authors note: this is my secondever imagine/one shot. i hope you enjoy it. i’m sorry if there are any misspelling, errors or such, means i’ve simply just missed it. feel free to give me any kind of feedback as i greatly do appreciate it. also, sorry it’s so long ??? i got a bit carried away.
Closing the door behind me, I took a few steps to sit down on the lid of the toilet. Elbows resting on my knees, head heavy in my hands. Taking a few deep breaths I did the best I could to calm myself down. Knowing now was the worst possible time to even so much as knock on the door of anxiety. The need to slap myself across the face rose. A somewhat desperate attempt to knock myself out of the negativity and get my shit together. I knew it was not going to be easy. Heck. Everyone here knew it.
It's hilarious to me that you reblog a white cishet guy praising you for being an intersectional feminist and say that people can totally take issue if you do something racist or dismissive but simultaneously block each and every woman of color who disagrees with you or calls you out. Like. Do you seriously not see how crappy you're behaving?
I block terfs, anti feminists, biphobes and aphobes. I block people with toxic viewpoints that undermine the humanity of others and myself.
I don’t block women of color for disagreeing with me or calling me out. Do you have any example of that happening or is it just a thing you heard and blindly believed?
I’ve blocked people I’ve seen making posts about me that are, in no way, a callout but merely saying things like “lol liberal feminist geekandmisandry” or “i hate her” or “why does she still exist?”
Because, like… These are not callouts or disagreements, they are just people who don’t like me and they can but I’m not obliged to listen to everyone who wants to call me overrated or apply a label to me that I don’t apply to myself. There is a possibility that people amongst the massive group of those that I mentioned may be people of colour, but to try and state it like I block PoC who try to disagree with me is just flagrantly dishonest.
So, unless you have any actual examples of that happening then why are you here?
Alright, I have been wanting to do this for a while, if only
to sort out the thoughts in my head for a Walter/Daniels fanfic ;) They’re a work-in-progress right now, but I hope you guys like them anyway!
Okay, so ignoring that bullshit ending (what ending? It
ended with Walter promising to help Daniels build a log-cabin, duh)…
They get to Origae-6 and it’s everything they could have hoped for, really; Walter awakens Daniels first because she’s the captain and then Tennessee. They go to check the planet out first before waking any colonists (after the last time they set down on a new planet, they’re not taking any chances) and it’s just like they had planned it to be. No threats in sight, no weird alien eggs, no deserted spaceships, no rogue blonde androids.
So they set about getting the colonists out and soon they start constructing the houses and village for the colony. Walter, even with one hand, proves to be a great help. There are a few wary glances because surely the captain knows she has to decommission him, he was just there for the journey but no one says a word. On Daniels’ request, a spare hand is found and attached to Walter (“Well, you’re more efficient this way,” She shrugs when he thanks her)
The question of what happened to the rest of the crew arises, of course, and Daniels has to decide whether to tell the truth or to spare them with a white lie. She doesn’t think that David will be able to find them, not unless he somehow finds another spaceship – and even so, it would be a seven year journey. However, surely the deceased crew deserve to be remembered and respected with honour, for their bravery? To her surprise, it’s Tennessee who suggests tweaking the truth – there would be no point in worrying the colonists, after all.
“There was a neutrino burst, and unfortunately we lost most of the crew because of it” – it’s not a lie, not really, but it’s not exactly the whole truth either.
After the final buildings have been constructed and the colony is celebrating, Walter approaches Daniels with the decommission pack and presents it to her silently. Tennessee pretends not to notice and puts some distance between himself and the two of them, suddenly interested in his beer.
Daniels just smiles weakly, “You still have to help me with my cabin – you’re not getting off that easy” – and for now that’s enough to make Walter nod in agreement because he did promise. She knows, however, that she won’t have that excuse forever.
They find a spot a short distance away from the colony, surrounded by beautiful foliage and by a lake; it’s perfect, just what her husband would have wanted. She hasn’t got a clue what the fuck to do, how to start, but Walter is more than adept; now with two hands, he helps to measure everything so that it’s correctly proportioned, memorises the blueprints and starts to help her replicate them.
Tennessee offers to help at first, but he steps down because he knows that this is something that Daniels and Walter have to do, just the two of them – he’d only be over-stepping a boundary, he feels.
It takes just over a month for the cabin to be built and finished, furnishings and all. Daniels feels unwell when she notices the bed that should have been for two and not one, when she looks around and wishes Jake were with her to celebrate – because this was what he dreamed of, why he had wanted to do this mission.
She spends that first night in the cabin alone, looking at photos of her husband and drinking beer that Tennessee has slipped to her. Walter leaves her, knowing that she needs some time alone. In the early hours after midnight, Daniels finds herself wishing that she’d asked Walter to stay with her – if only for some company.
The next afternoon, when Daniels rejoins the main colony area, Walter again presents her with the decommission pack – and she doesn’t have an excuse now really. At least, not a viable one. It’s her duty, she knows, as the captain to decommission Walter so that his parts can be used as building materials and the like, it’s what she has to do. She finds herself at a loss for words.
Tennessee steps in and jokes that they need his help taking apart the ship and storing things still – the colony is not completely settled just yet. Walter frowns, not quite understanding, but doesn’t argue.
Another week passes, and again Walter approaches Daniels with the decommission pack – she hesitates before making her decision right there and then: she can’t. She absolutely refuses to decommission him because she doesn’t know what she’d do without him.
“No, I’m not doing it.” Walter frowns. “But you are the captain. It is your duty-” “Fuck duty,” She interrupts. “I’m not decommissioning you, Walter. You’re a friend, and you deserve to be a part of this colony just as much as anyone else.” Tennessee just shrugs and grins. “You heard the lady – captain’s orders.”
Daniels starts to spend more and more time with Walter in the cabin they built; she doesn’t want to face the colonists, doesn’t want to have to force herself to smile for him – with Walter, he doesn’t care if she has to feel grief, she doesn’t have to pretend. Sometimes just knowing that he’s there, ready to listen and not make any judgements, is enough.
She has nightmares nearly every night, of course; about Jacob in the pod, about the aliens, about David. One night, she wakes sweating and crying – and she realizes that she doesn’t want to be alone, she doesn’t feel safe alone, so she throws one of Jacob’s old coats on and sets out for the colony area.
Walter doesn’t need to sleep, of course – he’s instead in a small tent reading to pass the time. He hears her footsteps and her breathing and exits the tent to find what’s wrong. To his surprise, Daniels is close to tears when she sees him and she wraps her arms around him; she doesn’t want to be alone, she’s terrified, so could he please just for tonight stay in the cabin with her? Not necessarily in the same room, she amends hurriedly, just in the cabin so that she knows she’s safe for the night.
It’s his duty to look after the crew and colonists, so he agrees immediately.
When Daniels awakes the next morning, hair sticking up and rings around her eyes, Walter is attempting to make her breakfast – he doesn’t eat it himself, but he thinks he knows how to make human food well enough.
(He really doesn’t – she nearly gags but she forces it down with a smile because it’s the thought that counts. She can teach him later how to scramble eggs, he’s a good learner)
That evening, as she retreats to the cabin after a day of dealing with the colonists, she looks back at Walter and hesitantly asks if perhaps he’ll stay the night again, just in the small area between the bedroom and the kitchen, so that she can feel safe. He sees no problems or errors with this, so he agrees and follows her there.
She has a nightmare that night about a dark creature ramming against glass, teeth bared, and she wakes screaming; Walter is there, checking her pulse and offering well-chosen words of comfort. Despite being a synthetic, his touch his surprisingly gentle and warm, and Daniels finds herself calming down. It’s not long until he soothes her back into sleep, albeit a short and groggy one that leaves her feeling tired – but not scared.
Within a few weeks, this has become the norm – and everyone has noticed it too. There are roughly two-thousand colonists, and it doesn’t take long for tongues to wag at the very idea that the captain is “shacking up” with an android of all things. Tennessee, the only one besides Walter and Daniels themselves, is the only one who knows the truth and he shuts down anyone who he hears bad-mouthing; the colonists like him because he is usually so easy-going, but on this topic he’s deadly serious.
As expected, it doesn’t take long at all before the colony begins to expand; pregnancies are being announced left and right, and it’s difficult to keep track of which couples are however far along. There are doctors in the colony, of course, but it’s surprisingly Walter who knows some of the best tactics to ease morning sickness or ease cramps. He knows how to work and fix equipment, he knows how far along each and every pregnant woman is, no confusion to be found, and the colony eases a tad with him – he is rather helpful.
And then, the following spring, someone goes into labour; it’s the first birth in the colony, and so everyone is rather on-edge – only Walter is unaffected, merely calculating the dilation of the cervix and estimating how long it will be until the baby arrives. His voice is smooth and comforting to the birthing mother, and he does not wince when she grips his hand so tight it would draw blood – if he had blood, that is. It takes a mere half an hour before the first ever baby – a girl – is squalling and kicking in the open.
Word spreads that Walter is a truly marvellous birthing partner; he doesn’t once lose his cool, remaining perfectly composed even as others are panicking. The colonists warm up to him even more, and everyone is suddenly glad that he wasn’t decommissioned. They overlook the fact that he spends every night in Daniels’ cabin for now – he’s only an android, after all, and the captain is mourning her husband still: nothing too untoward could be occurring, surely.
A couple of years after their arrival on Origae-6, Daniels realizes that she has feelings for Walter; she hadn’t thought she’d ever have feelings for another man, not after her husband, but she does – and it’s Walter, her friend, her confidante. Part of her argues that she should ignore it because he’s a synthetic and so it would be silly to assume – but then a wild, once-active part of her is stirring and it’s saying “who gives a fuck?” and “it’s now or never” because who knows what the future will bring?
Because this is Walter, and he is polite and sweet, it is Daniels who has to make “the first move”, and Walter hesitates for a number of reasons: for one, she is probably still grieving and saddened over the loss of her husband, so much so that she feels lonely. Secondly, he’s a synthetic and so he’s not sure that he can technically love like a human can – and that is not fair on Daniels, he feels. Finally, he’s sure that this would be crossing a line; Daniels has respect as the captain, and Walter is appreciated somewhat for his work, but the two of them together would be crossing a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed, surely.
Daniels, frankly, couldn’t give a fuck. “I don’t give a fuck,” She tells him with a shrug.
The truth is, however, that he’s somewhat hesitant because he does feel something for her – and he’s worried that this means he is becoming like David, that he is malfunctioning. A part of him is almost-afraid that he’s becoming dangerous, that he’ll be a threat to the colony – a threat to Daniels.
Suddenly two soft hands are on his face, a voice quiet and low; “you’re not anything like him,” She whispers firmly. “He was evil and deluded – but you, Walter, you’re good and kind.”
(A quick self-evaluation on himself reveals no malfunctions or short-circuits whatsoever, and a part of him is actually a bit relieved)
Daniels’ cabin becomes their cabin – it always has been, really, but now it’s slightly more official.
Nothing greatly changes, really; he does not sleep in the bed with her, though sometimes he will sit on the side until she falls asleep – and he is always close by in case he’s needed. He still makes awful breakfasts and tells awful jokes that make her laugh and wrinkle her nose. Now they hold hands in the privacy of the cabin; awkward kisses on the top of her head become more natural and fluid as they grow into their relationship.
It takes a few weeks before she notes that they haven’t actually kissed yet; Walter cocks his head and asks if that is something she would like. Daniels grins and clarifies that it’s only if he wants to because he’s not going to be forced into anything just because he’s a synthetic. He considers for a moment before giving a nod and deciding that yes, he does want to kiss her. It’s not exactly a perfect first kiss, it takes him a moment to learn and memorise the technique, but she’s smiling brightly afterwards and that makes him happier than he thought he would be.
Since I missed writing good old Dean smut, I started this oneshot and then I got carried away a bit and it got longer than my usual work, but I think it is worth reading because there´s some semi-serious plot to this and also I love jealous!Dean.
Summary: After reading the supernatural books and finding out with just how many woman your boyfriend Dean has been before you, you decide to make him jealous in a bar.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Length: 2100 ish
Warnings: jealous!Dean, jealous!reader, angry sex, kind of public sex, rough sex i guess, language
When you put aside the
last edition of the supernatural books, you didn´t know what to
think. You course you already knew most of the stories that had
happened before you´d met the Winchesters, but what you didn´t
know, was that your boyfriend, Dean, had slept with basically every
woman on the planet. Some kind of weird irritation settled down in
your stomach and you knew that it was jealousy. Even though you
knew it was probably not justified because it all happened before you
even knew Dean, it was there, suddenly consuming you with an
When you sat down at the
kitchen counter for dinner, your immediate anger had faded a little
but you were still in a pretty bad mood. Sam sat down beside you,
obviously not aware of your state of mind, and smiled: “Hey (Y/N),
do you wanna go out with us later? We´re heading to the local
bar.” Usually you would have shrugged and agreed, but today you
frowned: “So that I can see a thousand skanks flirting with Dean
while you beat me in pool? No, thank you.” A surprised look
spread over Sam´s face: “Alright then, I guess.” He seemed
like he was about to ask something but then Dean entered the room:
“I´ve got some veggie crap for Sammy, french fries and chicken
nuggets for (Y/N) and for myself a chilly cheeseburger with fries.
And thanks to the awfully nice waitress, I´ve got ketchup for
all of us for free.” You looked down at your food, the anger
welling up in you again: “So did you sleep with her too?”, you
asked bitterly and knew that it was probably childish but you didn´t
care. Another look at Sam and Dean´s confused faces and your
appetite was gone: “I´m not hungry”, you said and quickly
hurried out of the room.
It is a foggy Tuesday morning and the students of Anthropology 206 are sleepily watching a video on birds-of-paradise. As we observe the beautiful male birds work to impress the less vibrant lady birds, one of the boys leans back in his chair, legs apart, and nudges his friend while saying in a carrying whisper, “Lucky it’s the other way around for humans.”
The women in the classroom stiffen.
And I know he’s talking about makeup and fashion and how he believes women look good to appeal to guys – look good for guys, for guys, only for guys – and that each and every woman he’s ever been attracted to must simply ache to perform their own mating dance and win over men like him who do so little to appeal themselves to us.
But I also know that his manspreading makes space for nothing but his own inflated ego. No woman in this room will settle between his thighs.
“Lucky we don’t have to do any of the work,” he says. “Lucky we don’t have to dance for it.”
Multiple people asked for it, so here it is! Soulren Marks part 2!
3 months later—-
I strolled down the street, a wide grin spread across my face. I was going to meet with my four new favorite people, to discuss ‘Soulren Marks’ and who they may be.
I still found their clueless thoughts quite amusing, seeing as they all were extremely intelligent. I was going to wait for the perfect moment to tell them who I am. But, I was scared honestly. Women weren’t exactly expected to be writers. They want us to all be submissive wife’s who clean their house and bear their children.
I intend on being successful, which is why I haven’t let any man court me yet. I need to make my path clear as Soulren Marks. I am just grateful that one of my best friends’s husband is the owner of the largest newspaper in New York. He respects me and publishes my writings under my pen name.
I saw the boys sitting outside of the tea shop soon enough, and I waved softly.
Alexander waved me over swiftly, holding up one of my newest articles. The rest of the boys just watched me, warm smiles on their faces.
I took a step forward, only to feel a strong hand catch around my wrist. I turned my head slightly to see a member of the English army, red coat and all, clasping my wrist. I stood up straight, making my body seem as large as possible, even though this man was maybe five inches taller than me.
The four boys I had grown close too stiffened, and Lafayette rose to his feet slowly.
“Um, can I help you sir?”
“You can help me by coming to spend some time with me.”
“I’m afraid that is not necessary sir. Could you please leave me alone?”
“I see no ring on your finger. And to not be married at your age, I presume early 20′s, you must be a prostitute.”
This man did not just call me a prostitute. He may be a member of that damned king’s army, but he must at least have some morals.
“Let go of my arm right now you Lobster Back.” I sneered, keeping my face forward. Suddenly, the British soldier had my face in one of his hands, and turned my head sharply to look at him.
“You are a woman. You have no right to speak to me that way.”
“I have all the rights in heaven and hell to speak to you that way you bastard.” I snarled back, yanking my head away from his grasp.
A hand connected with my face, the impact throwing me onto the ground. My satchel flew to my right, and my soft grey dress fanned out underneath me.
In an instant, Alexander, Hercules, John, and Lafayette were at my side. John and Lafayette helped me to my feet, while Alexander and Hercules screamed in the soldiers face.
All eyes were on us, as we were in the middle of the street, starting this argument. I stood in between John and Lafayette, rubbing my cheek and watching as Alexander backed the soldier into a wall.
They yelled back and forth, until one sentence caught me off guard.
“So she is a prostitute! That is the only way she can have so many men rush to her aid! Stupid whore!”
That was it. I had enough.
“If you knew who I truly was, you would be trembling in your boots along with the rest of your ignorant battalion!” I shouted, stepping forward.
I was enraged by what this man was saying. He was a disrespect to any soldier of any army, and was just a scum of mankind.
“Stop speaking like Soulren Marks you whore! You’re stupid revolutionary writer is not going to back some prostitute!” He yelled back, rising to his feet and pushing Alexander to the ground.
“What if I told you I was Soulren Marks! Would you believe me, or call me a stupid woman like you have been for the past few minutes?” I shouted, catching the attention of everyone on the street with the name of my writer persona.
“Y-You’re Soulren Marks?” A man asked, taking a step towards the commotion.
I nodded, my eyes connecting with the mans. I watched his eyes dilate, realization striking through him. He stormed forward, grabbing the soldier by the collar.
“How dare you disrespect Soulren Marks!” He shouted, causing the street to erupt into a roar. People stormed out of the shops, getting closer.
“How can you believe this woman? Women don’t write! Women are inferior!”
“Lies! (Y/N) is an honestly girl. The entirety of New York knows this! We believe her!” A lawyer who operated down the street from my house shouted, throwing a smile my way.
The four of my friends pulled me away from the commotion, allowing the townspeople to handle the soldier.
“Is it true Mon Ami? Are you really Soulren Marks?” Lafayette asked, staring down at me.
I nodded softly, looking up to meet for pairs of excited eyes. Alexander suddenly pulled me into a hug, babbling about how he adored my writing.
John pulled me away from Alexander’s grasp, taking one of my hands in his own.
“I’m-We’re sorry for not stepping in sooner (Y/N). I mean, we know you can handle yourself, but that was a British soldier. What if more showed up? It was Hercules who finally decided when it was time to step in.” John said, looking down.
I squeezed his hand softly, smiling up at him.
“You boys couldn’t have come at a better time. Thank you all so much.” I beamed, leaning up to kiss each boys cheek. They obviously enjoyed it, cause a blush dusted each of their faces soon afterwards
“So, should we go sit down? You have a lot to explain (Y/N).” Hercules said, holding out his arm. I took it gingerly, allowing him to lead me over to a table.
Due to an incident that occurs a few days ago, my true identity has come to light.
My name is not Soulren Marks, but is actually (Y/N) (L/N).
Yes, I am a woman.
No, that doesn’t mean you need to stop this strong uprising for the revolution. I will still be one of your catalysts. Woman or man, Soulren Marks is a collective mind, not just one of my own. Marks’s name is tied to each and every man and woman who understand how important this revolution is.
I will continue to write my articles long into the revolution, and I strongly encourage men to sign up for the Continental Army. Our nation needs the largest and strongest army as possible to win this war.
Keeps your heads high, and your hearts strong dearests, for the revolution has begun, and may we show England what consequences it has to disrupt our lives.
Hi! I'm new in feminism and new in radical feminism. Lately I've seen many radfem blogs talking about/against liberal feminists, but, I've found no blogs dedicated to spread libfem ideals/thought. Why is that? What is libfem then? Thanks!
Okay! So this is a really good question, because I don’t often see it explained. Liberal feminism doesn’t usually have the qualifier “liberal” attached unless it’s being differentiated from radical feminism, because it’s basically what people are talking about when they say “mainstream feminism” or “popular feminism”. So the blogs that are “dedicated to spreading libfem ideals” aren’t calling themselves libfems - they’re just going to call themselves feminists. This is perfectly fine, but that’s the reason why you can’t find any “libfem” blogs.
The main difference [between liberal feminism and radical feminism] is that liberal feminism tries to work within the system to get women to achieve positions of power in it. Radical feminism wants to take the system down and rebuild it from scratch.
Libfems try to find power within patriarchy (makeup is empowering! porn is empowering! gender is empowering and fun to play with! etc.) while radfems want to destroy the patriarchal system entirely (gender abolitionism is part of this idea). Liberal feminism is very individualistic - individual choices rule and criticizing what women “choose” to do (like wearing makeup for example) is tantamount to a personal attack against each and every woman who “chooses” to do that thing (while completely ignoring the effects of sex-based socialization and how some “choices” aren’t really within our control). Radical feminism is a lot more collectivist - our interests lie in women as an oppressed class, which is why having a definition of “woman” that isn’t reliant on circular reasoning is very important to us.
Honestly there is so much more to say, but I could never fit it all into one blog post! So here is that complete post from shamelesslyunladylike that I quoted earlier, and here is a great article from Trouble & Strife (it’s more about gender, but the ‘old’ gender / ‘new’ gender chart explains another difference between radical feminism and liberal feminism). I hope I’ve helped you and I wish you luck as you journey into radical feminism! :) - mod rfp
Title: Stranger Inside Year: 2001 Language: US (English)
Plot: After being transferred to new women’s correctional facility Treasure finds herself facing a reunion with her estranged mother in a rough a brutal environment. Drugs and violence start to be replaced by love and friendship as a new hope is found in Brownie.
Very similar themes to the Netflix series Orange is the New Black. A women’s prison, full of sex, drugs, violence and a few deep emotional scars to slowly reveal themselves.
The cast are diverse and represent many different cliche prison characters, each with their own mystery and depth. Namely Kit, who is played by Rain Phoenix (sister of River & Joaquin).
The deeper issues portrayed are that of broken families, lives full of drugs and crime and the deep search for peace in their pasts and futures.
The film beautifully portrays each culture sensitively and every woman comes equip with her own strength and opportunity to develop.
“Carol is a cold-hearted bitch!” aka Are You Watching With Your Eyes Closed?!
It’s a sad fact that it’s somehow become a sport to trash Carol, mostly for the simple reason that she’s…well, Carol. A lot of people - when being called out on their constant bashing - try to explain their hatred towards this character by claiming she turned into someone who’s cold, hard and doesn’t give a shit. But sorry folks, if that’s how you perceive her behaviour then we are clearly not watching the same show, and the Pete confrontation in 5x14 is the best (latest) example for that.
The first shot alone, when she’s knocking on their door, shows how much Carol doesn’t want to be there:
What some need to remember (because they apparently just love to ignore/forget) is that Carol has been a victim of physical and psychological abuse and violence for years. It might seem at times that this part of her life doesn’t have any control over her anymore, but abuse results in psychological damage that is both severe and long-term, and includes symptoms of PTSD such as panic, anxiety and negative self-perception. There’s no way to just ‘get over it’; especially not in the freaking zombie apocalypse, where the luxury of time to heal simply doesn’t exist and you’re also facing and doing horrible things on a daily basis to add to the damage already done.
So yes, Carol is definitely still affected by what was done to her by Ed, but she is not ignoring the Pete/Jessie/Sam situation; instead she faces her own past, her own personal demons, by talking to the guy who might be practicing the same kind of systematic oppression as her own husband, and it’s a huge deal! Victims of domestic abuse and violence try to avoid triggers they associate with it, so it’s disgustingly ignorant to think it was easy for Carol to knock on that door.
She is confronting herself with a situation she couldn’t escape for so long and how this makes her feel is also made clear in how this scene is shot:
Carol’s perspective has us looking up at Pete, he’s towering over her, to emphasize how small, how inferior she feels in that moment and how much power and dominance she attributes to him.
Switching to Pete’s pov, Carol almost looks…cornered. She is so out of her ‘comfort zone’, she must feel terribly trapped having to deal with what might be going on between Pete and his family and by putting herself right in the middle of it.
Carol might have been able to keep up her facade of cheery and undisturbed housewife so far, but in this moment, where she’s faced with the possibility of Ed 2.0, even she can no longer pretend. It’s too much.
So no, Carol is not cold or hard, and she most definitely does give a shit (a lot of shits actually). So much so that she feels like she has to do something about what Sam hinted at, even though it means exposing herself to triggering circumstances she didn’t want to be confronted with ever again. No matter how the abuse storyline turns out, what Carol did there was fucking brave.
i’ve been watching loads of history documentaries today - don’t ask why and i got the inspiration to write this. it’s meant to be set in a patriarchal era so apologies for the slightly demeaning events that take place. and yep, val and maks are meant to be nonidentical twins in this piece
For all my Muslim sisters who are “reclaiming the bindi”
I was curious as to the cultural implications of the bindi/ tika since so many Desi Muslims have become offended at white women (and only white women) who appropriate the bindi/ tika and are seeking to “reclaim” it. So I searched through different fataawa from scholars in the Indian subcontinent and found some interesting opinions.
Zakir Naik answers some questions from Hindu’s:
BINDI AND MANGALSUTRA
Why do the Muslim married
women not put bindi or tika on the forehead
and wear Mangalsutra, like Hindu married women?
Bindi or tika Bindi is derived from
the sanskrit word bindu, which means a ‘dot’. It is usually a red
dot made with vermilion powder and is worn by the Hindu women between their
eyebrows on their forehead.
Bindi is considered a
symbol of ‘Parvati’ and signifies female energy which is believed by Hindus
to protect women and their husbands. It is traditionally a symbol of marriage
and is worn by the Hindu married women. It is also called as tika.
Bindi has become a fashion Nowadays, wearing bindi has
become a fashion and is even worn by unmarried girls and women. The shape of
the bindi is no longer restricted to a dot and is available
in various shapes, including oval, star, heart shaped, etc. It is even
available in different bright colours like blue, green, yellow, orange, etc.
The material of the bindi is no longer restricted to
vermilion powder, but is made of coloured felt and other material. It is also
available in a variety of designs in combination with coloured glass,
Mangalsutra means a thread of good-will. It is a necklace worn specially by
Hindu married women as a symbol of their marriage. It consists of two strings
of black beads with a pendant usually of gold. The black beads are believed
to act as a protection against evil. It is believed to protect the women’s
marriage and the life of her husband. In southern India, mangalsutra is
called tali, which is a small gold ornament string on a cotton cord or a gold
Hindu Married women are never supposed to remove their mangalsutra.
It is only cut off when a Hindu lady becomes a widow.
Allah Is the Protector
Allah (swt), our Creator, is the best to protect human beings. We do not
require any red dot or black thread to protect us from evil. It is mentioned
in the Glorius Qur’an in Surah Anam Chapter 6 verse 14
“Say: Shall I take for my protector any other than Allah,
the Maker of the heavens and the earth?”
It is mentioned in several places in the Glorius Qur’an
Surah Ali Imran Chapter 3 Verse 150 and Surah Alhajj Chapter 22 Verse 78
“Allah is your Protector, and He is the best of
Wearing a bindi or mangalsutra signifies
a lack of faith in Almighty God, our Creator, who is the best to protect.
Against the Islamic Dress Code Wearing a bindi or mangalsutra is
a sign of Hindu women. The Islamic dress code does not permit a Muslim to
wear any sign, symbol or mark which is specially significant of a non-Muslim.
In Islam, Both Married and Unmarried women should not be Teased
Once, a Hindu friend of mine, while mentioning the benefits of mangalsutra said
that it easily identifies a married women, and thus prevents them from being
teased and molested. According to Islam, each and every woman, whether
married or unmarried, Muslim or Non-Muslim, should neither be teased nor
Faraz Rabbani issued this fatwa in response to a question:
I would like to know if it is permissible for women to wear a bindi/tikka or those little decorations on their head when getting married? I have seen many Muslim women wearing this however, I have been told by my older relatives (who are very cultural making it hard to believe them) that this is not allowed in Islam as it is imitating Hindu culture. However, Hindus only use it as it plays a significance in their religious traditions whereas the Muslim women I know who use it, only use it for the purpose of decoration and making themselves look beautiful but not to offend anyone or Islam.
Given the religious connotations of such a practice, one is expected to avoid it.
As for other people, one should correct them in a positive, wise, and gentle manner that keeps in mind priorities and promotes the good rather than turning them away from the good and from the guidance of the Shariah.
How to Command the Good and Forbid the Wrong
And Allah alone gives success.
Mufti Abu bakr Karolia answered a similar question
In the name of Allah the All-Knowing
1) The bindi also known as the ?holy dot" is seen in Hinduism as a symbol of Uma or Parvati, which are names of a Hindu deity who is a consort of Shiva (which is another idol of the Hindu faith). A bindi is believed by Hindus to protect women and their husbands through these idols. None of these Hindu notions have a place in Islamic doctrine.
Even though the bindi has now become a decorative item of jewellery in other continents such as Europe and America. For a Muslim Female, whether young or old to deliberately impersonate or resemble other religions is extremely sinful and Haram.
Rasulullah Sallallahu Alaihi Wassalam has said, ?Whosoever impersonates a nation will be from them (on the day of Reckoning)?.(Mishkaat)
A Muslim male or female does not adorn him or herself with symbols of idols and deities other than Allah.
Scholars of Deoband issued this fatwa:
Assalaamu ‘alaikum Is it permissible for a woman to wear a tika or mathaputi (forehead jewellery)? Do these have any religious connotations for hindus? JazakAllah khairan.
Tika (forehead jewellery) is a Hindu custom. Muslim women should refrain from using it. The Hadth says: من تشبہ بقوم فھو منھم
Allah (Subhana Wa Ta’ala) knows Best
Darul Ifta, Darul Uloom Deoband
I thought these were interesting and could help the Muslims out a lot. These are all Desi scholars so I’m sure they are well aware of the culture and as we all know culture does not come before deen.
“Everything can be read, every surface and silence, every breath and every vacancy, every eddy and current, every body and its absence, every darkness every light, each cloud and knife, each finger and tree, every backwater, every crevice and hollow, each nostril, tendril and crescent, every whisper, every whimper, each laugh and every blue feather, each stone, each nipple, every thread every color, each woman and her lover, every man and his mother, every river, each of the twelve blue oceans and the moon, every forlorn link, every hope and every ending, each coincidence, the distant call of a loon, light through the high branches of blue pines, the sigh of rain, every estuary, each gesture at parting, every kiss, each wasp’s wing, every foghorn and railway whistle, every shadow, every gasp, each glowing silver screen, every web, the smear of starlight, a fingertip, rose whorl, armpit, pearl, every delight and misgiving, every unadorned wish, every daughter, every death, each woven thing, each machine, every ever after”