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Lindsey.
Naptime enthusiast. Part time superhero. The angels have the phone box.

mjwatson:


A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’
Imagine this:
The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.
Your world is full of freedom and possibility.
Then you pick up a newspaper or go online. You read about angry women ranting about sexism and inequality. You see phrases like ‘rape-culture’ and ‘slut-shaming.’ You furrow your brow and think to yourself: ‘What are they so angry about? There is no such thing as sexism anymore.’
Now imagine this: 
The year is 2013. You are a 25 year-old Pakistani woman. A few months ago, you married the man you love. A man you choose for yourself. You are also pregnant with his child. You see your life stretching out before you, filled with hope and happiness. Suddenly, you and your husband are dragged away from each other. You are both beaten with bricks and batons. You can’t fight back. You can’t escape. No one comes to help you. Through your fading vision, you look up, and look into the eyes of one of your assailants: into the eyes of your father.
The year is 2013. You are a 23 year-old Indian woman. You are a physiotherapy student with a promising career ahead of you. You are sitting on a private bus travelling home alone on a warm December evening. You gaze out of the window as the buildings of New Dheli rush past you and feel content. Suddenly, a blunt force hits the back of your head and you fall to the floor of the bus. A group of strange men are standing over you. They bring the metal bar down on you again and again and again until all you can taste is the blood filling up your mouth. You pray that you will die soon. And you do, but not then. You are raped, beaten, and tortured over and over again. Death is slow and agonising.
The year is 2014. You are a 13 year-old girl from Niger. You no longer live there though. You are now living in the neighbouring country Nigeria, sitting alone in small room on a small bed in a small apartment high above the city of Kano. You are not allowed to leave. Your stomach is swollen from the unwanted life growing inside of it. You had no choice. The father is a man in his 40s. He is a businessman. He has bought you as his wife. You were a penniless, uneducated girl when he came for you. You don’t know of any life you could have had. Neither did your family: just one less mouth for them to feed. You still have the body of a child, and it’s straining under the pressure from the one inside of you. You feel like you’re about to be split in two. You don’t wonder if you will survive the birth. A part of you doesn’t want to.
These are fictionalised accounts of real events that have happened to real women living in our world today. They follow the past 250 years of women and men campaigning for women to be given equal rights to men to prevent these kinds of injustices and abuses on the grounds of gender taking place. Over the course of this time, campaigners – Feminists, both female and male – have been locked up, beaten, tortured, and even killed, in the pursuit of equality. They did this with pen and ink and print; they did this with their voices; they did this with their bodies; they did this with art and music; they did in courts of law and halls and houses of government that they fought be to allowed into.
They did this so that women would no longer been seen as property, livestock, breeding machines, sex objects, punching bags, or infantile morons. They did this not just for themselves, but also for their daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters for generations to come. They did this for women they would never meet – women who lived across countries, across vast oceans, across the entire globe, and even across time.
They did this so that women like me – a white Western woman – could attend school and university; to learn to read, write, and think critically; to gain a degree; to get a job and be paid an equal salary to a man in the same position; and to sit here with my own computer and type all of this.
Feminism is a movement for freedom, equality, choice, love, compassion, respect, solidarity, and education. We may argue, we may disagree, we may struggle to understand the choices and perspectives of others sometimes, but these core beliefs of the movement have never changed, and they never will.
That is why I am a Feminist.
If you feel that you have so far lived your life unaffected by even the mildest form of sexism – anything from feeling uncomfortable when a man catcalls you in the street, to feeling scared walking home alone at night in a secluded area – and are treated with love and respect by every man in your life, then to you I say: I’m glad for you. If you don’t think you need feminism, then that is a victory for the movement. You have fulfilled all those dreams that every suffragette being force-fed in prison and every ‘witch’ burnt at the stake dreamed you would one day.
But perhaps take a second to consider the life of the Pakistani woman who was beaten to death by her own family for marrying a man of her choosing. Or the life of the Indian woman who was raped, beaten, and murdered on a bus by a gang of men. Or the life of the little girl in Niger who was sold to a man more than twice her own age and forced to carry a baby that may kill her to deliver. Do they still need feminism?
And perhaps take a second to consider this too: Even in our liberal, Western world, why do women still only fill 24% of senior management jobs? Why are more women than men domestically abused or even killed every week at the hands of their male partner or ex-partner? Why is there still a pay gap (in the UK specifically) of 15% for women doing the same jobs and working the same hours as men?
And what about on a cultural level? Have you ever noticed how comedy panel shows usually only have one female panellist compared to 4-5 male ones? That almost every dieting product on the market is solely aimed at women? How a lot of newspapers and advertising campaigns will use a sexualised or pornographic image of a woman to sell news or products that have nothing to do with sex?
Or perhaps on a personal level: Do you choose to wear certain clothes because you want to or because you feel ‘unfeminine’ if you don’t? Do you choose to cover yourself up because you want to or because you feel ashamed or intimidated by a man looking at your body? Do you shave your legs and underarm hair because you want to or because you will look ‘ugly’ if you don’t? Did you parents dress you in pink as a baby because they liked the colour or because you were born a girl? Do you want to have children because you want to or because you are a woman?
When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, do you see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of the men that will look at you when you walk out the door?
The fact is, like it or not, you still live a world where gender matters. Where gender controls not just the entire course of your life – but the lives of women all over the world. Every second, a child will be born female in a country where she will persecuted for this random biological occurrence for the rest of her life. So before you hold up your anti-Feminist placard proudly and smile at your own sense of empowerment, think not what Feminism can do for you, but what it can do for that one girl. She needs someone to stand up for her. That someone could be you.
[ x ]

mjwatson:

A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’

Imagine this:

The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.

Your world is full of freedom and possibility.

Then you pick up a newspaper or go online. You read about angry women ranting about sexism and inequality. You see phrases like ‘rape-culture’ and ‘slut-shaming.’ You furrow your brow and think to yourself: ‘What are they so angry about? There is no such thing as sexism anymore.’

Now imagine this:

The year is 2013. You are a 25 year-old Pakistani woman. A few months ago, you married the man you love. A man you choose for yourself. You are also pregnant with his child. You see your life stretching out before you, filled with hope and happiness. Suddenly, you and your husband are dragged away from each other. You are both beaten with bricks and batons. You can’t fight back. You can’t escape. No one comes to help you. Through your fading vision, you look up, and look into the eyes of one of your assailants: into the eyes of your father.

The year is 2013. You are a 23 year-old Indian woman. You are a physiotherapy student with a promising career ahead of you. You are sitting on a private bus travelling home alone on a warm December evening. You gaze out of the window as the buildings of New Dheli rush past you and feel content. Suddenly, a blunt force hits the back of your head and you fall to the floor of the bus. A group of strange men are standing over you. They bring the metal bar down on you again and again and again until all you can taste is the blood filling up your mouth. You pray that you will die soon. And you do, but not then. You are raped, beaten, and tortured over and over again. Death is slow and agonising.

The year is 2014. You are a 13 year-old girl from Niger. You no longer live there though. You are now living in the neighbouring country Nigeria, sitting alone in small room on a small bed in a small apartment high above the city of Kano. You are not allowed to leave. Your stomach is swollen from the unwanted life growing inside of it. You had no choice. The father is a man in his 40s. He is a businessman. He has bought you as his wife. You were a penniless, uneducated girl when he came for you. You don’t know of any life you could have had. Neither did your family: just one less mouth for them to feed. You still have the body of a child, and it’s straining under the pressure from the one inside of you. You feel like you’re about to be split in two. You don’t wonder if you will survive the birth. A part of you doesn’t want to.

These are fictionalised accounts of real events that have happened to real women living in our world today. They follow the past 250 years of women and men campaigning for women to be given equal rights to men to prevent these kinds of injustices and abuses on the grounds of gender taking place. Over the course of this time, campaigners – Feminists, both female and male – have been locked up, beaten, tortured, and even killed, in the pursuit of equality. They did this with pen and ink and print; they did this with their voices; they did this with their bodies; they did this with art and music; they did in courts of law and halls and houses of government that they fought be to allowed into.

They did this so that women would no longer been seen as property, livestock, breeding machines, sex objects, punching bags, or infantile morons. They did this not just for themselves, but also for their daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters for generations to come. They did this for women they would never meet – women who lived across countries, across vast oceans, across the entire globe, and even across time.

They did this so that women like me – a white Western woman – could attend school and university; to learn to read, write, and think critically; to gain a degree; to get a job and be paid an equal salary to a man in the same position; and to sit here with my own computer and type all of this.

Feminism is a movement for freedom, equality, choice, love, compassion, respect, solidarity, and education. We may argue, we may disagree, we may struggle to understand the choices and perspectives of others sometimes, but these core beliefs of the movement have never changed, and they never will.

That is why I am a Feminist.

If you feel that you have so far lived your life unaffected by even the mildest form of sexism – anything from feeling uncomfortable when a man catcalls you in the street, to feeling scared walking home alone at night in a secluded area – and are treated with love and respect by every man in your life, then to you I say: I’m glad for you. If you don’t think you need feminism, then that is a victory for the movement. You have fulfilled all those dreams that every suffragette being force-fed in prison and every ‘witch’ burnt at the stake dreamed you would one day.

But perhaps take a second to consider the life of the Pakistani woman who was beaten to death by her own family for marrying a man of her choosing. Or the life of the Indian woman who was raped, beaten, and murdered on a bus by a gang of men. Or the life of the little girl in Niger who was sold to a man more than twice her own age and forced to carry a baby that may kill her to deliver. Do they still need feminism?

And perhaps take a second to consider this too: Even in our liberal, Western world, why do women still only fill 24% of senior management jobs? Why are more women than men domestically abused or even killed every week at the hands of their male partner or ex-partner? Why is there still a pay gap (in the UK specifically) of 15% for women doing the same jobs and working the same hours as men?

And what about on a cultural level? Have you ever noticed how comedy panel shows usually only have one female panellist compared to 4-5 male ones? That almost every dieting product on the market is solely aimed at women? How a lot of newspapers and advertising campaigns will use a sexualised or pornographic image of a woman to sell news or products that have nothing to do with sex?

Or perhaps on a personal level: Do you choose to wear certain clothes because you want to or because you feel ‘unfeminine’ if you don’t? Do you choose to cover yourself up because you want to or because you feel ashamed or intimidated by a man looking at your body? Do you shave your legs and underarm hair because you want to or because you will look ‘ugly’ if you don’t? Did you parents dress you in pink as a baby because they liked the colour or because you were born a girl? Do you want to have children because you want to or because you are a woman?

When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, do you see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of the men that will look at you when you walk out the door?

The fact is, like it or not, you still live a world where gender matters. Where gender controls not just the entire course of your life – but the lives of women all over the world. Every second, a child will be born female in a country where she will persecuted for this random biological occurrence for the rest of her life. So before you hold up your anti-Feminist placard proudly and smile at your own sense of empowerment, think not what Feminism can do for you, but what it can do for that one girl. She needs someone to stand up for her. That someone could be you.

[ x ]

puppyclub:

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

puppyclub:

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

the-fandoms-are-cool:

sistercrow:

lokanemandi:

stormcloak:

Clifford the big red dog by *sandara

OH MY GOD

Can we have a Clifford live action movie?  Not a kids movie either. 
Like, Emily Elizabeth’s parents are working for a government agency developing a super soldier serum.  None of their testing is working and they start testing the serum on larger mammals in hopes of seeing better results.  They inject a variety of animals, including a dog.  Nothing.  They are desperate and on the verge of having their project shut down when they notice one of the test dogs is pregnant.  It gives birth and they bring one of the puppies home for their daughter.
To their shock, the puppy they brought home starts to grow at an incredible rate, its fur mutating into a brilliant red as it does so.  They are ecstatic because their research has finally seen a result, albeit one they weren’t expecting.  There is only one problem.
Clifford has become attached to Emily and refuses to leave her side.  Emily, too, has fallen in love with her new pet.  They decide to let their project be canceled rather than try to separate the two.  Unfortunately, the government discovers their secret and begins a campaign to retrieve Clifford at any costs.  During the initial conflict, Emily Elizabeth’s parents are killed trying to help her and Clifford escape.  Emily and her dog flee into the wild.  This sets the opening of the movie.
Over the course of the movie, Emily and Clifford are on the run and we see Emily grow into a young woman, everything about her honed into a survivalist expert.  She and Clifford roam the backwoods, constantly in fear of being captured.  On one of her rare trips into town one day, Emily witnesses a bank robbery in progress involving multiple hostages.  She calls Clifford and the two of them save the lives of the hostages but wreck the bank in the process.  The local news capture footage of Clifford and it isn’t long before the military arrives in town.
Emily wants to just run away again, but she sees that the military is destroying the town, driving people out of their homes and destroying property in their search.  She decides that enough is enough and rides Clifford back into town and fights the military.  Amidst the fighting a huge truck arrives.  A general (who was her parent’s superior officer) gets out and smirks.  He tells Emily Elizabeth that Clifford’s mother wasn’t the only animal that gave birth to a litter of babies after receiving an injection.  The back of the truck unfolds to reveal a massive tabby cat.  The cat strains against its bindings and tears free, immediately leaping onto a nearby group of soldiers and devouring them.  Emily is horrified and orders Clifford to attack.
What follows is the dramatic battle between Clifford and the mutant cat.  Clifford has strength, but the cat is too fast and agile.  It looks like Clifford is down for the count, when the townsfolk, recognizing that Clifford is on their side, come to his aid.  They distract the cat long enough for him to finish the beast off for good. 
The military retreats, the general swearing vengeance on the two of them, and Emily and Clifford ride off into the night once more.  But the legend of the big red dog has already started.  And Emily Elizabeth knows that the day will come when she and Clifford will need to ride into battle against the forces of evil once more.
The credits roll.
Post credits, the screen fades to black for a moment.  The sound of waves crashing on shore fills the air.  The screen flashes brilliant white.  The light of the lighthouse moves on, revealing a rocky shore on a rainy day.  The camera pans down to find Clifford and Emily gazing out to sea.  A massive object hangs in the air off the coast, obscured in the clouds.  A smaller object rapidly approaches them.  It resolves itself into an advanced helicopter that silently lands just down the shore from them.  Clifford lets out a low growl but Emily quiets him with a hand on his leg.  A lone figure emerges from the aircraft, huddling his arms around himself to fight off the cold.
He approaches the two.  His hair is short and somewhat curly.  He wears glasses and a grey flannel shirt and seems unlikely to pose a threat to the two.
“Emily Elizabeth,” he says over the sound of the crashing surf, “I worked with your parents.  It’s taken us a while to find you, after the Birdwell Island incident.”
“And who exactly is ‘us’,” she responds, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Ignoring her question, the man continues.  “Me and Clifford have a lot in common, actually.”  He smiles a little awkwardly, then presses on.  “I was hoping you might be interested in meeting my boss.  He’s fairly excited to talk with you.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.  Who are you and who do you work for?”
The man smiles.  “My name is Banner.  And I’m hear to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

how long did you even spend writing this for that fucking twist ending because my friend you are one devoted fan

the-fandoms-are-cool:

sistercrow:

lokanemandi:

stormcloak:

Clifford the big red dog by *sandara

OH MY GOD

Can we have a Clifford live action movie?  Not a kids movie either. 

Like, Emily Elizabeth’s parents are working for a government agency developing a super soldier serum.  None of their testing is working and they start testing the serum on larger mammals in hopes of seeing better results.  They inject a variety of animals, including a dog.  Nothing.  They are desperate and on the verge of having their project shut down when they notice one of the test dogs is pregnant.  It gives birth and they bring one of the puppies home for their daughter.

To their shock, the puppy they brought home starts to grow at an incredible rate, its fur mutating into a brilliant red as it does so.  They are ecstatic because their research has finally seen a result, albeit one they weren’t expecting.  There is only one problem.

Clifford has become attached to Emily and refuses to leave her side.  Emily, too, has fallen in love with her new pet.  They decide to let their project be canceled rather than try to separate the two.  Unfortunately, the government discovers their secret and begins a campaign to retrieve Clifford at any costs.  During the initial conflict, Emily Elizabeth’s parents are killed trying to help her and Clifford escape.  Emily and her dog flee into the wild.  This sets the opening of the movie.

Over the course of the movie, Emily and Clifford are on the run and we see Emily grow into a young woman, everything about her honed into a survivalist expert.  She and Clifford roam the backwoods, constantly in fear of being captured.  On one of her rare trips into town one day, Emily witnesses a bank robbery in progress involving multiple hostages.  She calls Clifford and the two of them save the lives of the hostages but wreck the bank in the process.  The local news capture footage of Clifford and it isn’t long before the military arrives in town.

Emily wants to just run away again, but she sees that the military is destroying the town, driving people out of their homes and destroying property in their search.  She decides that enough is enough and rides Clifford back into town and fights the military.  Amidst the fighting a huge truck arrives.  A general (who was her parent’s superior officer) gets out and smirks.  He tells Emily Elizabeth that Clifford’s mother wasn’t the only animal that gave birth to a litter of babies after receiving an injection.  The back of the truck unfolds to reveal a massive tabby cat.  The cat strains against its bindings and tears free, immediately leaping onto a nearby group of soldiers and devouring them.  Emily is horrified and orders Clifford to attack.

What follows is the dramatic battle between Clifford and the mutant cat.  Clifford has strength, but the cat is too fast and agile.  It looks like Clifford is down for the count, when the townsfolk, recognizing that Clifford is on their side, come to his aid.  They distract the cat long enough for him to finish the beast off for good. 

The military retreats, the general swearing vengeance on the two of them, and Emily and Clifford ride off into the night once more.  But the legend of the big red dog has already started.  And Emily Elizabeth knows that the day will come when she and Clifford will need to ride into battle against the forces of evil once more.

The credits roll.

Post credits, the screen fades to black for a moment.  The sound of waves crashing on shore fills the air.  The screen flashes brilliant white.  The light of the lighthouse moves on, revealing a rocky shore on a rainy day.  The camera pans down to find Clifford and Emily gazing out to sea.  A massive object hangs in the air off the coast, obscured in the clouds.  A smaller object rapidly approaches them.  It resolves itself into an advanced helicopter that silently lands just down the shore from them.  Clifford lets out a low growl but Emily quiets him with a hand on his leg.  A lone figure emerges from the aircraft, huddling his arms around himself to fight off the cold.

He approaches the two.  His hair is short and somewhat curly.  He wears glasses and a grey flannel shirt and seems unlikely to pose a threat to the two.

“Emily Elizabeth,” he says over the sound of the crashing surf, “I worked with your parents.  It’s taken us a while to find you, after the Birdwell Island incident.

“And who exactly is ‘us’,” she responds, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Ignoring her question, the man continues.  “Me and Clifford have a lot in common, actually.”  He smiles a little awkwardly, then presses on.  “I was hoping you might be interested in meeting my boss.  He’s fairly excited to talk with you.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.  Who are you and who do you work for?”

The man smiles.  “My name is Banner.  And I’m hear to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

how long did you even spend writing this for that fucking twist ending because my friend you are one devoted fan

iswearimnotnaked:

when i was 9 i wrote a love letter to cole sprouse and closed my eyes and threw it out the car window thinking it’d magically find him and wow i did not understand the united states postal system 

stopirwin:

i have a friend who has been taking birth control since she was 12 because she’s anemic and if she didn’t take it she would bleed out excessively during her period and end up in the hospital

dont fucking tell me that birth control isn’t crucial to people

anon: you are so attention seeking!!
me: yes, true, correct, accurate, right, absolutely, without a doubt, totally, factual, verifiable, exactly, precise, unerring, error-free, all right, of course, sure, certainly, indeed, right, yep, affirmative, agreed, roger

scenicroutes:

"nah we can’t have female leads or characters of colour or gay characters or else our show will bomb"

image

image

croutoncat:

reblog if you have NEVER got a boner in ur life 

lightinnightmare:

huffpostscience:

These MRI images of fruit, vegetables and plants will change how you look at food forever. Find out what each of these MRI scans are here.

(Constructed by MRI technologist Andy Ellison at Boston University Medical School)

This is so cool :-)