Let's Play Pretend

Once upon a time...

2,327 notes

laughinmagician:

waltdisneyconfessions:

"It worries me how racist the Disney fandom is. Seriously, someone brings up the fact that Frozen has no POC and the racist people come out of the woodworks. It’s also upsetting that a lot of people don’t want more POC in the line up"

Because GOD FORBID a fairytale set in Scandinavia has white people. Le shock. Le horror.And if you want more POC in the lineup, TALK WITH YOUR DAMN MONEY. Buy Tiana merchandise. Buy Facilier merchandise. Buy Lilo and Nani merchandise. Buy Pocahontas and Mulan merchandise. Buy Jasmine merchandise. Buy Aladdin merchandise. Buy Esmeralda merchandise. Buy Kuzco merchandise. Buy Kenai and Sitka and Denahi merchandise. Buy Mowgli merchandise. Buy Russell merchandise.Because that’s what Disney and big corporations like it listen to.Oh, and it’s cute how the character used here is Esmeralda, my personal favourite ever Disney character, who was kicked out of the lineup because she wasn’t popular enough, has ZERO merchandise, and has practically been forgotten except among the nerdiest of Disney nerds. Even the people working at the freaking Disney Store and at Disney theme parks don’t remember the Hunchback of Notre Dame.But no, don’t think about that, bitch about how a film set in one of the whitest areas of Earth has no POC instead of showing support for the POC that have actually been a part of the Disney lineup and proving that you actually care about the issue.But that’s what always happens - cry and whine and bitch and then when a character that meets your criteria comes along lose all interest after two seconds so you can cry and whine and bitch some more next time you find an excuse.
No, it doesn’t matter that Elsa is the first disabled/ mentally ill Disney princess, or that at the end she doesn’t magically get better, or that the movie says “hey kids, sometimes there are people that are broken in the brainpan, and they can be outcasts and unhappy and scared and odd, but that’s OK, they are still people, even good people, and it’s OK to love them and to BE them”. It doesn’t matter that Rapunzel realistically portrays emotional/ psychological abuse of a child by its caregiver.
All that matters is their skin colour.

laughinmagician:

waltdisneyconfessions:

"It worries me how racist the Disney fandom is. Seriously, someone brings up the fact that Frozen has no POC and the racist people come out of the woodworks. It’s also upsetting that a lot of people don’t want more POC in the line up"

Because GOD FORBID a fairytale set in Scandinavia has white people. Le shock. Le horror.

And if you want more POC in the lineup, TALK WITH YOUR DAMN MONEY.

Buy Tiana merchandise. Buy Facilier merchandise. Buy Lilo and Nani merchandise. Buy Pocahontas and Mulan merchandise. Buy Jasmine merchandise. Buy Aladdin merchandise. Buy Esmeralda merchandise. Buy Kuzco merchandise. Buy Kenai and Sitka and Denahi merchandise. Buy Mowgli merchandise. Buy Russell merchandise.

Because that’s what Disney and big corporations like it listen to.

Oh, and it’s cute how the character used here is Esmeralda, my personal favourite ever Disney character, who was kicked out of the lineup because she wasn’t popular enough, has ZERO merchandise, and has practically been forgotten except among the nerdiest of Disney nerds. Even the people working at the freaking Disney Store and at Disney theme parks don’t remember the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

But no, don’t think about that, bitch about how a film set in one of the whitest areas of Earth has no POC instead of showing support for the POC that have actually been a part of the Disney lineup and proving that you actually care about the issue.

But that’s what always happens - cry and whine and bitch and then when a character that meets your criteria comes along lose all interest after two seconds so you can cry and whine and bitch some more next time you find an excuse.

No, it doesn’t matter that Elsa is the first disabled/ mentally ill Disney princess, or that at the end she doesn’t magically get better, or that the movie says “hey kids, sometimes there are people that are broken in the brainpan, and they can be outcasts and unhappy and scared and odd, but that’s OK, they are still people, even good people, and it’s OK to love them and to BE them”. It doesn’t matter that Rapunzel realistically portrays emotional/ psychological abuse of a child by its caregiver.

All that matters is their skin colour.

(via laurzasaurus)

72,568 notes

p-alindrome:

let me just say a few things about ‘all about that bass’ real quick

  1. it’s a song about body positivity and we don’t get many of those so can we just take that into consideration please
  2. i know people are kicking off about her using the phrase “skinny bitches” but she does follow it up with "no, i’m just playing i know you think you’re fat / but i’m here to tell you that / every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top"  she’s taken an insult commonly given to slim women and basically a said so what if you are skinny/skinny but you think you’re fat, YOU’RE STILL PERFECT 
  3. i’ve seen shit loads of people saying it makes them feel more confident, and slim women get a ton of media reinforcing the idea that their body is perfect anyway
  4. IT’S CATCHY AS FUCK 

(via laurzasaurus)

104,685 notes

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 laurzasaurus)

299,240 notes

edenwolfie:

just-raowolf:

edenwolfie:

my year 8 students had to do a budgeting activity pretending they were living out of home on $2000 a month and I find this written on there help I can’t fucking breathe

We had to do this and I was partnered with a boy whose parents are a scientist and a doctor. My family spawned the book: Top Drawer Villain - autobiography of a London criminal.
First of all, we had to choose where we would shop. He wanted to buy from Booths. “We are not buying from Booths," I snapped. "Get on Asda’s website right now." His face froze.
“A-Asda?" he whispered. "But that’s where… The Lower Classes shop.”
This was a good start.
We then had to decide on a menu. We started on breakfast. “Toast," he said.
“Toast," I said. "Great. Look, Asda has its own wholemeal—”
“Warburton’s thick-slice white bread. Nothing else. With olive oil.”
“You WHAT?" I choked. "You have olive oil, on your toast, in the morning?”
He frowned. “Who doesn’t?”
“Okay," I said, "but what will the children eat?”
He gaped at me. “The children? We have children?”
We continued. All was well until it came to what we would have on our sandwiches. We even sorted out the children’s lunch - they, of course, would get free school meals. “Yes," he agreed; "if we can’t even afford Bertolli then they can get school meals on the government.”
He asked what dressing we should have on our ham. “Nuh-uh," I said. "Can’t have ham. I’m vegetarian.”
“But I’m not.”
“Yes, but we’re married and we can only afford one sandwich filler so it has to be vege—”
“We’re married!?”
“Of course we’re married! You’re devout Christian - how do you think I convinced you to have children?”
He shook his head, frowning. “Well I want ham. You’ll have to put back the washing powder - I need ham on my sandwiches.”
We continued. Finally, it was dinner. “Okay," he said, clearly thinking hard; "for dinner, we can have… Chicken nuggets and… Beans?”
“Vegetarian.”
“Vegetarian nuggets then. And beans.”
“We need vegetables. The children have to have a balanced diet.”
“You and your children!" he yelled, and the whole class looked around.
“They’re your children too!" I screamed back.
He leapt to his feet, shaking his head and looking distraught. “I don’t believe it - I don’t believe you! I wouldn’t have your children!”
“Please," I cried, standing up also. "Don’t—”
“I want a divorce!”
And he walked out of the classroom.
The teacher stood up and stared between me and the door through which he had vanished. “I’m sorry," I whispered, "but we couldn’t do it any more. There were just too many differences - I can’t live with someone who thinks champagne is a budget.”
I can’t wait to see this guy when he gets to university.

holy shit that’s glorious

edenwolfie:

just-raowolf:

edenwolfie:

my year 8 students had to do a budgeting activity pretending they were living out of home on $2000 a month and I find this written on there help I can’t fucking breathe

We had to do this and I was partnered with a boy whose parents are a scientist and a doctor. My family spawned the book: Top Drawer Villain - autobiography of a London criminal.

First of all, we had to choose where we would shop. He wanted to buy from Booths. “We are not buying from Booths," I snapped. "Get on Asda’s website right now." His face froze.

A-Asda?" he whispered. "But that’s where… The Lower Classes shop.

This was a good start.

We then had to decide on a menu. We started on breakfast. “Toast," he said.

Toast," I said. "Great. Look, Asda has its own wholemeal—

Warburton’s thick-slice white bread. Nothing else. With olive oil.

You WHAT?" I choked. "You have olive oil, on your toast, in the morning?

He frowned. “Who doesn’t?

Okay," I said, "but what will the children eat?

He gaped at me. “The children? We have children?

We continued. All was well until it came to what we would have on our sandwiches. We even sorted out the children’s lunch - they, of course, would get free school meals. “Yes," he agreed; "if we can’t even afford Bertolli then they can get school meals on the government.

He asked what dressing we should have on our ham. “Nuh-uh," I said. "Can’t have ham. I’m vegetarian.

But I’m not.

Yes, but we’re married and we can only afford one sandwich filler so it has to be vege—

We’re married!?

Of course we’re married! You’re devout Christian - how do you think I convinced you to have children?

He shook his head, frowning. “Well I want ham. You’ll have to put back the washing powder - I need ham on my sandwiches.

We continued. Finally, it was dinner. “Okay," he said, clearly thinking hard; "for dinner, we can have… Chicken nuggets and… Beans?

Vegetarian.

Vegetarian nuggets then. And beans.

We need vegetables. The children have to have a balanced diet.

You and your children!" he yelled, and the whole class looked around.

They’re your children too!" I screamed back.

He leapt to his feet, shaking his head and looking distraught. “I don’t believe it - I don’t believe you! I wouldn’t have your children!

Please," I cried, standing up also. "Don’t—

I want a divorce!

And he walked out of the classroom.

The teacher stood up and stared between me and the door through which he had vanished. “I’m sorry," I whispered, "but we couldn’t do it any more. There were just too many differences - I can’t live with someone who thinks champagne is a budget.

I can’t wait to see this guy when he gets to university.

holy shit that’s glorious

(via mypocketshurt90)

464,407 notes

the-loki-initiative:

habibtipalestina:

Student: can I please use the bathroom?

*takes bag*

Teachers: why are you taking your bag?

image

This happened in my English class one time and the girl who was going picked up her bag as she got up and the male teacher just said “Put your bag down and go to the bathroom.” and without any hesitation she just said, “I need something in it there is blood coming out of my vagina.” He never made girls leave their bags again.

(Source: habibipalestina, via laurzasaurus)