Women are present on skeptic forums in much the same way that women are present in early Star Trek episodes: while the men can take on a variety of roles, the women are always sex characters. Their every attribute is sexualised and objectified. Intelligence in a male skeptic is taken for granted; intelligence in a female skeptic is a turn-on. When a male scientist knows about science, it’s expected and goes unremarked; when a female scientist knows about science, she’s hot! And she’ll be barely visible beneath the throng of nerds trying to fap off over her lab coat.

Too often, the skeptic nerd who tries to display his women-friendly credentials ends up revealing himself only as a sexist creep. He’s all in favour of women, as long as they satisfy his own ideals of what a woman should be. This kind of attitude is typified by the skeptic-oriented webcomic xkcd. “I like nerdy girls”, says Randall Munroe — but can he tolerate any others? I looked through hundreds of his stick-figure strips, god help me, and where his females are characterised at all, they inevitably conform to the same constructed ideal — geeky, quirky, all-knowing, whimsical — an ideal largely constructed around Randall himself, or his own self-image. This female ideal says a lot more about his vanity than his feminism; and it’s an ideal shared by many guys in the skeptic community.


So, I finally finished them!! I’m so, so excited about having made my very own Tentoo and Rose in about two weeks. I’m especially pleased with how their hair turned out lol. It took me an hour for each of them to get that right.

I used this pattern to make them, adjusting the colors to fit each character.

oh, and bonus image (wherein I’m very mature):

This is the inside of a bathroom stall. This is also one of the few things about BGSU that I really like.

So, this building’s bathroom stalls were old enough to be covered in years upon years of writing until they were painted over… and then promptly written on again. So, after they repainted them a second time, they put up these sheets of paper in all of the stalls (just in this building and just in the womens’ bathroom. No idea what the mens’ looks like). Basically, they say “Write on these, we’ll supply the paper, just please stop writing on the walls.” Something magical happened.

Not only did women stop writing on the actual stall walls, but these papers have become a sort of underground support system for those who need one. The messages are usually anonymous.

For every “I struggle with depression,” there are three or four “You’re not alone, keep going”s.

For every “I tried to kill myself last night,” there are a handful of “I’m proud you didn’t, you can do this”s.

And for every “I’m pregnant. Help,” there are people replying “Here are support lines and good clinics to go to.”

Yes, you have the occasional “Here’s my kik!” or “Dance Marathon is this week,” and lots and lots of inspirational quotes (Lupita Nyong’o was featured several times a few weeks ago, of course). None of these are bad things. But most of what I see are these messages of reaching out and finding support and I just think that it’s really beautiful.


Let’s start off with the fact that you chose this particular number and how that alone speaks for itself. I’ve never encountered another energy anywhere remotely close to yours. You give me a calm that I hadn’t ever imagined possible. You say everything in such a brave way, and I think you know exactly when you feel, or want, the need to let it out. You’re so kind and caring and loving towards me, and that’s something I’ve never been around before. And your smile, your fucking smile, and your hands and your thighs and your breasts and your tum and your arms and fucking all of you. I want to get toasty on the beach with you again. I want to cook so many meals with you. I want to try all your favorite fancy food. I want to listen to you talk. I want you to read everything you’ve ever wanted to read aloud to me that you feel comfortable with reading to me. I want you to privilege check the fuck out of me. I want to learn all you feel comfortable with and wish to share about yourself and your opinions and your way of thought with me. I want to have consensual intercourse at so many different places (Can I please look up at you so I can witness how fucking beautiful you are and that perfect face you make when you’re about to come?). I want to have so many picnics and swing on the swings and lie in the grass and feel your energy next to me while I close my eyes and absorb the bright sun. (I’ve never been able to absorb another’s energy while taking in Mother as well, but I can with you. I think you’re leading me closer to the understanding of One.) Am I asking to do too many things because I want to do them all with you. I want to be able to be there for you when you need and want me, and when we need our space I want us to be comfortably alone because we understand. I love more than anything when we wake up in the morning and you look at me with a smile and say Good morning, baby then ask to proceed to wrap around me. Gosh, I fucking love when you wrap around me. I’ve never heard a heartbeat that sounded as full as yours. Smiles and awkward-5-minute-difficult-to-turn kisses and massages and laughs and showers and shows and the stars and the best consensual intercourse and hand holding and being pumped and understanding. I want to do everything with you, and I’m not even sure how to go about doing it all because I’ve never felt this way for a person before, but I’m so stoked to figure it all out for as long as you want to be around me. I’m in love with you.

miracle watts if so fucking beautiful i don’t give a fuck if she got a tooth-lift and elbow reconstruction! and i’m so tired of you ugly hating cornballs shitting on women (especially black women) for getting cosmetic surgery and making themselves happier when that literally is not a problem. and especially under the guise of “caring”— “aww i really just want women to love themselves blablabla you won’t truly be happy blabbla” so transparent! stop psychoanalyzing fake ass dr. phil! you don’t care about them or their happiness! you just wanna shit on someone!!! not today satan!!!! not her beauty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Where twerking originated

The fact that none of them are the typical stick thin. Love.

Because in African culture . It is more looked down upon to be skinny , sometimes they’ll come to you and ask you if your sick or if something’s wrong . This is Africa’s definition of the perfect body

twerking is a fertility dance, something that is more culturally important than most people think

shaking your butt is what african cultures just do

from salsa, to hip hop to reggae, popping our booties is apart of our history and lifestyle

i could write a dissertation on how twerking has historical and cultural significance and why miley cyrus and other cornballs should not make fun of it or make light of it

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