"I am not superwoman. My mother is not superwoman. My mother’s mother is not superwoman. I am, we are, soft. Can shatter. Crumble in your hands. Our survival does not mean we prosper. We are like other women but unlike them. So do not tell us we can handle anything. We only seem like superwoman, a figment of your imagination, because you have forced our lives to be perpetual labor with only seconds of relief. If we carry the world on our shoulders and the children on our backs, what are we but your glorified mules slapped with guilt praises of perseverance and strength. Our bones and our blood and our sweat have built the wealth of nations. Our burial should not be the first time we rest."
Yasmin Mohamed Yonis (via ceedling)
"Ancient moon priestesses were called virgins. ‘Virgin’ meant not married, not belonging to a man - a woman who was ‘one-in-herself’. The very word derives from a Latin root meaning strength, force, skill; and was later applied to men: virle. Ishtar, Diana, Astarte, Isis were all all called virgin, which did not refer to sexual chastity, but sexual independence. And all great culture heroes of the past, mythic or historic, were said to be born of virgin mothers: Marduk, Gilgamesh, Buddha, Osiris, Dionysus, Genghis Khan, Jesus - they were all affirmed as sons of the Great Mother, of the Original One, their worldly power deriving from her. When the Hebrews used the word, and in the original Aramaic, it meant ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’, with no connotations to sexual chastity. But later Christian translators could not conceive of the ‘Virgin Mary’ as a woman of independent sexuality, needless to say; they distorted the meaning into sexually pure, chaste, never touched."
Monica Sjoo, The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth (via thewaking)
Literally the most important thing you will read today.
"There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”."
I sat on a sharp pencil today and it’s so painful and I have a grey lead puncture mark
IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER
YOU GOTTA tell me really explicitely because I can’t tell when people are actually flirting with me
"When you can dance to nothingness, you have mastered existence."
Awakened Vibrations (via curiousmuse)
It’s all just a series of to do lists
7 Mistakes You’re Making with Olive Oil
Shampooing your dog with it.
Pouring it on Lord Denethor and lighting him on fire.
Trying to use it as currency.
Carrying it in a gallon freezer bag and telling people it’s your nephew Walt.
Freezing it in the shape of olives.
Dressing like Popeye and trying to have sex with it.
Using it as a metaphor to describe Johnny Fontaine’s hair to Tom Hagen.
Oh man. Super guilty of 2 & 3.