demanding justice

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Trans rights activist Hande Kader was raped and burned to death in Turkey

In Turkey, the LGBTQ community is mourning the loss of transgender rights activist and sex worker Hande Kader. Kader’s body was found raped and brutally burned on Aug. 12 in Istanbul and now activists across the world are demanding justice for her death and the greater violence inflicted upon the the LGBTQ community. While homosexuality is not illegal in Turkey, discrimination and violence against the LGBTQ community is staggering. 

Those of you who can afford to buy organic, or even just buy fresh produce: please do. The more healthy food we buy, the more in demand it becomes, the cheaper it will be.
The cheaper it is, the more people in poverty will be able to afford healthy food, the more kids won’t grow up obese, the more adults won’t be trapped in a cycle.

Every time you buy something, you cast a vote for it to be in supply, to be produced more, to be cheaper.

Remember that.

my young justice 3 demands

.Bring back Wally West (speedsters vanish all the time and come back)

.Give Aqualad a boyfriend (he is gay in canon !!)

.I need more Tye Longshadow (I just always found him interesting)

.Give Tim Drake more screen time!! (i beg you)

.Bring back Jason Todd (its about time yo)

.Make Bluepulse canon (why not? they would be good together)

.Superboy needs his leather jacket (90s superboy!!)

Over the next months and years we will be called upon to intensify our demands for social justice to become more militant in our defense of vulnerable populations. Those who still defend the supremacy of white male hetero-patriarchy had better watch out.

The next 1,459 days of the Trump administration will be 1,459 days of resistance: Resistance on the ground, resistance in the classrooms, resistance on the job, resistance in our art and in our music.

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Vikings S04E16 ► Welcome, Ivar. – I’ve come here for justice. Everyone knows that you killed my mother for no reason, except ambition. Therefore, I demand justice. – Ivar… – Don’t touch me, coward. – He is not a coward. But perhaps he understands some things that you don’t. – I understand everything perfectly. You murdered my mother in cold blood.

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My Reflections On Yesterday’s Women’s March

In eighth grade I discovered the musical Hair and watched it over and over and over again, blasting the soundtrack from my bedroom at full volume (sorry Mom and Dad). I became endlessly fascinated with the protests against the Vietnam War & the many civil rights movements of the 1960s and 70s, and wished desperately that I had been born earlier so I could have been a part of those crowds myself, demanding justice, demanding equality, and marching shoulder to shoulder with thousands in demonstrations for peace.

I didn’t know exactly what I was wishing for, of course, since along with that fiery passion of a movement comes its counterpart: horrible racism, war, and unspeakable inequality for so very many. I also didn’t realize, at the time, that my white, middle-class upbringing shielded me from the fact that those very same inequities were still at work in this country, still holding tight all around me, and that there were loud, angry, passionate, and incredible fighters still gathering, still protesting, still demanding that their voices be heard.

In the last two decades, I have come out and grown up as a queer woman. I have worked alongside thousands of people in efforts to bring equality, awareness, and change. In doing so I have also learned more about my own privilege, about pervasive, systemic racism, about the effects of sexism, ableism, transphobia, Islamophobia. I have learned what it feels like to be treated differently and to have rights taken away based on who or how I love. That work, and that ever-evolving awareness, echoed many of the sentiments of that 1960s activism I so admired.

Yesterday, though, I marched in a protest for the very first time. My fear of crowds finally met its match with the horrors I continue to see unfold in my country. I stood in a sea 750,000 people deep in downtown Los Angeles. I screamed and shouted: I am here, I am full of fire and life, I will not stand for the inequalities and injustices that still exist.

Millions of people stood up yesterday and screamed those same words. Together, we challenged the world to listen. The inequities, the sexism, the racism, the homophobia, the transphobia, all of it is being doused with gasoline by a new administration that does not include the interests or rights of millions of its citizens.

As I stood with my wife, with my sister, my family, I realized: I was there. I was in the pictures I had seen all those years ago. I was right in the middle of that moving sea of protest. My wish, both powerfully and devastatingly, had come true.

To those who still have yet to listen: I am not going to stop shouting. I ask you to please think about the fact that millions of people are all, in unison, telling you that we are facing danger, that we demand better, that we need you to step up. If that isn’t worthy of your deep, concerted consideration and engagement, then I ask you one more thing: what ever will be?

honestly rukia was probably the most formative asian heroine of my childhood. nobody else could burn with kindness as fiercely as she could. who could snarl with such disdain, who could hunger so much to be a warrior, stalking across the battlefield with a sword glistening in her fist like a raw diamond.

i mean. here you have a dead girl, talking about justice. demanding for all spirits to be protected, demonstrating to our Male Shounen Protagonist what it means to be selfless, and a hero. she was thoughtful, earnest, and spoke her mind, and she never apologized for it.

Notes on the Black Bloc As Spectacle

Another brief thing which isn’t turning out so brief about the black bloc (which, can’t you tell, I fucking love as a tactic): it’s about the spectacle.

I’ve been to sizable marches in my time. Thousands of peeps marching through Roxbury to demand justice for murdered black folks, or through the Commons to stand in solidarity with Oaxaca. Fuck, the Women’s March is a great example. (Full disclosure, I couldn’t make it to the Women’s March; had to move.) But marches like that, tamely walking along permitted lines, taking streets that the police department lets you take? It’s over and done in a day, and it’s gone with nary a trace of its presence. No one talks about it tomorrow.

And lemme tell you, it’s fucking exhausting to be in those marches. You march and march and march, and for what? To be safely ignored once again? Out of the news cycle by the next evening? That’s disheartening, especially once you’ve done it a few times, and from a strategic standpoint that’s dangerous. Imagine a baby liberal going to their first protest. They’re fired up, they’re ready to take on capital and the state, but all they ever seem to do in their local ISO branch is walk in circles and sell newspapers, and then they get sick of it and leave more cynical and less willing to fight than they came in. No bueno.

But nothing is more striking than a few hundred masked-up ninja-looking motherfuckers who come in and smash some shit. That gets news attention. That gets police attention. And that gets liberals’ attention.

The news has something to obsess over for weeks to come. Anarchists are in the spotlight, blared across the media for days or weeks after the action, and while the coverage isn’t flattering, no publicity is bad publicity. The liberal who was sick of feeling powerless marching in circles? They see the anarchists over there smashing up a bank or decking a fascist, and they see someone empowered. They see someone doing something. And they want to get involved. And the cops are put in a no-win situation–focus on the tamer protesters and let the bloc run wild, or focus on the bloc and let the peaceful types take ground.

Of course the black bloc has tactical advantage beyond looking pretty. Anonymity, solidarity, and the psychological impact for the enemy of being confronted by someone just as organized and anonymous as they are, are all conducive to effective direct action. But we can’t and shouldn’t discount the value of propaganda of the deed.

Remember, when we fight, we win, so know how to fight!

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National Comrades, you have gathered here to demand justice.
But our beloved Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, was not murdered
by a foreign power, but by traitors in our midst!
The Ringleader of these traitors…Martin Heusmann…
attempted to deceive you.
Attempted to seize power for himself.
But his treason was exposed, by one of my most loyal men,
Obergruppenfuhrer John Smith.
The Reich thanks you.
The Reich salutes you.

On doit être, on se doit d'être les voix de ceux et celles qui n'en ont pas. On se doit de ne pas prendre la démocratie pour acquise. On se doit, on se doit de demander des comptes à nos élites. On se doit de demander des comptes à la police. On se doit de demander la justice, on se doit de demander la justice pour Théo, la justice pour Adama, la justice pour tout ceux dont on ne parlera pas. La justice pour vous, la justice pour vous et moi.
—  Imany, Victoires de la musique, 10/02/2017.