genderfuckedover:

thewomanfromitaly:

i-am-river:

So, i read this awful article using bathroom “scare tactics,” which was claiming that trans women are potential rapists. “Men” who dress as women to gain access to women only spaces and force them self on women. This really upset me and i had a bit of a Twitter rant. They were read by others and i was urged to post them in other media also, so i am posting them here. (Edited together in easy reading format from top to bottom.)

This is the link in the first tweet about how there are no cases of a trans woman attacking a cis woman in public restrooms: Link 1.

This is the link in the second tweet about the cases where trans people are assaulted in the bathroom by cis people: Link 2.

if you’re cis and you follow me i’m gonna need you to reblog this

don’t care if you’re cis or trans, this is important.

(via angryladies)

kotakucom:

Japan’s really good at textbook doodles. More examples here.

(via blueharp)

"I was an athlete growing up. I was a wrestler, I played football, so I can take a fall. I actually wanted to be a stuntman when I was kid, so I would practice falling down the stairs. It’s just something I like to do."

(Source: chrisprattsource, via forestprnce)

madlori:

jmathieson-fic:

mumblingsage:

decodethefallenmoon:

molokoko:

amazing

“Just so everyone is aware, there is a bunch of misleading info being spread around re: ALS research - the “27%” figure is based on previous years’ annual funding; furthermore, the remainder goes to improving the quality of life of those suffering from ALS. Given that the annual funding is approximately 16M, that’s just over 4M spent on decreasing their suffering. It isn’t greed, it’s a lack of money.”Shut up already.

The ALS Association has a 4-star rating from Charity Watchdog. 
And the next time you start to complain about a charity either a) working on multiple fronts (because that’s what ALSA does—both seeking a cure and helping people suffering now) or b) daring to have administration expenses—let’s see how long you can last, much less tackle a cause, without printer paper and an internet connection. 

As someone who has watched a family member die from a neuro-degenerative disease; funding to develop better wheelchairs and bedsore creams is *just* as important as funding research to cure the disease itself…

A friend of mine posted an update from one of HER friends to FB earlier.  Her dad has ALS.  The ALS foundation came out to see if they could put in a ramp for his wheelchair, but they couldn’t afford it because of the kind of ramp he needed for the kind of house they had.
This week they called back and said hey, the thing is, we suddenly have a bunch of money, so we’re coming out to build that ramp.  And they did.  She posted pics.
So if you feel like bitching about the ice bucket challenge…reconsider.

madlori:

jmathieson-fic:

mumblingsage:

decodethefallenmoon:

molokoko:

amazing

Just so everyone is aware, there is a bunch of misleading info being spread around re: ALS research - the “27%” figure is based on previous years’ annual funding; furthermore, the remainder goes to improving the quality of life of those suffering from ALS. Given that the annual funding is approximately 16M, that’s just over 4M spent on decreasing their suffering. It isn’t greed, it’s a lack of money.”

Shut up already.

The ALS Association has a 4-star rating from Charity Watchdog. 

And the next time you start to complain about a charity either a) working on multiple fronts (because that’s what ALSA does—both seeking a cure and helping people suffering now) or b) daring to have administration expenses—let’s see how long you can last, much less tackle a cause, without printer paper and an internet connection. 

As someone who has watched a family member die from a neuro-degenerative disease; funding to develop better wheelchairs and bedsore creams is *just* as important as funding research to cure the disease itself…

A friend of mine posted an update from one of HER friends to FB earlier.  Her dad has ALS.  The ALS foundation came out to see if they could put in a ramp for his wheelchair, but they couldn’t afford it because of the kind of ramp he needed for the kind of house they had.

This week they called back and said hey, the thing is, we suddenly have a bunch of money, so we’re coming out to build that ramp.  And they did.  She posted pics.

So if you feel like bitching about the ice bucket challenge…reconsider.

(via troize)

snatchedweaves:

cocknurse:

*faints*

fat-birds:

zakuromochi:

The other day, my friend and I went to the owl cafe in Osaka, called Owl Family Osaka. We had a 60 minute time slot, the beginning of which we were given detailed instructions about the manner and way of handling the owls. After the instruction, we were able to play with the owls.

The women running the establishment were really friendly and were so loving to the owls, they really helped us to understand the owls that we interacted with!

There were a few owls we were allowed to handle in our allowed time, while some others were in an area where they rested.

It was a really great experience!! The owls were very well behaved and were incredibly friendly. There is also a really cute little owl goods shop in the cafe~!

You should definitely visit someday if you have the chance!

Here’s their blog: http://blog.livedoor.jp/owlfamily/

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my gohhhdddddd

(via forestprnce)

faces-for-equality:

Trans people are everywhere.

(via forestprnce)

blackgirlwhiteboylove:

Watch the interview HERE.

(Source: z-saldana, via thoughtsofarandommind)

"

It’s Monday. I’m going home at 6pm and a middle aged man and a teenage boy are the only people left on the bus with me. I consider the fact that because the driver is also a man I am the only person left on the bus with the correct genetic makeup for boobs. I’m automatically scared, scared because of my own anatomy. I wonder how old I was when I realized that my own body was going to be the cause of the constant anxiety and fear I feel in situations like this. I get off at the last stop and the older man smiles at me while following me up the street. His smile drips, drips, drips and my heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. He turns off down another road, but I run the rest of the way home.

Not all men.

I’m at home on a Tuesday, beginning to plan the travels I want to go on next year. I dream of wandering the streets and meeting strangers. I just can’t wait to escape the city I’ve lived in for 17 long years. But… my mum is hesitant. She’s forever worried about the danger that being a young girl traveling alone can bring. I’ll be alone and she’s scared. Surely I’m invincible. I feel invincible. But I know, I know this danger is real and I can’t help but think to myself, if I feel unsafe in my own city, how am i going to feel in a strange place with strange men who don’t speak the same language as me? If I was my brother planning this, I would probably just be wondering if European girls are going to be hot.

Not all men.

Wednesday is a beautiful sunny day but I’ve always been told that I don’t have a “nice enough body” to wear a bikini on the beach. Ever since I was 6 years old I’ve thought that having tummy fat was ugly. That skin that doesn’t have a perfectly golden glow is undesirable. I amble to a clear patch of sand in my one piece and I can feel pairs of eyes latching onto me. Hairy men in speedos who I don’t look twice at eat into my body with their stares. I’m a piece of meat. I am a piece of meat? I am here for their amusement. Please don’t let me be eaten alive.

Not all men.

Thursday night two friends and I are walking to our god damn school dance when we hear “Jesus look at you! You sluts heading to a pole?” These words snarl out of the mouth of a respectably dressed man and we stop in horror. Shivers roll up my back in fear. It’s dark. We are alone. What. Do. We. Do??? One of us pulls the finger back. I can never be sure how quickly a sexist man can get angry so we walk quickly away. We’re angry, so so angry. But also so… deflated. I wonder if we deserve this shame.

Not all men.

Sitting on the internet, Friday night and scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed:

“Haha, good job at the game today bro. You RAPED them!”
“Damn with tits like that, you’re asking for it :P”

Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…

I’m shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and I want to CRY because these boys don’t realize how small they make me feel with just pressing a few keys. I see these boys on the streets, I talk to these boys, I laugh with these boys. Dear GOD, dear GOD i hope these boys don’t think actions speak louder than words…

Not all men.

Three rules that have been drilled into me since I was young run through my mind at 1.30am on a Satur… Sunday Morning:

-Don’t ever talk to strange men
-Don’t ever be alone at night in a strange place
-Don’t ever get into a car with a stranger

I break all 3 of these laws as I pull open the taxi door. Making light conversation with the driver, he doesn’t see my sweaty hand clutching the small pocket knife I keep hidden on me at all times. He doesn’t even realize the fear I feel at his mere presence. He cannot comprehend it, he never will. How easy would this 15 minute car ride be if I was born a boy?

Not all men.

It comes to Sunday, another snoozy, sleepy, Sunday and someone has the AUDACITY to tell me not all men are rapists. I say nothing.

I’m a 17 year old girl.
When I am walking alone and it’s dark, it’s all men.
When I am in a car with a man I don’t know well, it’s all men.
When men drunkenly leer at me on the streets, it’s all men.
When a boy won’t leave me alone at a party, it’s all men.

Not all men are rapists. But for a young girl like me? Every one of them has the potential to be.

Not.
All.
Men.

"

(via nonjazzscatcat)

this is amazing

(via silverindies)

(Source: trueho, via castielwillavengesherlock)

awwww-cute:

I tried to shame him for eating all my shoes. I’m not sure what I expected

awwww-cute:

I tried to shame him for eating all my shoes. I’m not sure what I expected

(via hangesnose)