’re ‘girls.’
They’re just two friends against the world.
By doing that, Broad City gets the liberty to embellish on sketchy Craigslist money schemes and carrying weed on the subway in the ‘vayainya’—”natures pocket”—or how reaching a packaging distribution center is like crossing over into the Twilight Zone.
The A.V. Club states it nicely here:
So far, everything onthe show has stayed largely rooted in reality…but really, all the bits have looked like exaggerations of stories you’d hear from your most uninhibited friend. [“Working Girls,” episode 4] is a sign of how Broad City is apparently unafraid to go bigger. [x]
It’s just city life, starring young women who don’t shit on each other, and it’s not perfect but it’s getting there.
And that really really matters.
NY Father Dies After Being Choked By Police
A Staten Island man died as police tried to take him into custody Thursday afternoon, and the incident was caught on video by a bystander. 43-year-old Eric Garner, known as “Big E” to many in the neighborhood, went into cardiac arrest as police attempted to handcuff him around 4:45 p.m. outside 202 Bay Street in Tompkinsville. The NYPD says they were arresting him for selling untaxed cigarettes, but witnesses say he had just broken up a fight and was wrongly targeted by police.
In the video, which was obtained by the Daily News, Garner is seen telling officers, “I was just minding my own business. Every time you see me you want to mess with me. I’m tired of it. It stops today!” The Staten Island Advance reports that Garner was out on bail with three pending criminal cases against him, all involving charges of possession and sale of untaxed cigarettes.
Another witness tells the Advance that Garner “tried to break up the fight—the two guys fighting, they saw the cops coming and walked away.”
When more officers arrived at the scene and attempted to handcuff Garner, who weighed 350 pounds, he’s seen swatting their hands away and saying, “Don’t touch me, please.” One officer puts him in a chokehold as the others struggle to pull him to the ground and get his arms behind his back. Garner, an asthmatic, can be heard repeatedly saying, “I can’t breathe.”
"They jumped him and they were choking him," says Ramsey Orta, who knew Garner and took the video. "He was foaming at the mouth,” Orta told The News. “And that’s it, he was done. The cops were saying, ‘No, he’s OK, he’s OK.” He wasn’t OK.” Another friend of Garner says, "He’s a very big man, very intimidating, but he’s just a big teddy bear. He’s the nicest guy. I can’t believe what I saw. That’s no way to do an arrest."
One police source tells the Advance, “He absolutely resisted arrest. He took a fighting stance.” The official NYPD statement asserts that Garner was selling untaxed cigarettes. “Upon attempting to arrest the suspect for the violation, the suspect went into cardiac arrest and was transported by EMS to Richmond University Medical Center where he was pronounced DOA. The Medical Examiner will determine the cause of death.”
Garner leaves behind 6 children including a 3-month-old daughter, Legacy Garner, and a wife, Esaw Garner, who tells the News her husband was unable to work because he suffered from chronic asthma, diabetes and sleep apnea. “When I kissed my husband this morning, I never thought it would be for the last time,” Garner says.
The Advance reports that within an hour after Garner’s death, handwritten signs hung near the incident declared, “no justice, no peace” and “Another innocent black man has been killed by police brutality. The NYPD must be stopped!” One police source tells the News, “A guy is dead in our custody. That is always a potential problem.”
Fuck the police
- calling the legitimate anger of oppressed people “drama” or “hate”
- referring to allocation of human rights as simply “politics”
- referring to basic human empathy as “political correctness”
- the childlike refusal to admit mistakes and throwing a literal tantrum
- "it’s just my opinion"
Anonymous asked: Towards the whole "pronouns hurt people's feelings" topic. Am I REALLY the only person on the planet that thinks people are becoming far to sensative? Nearly to the point that they shouldn't leave their little home bubbles in the case that a bird chirps next to them in a way that sounds like a mean word. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, we're becoming a little TOO coddling and people need to learn to deal with simplistic shit like words. And yes, I've been insulted and made fun of. I got over it. So can you.
Supposedly invented by the Chinese, there is an ancient form of torture that is nothing more than cold, tiny drops falling upon a person’s forehead.
On its own, a single drop is nothing. It falls upon the brow making a tiny splash. It doesn’t hurt. No real harm comes from it.
In multitudes, the drops are still fairly harmless. Other than a damp forehead, there really is no cause for concern.
The key to the torture is being restrained. You cannot move. You must feel each drop. You have lost all control over stopping these drops of water from splashing on your forehead.
It still doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. But person after person, time and time again—would completely unravel psychologically. They all had a breaking point where each drop turned into a horror. Building and building until all sense of sanity was completely lost.
"It was just a joke, quit being so sensitive."
"They used the wrong pronoun, big deal."
"So your parents don’t understand, it could be worse."
Day after day. Drop after drop. It builds up. A single instance on its own is no big deal. A few drops, not a problem. But when you are restrained, when you cannot escape the drops, when it is unending—these drops can be agony.
People aren’t sensitive because they can’t take a joke. Because they can’t take being misgendered one time. Because they lack a thick skin.
People are sensitive because the drops are unending and they have no escape from them.
You are only seeing the tiny, harmless, single drop hitting these so-called “sensitive” people. You are failing to see the thousands of drops endured before that. You are failing to see the restraints that make them inescapable.
It’s not John Green’s fault that Laverne Cox wasn’t included the TIME 100.
John Green did not make the decision to not include Laverne Cox in the TIME 100.
John Green being included in the TIME 100 and Laverne Cox not being included does not reflect badly on him— it reflects badly on TIME magazine.
Stop acting like children and place blame where it belongs instead of looking for a fucking scapegoat.
Stop being mad at John Green for things he didn’t do/he didn’t have control over 2K14