Stevie Nicks was the first woman I ever heard say she had chosen not to have children because she cared more about her career. The first that ever warned me men might not like it if there are things more important to me than they are. The first that ever said that that was fine: sometimes, you have to leave them behind. Wherever she goes, she surrounds herself with girls. “I can’t imagine you in a bathing suit,” someone says in an interview for Rolling Stone, when Stevie says she likes to play in the pool in her backyard. “Yeah, well, you never will,” Stevie says. “There is never - ever - a man in the backyard. If there is, he is banished to the front of the house.” Men don’t get to look at Stevie Nicks unless Stevie Nicks wants men to look at Stevie Nicks. In her songs, even when she’s talking about how she has to change, she proclaims her power, her ability, her worth. She is a queen, she is a witch, she is a dragon, she is in control. She isn’t polite. She’s competitive. She’s bossy. She claimed all the things the men around her claimed — she spent as much money as they spent, had as much sex as they had, was as reckless as they were, stood at the front of the same stage — and never questioned that that was her right. The world tells us women are there for men, but despite all the boyfriends and the jokes about how she’s so easy and the sex-symbol status, she isn’t there for men at all. She does it without ever giving in to the men that dismiss her. She’s emotional. She’s dramatic. She raises her voice as much as she can. She thinks she’s pretty, she thinks she’s a star, and when her fans crowd up to the edge of the stage, crazy, she welcomes them, with open arms. She revels in it. She’s too much of a girl for you? She revels in it.
STEER CLEAR OF THESE GUYS!
Get them all fired, broken up withn and evicted. Ideally strangled to death but that’s illegal. Dox away my friends
Black Friday thrifting at a Goodwill in LA county produced this atrocity. We didn’t exactly know how to take the command “RIP HER TO SHREDS!”… except badly. Very badly.
From Vivi and I’s black Friday adventures.
Pornography is to sex as McDonald’s is to food. Often in America, when you give a talk like this, they accuse you of being anti-sex. Have you heard that term? ‘If you’re against pornography, you’re against sex.’ So let me ask you a question: if I had come here today to talk about the fast food industry, to talk about how it causes obesity, how it destroys the environment, would anyone accuse me of being anti-eating? You would all understand that I was [against] the industry. So why, when I criticize pornography, do I suddenly become anti-sex, as if pornography is sex?
--Gail Dines, How Porn Creates the John: Porn, Trafficking, and the Social Construction of Masculinity
If at first you don’t succeed, redefine success.
even if that self is a racist. dont try to fix or educate yourself. embrace your racism. its a part of you. and anyone who tells you how horribly offensive you are is hating a piece of you and is just a hater. ignore them and keep being you. a racist.
It’s really telling when a white country singer who was born into wealth and put on her own very successful television show as a teenager decides to “rebel” and the most “rebellious” thing she can think of is affiliation with black culture.
I agree with this whole-heartedly. I have no problem with Miley being openly sexual or wearing skimpy clothes. I DO have an EXTREME problem with her appropriation of black culture and disrespect of minority culture in general. I feel like this girl is TOTALLY confused about just what people’s problem with her is.
I think she thinks everyone’s problem with her is her sexuality, but most people I know who don’t like her (including myself) don’t give a fuck about that. I care about her racism and the fact that she has NO CONCEPT of it.
SO MUCH GOOD COMMENTARY
Gerard Way may be the head that drives their vision. Ray Toro, the band’s other guitar player, may be the brains. But Frank Iero is My Chemical Romance’s heart. He’s the guts. You can see it when the band are onstage. Just watch him, he’ll be the one spinning in circles with his eyes closed. He’ll be the one thrashing on the floor as if he’s mainlining electricity. He’ll be the one living inside the songs.
--Kerrang! Magazine (via early-sunsets)