this is tigger everyone

did any of you guys watch the tigger movie as a kid? that was the SADDEST thing ever! its all about how tigger has no family and he tries to write a letter to find them and winnie and everyone all write a letter back to tigger telling him they love and miss him pretending to be his family but he thinks that means they are coming to see him so everyone paints on black stripes and jumps around to try to fool him but tigger finds out and leaves into the snowstorm alone to find his family that arent there 

when yongguk passed himchan
  • yongguk on twitter: don't worry junhong, you will always be my number one dongsaeng.
  • yongguk: second would be daehyun, third would be jongup, and fourth would be youngjae.
  • himchan: what about me?
  • yongguk: himchan ......... pass.
  • himchan: YA. WHY IS EVERYONE BEFORE ME. EVEN TIGGER IS ALWAYS BEFORE ME. I THOUGHT WE WERE BEST FRIENDS.
  • yongguk: that's because I don't see you as a dongsaeng. I see you as an equal.
  • himchan: ... oh.
  • baby fandom: ... oh.
  • the world: ... oh.
  • God: ... oh.
  • yongguk: *shakes head*

So I was just watching one of Kim & Brianna’s panels and it suddenly hit me as to why them as a duo and Wayward Daughters as a concept is so utterly phenomenal:

Here we have two incredibly strong women (both as characters and actors) but strong in different ways.

Kim/Jody is someone you look at and go “She’s a fucking badass.” She has no time for gender norms, she has sick tattoos, you’d believe she could kill you with her pinky finger. Yet she is the kindest, most generous person and so in touch with her emotions and isn’t afraid to show them. How many times have we seen Kim cry during a panel? A lot, and always for the right reasons. Physically, she is lean and muscular with “boy-cut” hair and generally wears not-particularly-feminine jeans and shirts and always looks hot as hell.

Then we have Brianna/Donna. Someone who is the dictionary definition of sunshine and glitter. Her smile could melt Antarctica. She gets excited about something and bounces like Tigger while showering everyone around her in glitter and chocolate. But you know if she believes in something there’s no force on this earth that can stop her achieving whatever she wants. Physically, she is curvy with long blonde hair and looks the part of the sweet, small-town girl-next door, yet she completely owns her sexuality. I will never forget her bending over and wiggling her butt seductively at the camera in front of thousands of people. You go, Bri!!! :)

The most wonderful thing about this duo though, is the absolute equality between them. These are two very different women, but the bond they share and their love for the SPNFamily makes them two halves of a whole. There is absolutely no thought of “I’m the right kind of feminist because I’m…” they both go “You are you and I am me and that’s fantastic. Let’s change the world together!”

And to me THAT is the essence of what Wayward Daughters is. Accepting all women and saying “We are worth it. We’re going to stand up and make the world a better place, because we can.”

Edit: I added a little more into the Kim paragraph because it’s been bugging me ever since I made this post that I felt like I didn’t compliment the awesomeness that is Kim Rhodes enough. 

making myself cry reading the script of the tigger movie rn but roo tells kanga that he wants tigger to be his big brother and roo is the one who decides to write the letter to tigger because he wants him to feel less alone and at the end of the movie tigger gives roo a locket of everyone together as a present for christmas and roo is like “is it really for me?” and tigger says “only the best for my bestest little brother” like ummmmmmmmmmmm OKKKKKKKKKKKKK

“Tigger” An Anecdote About Cultural Appropriation

When i was a kid, I, like many other little black girls, had a really tight curl pattern that not only broke combs, but even brushes now and then. Because my hair was a hassle to comb and sometimes even made me cry because of how hard my mom would have to pull to get combs to run through it, we, also like many other little black girls and their mothers, resolved to use box braids and extensions as a protective and easy style that wouldn’t require me to cry every morning. 

Going to school with hair extensions when you are the only black person at your school aside from your older brother is an experience. It starts out as a simple fascination with the foreign (lots of asking to touch or staring for prolonged periods of time), but sooner or later it graduates to ridicule. I remember being in the third grade and having what my peers referred to as “boingy” curls, as seen below. 

I guess because the curl pattern resembled the springy-like nature of tigger’s tail it was okay for everyone to call me tigger until i changed schools.

It didn’t really end there, though. Regardless of what style extensions i got, kids always poked fun at the fact that my hair wasn’t real. People started rumors that i only had extensions because i didn’t have any hair or because i was balding (and unspeakable crime for a girl) or others said it was because my natural hair was ugly (which is something i believed at the time because i had been ridiculed for that too). It became a sort of game for kids to try and find where my real hair ended and my fake hair started. They’d even put pencils and paper into the extended portions of my hair and laugh when i wouldn’t feel the extra weight on my scalp. 

As I got older, the rumors got a lot worse. I learned how much people tend to weigh femininity on hair. Having fake hair became a synonym with being a “fake woman”. In an attempt to become real again, I started going to school with my hair naturally. The first day i wore it out my teacher yelled at me for distracting the class because everyone kept trying to touch it and throw things in it to see if they’d stay. I was told to keep it under control or I’d be sent to the principal’s office. Everyone laughed because they thought I was trying to be funny, as if my natural hair was some big comedic reveal i was waiting to break out. 

This led to me begging my mother to straighten my hair, which seemed like a compromise because now I wouldn’t be a fake woman but i’d also have “normal” hair. For those of you who do not know, consistently heating your hair with hot combs (look these up because they are scary and made up 80% of my childhood) and flat irons damages it. Not only did i fry my hair and actually start balding, but i also burned myself many times and gave myself permanent scars. 

So I got extensions again.

Even after all this effort, there was still ridicule. In high school they’re a bit more creative, however. The insults were more along the lines of “she’s so ghetto, yesterday i saw one of her braids fall out” or “classic black girl doesn’t want to take swim because she’ll mess up her hurrr”, or “you know they only get weave so they don’t have to wash their hair…cause they’re dirty”. (the last one was most common when i had dreads). 

So i let my natural hair out again, but it was very short from all the frying and people said i looked too much like a boy (people are obsessed with hair and femininity). 

So i straightened it to make it longer. So my hair got damaged again and started falling out.  

To hide the balding and stop the ridicule I got extensions again.

and the cycles would continue. 

You get the point. 

So fast forward to now, when gelling down your baby hairs, getting box braids, dreads, and corn rows are no longer “dirty” “ghetto” and “ratchet”. If you told the little girl in the photo that there would be a time when all the white girls in her classes would ask her where she bought her braiding hair so they could get some too, she’d be ecstatic.

But here’s the thing, the little black girl in the photo also hated her blackness and wanted with everything to have hair that was less defiant. The little black girl in the photo only wanted to braid her hair so it could be pulled downwards for once instead of out and up. The little girl in the photo was waiting for the day her insecurity would become a fad. 

I’ve gone through so many hairstyles trying to make my hair less wild, until I realized that 

1. taming a wild thing is crime against nature itself 

2. The black woman, in all her glory, will be ridiculed for whatever she does, there is no escaping her humanity and femininity being questioned constantly (and this isn’t even getting into the build of the black woman’s body).

and 

3. The white woman will take her styles and make them acceptable and profitable because white is the standard for beauty and acceptance in the eyes of the world. 

I’m 19 now and I have box braids partly because I wish to revisit my third grade self and tell her how lovely she is and to stop obsessively watching Winnie the Pooh in an attempt to understand why they call you Tigger. I want to tell her she is allowed to be wild outside of the hundred acre woods. 

So you may be one of those people who think the rules of cultural appropriation are too strict and that it’s just a hairstyle, but having my ass feel sore for days because i spent 8 straight hours sitting between my mom’s legs as she braided my hair is more than just a hairstyle. All of my towels smelling like pink lotion and my pillowcases being beeswax stained is more than just a hairstyle. Cutting a wave cap out of an old pair of panty hose just so my hair isn’t a distraction in the classes i’m trying to learn in is more than a hairstyle. Burning my face while trying to seal the ends of my synthetic box braids from unloosing is more than a hairstyle. 

These are huge parts of my culture and my personal history and I will be damned if you come to take that because you saw Kylie and Kendall Jenner do it. I’ll be damned if you come to take this because you think the white woman stealing the styles she once mocked and re branding them as revolutionary is a myth. I will be damned if you come to take this from me and also conveniently leave all the teasing and crying for that little girl in the photo to handle because you’re too busy setting trends with looks you stole from my 3rd grade scrapbook and telling me i’m oversensitive.