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takashi0:

fandomsandfeminism:

The difference between bisexuality and pansexuality: a powerpoint guide. 

(updated) 

Okay, but why are Twilight and Fluttershy in this?

There’s absolutely no canonical evidence supporting the idea they hold these sexualities.

There’s no canon evidence they are straight either. 

But more importantly: They match the color schemes of the Pride flags. I’ve explained this like a dozen times. It isn’t that complicated. 

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traversant:

archetypalboner:

“Women are more likely to be attracted to personality and men are more likely to be attracted to physical appearance.”

Woah maybe that’s because we teach women to see men as people and we teach men to see women as objects.

Ding ding ding ding ding.

(Source: revtomdildomolar, via ota-con)

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Happy Heterosexual Awareness Month! Let’s talk about how the cultural conception of Straightness is incredibly toxic.

fandomsandfeminism:

(First of all, yes, Heterosexual Awareness Month is a thing. No one is really sure if it’s a very persistent troll or genuine though.) 

I want to start by saying that in this context, I am not talking simply about heterosexuality and thus ALL heterosexuals, but rather Straightness- the concept of straightness in our larger cultural setting, its pervasiveness in our culture, media, and socialization. It is possible to be heterosexual without emulating Straightness, but it is difficult and must be a deliberate separation.  

In practice, Straightness relies on highly ritualized gender roles (including male predation and female purity). Men are seen as being the seekers of relationships, trying to court and win women. Women are viewed as gatekeepers to their own sexuality, having to stave off unwanted courtship until an acceptable one presents itself. This dynamic is unhealthy and limiting.

 Straightness enforces false binaries and is encoded with cissexism. Straightness can not function if the genders are not rigidly separated. Fluidity and nonbinary status are incompatible with it.

Straightness is coded with expectations of obligatory parenthood (which is both sexist AND ableist). Women who opt out of motherhood or are unable to successfully conceive and bring a child to term are devalued in this system. 

It is entrenched with heterosexism and heteronormativity. It’s seen as more valid and stable than other forms of attraction (bisexuals, for example, are often written off as being REALLY straight but as just having a “gay/lesbian phase.”) and thus is violent towards those other identities. 

As long as straightness is seen as the default, average, and expected mode for all romantic relationships, with anything else seen as a deviation from this norm, it is oppressive. 

We need to uncouple the idea of men who are only attracted to women and women who are only attracted to men with the complicated, corrupt web of expectations that envelopes Straightness. Heterosexuals must reject these expectations and systems which both bind and privilege them, just as those of us who are not heterosexual must continue to deny Straightness as a default, preferable, and the sole natural mode of attraction. 

It is not enough for us to gain acceptance within this system. We must critique and challenge the system as a whole. 

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nijimei:

cherucat:

straight people are  so weird wtf like heres a drawing of two animals in love but one has eyelashes so you know these are Straight Animals

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Even their god damn umbrellas have to be heteronormative.

(via littleweirdoalien)

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grease-wing:

Lets avoid the name calling this round - I don’t know about you all, but personally, I would much more enjoy a sophisticated adult discussion than a poop-flinging contest.

Without applying labels to it, should non-minorities be allowed to show pride for who they are? Just because straight people haven’t dealt with adversity towards their orientation, that doesn’t mean they can’t be proud of who they are, right?

Discuss.

Self-confidence is not the same thing as minority Pride movements. Conflating them is ignorant. 

Everyone is allowed to feel good about themselves. Oppressive majorities being proud of their oppressor status and appropriating minority Pride movements is fucked up. 

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jessebellechambers:

Batman has Nightwing and Robin… you have us.

(via malin-j)

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Here is a draft of one of the pieces I’m putting together for my writing workshop

ineffable-hufflepuff:

The Great Pecan Wars: A Memoir

A pecan, small and dark, lay on the floor like a bloody handprint. Laying there on the scuffed linoleum, it filled me with dread more intense and frigid than anything my little seven year old brain had experienced yet. I vowed, betrayed by that pecan, that I would never forget that moment.

It’s funny the things that stick with us. I was a daycare kid. Shuffled off to a drab little room full of crumbly play-doh and stinking heavily of lemon cleaning products. Everyday after school, I would wait until my parents were able to fetch me from this mundane purgatory of childhood adventure. The building was low and unobtrusive. Its colorful sign, surrounded by faded smiley faces and teddy bears, seemed welcoming enough to parents. Our toys were battered, puzzle pieces with frayed corners and board games with missing dice. Carpets held mysterious stains, and the employees were overworked and bleary-eyed. As long as no one ended up bleeding, we, wild children, were given free range in all of our rivalries and clan wars in those precious hours between the school bell and five.

The one exception to this freedom was the pecans. Out back of the battered playground stood a perfect row of neglected pecan trees, withering in the Texas drought. I remember them grandly: a vast, ageless forest, a hidden oasis grove where hide and seek reached epic proportions. In the fall, the trees would drop their tiny wooden nubs within our reach. Some of them still green and fuzzy, some of them half-rotted through, these pecans became both secret feast and deadly projectile on the daycare battleground.

Small tribes of children, banding together for strength in numbers, would rush to collect the most precious nuts. Clumsily devouring those we could stomp open and flinging those we couldn’t like canon balls at others, the pecans were important artifacts for those weeks. We weren’t supposed to eat them, of course. They could make us sick, be filled with worms, or some other horror. We definitely weren’t supposed to hurl them at the boys we thought were cute, or the girls who also thought those boys were cute, or the boys who weren’t very cute but thought we were cute and thus threw pecans at us. We did it anyway.

It was great fun. I, gangly, buck-toothed, and loud, was deeply invested in finding the least rotted pecans to crack open on the blacktop. The sunbaked nuttiness was far more satisfying than the stale animal crackers we were routinely offered. I was less invested in using the pecans as weapons. In my opinion, there was a notable lack of cute boys around. Still, I was pulled in to conflict all the same, rallying with friends against enemies. The pecans gave us an unending supply of projectiles less damning than rocks but more effective than sand clumps for our childhood trench wars.

This paradise of violence and gluttony could not last forever. It didn’t take long for Ms. Robinson, the curmudgeonly matriarch of the daycare, to catch wind of our antics and pass a complete ban on all pecan related tomfoolery. She stood before us in her maroon pantsuit, hair pulled up in a tight, painful bun, and decreed that any child caught in possession of a pecan would have their cargo dumped in the trash and be forced to serve the most horrific of solitary confinements: time out.

Our pecan wars shifted then, from epic trench warfare in the sandbox to the stuff of spy movies. You had to linger innocently by the grove of forbidden trees, feigning tag or hide and seek, in order to collect your prize. Once gathered, you had to conceal your contraband in whatever shallow pockets children’s clothing allowed.

Many were deterred by the threat of time-out, but not I. I bravely risked precious play time for my rewards. One day, as the nip of winter was setting in and the pecan supply was finally waning, I decided to make one final run, gather the last of this year’s crop in one go, and be hailed a hero and legend by my fellow children. I could see myself now, proud and glorious, handing out pecans like blessings upon my people. I wanted it. Badly.

Relying on the chaos of other children to distract our supervisors, I approached the trees as inconspicuously as I could on tip toe. The last pecans, rotted and stinking, lay like easter eggs in the unmowed grass. On hands and knees I shoved them in pockets quickly, bringing twigs and dirt with them.

I finished just in time. My pockets bulged as the whistle blew to return inside. I was sure I was safe now, lining up with the others even as my blue jacket pockets were nearly overflowing. The adults counted us quickly and began to herd us back to our play room. Once there, I could stash the pecans in my little backpack for safety. Each step on the faded linoleum brought me closer to victory. Each inch brought me closer to glory. Fickle fate conspired against me though. The boy ahead of me in line, a curly headed boy who always smelled like peanut butter (I had never liked him), stopped too suddenly. I collided with him and the force shook a single, precious pecan from my pocket to the cold, abysmal floor. It tumbled, frozen in time, towards my doom.

It clattered loudly, bouncing treacherously on the linoleum. All the children froze. I froze. There was no escaping.

I was caught.

In a hurricane of tears, Ms. Robinson stripped me of my pecans and set me in time out. The little plastic chair in the corner was sticky and hard. I stewed there bitterly. Betrayed, defeated, and humiliated, I glowered out at the class from my perch of shame. My one buoying thought was the knowledge that next fall would bring more pecans, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. 

Because I like to share, you know. 

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the-elderscrolls:

Polish doctor that refused to perform abortion named a “hero”
Dr Bogdan Chazan was visited by an expecting mother (32 weeks into pregnancy), who already had 5 miscarriages before and was worried about her health. It turned out that the fetus had hydrocephalus, undeveloped brain and was missing many bones from its skull. The Doctor refused to perform an abortion and didn’t send the woman to another hospital which could do so (according to polish law, if a doctor doesn’t want to perform an abortion, he has to choose another hospital which will agree to do so). Chazan was named a “local hero” and “true warrior of Jesus in the name of life of the unborn” by many polish politicians and catholic activists. He used conscience clause as an excuse for his actions.
The woman gave birth to the child through a C-section. She and her husband spent 10 painful days watching their deformed child die a horrible death. When she finally decided to speak out, she said:
“During these 10 days, no priest, no pro life activist or even dr Chazan came to see the child, to ask if they can help. It was really hard to look at our child. We knew what was coming, but it was still very hard to cope with”
Congratulations, pro-lifers - another “life” saved, another “happy” child and “happy” family. 

"Pro-Lifers" have caused so much unneeded horrific pain in the world. God damn.

the-elderscrolls:

Polish doctor that refused to perform abortion named a “hero”

Dr Bogdan Chazan was visited by an expecting mother (32 weeks into pregnancy), who already had 5 miscarriages before and was worried about her health. It turned out that the fetus had hydrocephalus, undeveloped brain and was missing many bones from its skull. The Doctor refused to perform an abortion and didn’t send the woman to another hospital which could do so (according to polish law, if a doctor doesn’t want to perform an abortion, he has to choose another hospital which will agree to do so). Chazan was named a “local hero” and “true warrior of Jesus in the name of life of the unborn” by many polish politicians and catholic activists. He used conscience clause as an excuse for his actions.

The woman gave birth to the child through a C-section. She and her husband spent 10 painful days watching their deformed child die a horrible death. When she finally decided to speak out, she said:

During these 10 days, no priest, no pro life activist or even dr Chazan came to see the child, to ask if they can help. It was really hard to look at our child. We knew what was coming, but it was still very hard to cope with

Congratulations, pro-lifers - another “life” saved, another “happy” child and “happy” family. 

"Pro-Lifers" have caused so much unneeded horrific pain in the world. God damn.

(via expectdelay)

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ATTENTION.

grease-wing:

mirandaadria:

grease-wing:

This just in; while you may be shunned for it in hypocritical places like tumblr, IT IS OKAY TO BE STRAIGHT.

A conventional orientation is nothing to be ashamed of, and I challenge any of you hypocrites out there to say otherwise.

Everyone on this site needs to recognize that HATE GOES BOTH WAYS.

Alternatively, you could be like me, and hate everyone regardless of age, race or orientation.

"Conventional orientation"

*puke*

What’s wrong with being straight? Legitimate question here, if you can give me a good enough reason, I’ll change my stance.

The problem is not with being straight. The problem is describing heterosexuality as “conventional.” THAT is a problem. (And well, if you use your straightness to enforce homophobia and sexist relationship tropes, that’s also a problem.) 

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Holy Shit. Maya Angelou’s “I know why the caged bird sings” (The autobiography) is not fucking around.

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ATTENTION.

grease-wing:

This just in; while you may be shunned for it in hypocritical places like tumblr, IT IS OKAY TO BE STRAIGHT.

A conventional orientation is nothing to be ashamed of, and I challenge any of you hypocrites out there to say otherwise.

Everyone on this site needs to recognize that HATE GOES BOTH WAYS.

Alternatively, you could be like me, and hate everyone regardless of age, race or orientation.

"Hate goes both ways" intrinsically ignores that there is an innate difference between the anger of the oppressed and the violence of the oppressor. 

Yes, yes, it’s “ok to be straight.” Welcome to the fucking world. Come and talk to me when straight kids are at an increased risk of homelessness and assault, when straight people have to pretend to be LGBTQIAP+ at the workplace out of fear, and when male/female couples are legally denied the right to marry in state constitutions. Then maybe I’ll care that LGBTQIAP+ people say mean things about you on the internet. 

FYI: Misanthropy is for “Edgy” middle schoolers.

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king-of-the-roses:

So sjw’s, answer me this. Why, when we talk about gay rights, are you all “You’re born that way! it isn’t a choice!” but when we talk about straight people, you’re all “ew, cishet scum! Go die! Gay Pride! Fuck straight people! Go gay!”

I mean no offense to gay people, but seriously.

Because straight people benefit from our oppression, view our oppression as normal, and 99/100 times perpetuate and participate in that oppression. Because sometimes marginalized people get frustrated with the people who benefit from their brutalization. Funny, that. 

also, You mean LGBT+ right, or even LGBTQIAP+ right, or if you’re really up to speed, MOGII rights, because there’s a lot more to us than just gay. 

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windows-vriska:

the hunger games aren’t amazingly unique or flawless or anything but I think katniss as a character is very important and i think the media misunderstands

we aren’t in it for the cute boys. we’re in it for katniss. thousands of young girls were introduced to an introverted, angry girl born into poverty and watched her become the savior of the world and the media doesn’t seem to understand that she, as a character, is important to girls. not who she dates, but her

(via thepageofhopes)

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I am untrustworthy in bookstores.

I am untrustworthy in bookstores.

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Thinking about reading some agatha christie. Anyone have an opinion about her best work?