enjolradz:

friendly reminder that if we’re mutuals and you wanna exchange snapchat names or instagram or something you’re more than welcome (encouraged) to shoot me an ask

darvinasafo:

When they say Africa is poor…

darvinasafo:

When they say Africa is poor…

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.

—A Good Day (Kait Rokowski)

(Source: wordsthat-speak)

curr89:

youngxrevolution:

Capitalism is institutionalised violence. 

I will ALWAYS reblog this!

(Source: resistanceshows)

Dorothy Dandridge being adorable in the soundie Zoot Suit, c. 1942 [x]

(Source: salsmineo)

rocketpowers:

there are teenagers who have unprotected sex but have a case for their iphone

just let that sink in

(Source: sluttyteenwolf)

hula-hope:

fitnessluvr:

takeherawayern:

whiskersonkittens:

Things that don’t make you less of a feminist:

  • Being in a loving relationship.
  • BDSM.
  • Being submissive.
  • Wearing makeup.
  • Being a housewife.
  • Wearing dresses.
  • High heels.
  • Shaving.

Things that do make you less of a feminist:

  • Shaming women for doing any of these things.

Thank you

Yes. 10000x thank you. 

(Source: dead-lovers-sarabande)

carpeumbra:

kittengrin:

kittengrin:

carpeumbra:

kittengrin:

carpeumbra:

Fifty Shades of Domestic Abuse

50 Shades of Damaging Stereotypes 

Fifty Shades of Wanna Guess How Many People Will Be Hospitalized Due To Flesh Wounds From Improper Knots After The Movie?

50 Shades of Glorified Abuse

50 Shades of Kidney Damage from Incompetent Crop Use

Fifty Shades of Pathological Violence Due To Past Trauma Isn’t Kink

beautiesofafrique:

Aeta children (Aeta people are the indigenous people of the Philippines)  Find out more