1. 15-Year-Old African Kid Tells Madonna To Go ‘Have Sex’ with Herself

    almightykushlord:

    Dakarai Molokomme, a 15-year-old starving child from a small village in Zimbabwe, has just told , one of the most famous pop stars in the world, to  and f*** , the local media are reporting exclusively.

    “Yes, it’s true, I told Madonna to go f*** herself. Do you want to know why?” Dakarai asked. “It’s the same thing every time with these snobby rich Americans. Every once in a while they come to show us their support for the so-called eradication of poverty by adopting a child from a starving family, but they actually do more harm than good. Transracial international adoptions are part of the white savior industrial complex,” Dakarai explained.

    In further discussions with journalists from the media, the  stated that “none of the children here actually want to be taken away from their family and friends so they can be displayed as some kind of trophy in the homes of self-righteous singers or actors who want to score some points with the media and Oprah.”

    “If they really want to help us, they should get Big Pharma to ship us some anti-retroviral drugs for the AIDS epidemic, or build schools and hospitals. If they don’t want to do that, then they can all go f** themselves!” the child told reporters.

    The 15-year-old also stated that he would say the same thing to any one of those American or European “faux humanitarian posers”, except for Bono, whom he said he would also kick in the groin.

    “Bono’s efforts to save the African savage from itself prove that the colonial imperative is alive and well,” Dakarai said as he walked with other village children collecting sticks to build a tree fort.

    THIS IS THE RAWEST 15 YEAR OLD ALIVE

  2. 43 minutes ago · Reblog
  1. perspicious:


WHAT YOU SHOULD DO:    Stay with us and keep calm.The last thing we need when we’re panicking, is to have someone else panicking with us.
Offer medicine if we usually take it during an attack.You might have to ask whether or not we take medicine- heck, some might not; but please, ask. It really helps.
Move us to a quiet place.We need time to think, to breathe. Being surrounded by people isn’t going to help.
Don’t make assumptions about what we need. Ask.We’ll tell you what we need. Sometimes; you may have to ask- but never assume.
Speak to us in short, simple sentences.
Be predictable. Avoid surprises.
Help slow our breathing by breathing us or by counting slowly to 10.As odd as it sounds, it works.


                                                                                                                 


WHAT YOU SHOULDN’T DO:1. Say, “You have nothing to be panicked about.”We know. We know. We know. And because we know we have nothing to be panicked about, we panic even more. When I realize that my anxiety is unfounded, I panic even more because then I feel like I’m not in touch with reality. It’s unsettling. Scary.Most of the time, a panic attack is irrational. Sometimes they stem from circumstances — a certain couch triggers a bad memory or being on an airplane makes you claustrophobic or a break up causes you to flip your lid — but mostly, the reasons I’m panicking are complex, hard to articulate or simply, unknown. I could tell myself all day that I have no reason to be having a panic attack and I would still be panicking. Sometimes, because I’m a perfectionist, I become even more overwhelmed when I think my behaviour is “unacceptable” (as I often believe it is when I’m panicking). I know it’s all in my mind, but my mind can be a pretty dark and scary place when it gets going.Alternate suggestion: Say, “I understand you’re upset. It is okay. You have a right to be upset and I am here to help.”2. Say, “Calm down.”This reminds me of a MadTV sketch where Bob Newhart plays a therapist who tells his patients to simply “Stop it!” whenever they express anxiety or fear. As a sketch, it’s funny. In real life, it’s one of the worst things you can do to someone having a panic attack. When someone tells me to “stop panicking” or to “calm down,” I just think, “Oh, okay. I haven’t tried that one. Hold on, let me get out a pen and paper and jot that down, you jerk.”Instead of taking action so that they do relax, simply telling a panicking person to “calm down” or “stop it” does nothing. No-thing.Alternate suggestion: The best thing to do is to listen and support. In order to calm them down without the generalities, counting helps.3. Say, “I’m just going to leave you alone for a minute.”Being left alone while panicking makes my heart race even harder. The last thing I want is to be left by myself with my troubled brain. Many of my panic attacks spark from over-thinking and it’s helpful to have another person with me, not only for medical reasons (in case I pass out or need water) but also it’s helpful to have another person around to force me to think about something other than the noise in my head.Alternate suggestion: It sometimes helps me if the person I’m with distracts me by telling me a story or sings to me. I need to get out of my own head and think about something other than my own panic.4. Say, “You’re overreacting.”Here’s the thing: I’m not. Panic attacks might be in my head, but I’m in actual physical pain. If you’d cut open your leg, no one would be telling you you’re overreacting. It’s a common trope in mental health to diminish the feelings or experience of someone suffering from anxiety or panic because there’s no visible physical ailment and because there’s no discernible reason for the person to be having such a strong fear reaction.The worst thing you can tell someone who is panicking is that they are overreacting.Alternate suggestion: Treat a panic attack like any other medical emergency. Listen to what the person is telling you. Get them water if they need it. It helps me if someone rubs my back a little. If you’re in over your head, don’t hesitate to call 911 (or whatever the emergency services number is where you are). But please, take the person seriously. Mental health deserves the same respect as physical health.



CREDIT [X]  [X]

    perspicious:

    WHAT YOU SHOULD DO:
        
    1. Stay with us and keep calm.
      The last thing we need when we’re panicking, is to have someone else panicking with us.

    2. Offer medicine if we usually take it during an attack.
      You might have to ask whether or not we take medicine- heck, some might not; but please, ask. It really helps.

    3. Move us to a quiet place.
      We need time to think, to breathe. Being surrounded by people isn’t going to help.

    4. Don’t make assumptions about what we need. Ask.
      We’ll tell you what we need. Sometimes; you may have to ask- but never assume.

    5. Speak to us in short, simple sentences.

    6. Be predictable. Avoid surprises.

    7. Help slow our breathing by breathing us or by counting slowly to 10.
      As odd as it sounds, it works.
                                                                                                                     
    WHAT YOU SHOULDN’T DO:

    1. Say, “You have nothing to be panicked about.”
    We know. We know. We know. And because we know we have nothing to be panicked about, we panic even more. When I realize that my anxiety is unfounded, I panic even more because then I feel like I’m not in touch with reality. It’s unsettling. Scary.

    Most of the time, a panic attack is irrational. Sometimes they stem from circumstances — a certain couch triggers a bad memory or being on an airplane makes you claustrophobic or a break up causes you to flip your lid — but mostly, the reasons I’m panicking are complex, hard to articulate or simply, unknown. I could tell myself all day that I have no reason to be having a panic attack and I would still be panicking. Sometimes, because I’m a perfectionist, I become even more overwhelmed when I think my behaviour is “unacceptable” (as I often believe it is when I’m panicking). I know it’s all in my mind, but my mind can be a pretty dark and scary place when it gets going.

    Alternate suggestion: Say, “I understand you’re upset. It is okay. You have a right to be upset and I am here to help.”


    2. Say, “Calm down.”
    This reminds me of a MadTV sketch where Bob Newhart plays a therapist who tells his patients to simply “Stop it!” whenever they express anxiety or fear. As a sketch, it’s funny. In real life, it’s one of the worst things you can do to someone having a panic attack. When someone tells me to “stop panicking” or to “calm down,” I just think, “Oh, okay. I haven’t tried that one. Hold on, let me get out a pen and paper and jot that down, you jerk.

    Instead of taking action so that they do relax, simply telling a panicking person to “calm down” or “stop it” does nothing. No-thing.

    Alternate suggestion: The best thing to do is to listen and support. In order to calm them down without the generalities, counting helps.


    3. Say, “I’m just going to leave you alone for a minute.”
    Being left alone while panicking makes my heart race even harder. The last thing I want is to be left by myself with my troubled brain. Many of my panic attacks spark from over-thinking and it’s helpful to have another person with me, not only for medical reasons (in case I pass out or need water) but also it’s helpful to have another person around to force me to think about something other than the noise in my head.

    Alternate suggestion: It sometimes helps me if the person I’m with distracts me by telling me a story or sings to me. I need to get out of my own head and think about something other than my own panic.


    4. Say, “You’re overreacting.”
    Here’s the thing: I’m not. Panic attacks might be in my head, but I’m in actual physical pain. If you’d cut open your leg, no one would be telling you you’re overreacting. It’s a common trope in mental health to diminish the feelings or experience of someone suffering from anxiety or panic because there’s no visible physical ailment and because there’s no discernible reason for the person to be having such a strong fear reaction.

    The worst thing you can tell someone who is panicking is that they are overreacting.

    Alternate suggestion: Treat a panic attack like any other medical emergency. Listen to what the person is telling you. Get them water if they need it. It helps me if someone rubs my back a little. If you’re in over your head, don’t hesitate to call 911 (or whatever the emergency services number is where you are). But please, take the person seriously. Mental health deserves the same respect as physical health.


    CREDIT [X]  [X]

  1. lacigreen:

    new video babes!  THE SEX TALK: 10 TIPS!  i never really got “the sex talk” from my parents, beside telling me JUST DON’T DO IT!!!!!!!

    if I have kids, this will be how it goes down.  what was your “sex talk” like?

  2. 3 hours ago · Reblog
  1. mysteriousmagnum:

    sagansense:

    You can read all about it HERE, and it’s as awesome as it looks and sounds.

    From the article:

    Made With Code is a new Google initiative to motivate future female programmers. Only 18% of computer science degrees are earned by women, and Google is spending $50 million over the next three years to change those numbers.

    More than 150 high school girls turned out for the event, including local chapters of the Girl Scouts of the USA, Black Girls Code and Girls Who Code. Kaling, a writer and actress, emceed the premiere, which brought in Google X Vice President Megan Smith, Clinton Foundation Vice Chair Chelsea Clinton, iLuminate creator Miral Kotb, Pixar Director of Photography Danielle Feinberg and UNICEF Innovation cofounder Erica Kochi.

    Source: Mashable

    This is so important because this will give girls a HUGE confidence boost. Girls should feel empowered to create and engineer and problem solve. I am in a class split into two sections of eighty people with SEVEN females and SEVENTY THREE males. We need more girls in this profession PLEASE learn how to code even if it’s something as simple as html you can only grow from there. Tech jobs are in such high demand and honestly, being a female is an advantage because there aren’t many in the field.

  2. 4 hours ago · Reblog
  1. mikalopsia:

    vinebox:

    Watching Pokémon on Saturday mornings as a kid

    oh my god the guy on the right at the end holy shit his fucking face

  2. 5 hours ago · Reblog
  1. silensy:

    2005-2014

    Good lord, this is the most stark portrayal I’ve seen of this.

  2. 7 hours ago · Reblog
  1. wannabeanimator:

    When Marnie Was There - Final Trailer | Studio Ghibli

    Omoide no Marnie - 思い出のマーニー directed by Hiromasa Yonebayashi (Arrietty).

  2. 8 hours ago · Reblog
    reblogged from boatpersona:
  1. recover-together:

    In case nobody told you today, you are good enough.

  1. We live in a society that’s sexist in ways it doesn’t understand. One of the consequences is that men are extremely sensitive to being criticized by women. I think it threatens them in a very primal way, and male privilege makes them feel free to lash out.

    This is why women are socialized to carefully dance around these issues, disagreeing with men in an extremely gentle manner. Not because women are nicer creatures than men. But because our very survival can depend on it.

    reblogged from anagnori:
  1. What’s R(ace) Got To Do With It?: White Privilege & (A)sexuality

    queerlibido:

    In this series of pieces I hope to develop a new grammar to talk about asexuality outside of the ways in which it has been co-opted by neoliberal identity politics. I am interested in reclaiming and developing an analysis of (a)sexuality in our collective efforts toward racial justice and anti-capitalism. These pieces are motivated by an absence of dialogue around asexuality and all of its associated critiques from many queer spaces I’ve been a part of.

    The first time I ever saw someone like me having sex was in a spam internet advertisement in India. “Hairy Mallu Boys.” And I may have followed the link. And I may have gawked at the spectacle of it all: brown hairy men fucking each other. I want to tell you about the validation, how affirming it was to finally see someone who looked just like me having an orgasm, but that would be misleading. I was too shocked to feel validated. Too surprised to see a body like mine fucking in this city where my gay Indian friends ask me if I’ve ever slept with a white men because “they are cleaner than us” because they’ve “seen it on porn.”

    Growing up in the US I never really saw brown people engaging in public acts of intimacy. From a young age I remember feeling jealous of the Suzy, the Michael, the Patrick and their parents who kissed them goodbye. I remember getting jealous of the Tom, the Dick, the Zach and their parents who hugged when their child scored a goal at soccer games. My parents never touched one another in front of me. In fact, we never really spoke about sex. So I remember always thinking that sex was something for white people. I understood that our parents must have ‘done it,’ but I couldn’t imagine them enjoying it. Pleasure didn’t belong to us. That’s why we moved to this country, right?

    When I looked to the media for representation of brown sexual boys all I got were spelling bee champions, gas station owners, and that one guy from Mean Girls – that archetype of the brown boy being forced to overcompensate to compete for the attention of white people. Indeed, the brown body was usually depicted as engaging in emotional, physical, or mental labor for white interests. And as I got older and the other male assigned people around me had voices that got deeper I witnessed the many ways in which they felt compelled to overcompensate – by either adopting the aesthetics of white patriarchy in all of its J Crew JP Morgan finesse or by adopting and exploiting blackness to seem more ‘cool’ and ‘masculine.’ The plight of the South Asian American male lied in his effort to grapple with a culture that did not, and continues to not, recognize his body as beautiful and worthy of receiving and transmitting desire.

    Which goes to say that it has always been difficult to fantasize with sexual scenarios that involve my own body because I have never had a reference point for my own pleasure. Voyeurism here becomes less of a choice and more of a position of coercion: feeling like I’ve been set to watch sex occurring, always at a distance. Queerness here becomes less of a destination aspired toward, but rather one dressed on a body without its consent – a type of otherness that is not only about not seeing one’s face reflected on the screen, but about experiencing one’s difference inscribed on skin. Wearing it close and lethal, like a weapon.

    Over the years I have stumbled on several words to articulate this distance: gender-non conforming to express an inability (and perhaps unwillingness) to identify with the masculinity I was assigned at birth and ‘asexuality’ to articulate an inability to feel authentically ‘sexual,’ capable and worthy of wanting. But these terms never really felt adequate to articulate that conglomeration of anxiety, power, histories, stories, and paradoxes that come to mind when I think of my gender and sexuality. Like all identity markers they are shorthands we have been prescribed to halt conversation: we can retreat into our identities like we retreat into our apartments not asking how and why we got there, who we gentrified to get there, not being able to have a conversation about how this place will never fit all of our idiosyncrasies. 

    And this ‘distance’ has been something I have been trying to reconcile for years: how to articulate that mixture of power, shame, desire, and fear that makes me uncomfortable thinking about myself as a sexual body. And, simultaneously, how to challenge the onslaught of dogma from so called ‘sex radicals’ who claim that we have just internalized ‘sex shame’ and that shame is something we can be emancipated from.

    So when I talk about asexuality I don’t mean some sort of sanitized model of identity politics invested in being recognized and affirmed (by capitalism) – I’m talking about that distance. That absence of wanting. That anxious condition of not being able to differentiate trauma from truth – that peculiar position of never being able to divorce ourselves from the power that continues to shape our every want, desire, and action.

    Why Asexual Identity Politics Isn’t Enough

    As a queer South Asian I don’t feel comfortable ascribing the identity of ‘asexual’ to my body. Part of the ways in which brown men have been oppressed in the Western world is by de-emasculating them and de-sexualizing them (check out David Eng’s book Racial Castration). What then would it mean for me to identify as an ‘asexual?’ What would this agency look like in a climate of white supremacy? Can I ever authentically express ‘my’ (a)sexuality or am I always rehearsing colonial logics?

    The dilemma of this brown queer body is its inability to see itself through its own eyes. The mirror becomes a site it which we view what white people have always told us about ourselves. Regardless or not of the status of my libido, I’m not sure I will ever feel comfortable identifying as asexual because it seems like I am betraying my people.

    I am invested in South Asians and all other Asian Americans being able to reclaim, re-affirm, and be recognized for their sexual selves. I am invested in brown boys and brown gurlz being able to get what they desire. I am invested in the radical potential of brown (queer) love in a society where so many of us grow up hating our bodies and bending our knees for white men. I want to be part of this struggle. Sometimes I get angry at myself for not being able to eliminate the distance, not being able to join in solidarity. To fuck and be fucked, to publically claim and own my sexuality. I understand that there is something (as Celine Shimizu reminds us in her book Straightjacket Sexualities) radical about Asian American masculinities being displaced from patriarchal masculinities rooted in hyper-sexuality and hyper-masculinity and the reclamation of ‘effeminate’ and ‘asexual’ representations of our bodies as a political refusal of the very logics which have rendered those bodies numb.

    But at the same there is a difference between theory and practice. Theories don’t matter when you find yourself always defaulted in the category of ‘friend.’ Theories don’t matter when you grow up being turned on by ghosts of all of your internalized shame. Theories don’t matter when you find yourself buying button up shirts and shaving your beard and trying your best to look more white so they will even have the courtesy to look back to you. Why do theories always put the burden of change on the oppressed and not the systems that oppress them?

    There is some part of me that will never be able to overcome the desire for ‘more.’ I want to be able to be in a bar and to not just be the object of desire, but a subject of desire. Part of white supremacy as I understand it is the privilege of being a subject of desire: one who can feel in control of one’s desires and one who has more agency to act on said desires. The ‘distance’ I experience around my sexuality makes me often feel unable to be a subject of desire. This distance makes me feel out of control, jealous, and in a perpetual state of lack. It feels like I’ve just internalized white control of my sexuality and my body.

    So when I read this piece about how folks involved with the asexuality community feel as if they are post-race I’m pretty well, flabbergasted. Asexuality has always been a carefully crafted strategy to subjugate Asian masculinities. Asexuality has everything to do with race. Which goes to say that what if the very act of articulating a public asexual identity is rooted in white privilege? Essential understandings of being ‘born’ ‘asexual’ and loving my ‘asexual’ self will never make sense to me. In a world that continually erases Asian (male assigned) sexualities I was coerced into asexuality. It is something I have and will continue to struggle with. My asexuality is a site of racial trauma. I want that sadness, that loss, that anxiety to be a part of asexuality politics. I don’t want to be proud or affirmed – I want to have a serious conversation about how all of our desires are mediated by racism and how violent that is. My pleasures – or lack thereof – are not transcendental and celebratory, they are contradictory, confused, and hurt.

    I want to envision and build communities where we can discuss and heal together from the traumas inscribed in our flesh. I do not think that declaring an asexual identity is the best strategy for me to pursue this. What I am asking for is an acknowledgment among all people – not just people of color – of the ways in which colonialism has and continues to map itself on our bodies in different ways. My story of distance is only one of the legacies of the ways in which racism has shaped our desires. I do not mean to suggest that all South Asian male assigned people are asexual nor do I mean to suggest that asexual identity is necessary oppressive for South Asians – what I am sharing is the story of a body that has found and continues to find ways to cope. Which means that my ‘asexuality’ can never been seen as outside of the saga of racialized violence against people of color. I want a space where I can claim that with those folks and discuss the ways in which white understandings of relationships, intimacy, desireability, beauty, progress, and happiness have made us always feel a certain sense of lack and how we have built our entire lives constructed around that lack. For me sometimes I feel like escaping from asexuality would mean one way of escaping from colonialism – would mean finally having the ability to self-identify to really know who “I” (whatever that is) am.

    The idea of an identity politics around asexual identity scares me in the same ways that any other single issue politics anchored around a (sexual) identity does. It operates in was that are racist, classist, and colonial. It assumes particular bodies with particular histories and particular political interests. What I am calling for is a departure away from asexual identity politics toward a frank conversation of trauma and sexuality. How can we move our understandings of sexual politics away from anchoring them in essential narratives that reproduce biological essentialism (born this way) to narratives that name specific moments of historical and personal trauma that inform our sexualities. Which means that I am not as interested in the words that you affix to your body – I am interested in the journey that it took for you to get there.

    What inhibits you still?

    What makes you tremble?

    What would it mean for you to feel free?

    (is that even the goal?)

    reblogged from anagnori:
  1. anagnori:

    I think being an aromantic asexual is kind of like growing up in a world where people randomly burst into song, as if they were in a musical, and I’m that one person who doesn’t get involved in the musical numbers, and is wondering what the heck is going on. After a while I got used to it, so it doesn’t surprise me or weird me out anymore. I’ve accepted it as a Thing That Happens. But accepting it doesn’t mean that I understand it, or feel it, or participate in it, so I’ve learned to just wait it out and quietly do my own thing when other people get invested in it.

    Most of the time, I’m fine with this. I don’t think I’m better or worse than people who take part in the “songs” (i.e. romantic and sexual feelings). I don’t feel like I am less happy, or that my life is less beautiful, meaningful or valuable. I don’t mind being the odd one out. Most of the time.

    But sometimes, it hurts. I grew up always expecting that I would eventually “hear the music” that other people hear, and feel the same passion and enthusiasm they do, and that it would make me happy. I thought it was just a matter of finding the “right person.” Accepting that I was aro-ace meant giving up on that. In some ways it was a relief, but it also made me feel lost, empty and disappointed. Especially the aromanticism—being able to love someone romantically is so heavily tied to our idea of what makes us human, that when I realized I was aromantic, it almost felt like I wasn’t human anymore. A huge part of my future and my self-image had suddenly been overturned, and no one had warned me that this was even possible, nevermind how to cope with it.

    But I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t just keep pretending to myself that I could hear the music everyone else heard. I couldn’t deny that the world made more sense if I assumed other people were feeling something I didn’t. And I started trying to recover, to rebuild an image of what my relationships and future would be like, and to accept and love myself the way I was. To throw out the old romantic/sexual script and and write my own.

    And that now means that things that once reassured me, have become strange and hurtful and alienating. “Don’t worry, you’ll find the right person eventually,” just means that the other person doesn’t believe me when I try to tell them about myself. “You’re young, give it time,” now means that my experiences are dismissed because of my age. “I just want you to be happy [by finding romantic love],” means that someone believes I can never be happy by being myself.

    Yes, I want to recover, but I don’t want to recover from being aromantic and asexual. I want to recover from a lifetime of being told that people like me do not exist, are inhuman, are evil, have something wrong with us, or must be lonely and miserable. I don’t want a cure that will help me “hear the music”; I want people to believe me when I say that I don’t hear it, and to stop trying to make me be part of it.

    And I want other people who don’t hear the music to know that they’re not alone, that they’re fine the way they are, and that they don’t have to keep trying to feel what most people feel.

  2. 2 days ago · Reblog
  1. "Go the Distance/Defying Gravity Mashup" by Kick Full from the album

    101,505 plays

    its-sixteen-miles:

    It’s time to try defying gravity-

                   -Like a shooting star, I can go the distance-  

       -Kiss me goodbye I’m defying gravity- 

                   -I will search the world, I will face its harms- 

        -I’m Flying high, I’m defying gravity-

                    -I don’t care how far, I can go the distance-

        -And you won’t bring me down! And you won’t bring me down-

                                                                                     -‘Til I find my hero’s welcome right where I-

                                    -And you won’t bring me…  

  1. ca-tsuka:

    moonanimate:

    Enjoy. :)

    "Moon Animate Make Up" = Sailor Moon episode 38 re-animated by over 200 fans from all around the world.

  1. makochantachibanana:

    HOW IT ALL STARTED