i like my skin color leave me alone

mutantgurls  asked:

How about an au where lance is galra and has to deal with prejudice from the people he's saving.

How about just stabbing me right now

Lance was proud of his heritage, he was Galra. He was part of one of last pure blood in the entire species. Lance was proud of that. Growing up he thought that being Galra was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. He was mistaking. 

-

Lance was around 14 when he realized that the Galra wasn’t what he was taught in school. By ready journals from his father (who was a high ranking soldier) Lance learned that he had been lied to his entire life. Lance couldn’t believe what he read. They killed people. They destroyed planets. For what? Zarkon?

Lance didn’t sleep that night. 

-

Lance was 17 when he ran away from home. He couldn’t deal with the lies anymore. He couldn’t deal with the fact that his father was the only in his family that knew the truth. He couldn’t deal with listening to one more ‘proud Galren’ speech. 

-

After bouncing from planet to planet Lance found himself as the Blue Paladin. He could tell that Allura wasn’t happy that Blue chose him, but no one had ever seen a stronger bond between paladin and lion before.  

Lance eventually learned to deal with Allura’s hard stare and unapproachable personality. At least Coran eventually opened up to him. 

Allura wasn’t the only aliens to jump the gun on Lance. It was not uncommon for Lance to have to dodge weapons from people that they saved. It also wasn’t uncommon for people to run inside the nearest builden they saw when Lance walk down a street with the other paladins. 

Lance eventually broke. 

-

Lance was flying back from a particularly hard mission. The city that they saved held a party in Voltrons name, however they “forgot” to invite the right leg. 

Lance sat in Blue while the other paladins have fun at their party. He was the first one to take off when the other paladins reached their lions. 

Allura’s voice blasted through the coms, “Great work out there paladins! Shiro you did an ex…” 

Lance tuned her out, she did this after every mission.  She would compliment everyone on what they did right but only criticize Lance on what he needed to work on. 

“Lance? Did you hear me? You can’t fly that rough with the blue lion. You’ll end up damaging her.” 

“Yes Princess.”

“I do not wish to schedule extras practices for you, but I will. You need to improve your skills so you are a valuable member of Voltron.” 

Lance snapped. “With all do respect Princess but can you stop? Every mission I have to deal with stares and people running away from me, all because of my skin color. They see purple and immediately run or treat me like garbage.” Lance swallowed. “What did I ever do to hurt you? The only people I have ever hurt is my family. That’s only because I left them without an excuse. So yes Princess I will fly better and continue to improve myself so I can kill Zarkon and leave you alone just like you want.” Lance turned off his coms. 

A few minutes later Lance landed Blue in her hanger and just sat there shaking. Allura enter the hanger but Blue activated her barrier. She wanted to protect from her pilot from anymore pain. 

*Cries* 

I love Galra Lance tbh 

I hope you like it!

Thank you for this!

C: So I was having a conversation with my coworker who is 17 year old black male. He himself is boarder line dark skin and he said he don’t like dark skin and they look dirty and he much rather light skin. And of course he continued that with the “That’s just my preference” bullshit. I  asked him, “Is that what you think of me?” and he said, “No, cause you’re brown skin.” But that shit still made no sense.

So I got stuck and was just looking at him thinking, “Do I leave it alone or say something?” I couldn’t hold it in and told him, “That’s ignorance.” Now the reason I got stuck is because I hate taking about colorism. Like, this ain’t nothing new but it still blew my mind that he would say that and he’s actually someone I’m cool with. After that conversation he basically blew it off and changed the subject and I felt funny after. Like, should I continue to even talk to him outside of business? It would seem silly not to stop talking to him because he’s not the first guy I know to think that way but to actually hear it blew my mind. And I have a light skin cousin who clearly thinks the same thing but Im not even mad because they are blind to their own self hate. 

Shame to say this but I used to think that way too. But I can also admit that I was insecure. But I’ve grown to love myself and see the beauty in black people no matter the shade. 

Although I have brown skin I know there’s men out there who will still think I’m ugly because Im not as light but I don’t care about that. My biggest concern is having a daughter who is dark skin and someone dare telling her she ugly because they are blinded by colorism. My plan is to teach her as much self love so people like my coworker don’t make her insecure. And I just wish the older generation would’ve taught us black is beautiful so this shit can finally stop being the topic of conversation

I’ve seen loads of Gay/Lesbian and Transgender/nonbinary brothers and sisters get attacked by fake-woke uwu bullies lately due to how they identify sexually and contrary to fake-woke self righteous white people politics that is really not okay, because here’s the thing; Nothing about gender makes it more valid as a basis for attraction than sex.
If attraction based on sex is reducing people to their genitals then attraction based on gender is reducing people to their pronouns, so you’re fine
. Scientists didn’t repeatedly prove that we’re born with our sexuality innately and that many species of animals exhibit homosexuality and ignore/refuse to interact with the opposite sex even as scientists tried to get them to mate only for you to be like “Yo homosexual penguins, stop reducing other peguins to their genitals”. This newly adopted fake-woke ideology recently has warranted attacks on trans and gay and erased how sex has been a determining factor in our oppression as lgbt in different ways. Literally nothing about gender makes it the should-be basis of attraction or more relevant to one’s character than sex, specially when we grow up in a society that literally determines everything about an infant from their position to be, roles, expectations and entire existence/experience based on whether they have a penis or a vagina(and even intersex kids with ambiguous genitals are socialized based on how “close enough” their bits are to one pair or the other) as they map it out where sex and gender are synonymous and thus why transphobia hurts ppl.
So leave Gay, Trans and nonbinary people who identify with their sexuality exclusively and experience exclusive sexual orientation alone. Your new-found beliefs/understanding of character have developed and existed for a whole of 5 minutes while LGBT(and nonbinary ppl) been living like this for years. Stop literally celebrating gay men’s murder and persecution by saying “yeah lol, penis-fetishizing creeps deserve it and I hope they all get put in camps and choke tbh” stop celebrating a Nigerian woman’s rape because you think she’s a “creepy vagina fetishist” or it is not the right way to be gay. Stop claiming to be lgbt positive blogs then constantly be reblogging these Neo-“hearts not parts” posts of 2k17 that you do not realise the undertones of are used against homosexual, bi and trans/nonbinary people in awful ways, calm down, it’s not the first time our sexuality has been credited to genitial obsession, you’re not original, that’s LITERALLY homophobia 101 boo and what homosexuality is defined as to bigots. Also stop being racist, not every culture has been introduced to John money, the white feminist movement of the 50s and a gender psychology studies class (entirely based on western experience), you can’t be out here calling gay Ethiopian Men trash for not agreeing with your western queer politics. You’re both homophobic and Transphobic. The sex element is what has been centeral to our opression both as cis and trans, we got persecuted when both people in the relationship were the same sex because that’s precisely the element they see as deviant, unnatural.

Acting like sex based attraction is just a superficial physical thing that’s not deep and not really about loving the person themselves and that somehow gender is deeper is hilarious because sex isn’t just some irrelevant part of who we are, sex has deepy affected us all(acknowledging that don’t invalidate nobody, like it’s just a thing that’s a thing), it’s why sexism, misogyny, homophobia and transphobia exist and it shaped our lives, sex is a physical characteristic (like skin color) that has shaped our perception, pov, mental and psychological structure/development due to treatment and conditioning, prespective due to conditioning, socialization, wiring, interaction with society and who we are today as a result of all that experience being a part of us, sex is an experience and something that heavily influences one’s character not just genitals (just like how race and being black isn’t just “dark skin having” and is something that heavily affects who we are and our character due to how we get treated) and thus it’s a very deep rooted complex mental and psychological thing that isn’t just superficial. Pretending sex is just “*insert genitial pair* having" is like saying being a certain race is “dark skin having” , neither are just constructs of having something but physical characteristics/material realities that society has based our treatment on and have a deeply rooted a historical structure in society based on em. (This is exactly like when “progressive” hippie white people first got involved in activism and said irrelevant things like “I don’t see color” like race hadn’t shaped our lives and oh slavery? That old thing, so irrelevant.) When it comes to sexuality no one can reevaluate anything because that would suggest that sexuality is a conclusion, not an innate primal thing that’s as innate as our skin color, in our Dna, it entails that being gay is a thought-driven decision that leads to a conclusion we choose to make but that’s not the case and it didn’t take us years to prove we’re born this way away from all social structures/expectations . Whether we’re heterosexual, bisexual or homosexual we’re all born this way, we can’t change it. Hit me up when ya visit homosexual *insert the longest list of all animals that exhibit homosexuality* that ignore the presence of the opposite sex, not mating and be pissing off the church cause so I can watch you say “Hearts not parts Barbra, stop reducing monkeys to their genitials” like??? Sex is just as important as gender. Sex determines and shapes our lives from childhood, my life has been shaped by 2 things; my skin color and my sex and it hasn’t been great. Leave trans & nonbinary peeps who’s attraction is sex based alone and stop calling them fake/betraying, y'all attack Trans brothers and sisters then call gay men and women “ creepy disgusting genitials obsessed fetishistic pedophiles-like freaks”. You homophobic and Transphobic nasty stop, it aint cute and it’s transparent af. At this point who said it anymore? Homophobic Conversion therapist from the 50s or fake-woke white tumblr kid? Homosexuality has existed for years primally and innately, your new-found ideological awakenning because you took an entirely western based gender-studies has existed for a whole of minutes, leave lgbt alone.

ursulacousland  asked:

11) when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more for Rhyssa/Fenris or Eliza/Garrus, your choice. :)

Hi everyone, here’s some DA2 Act 3 Rhyssa sadness! 

**********

Orana is hovering over a pot of stew when Hawke comes in to the kitchen. There are tear streaks on the girl’s face, constantly washed clean and then replaced by a new wave of tears, but she makes no sound as she stirs, and stirs, and stirs.

Hawke pauses in the doorway. She wants to embrace Orana, give her what comfort she can, but she smells herself, all fire and blood and lyrium, and knows she looks a soot-stained and bruised horror. There’s no comfort within her power to give. Better to stick to the plan, and get Orana safely away. Alive and terrified is better than dead, after all.

“It’s time, Orana,” Hawke says, gently as she can, but her voice is raw from too many screams, and Orana curls in on herself. “Douse the fire, we have to go.”

Keep reading

Briste | Chapter 12

Briste | Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11


My father once said that the moment I met the person I was meant to be with, I’d ken it in a heartbeat.

He was right.

My heart and mind recognized her before I was even fully aware of it myself. The first month after the explosion I had dreams of an angel. She had the sweet voice of a Sassenach and the kindest touch. Whenever the pain began to overwhelm me, her voice and touch cut through the agony, replacing it with it peace.

She had spoken to me for countless hours, it seemed, in my haze. She read stories, the news, or just spoke her mind and the wish for me to open my eyes.

“Findings! You make him sounds like some sort of experiment!” A shrill voice had filtered in. That hadn’t been my angel, but I recognized it. Jenny. I furrowed my brow, light and pain began to seep into my consciousness and the dreams became more fuzzy by the second as the beeping of machines and the voice of my angel spoke.

“Can you tell me his name?”

I was even more confused by her statement. She knew my name, didn’t she? My angel had to know. I wanted to scream out to her, but nothing came. I needed to see; I needed to get my angel’s attention and let her know. She needed to know me.

I had opened my eyes and seen the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. The hazy vision of my angel solidified and I finally had features clearly drawn: riotous curly hair, milky skin, and eyes the color of the finest Scotch.

“Mo chridhe,” I had whispered, my voice scratchy and hoarse. Neither my sister or my angel had heard me.

When they did notice me, my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. My angel— Jenny had called her Dr. Beauchamp—gently touched my arm and my skin burned from her touch.

And just as soon as I had a chance to drink her in, she was gone, leaving me alone with my sister. She sobbed and hugged me. Between her sobs, Jenny fretted over me, not leaving me for a moment. It was smothering. I had never seen her this way before. Maybe it was the thought of losing me so shortly after Da and Willie or her ever growing pregnancy messing with her mind, but I didn’t care. It was nice to be surrounded by love and warmth instead of the cold hard fear that had been my constant state for the last four years.

“Who was she?” I croaked when Jenny had finally calmed down.

“Who was who, mo brathair?” She gave me a quizzical look, and rubbed her belly. “Surely ye’ve not already forgotten Doctor Beauchamp, who has been verra dedicated and skilled despite her age?”

I shook my head, feeling myself go dizzy with the movement. “No, not her. I ken fine who the angel is, but the demon. I dinna ken who she is. Can ye tell me, sister? Who was the demon who tortured me when the angel wasna near?”

My voice verged on hysterical, if it wasn’t already there. From the alarmed look on Jenny’s face, I had scared her. She opened her mouth to speak before we heard a loud slam of a door and screaming. I felt what little color was sure to be in my face, drain instantly. The demon was screeching, and at my angel.

“I’ve known James Fraser my whole life and I’d know the look of him anywhere.” The words from the demon floated through the sturdy wood of the door and down my spine like ice. How could she have known me her whole life?

“Jenny?” I began to shake with some foreign emotion that I couldn’t put a name to. We then heard a loud *crack* and the stomping of feet. Five minutes later, my angel and another doctor walked into the room, a smile on his face.

“Welcome back Mr. Fraser! Doctor Beauchamp has told me we finally have an identity for you, and perfect timing with your sudden consciousness. So can you tell me how you’re feeling? Please do not leave anything out. We want to get you back to your best state of being as quickly as we can.”

The conversation flowed and I can’t recall a moment of it. I was too busy stealing glances at the red flushed face of my angel who kept quiet in the corner of my room, and never once approached my bed.

That behavior became her normal towards me unless she had to inspect something under a bandage. The same, kind doctor accompanied her–I really need to remember his name–each round, but she never spoke to me. Her smile did not reach the corner of her lips let alone her eyes, and gradually she began walking with a limp.

My angel avoided my room now. I could feel the depression setting in; I was being abandoned by the angel. The angel whose voice still called to me at night and in my daydreaming states. The voice that gave me hope, now gone.

I grabbed my cane and shoved the IV contraption out the door, then hobbled my way down the corridor in an aimless fashion. My mind so preoccupied by what I might have done to keep her away, and what I could do to get her back, that I nearly missed an argument and a plea. The kind doctor and one I’d never met before strode from a room, the door bouncing off the hinge and slowly swung back open.

“I still say you should tell us who the bastard is that did this to you. I’m not fully convinced this was all done from being clumsy!” the nurse who reminded me of an aunt said exasperatedly, while wrapping a patient’s knee. I saw the healed scrapes and gouges, the purple, blue and green mottled bruising that went from shin and above.

My mouth fell open as I took in all of the injuries this woman had endured. My blood pressure rose as I saw more bruising up her arms and shoulders. What kind of person would harm another like this? Was it her boyfriend? Husband? Girlfriend? Or someone she had an unfortunate encounter with? Situation after situation crossed my mind, and then my blood simultaneously boiled and drained from my body. Sitting on the bench was not just a patient, but my angel. My angel bruised and hurt. Is this why she started avoiding me? Did someone tell her to stop?

I took a step towards her room and she averted her eyes, a blush creeping up her neck.

“All done Claire.” The nurse patted Claire’s leg and handed her her clothes. “Now I don’t want to see you—oh! Hello my dear, have you gotten lost? Do you need assistance getting back to your room?” She addressed me. I shook my head, my eyes not leaving Claire.

“Claire, my angel, who hurt you? What has happened? Please tell me.” I hobbled my way close enough to her to hold my hand out to hover over hers. I saw a tear slide down her cheek and my composure was lost.

“Angel! A Dhia! Please mo nighean donn, tell me who did this. I’ll protect you. I swear it. I’ll protect you.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry Mr. Fraser, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Shock flooded through me. Couldn’t understand me? Had I lost the ability to speak?

“Could you try English? I caught a little of what you said. I believe that was Gaelic? You said ‘Oh God!’ why? What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Is it your hand?”

She jumped off the table, still in naught but her undergarments, and pulled my lightly bandaged hand to her, inspecting it thoroughly. I looked to the nurse who gave me a knowing smile and a wink.

“Claire, the lad is fine. He asked who hurt you.”

My angel shook her head harder. “I told you before Glenna, no one hurt me! I did this to myself running. It wasn’t intentional I swear.” She looked to me then back to Nurse Glenna. “I’m just, clumsy when running these hills and trails. I’ll be fine. Thank you for patching me up.”

“Weel I’d feel better if you took the chief up on his offer to see a psychologist and work through why you feel the need to injure yourself if no one did it to ye.” She headed to the door and before pulling it shut, said to me, “Ye’ll need leave now, Mr. Fraser. Doctor Beauchamp can walk ye back to your room and ye can interrogate her then. Maybe she’ll be more keen to talk to you.”

With a wink she was gone.

Claire had already pulled her scrubs back on and was reaching for her coat when I grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked me in the eye, and I brushed a curl away from her face. The tension was palpable. And my only thought was, ‘Would she let me?’

after reviewing the culmination of messages i receive i’ve noticed you bitter betsy’s really are stuck on this classification of skin complexion in the black race. growing up i’ve always known i was black. my mom being half haitian and cuban, my father being trinidadian (chinese trini and indian trini parents). but to other people there was always a need to put a label on it. no one identified my father as black, ever. that confused me because my dad and i were always the same color, we were brown and my mom was a darker brown than us but overall we were brown. i’ve always been the “token black kid” in school, from extracurricular activities to school and being around so many white children they never ONCE referred to me as light skinned, brown skinned or even themselves as anything besides our race; black and white. whenever i hung out around black girls, they always asked me “your dad is white?” “ouuuu you got good hair” “oh he’s black? how your hair so long then?” “you’re lightskinned that’s why you’re pretty” and random strangers on the train used to tell my mom not to “perm” my hair. i never understood

since i can remember my mom ALWAYS instilled the fact that i’m a BLACK girl in my brain, when people asked what my nationality was my mom used to quickly say “we’re black american, that’s all” to see the look of surprise from people puzzled how we couldn’t be mixed with something. she didn’t do this because we were embarrassed by our heritage but to try to get people to accept BLACK GIRLS CAN GROW HAIR, BLACK GIRLS AREN’T BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE THEY ARE MIXED, BLACK GIRLS COME IN ALL SHADES.

i have always been in the acting industry since i was a baby my mom was bringing me back and forth to auditions, i always booked work as a biracial kid and again it confused me because my real parents looked nothing like the people i was posing with on set of “suzy so smart” or the perry ellis ad when i had a korean mom and black father, to the chuck e cheese commercial where my mom was black and dad was persian. these were what i was marketed as, i was never urban enough to play the “black” roles. audition after audition my hair didn’t kink enough to be the girl playing with the sasha bratz doll, i had to hold yasmine in the park scene. my managers always reassured me that it was a great thing, i wasn’t limited to roles, i was able to be racially ambiguous. 

in 2007 i turned 16, i had a huge party planned wearing a ball gown by jovani (all staten island girls dreams lol) and i had these really strong tan lines from my summer trip to st croix, in the past i spray tanned for pageants and commercials so naturally i thought to go back and do the same. me being a junior in high school, ALL of my friends (i was the only black girl in high school, predominantly italian, irish, albanian & asian. i filled the latin and black quota at the time) tanned regularly and often held their arm up to mine showing off the fact that they were darker than me. i spray tanned for my party and was SO pleased with the results, i looked more like my mom i looked bronze i looked TAN! it was so affordable i started going more often, every other week on fridays after school at beach bum tanning salon. i got new headshots done and little by little i was being offered more jobs for girls of color, asked to wear my hair in it’s natural state i was getting this work.

it’s now five years later, i have stopped spray tanning. i use the UV bed for 8 minutes every other week. i know the harm and danger of it but hey we all have our thing and unfortunately that’s mine. someone has asked what my insecurity is and i’m finally admitting it is tanning. my boyfriend can vouch for me, there have been times when i rather cover up or find the time to tan before i see him in the past. when you’re used to doing something you get used to seeing yourself a certain way and no longer accept yourself without it. 

now i HAVE toned down on the makeup, i used to wear concealer, full foundation, lashes, FULL FACE BRONZER on my chest as well, and i applied spray tan by laura mercier. now that i no longer do those things 1) it was so damn messy, got on all my clothes, people around me, i couldn’t hug people without leaving brown on them lol 2) SO EXPENSIVE to maintain that lifestyle 3) it was HORRIBLE FOR MY SKIN, i constantly was getting itchy and it wasn’t good at all; but nonetheless now that i don’t do those things you can see the difference. i am not back to my true skin tone because i still choose to tan twice a month and i will not stop any time soon, idc. but this constant bashing i’m receiving about wanting to be lightskinned is offensive, there are so many women ashamed of their tone because they want to be lighter, they want a straighter hair texture they want to claim being mixed. i’m not that girl, in this society you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. appreciate and accept the next girl, there’s a shitload of girls i can name who are NOT anon that ask me for skin bleaching creams or home remedies to look lighter because they’re not comfortable with their complexion. you guys are constantly making me feel like i have to label my color, i’m black that’s it end of story. i claim being a brown skinned goddess to the death of me when i don’t have to! and leave my boyfriend alone lol, when i met that man and his hand was the same color as mine the last thing i thought was YESSS i got me a lightskinned, both his parents dark skinned we all black at the end of the day!

sorry for the rambling, but it needed to be done

xox

anonymous asked:

i'm sorry to ask, but do you think you could maybe be a little more careful w skin tones? i'd love to interact w ur art, especially the trans lance art bcoz im trans & love those hcs, but all of ur art is very whitewashed. i know you probably don't intend for this, and probably arent aware? which is why i ask. when u choose to make a characters skin tone lighter because u think it 'looks better' thats bad no matter what ): whitewashing isn't cool. i hope u consider what ive said. have a good day

:/

i am a brown person, i can not believe this…. have you seen my art… i am so bewildered.

I’m not sure where this is coming from, but the way your eyes perceive color can often change based on the colors in the picture and the way they interact with each other, so that might be why you think my art is whitewashed. (???)

now, i’m not sure which drawing you’re talking about, but you did say “but all of ur art is very whitewashed” so, i’m gonna pull up a few of my art works

yea, i agree that my art work does change the skin colors a bit, but not… not in a whitewashing way? i accidentally made lance a redder shade of brown, but that’s about it?

gonna show some more examples, then….

all i’m starting to see is that i tend to use a different shade of brown

different fandom, since you did say “all of your art”, and I do see that I used a staler shade of brown, and that marco should have more red in his undertones, but you can hardly call this whitewashing.

i admit that i don’t always reference screenshots and i tend to eyeball what the color of the character’s skin is. I will try to use references more often.

look, whitewashing is an actual problem, but this isn’t it! Using a brown that leans more towards red or yellow than the original character’s tone is not the same fucking thing as whitewashing. Whitewashing is the erasure of dark skinned poc, it’s drawing a character as a light white boy when they were supposed to have been a caramel-colored desi kid. I am fucking offended that you’re trivializing whitewashing like this, by looking for problems where they’re not. Nobody is gonna take us seriously when we actually speak up about whitewashing and poc erasure….Whitewashing isn’t cool but neither is attacking artists based on hardly anything.

Start looking at people who are really doing something wrong and just leave me the fuck alone. Don’t even support my trans lance pics, please, if you think I’m whitewashing

my response to a white person who doesn’t understand why i can generalize them:

lol your privilege is so large you can’t even be berated for one second apparently…… white people are fucking disgusting. they use anything against black/brown people to hurt them, from their own god to their food and skin and names, even making their homeland into something ugly. they use everything they can to excuse or blame others/other things for the endless (400 year +) bullshit they have caused. white people are dangerous, violent, savage, and twisted. white culture is genocide. white culture is tearing black people apart, literally. white people are complacent as fuck because they do not care about me, even when they say they do. ie: once i was at a protest, and i sent a clip to a problematic yt (whitey) and they told me to leave them alone and that they arent watching said clip. i told them to imagine being poc (a person of color) and they said stop texting me. then they call me to tell me that they don’t care about my skin color or race, which is totally true. they don’t care about me at all, just their feelings. that’s all white people care about, how they feel. you see, that phone call was supposed to be benign, to further excuse her racist fragile behavior with even more racist fragile behavior, and sending me more messages like “you are disrespecting me”, and “i am your elder”, you know, the white colorblind savior bullshit. and you know what else about white people? they deny being racist. they are trained to be racist yet deny the very existence of racism. it is so backwards. i actually told her she was racist the day before that happened, and she said “did you mean to send this to me?” “are you calling me a racist?!” how funny. she claims to know more about racism because she did “social justice work” for “35” years……yet she can’t even handle one conversation about race unless it’s about degeneralizing white people and comforting her white whine. i hate white people because it’s impossible to unlearn everything they’ve put into me and others. white supremacy is perpetuated through every single thing. beauty, food, homophobia, etc. that makes me so angry. if all white people were actual anti-racists, i would still generalize you because you can do better with all the privilege you have. you can actually fight back and not be beaten or shot to death for being. i can generalize you because every white person has white privilege. i can generalize you because why not? after all the trouble you and your people have caused, why can’t i be angry and criticize and hate an entire race of people that hate me back? why the hell should i be nice if y'all aren’t nice? being nice to white people won’t ever do shit! i can be as nice as i want, i’ll still be black. you’ll still be white. if white people are so “uncomfortable” about race, why won’t they change it? they have the control and power to do it, they just don’t because they don’t care. white privilege is like crocs, they’re ugly as hell, but they’re comfortable. black people have zero power and have never hurt white people. they actually helped white people survive, gave them arts and math and science and cleaned them up and healed their ills….but now this. you didnt even learn about that did you? about black ppl (the moors) coming up to filthy ol’ europe bc they couldnt take care of themselves? yes, the dark ages. when all the white people were sick and dying and not bathing. THERE ARE LITERAL ART PIECES DEPICTING BLACK PEOPLE BATHING WHITE PEOPLE. y'all are inferior, literally part neanderthal. i can’t and possibly never will understand the hipocrisy of racism and white supremacy.

Walking Around

It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.

The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse
sobs.
The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.
The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,
no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.

Keep reading

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today I was going through old selfies and i realized how far I’ve come in the past few years. this doesn’t have anything to do with getting more attractive, but with becoming comfortable with myself and working through internalized racism. 

when you live in an all-white town and are called all kinds of racial slurs as a joke, have white boys openly tell you they think you’re ugly because you’re brown, have people deem you an “honorary white girl” when they like you or ask if you’re adopted because you have a white parent, it kind of messes with your head. you start to think that the color of your skin is a mistake, something that you need to apologize for. at least that’s what it did to me. 

i would wear blue contacts, buy lighter shades of foundation, wax my eyebrows super thin, straighten my hair and put blonde dye in it to make it lighter and avoid the sun at all costs. i would talk about how badly i wanted plastic surgery to make my nose smaller. i would avoid being seen in public with my mom so i could distance myself from my ethnicity. there was nothing i wanted more than to be white so that people would leave me alone. the picture on the right was me at 15 and it makes me sad that at 15 i had so much hatred for myself over something that is out of my control. 

today i’m proud of my south african heritage and my golden brown skin and my dark hair and eyes and i even like my nose. now i actually look forward to getting a tan in the summer. i don’t know how many young girls of color follow me, but i’m just here to say that even though we live in a world that makes it hard, life gets 100% better once you learn to love yourself and as an added bonus you’ll probably get hotter too.

through the seasons

original work

You came in like a ball light. 

It was a warm Summer’s day, and you lit up the world with promises of long days filled with endless wonders–and laughters echoing through fields.

Falling for you happened in slow motion, gradual like the falling of the leaves in Autumn. Each leaf represented your qualities, your prospects; perfections and imperfections. I loved each and every one of them as much as I loved the colors changing in the Fall. In fact, they are the same colors reflected in your eyes.

But loving you wasn’t always summer days and peaceful spring mornings. There were days when the cold pierced my skin, suffocating me till there was no air left to breathe, and all I wanted to do was scream out for you to leave me alone. There were painful Winter nights when I almost gave up; almost left because the pain was too too much to bear; the frozen reserves of my heart whenever you are gone, and I left alone to wait–wait till you returned and release me from this glacial sorrow your love has brought upon me.

Though our love may be imperfect, it is that very characteristic which makes it beautiful and worthwhile. As beautiful as the Cherry Blossoms in all its majesty in Springtime or a babe’s first laugh that echoes like chimes moved by temperate winds. It brings me hope and makes me think that maybe there is something worth living–worth dying for in this world.

Your love is beautiful… our love is beautiful… you are beautiful.

And with that I promise you forever. I’d gladly got through the seasons with you over and over… and over again.


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