colonial activism


March  1954 - Four Puerto Rican freedom fighters opened fire at US congressmen, from the visitors gallery at the US Capitol, as part of their campaign to free Puerto Rico from US colonialism and make it a sovereign nation once more.

The nationalists, identified as Lolita Lebrón, Rafael Cancel Miranda, Andres Figueroa Cordero, and Irving Flores Rodríguez, unfurled a Puerto Rican flag and began shooting at the 240 Representatives of the 83rd Congress, who were debating an immigration bill. Five Representatives were wounded, one seriously, but all recovered. The assailants were arrested, tried and convicted in federal court, and given long sentences, effectively life imprisonment. In 1978 and 1979, they were pardoned by President Jimmy Carter; all four returned to Puerto Rico. [video]/[video]

This is the first time the seven bands of the Sioux have come together since Little Bighorn. Now, we have no weapons, only prayers. We are here for what our ancestors fought and died for. We have endured 250 years of betrayal by the white man.
—  Hawste Wakiyan Wicasa, a Native American protestor interviewed at Standing Rock Sioux Reservation in September 2016

He’s not sure what he expected. Come to that, he’s not sure what he had the right to expect, showing up at Baker Street, that Saturday afternoon, everything he owned spread out before him on the pavement. Asking if he could please have his place back, his room. Only this time, John wasn’t alone. Looking over the form of his sleeping daughter, cradled in her carrier, to that of his best friend, he’d asked if he could come home. “Just for a bit,” he’d amended, taking in the slightly panicked look in Sherlock’s eyes. Recovering quickly, Sherlock had simply nodded and retreated into the flat.

John knew Sherlock and babies were not a good combination. But since Mary, or whatever the hell her real name was, had taken off and left him and Amelia, he’d had nowhere else to go. Sure, he could have stayed in the flat in the suburbs, lived the life of the single father, but the thought of that made panic flare in his chest and his leg begin to throb. If he was being honest, he’d never actually pictured himself as a father at all, and the prospect of facing it alone was terrifying. And maybe the life he and Sherlock had, cases, experiments, and danger, wasn’t conducive to children, but John needed it like oxygen. So finding himself alone, he returned to the one place in the world he truly wanted to be. And, if he was forced to face an even more startling reality, the one person he truly wanted to be with.  

Knowing what he did of Sherlock, seeing how he was with his daughter was eye-opening, to say the least. Sherlock didn’t actively seek her out, didn’t pick her up, change her nappy or anything of the sort, but he was softer. He moderated his voice when she was napping to keep from waking her. He started keeping all the nasty toxic experiments downstairs in 221C, which he rented specifically for that purpose. He was careful about allowing clients into the flat while she was present, preferring her to be at Mrs. Hudson’s. Little things that John noticed, each one threatening to overpower the slim hold he had on his feelings regarding his flatmate and friend. Each time Sherlock did something, well, nice, John was tempted to pull him into his arms, kiss those ridiculous lips, and tell him how bloody grateful he was to have him in his life. It was only a matter of time, really, until something bubbled over. And then where would he be?

It was 3 am about one month and four days after John had moved back in that things came to  a head. Startled awake from where he had fallen asleep watching telly, John was surprised not to hear Amelia’s cries, but a familiar baritone softly rasping from his bedroom upstairs. Curious as to why Sherlock would be talking to his sleeping daughter at 3 am, he crept up the stairs to have a look. Standing in the doorway to his room, John knew the sight that greeted him is one he would not soon forget, nor would ever choose to.

Sherlock was stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly, holding John’s sleeping daughter in his arms. He seemed to almost be dancing with the infant as he talked, the gentle sway of his body no doubt helping to soothe her slumber. Sherlock’s nose was nuzzed against the top of her head as he recited properties of honey making in a fully active bee colony. A truly fascinating topic, if Amelia’s little snuffly snore was anything to go by. John watched the two people he loved most, soft smile playing over his features, and decided that he was going to let him know how he felt, consequences be damned.

John stepped further into the room, and Sherlock froze, realizing that John was there watching him with his daughter. Slowly turning, his eyes met John’s, the pale green wide with fear. John smiled wider, moving to take Amelia from Sherlock’s arms and placing her gently in her crib. Turning back around he saw that Sherlock was standing by the door, an odd mix of confusion and fear playing across his features. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but John placed a finger over his own lips, bidding him to stay silent and left the room, motioning for Sherlock to follow. John continued down the stairs, pausing briefly to look behind him, before continuing down the hall to Sherlock’s bedroom.

“John, I’m sorry,” Sherlock began as soon as the door closed, “I shouldn’t have-”

“Sherlock.” John stopped him before he got too far, not interested in apologies. There was a more important question that needed an answer. “Had you done that before, come up to the room in the middle of the night to soothe Amy?”

Sherlock looked anywhere but at John, which in itself provided the answer. “Perhaps. And really, Amy, John? Why the need to shorten a perfectly good name, she’s Amelia for God’s sake -”

The rest of the rant was cut off by John’s mouth, lips sliding tenderly across Sherlock’s once, twice, three times before pulling away. John rested his forehead on Sherlock’s, threading his fingers into inky curls.


“John,” Sherlock breathed.

“You like her.”

Sherlock pulled back far enough to fix John with his best haughty look, “Like her? John, she’s perfect. She’s yours. How could I not love a part of you?”

John sucked in a breath and tightened his grip in Sherlock’s hair, pulling him close. He tilted his head up as Sherlock leaned down, meeting in a crushing kiss that left them both breathless. John broke away, pausing to press kisses to one cheekbone then the other, before pulling away and stripping down to his pants.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, slight tremble in his voice.

“It’s 4 am Sherlock, I’m going to sleep,” John said, climbing into the ridiculously posh bed.


“Come here, love.”

Given the invitation, Sherlock practically dove into the bed, and plastered himself up against John, curling in against his body and tucking his head on John’s chest. John idly stroked his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, reveling in the feel of silky strands under his fingertips.

“John?” It was little more than a whisper.


“Thank you.”

John squeezed Sherlock tighter. There would be time in the morning for conversation, time for John to tell Sherlock that he was truly the one who was thankful. To tell him that couldn’t imagine a better parent for Amelia. To tell him that he was loved, well, and truly. But for now, there was time for this. Time for the feel of this man underneath his fingers, his heart beating against John’s chest. Yes, John didn’t know what to expect when he came back to Baker Street, but he’s glad it was better than he imagined.

I know, I know. Its Parentlock. But sometimes the plot bunny bites you and won’t let go. Hope you all enjoy! Tagging my peeps: @happierstill, @cleverwholigan, @jamlockk, @conversationswithbenedict, @sherlockwatsontm, @johnlockequalslove, @yorkiepug, @anyawen, @seriously-mary-though, @irrelevantbl0g, @sussexbound, @hubblegleeflower


Zionist Galactic Federation flags! The second one is my favorite.


What do you guys think? I was debating putting am yisrael chai bechalal on there somewhere but room. And for the little planets, maybe put on one for each one in the Federation, and the central/biggest can be that planet’s specific flag.
Meet The Trans Scholar Fighting Against The Campaign For Out Trans Military Service
“Trans people, trans organizations, the trans movement did not choose this battle,” Dean Spade says. The law professor says rich donors chose the issue, and maintains the focus will hurt other trans rights issues.
By Chris Geidner

In recent months, one of the key issues relating to transgender rights that has come up in public debate is that of out transgender military service. A leading trans legal scholar, however, tells BuzzFeed the focus is “likely to harm” other progress sought by the transgender community and is coming at “the whims of a few wealthy donors.”

From the decision by former Navy SEAL Kristin Beck, to come out as trans to theannouncement by Chelsea Manning that she also is trans, trans military issues havereceived more attention than ever before. Also affecting the dynamic is the decision by Jennifer Natalya Pritzker, a former colonel in the Illinois Army National Guard who has since come out as trans, to back a $1.35 million donation to the Palm Center to study transgender military service.

For Dean Spade, who is trans and a leading left legal scholar on transgender and other inequality issues, the attention being paid to the military issues is part of a disturbing trend.


Phyll Opoku-Gyimah also known as Lady Phyll is an LGBT Activist and co-founder of UK Black Pride.

Last month Lady Phyll declined The Queen of England’s MBE honour and stated: 

“Member of the British Empire? I don’t believe in empire. I don’t believe in, and actively resist, colonialism and its toxic and enduring legacy in the Commonwealth, where – among many other injustices – LGBTQI people are still being persecuted, tortured and even killed because of sodomy laws, including in Ghana, where I am from, that were put in place by British imperialists. I’m honored and grateful, but I have to say no thank you.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you give a new vulture some tips? I live in a pretty populated area with no woods (sadly, might move soon though!) so most of my finds are lizards and frogs. I have found a squished mole though! Could you help me out on getting the flesh and such off smaller animals while preserving most of the bones? Thank you!

Hi there!

As with larger animals you can be as involved as you want in the cleaning process. You can skin the entire carcass and deflesh it—removing most of the meat and organs—and then start cleaning it or you can just clean the entire thing as is. Skinning and defleshing does usually cut down on the smell a bit and sometimes helps speed the cleaning process up too but it’s certainly not necessary, especially on smaller specimens, if it’s not something you want to do.

I’d either macerate or nature clean them. Small specimens like yours are ideal for using dermestid beetles to clean them but not everyone has access to those darling lil flesh eaters and maceration or nature cleaning will do a fine job too.

For macerating you just put the carcass in a bucket of warm water (around 85 degrees Fahrenheit is ideal), cover it, and wait for the carcass to rot down to bones. If it stays warm enough and you’ve got a good bacteria colony going this can take as little as week but it can take longer.

For nature cleaning you have a few different options. You can make a tiny cage out of fine wire mesh (fine enough that no tiny bones will fall out of the wire), put the carcass in that, and then bury the whole thing in a flower pot. Or put it under an upside down flower pot. Just make sure to cover the pot with a large rock or use something else to weigh it down to prevent any curious passing scavengers from stealing your specimen.

You can also put the carcass in a plastic bag with a few tiny holes poked in it and put that under the flower pot/bucket instead. I like using plastic because it helps hold in humidity and humidity + heat make ideal conditions for the bacteria responsible for decomp. Again, if conditions are right, this can take as little as a week to rot the carcass down to bones. Sometimes it’ll take a little longer though.

Or if you know of any active ant colonies in your area you can put the carcass in that mesh cage, secure it next to the colony so no scavengers will drag it away, and let the ants clean it for you. Here’s a little salamander I found dead on my driveway a while back that ants had already nearly cleaned.

And here’s how it looked the next morning. As you can see, the ants carried away the legs and most of the ribs so that’s why you’ll want to use a fine mesh that the ants can get into but can’t drag anything very large out of.

Just be patient and prepared to experiment and see what works best for you! I’ve been doing this for years and I’m still finding new tricks and ways of doing things. And be sure to check out my Bone Collecting For Beginners post as well as my bone cleaning tag here for loads more info that you might find helpful!

Best of luck with your collection, Anon!

This is a response to a scenario regarding color breeding, ‘'against the standard,’ on the badbreeding blog. For some reason Tumblr will not allow me to reblog it. 

This got very long. I’m not sorry.

I’m not going to address your hypothetical situations. Just the concept of ‘doing it right’ is, in itself, a broad and contentious subject and changes wildly according to who the arbiter of 'rightness’ is.

I will instead address the concept of standards, beginning with this:

The standard did not fall to earth straight from gods asshole.

Standards are also not just simple blueprints or descriptions. They are the products of fallible humans, compromises, fads, prejudices, behind the scenes wheeling and dealing, and that worst of human failings which embraces all of the aforementioned faults, the committee.

I have yet to find a breed that was developed to fit an existing standard. (The CKCS or Irish Wolfhound might fit the bill, as recreations of an earlier type.) Even modern breeds were developed as a breed first, with the standard coming later. The very word dates from the birth of the dog fancy, where dogs from landrace breeds, which typically have a lot of variation, were co-opted by wealthy people who had lots of leisure time and the sheer arrogance to 'standardize’ breeds by removing the naturally occurring variation. This included colors deemed undesirable, unworthy, or just plain unfashionable. Fad and fashion have shaped the fancy, and it’s standards, from the beginning.

Although standards are often touted as being necessary blueprints to keep breeders on the straight and narrow, this was not always so (please see the above paragraph; which came first, the standard or the breed?) The primary purpose of the standard, written and agreed upon by a committee of breed experts, sanctioned by a breed club, has been dog shows. A standard is an absolute necessity for a judge who does not live intimately with a breed.

It is also necessary to understand not WHAT the standard says, but WHY it says those particular things. For instance, the AKC Afghan hound standard calls white markings, especially on the face, 'undesirable.’ The FCI and UK standards accept all colors, yet the AKC standard was changed in 1949 to make white markings undesirable. Why? Because a certain black dog with white blaze, chest and front feet, Turkuman Nissims Laurel, owned by the influential and opinionated Sunny Shay, was doing a lot of winning. He finished his championship in 1948. Likewise, the ridiculous preference for a level bite over a scissors bite was the result of politicking.

It was not just the standard itself that shaped the distribution of color in the Western Afghan population. Fad and fashion had a strong influence. Breeders would eventually bucket pups without masks, because there was a fad for red dogs with masks and no one wanted a dog without. Domino pups were bucketed early on, until a European dog named Tanjores Domino finished and was shipped to the US in the fifties. (Prior to that, domino was called 'reverse mask.’) Dominos were not acceptable prior to the fifties, regardless of what the standard said.

The UK Saluki standard DQs brindle and blue, it was changed in 2012. Brindle is contentious in the UK due to the fraudulent registration of longdogs that have some greyhound behind them. This is not relevant to brindle Salukis which are not descended from UK stock, yet they are still DQed in the UK. The FCI standard considers brindle 'undesirable,’ and that’s fairly recent (2000.) More politicking, since the Germans have been registering black, blue, and brindle import dogs for decades. In fact, some of the earliest imports into the UK and Europe were black, blue and brindle. The AKC standard says nothing at all about brindle, and it also has nothing to say about chocolate (liver), or particolor, both fairly common in the show ring.

(Note that blue in Salukis [and Afghans] is not [usually] the same dilute d/d blue seen in Italian greyhounds and Great Danes. It is the effect of the grizzle gene, EG, on a black dog. If you have black and grizzle in a population, you will eventually get blue. There are some dilute blue Salukis, but they are exceedingly rare. I can think of only two instances of d/d blue.)

Salukis imported from the countries of origin have always been accepted for registration somewhere in the West. This is a point of pride for Saluki fanciers. What is interesting is that this requires the reconciliation between what the Saluki is in the COO, a landrace with a wide geographical distribution from North Africa through the Middle East, to India, up to China, and what the Saluki is in the West, a 'purebred’ shaped and defined by Westerners. There are no standards, no kennel clubs, no registries or dog shows in the vast majority of the Saluki countries of origin. No Afghani tribesman is going to reject a good hunting dog because it lacks a 'sidegait to die for.’ The Saluki and the Afghan, along with many dogs that have country of origin populations, are victims of colonialism, the idea that wealthy whites need to tell brown people what is good for them. And their dogs. The standards for the Saluki and the Afghan were not written by native breeders, but by wealthy Brits, many part of occupying military forces, that brought home souvenir dogs.

Sadly you can see this colonialism active even today in certain factions with both breeds. These are the same people that are very shrieky about the standard, and very shrieky about COO dogs, and who don’t seem to understand how the one does, or sometimes doesn’t, relate to the other.

(I have no issues with the AKC Saluki standard. It’s color issues aside, it’s a fine standard and encompasses the variety inherent in the breed. The AKC Afghan standard is a mess.)

In other words, there are parts of a standard that can be utter bullshit. Is it 'responsible’ to apply a great deal of social currency to the standard? The fancy itself, clubs, standards, shows, is a cultural construct, and a relic that has it’s origins in some very shaky and often repellent social movements and bad science. It’s bible and tenets are frequently arbitrary and mired in tradition, not carefully thought out actions with welfare in mind.

I own, and will eventually breed, off colored Salukis. My next litter should produce black and blue pups. I purchased my black Salukis not because of their color, but because I fell in love with their mother, an elegant, racy bitch who happened to be blue. My Saudi origin brindles I wanted because they are one generation from the sand, and have strong genes for heat resistance and activity during hot weather, which suits my purposes. My next litter will produce blacks and blues.

Quite frankly, haters can suck it, because I’ve been arguing with idiots who are all up in arms about those weird colored Salukis that are going to ruin the Western population with their foreign genes, watching people lie about health issues in brindle dogs (yes, really), lie about DNA studies, lie about basal DNA (long story), lie about the colors and origins of original imports, for years now. A perfectly nice brindle bitch was dismissed by an 'activist judge’ at the last SCOA specialty. There are calls for closing the registries to imports, especially from those countries in the Eastern part of the range where odd colors are more common. All these lies, all this strife, people losing long term friends, over colors that are easily avoided simply by looking at the pedigree. Imports are easy to spot. You’d think that dog breeders are stupid or something.

So, while your scenarios may seem simple and straightforward, they aren’t. Most breeds have had changes made to the standard over time, including colors. These changes are frequently made due to fads or politics. A simple perusal of photos, artwork, and true breed histories will show you how much fashion and fad have changed breeds over time. (Be wary of potted histories.) It is easy to condemn the breeding of colors that have associated health issues. It is harder to make a case for the wholesale elimination of colors that simply became unpopular or are relics of breed development or the time preceding standardization. Whether these colors are popular with 'bybs’ isn’t relevant to the actual issue of ethical breeding, because it’s entirely possible to breed rare colors in an ethical manner. (Recently introduced colors are, I think, a slightly different case, but they are still bound by the same welfare issues.) I dislike the 'OMG BYBS’ argument in general, because there are no real welfare differences in breeding based on purpose, whether breeding for the pet market, for show, or performance, the welfare issues remain the same. Breed healthy, durable dogs, do relevant health testing, don’t lie, practice good husbandry, don’t fuck over your buyers. I’d go so far as to say that someone who breeds a breed that is based around a deformity probably hasn’t an ethical leg to stand on while condemning breeding a rare color, all other considerations being the same.

A large part of the fancys argument over the breeding of non-standard colors is that these dogs can’t be shown. This is predicated on the assumption that the only ethical reason to breed is to produce show dogs. This is already too long to get into a real discussion about supply, demand, and markets, which is really what drives the vast majority of dog breeding, but 'you should only breed for competition’ is at it’s core an elitist argument that goes back to the formation of the dog fancy, which was driven by conspicuous consumption and the market for 'improved’ purebred dogs as being suitable for upwardly mobile Victorians, unlike those unimproved commoner dogs. This is probably not conscious nowadays, for the most part, but if you pay attention, it’s there.

I identify as a backyard breeder. When I got into dogs, a backyard breeder was someone who didn’t show, and usually bred for the pet market. The meaning has changed somewhat and acquired a negative connotation. I run my dogs but I’m not a serious hunter, I don’t compete with them otherwise. My first purebred dogs were show dogs, and most of the dogs I own have show dogs behind them, many with champion parents. I count among my friends judges, people who compete in various venues, hunters, pet breeders, etc. I’ve co-bred a litter with a show breeder, the puppy that went to her finished easily, and I have people who show on my puppy list. If you are at all intellectually honest, once you have been involved in the fancy for a while, you will realize two things. One, there are no bright lines to differentiate 'these’ breeders from 'those’ breeders as good or bad, no matter what color or kind of dogs they own (I also breed crosses.) These distinctions are largely cultural, not practical, it’s not a black and white issue, there are many shades of grey. Two, WHY somebody breeds is far, far less important than whether they’re a damned fool or not. I’ve run across far too many 'reputable breeders’ in my breeds that hadn’t a clue about history or function, and I’ve seen breeders that tick all the right 'responsible’ boxes that I’d never refer a buyer to because they’re psychotic assholes. Intellectual honesty is in short supply in the ‘purebred’ dog world, however. 

when-a-bagel-is-a-bagel  asked:

Do you have anything on the Malayan Emergency?

The Malayan Emergency (Malay: Darurat) was a Malayan guerrilla war fought between Commonwealth armed forces and the Malayan National Liberation Army (MNLA), the military arm of the Malayan Communist Party (MCP), from 1948–60.

A flag taken from the Red guerrilla troops is exhibited by three British soldiers who captured it in a fierce action during which a prominent Communist leader was killed, 1955

casualty being winched across a jungle stream, c1948

Lincoln Bomber A73-33 of No 1 Squadron, RAAF, on a bombing mission over the Malayan jungle.
AWM P01616.003

Members of the Burmese special police arrest three suspects in their search for Communists in a rural area of Malaya, 1949

An armed British sergeant on patrol in the Malayan jungle in 1952. The Malayan Emergency was a guerrilla war fought between Commonwealth armed forces and the Malayan National Liberation Army, part of the Malayan Communist party, from 1948 to 1960

Crossing a jungle river, c1948

New Zealand Special Air Service soldiers in Malaya 

Malay and New Zealand soldiers on a jungle patrol, c1957

Wounded Chinese Terrorist, Ronald Betts, Royal Australian Regt, RA, Malayan Emergency

Members of the Fiji Infantry Regiment

Combat Tracker Team, Malaya Emergency

British troops taking Communists prisoner in Malaya during the Emergency, 9 September 1952. The director of intelligence for Malaya issued regular reports detailing the numbers of ‘eliminated terrorists’

Police stand over bodies of slain Communists, while wives try to identify them, during the Malayan Emergency

British troops of the Special Air Service, having been dropped off in the jungle in search of ‘bandits’ during the Malayan Emergency, 1953. British officials interpreted almost all anti-colonial activity as evidence of a planned Communist takeover

A Hug