tw; hate speech

Alan Turing, the man who saved the world by deciphering the Nazi Enigma code, committed suicide after a year of being forced to undergo chemical castration as punishment, because he was a homosexual man.

The man who saved the lives of millions was, although not quite, mutilated and tortured. Why? Because he was gay.

This is one of millions.

Don’t you ever come to me whining why there isn’t a straight pride day.

Pride is for the LGBT community because we have endured years and years and years of oppression and injustice and hatred. We’ve been tortured and killed and denied of basic human rights because of our sexuality/gender identity.

Since you all seem to want it SO BAD. Take the LGBT pride march, take the pride month, take whatever you fucking want and give us the systematic and social freedom that you have in return.

This is a scheduled post to let you know that on September 1st - September 8th EST Kitten Witch will be participating in @lavahag ’s Tumblr Boycott, in an effort to force @staff to take action against white supremacist content as per their community guidelines. Inaction is not an acceptable stance against hate speech. For more information, see @empressreborn’s post here.

Content will continue on our facebook, for anyone who is seeking a safe space 💖

Many of us rely on social media sites like tumblr to get us through our tough moments. If you don’t think you can manage without tumblr access please know that there are other ways you can help, such as contacting tumblr and letting them know how you feel about their choice to allow hate speech on their platform.

Stay safe, my beautiful friends 💖

From Aaron Jackson, of Planting Peace and the Equality House:

“Before painting the Equality House, Davis and I thought it would only be three weeks before the house was burnt down.
We even set forth escape plans. But something beautiful happened over the course of the last three years…. Nothing.

With roughly 150 visitors a day, the Equality House had never been attacked.

Then, in late 2016:

- Our Little Free Library was covered in feces.

- The KKK knocked on our door and told Davis and me that we would be killed if Trump were elected.

- Then, a few weeks ago, I was awakened by the sounds of 5 white guys spray painting "fuk fags” along the exterior of my house. They also left 7 bullet holes in my window.

I spoke with the Southern Poverty Law Center after the Equality House was shot, and they confirmed hate crimes are on the rise.

I’ve seen more swastikas in the last couple of days than I have seen in my lifetime outside of historical references.

But what scares me more than the bullets nailing my window and swastikas popping up on street corners around America is the absolute silence from far to many. This is no time to be complacent my friends. We must act.

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” ”


Everyday Ableism presented by Facebook. I initially commented on this video found within the article. (DIsclaimer: i do not have Downs Syndrome, I am primarily physically disabled and face/witness prejudice regularly.) People I think might want to read/boost this: @annieelainey @disabled-activist @disabilityhealth @katblaque @petitetimidgay @kat-blaque @marinashutup

This exchange just goes to show that no matter how well worded and polite I am, disability activism (even just progressive conversation) is taken as an enormous threat by abled people - this one in particular. The commenter does not deserve to have her name blurred, she chose to spew these hateful things on the public internet and I will not let it slip under the rug. 

There are SO many different types of ableist thought she is displaying, so I won’t go in depth. But in summary, Hannah fits in insults, speaking over disabled voices harmfully, fake activism (”we’re all the same!”), minimizing oppressed experiences , infantilization, abled superiority, identity and ability erasure, gaslighting and abuse all into two comments! Wow! That might be a record. 

Overall, I think this experience reminds us that people with disabilities are not even recognized as in need of help or allyship. That’s how damn negatively we are viewed. Either disgusting, dramatic, “inspirational,” or invisible. The awareness about struggle of disabled people is extremely low on all planes (economic, social, accessibility, representation, political, opportunity, and more) EVEN THOUGH we make up the largest marginalized group. We make up 15% of all humans. One Billion people. STOP LEAVING DISABILITY OUT OF YOUR ACTIVISM.


So, I sort of came out to my parents. It did not go well.

In the past I’ve discussed my bisexuality with my dad. He’s always been a little more tolerant than my mom. (I’m actually pansexual, but even I know better than to try telling either of my parents that I’m capable of finding people of any biological gender, gender identity, androgynous or intersex, sexually attractive. They would have me committed.) The point is, my dad made it seem like he was reluctantly okay with it. He was hoping it was a phase I’d grow out of, but he still loved me.

Last Friday evening, I went on a date with a lady. We had drinks, pizza, and dessert at an Italian restaurant, then went to the pub next door for more drinks and dancing. To make a very long story short, my dad came looking for me, and I was honest with him about the fact that I was on a date with a woman. He left without a fuss. My date went wonderfully, she dropped me off at home and kissed me, and I walked in the door with a wide grin and a happy blush. That was when it all went to hell.

My dad had told mom about my date. He outed me to her without my knowledge or permission. They proceeded to give me a lecture in Homophobia 101. It was pure poison.

Dad: Why are you doing this to me?

Me: I’m not doing this to anyone. It has nothing to do with you.

Dad: I don’t care if gay marriage is legal now, you can’t tell me that it’s natural. It doesn’t take a genius to know that two pegs don’t go together, and two holes don’t go together.

Me: We’re not puzzle pieces, we’re people!

Dad: Exactly, you should know better! We raised you to know better! God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!

(At this point hysteria was kicking in. In the back of my mind I tried to remember one of the awesome comebacks I’ve seen on this site over the years, but my mind was coming up blank. I was in too much shock to think clearly.)

Mom: It’s a matter of intelligence. You know, years ago they said that this sort of brainwashing was going to happen, making people think that this sort of thing was acceptable when it isn’t.

Me: I’m not brainwashed, and intelligence has nothing to do with it.

Mom: Of course it does!

(It was only much later that I thought of Alan Turing.)

Me: There’s nothing wrong with gayness, it’s not hurting anyone.

Dad: It’s hurting me!

Me: How can it be hurting you?

Dad: It’s selfish, that’s what it is. You’re so ungrateful. After everything we’ve done for you, given you. Your laptop, smartphone, university. I feel like taking all of those things away from you, locking you in your empty room, and just passing your medication through the door every day. You don’t do anything to help your mother, you just lay in bed all day in your pajamas doing nothing!

(I have depression and general anxiety. They know this. Just because I’m medicated now doesn’t mean I’m no longer capable of having episodes. They don’t believe in mental health problems. They believe that all neurological evidence of these disorders was made up by scientists so they could sell more pharmaceuticals. They regularly encourage my bipolar sister to stop taking her medication.)

Dad: And you want me to take you to Singapore, so you can embarrass me?

Me: I’m not going to embarrass you.

Dad: You will if you go on dates with women.

Me: Fine, I won’t then if it’s such a problem for you.

(I hated myself for saying that, later.)

Mom: It’s a problem for everyone!

I just… I felt betrayed. I was in shock. I’d been ambushed, and I was outnumbered. I was on the brink of having a panic attack, or bursting into tears, but I was just a little too shock-numb to quite do either. I sat there, stroking the dog on my lap more to comfort myself than to comfort her. I had to focus on my breathing, focus on keeping it deep and slow. My breaths were as shaky as my hands.

I stopped answering back, and just waited for it to be over so I could escape to my room. After a few minutes of lull, mom started telling me about the TV show they’d been watching, as though nothing had happened. Something about British nannies. As if I wasn’t pale and hunched into myself, trembling and avoiding eye contact. I mumbled something non-committal and fled.

I lay awake all night, numbly trying to process what I’d just been through. Their poison sat like a thick, putrid sludge on my brain, refusing to go away. I was confused. Cold. Ashamed. So angry. So sad. Indignant. Physically sick to my stomach. I felt unclean, and hated them for making me feel that way about myself. Eventually I gave up and browsed tumblr for a while. It was 2am, so I couldn’t call a friend or anything, and nothing else calms me down when I’m that upset like tumblr does. 

I still couldn’t shake the sludge though. I wanted to fucking claw at it. Normally I would write it all down straight away, that has always helped to wash away the filth. But this time, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to spread their poison, to inflict it on anybody else. Instead I let it cling to me, festering. I just couldn’t do that to myself anymore. I couldn’t give their poison that kind of power over me.

Kate Jenner, previously Bruce Jenner, was in a magazine I was reading recently. I tried to discuss her with mom. She called Kate “it”, instead of using actual pronouns. When I called her out on it, she thought it was funny. She thought that her dehumanizing language, that an extreme form of psychological abuse, was funny. When I told her that people like her were the reason gay people committed suicide, she said “Good, they should all just die.”

My parents are bigots. They talk the same way the Nazis used to. They carry the same hatred and disgust that the congregation of the Westboro Baptist Church have. I’m ashamed of them. They disgust me. I want to rage at them, to find every counter-argument the vast might of tumblr has to offer, print them out, and stick them everywhere inside the house. But I know that nothing I could say or do would ever change their minds, or remove the sickness from their hearts. 

They still love me, as long as I pretend to be straight. I will always love them, because they’re my parents. I wouldn’t know how to truly hate them. But they are lost to me now, forever. I can’t change who or what I am. I wouldn’t even if I could. I love who I am. I can’t stay, and subject myself to their poison. It would kill me. I’ve signed up with a website where I can earn a salary teaching English. As soon as I’ve saved up enough money, I’m moving to another country. I’m going to cut off all ties with them. 

I have a girlfriend. We’ve been best friends for years, I’ve known her since high school. Right now we’re in an open relationship, but someday I want to marry her, and I think she might just let me. God knows I love her, like I’ve never loved anybody else. She’s a part of who I am. She’s my safe harbor in every storm. She’s my cherished spun-glass angel, to be protected at any cost. I can’t imagine growing old without her by my side. I wouldn’t want to even try. 

I’ve never pictured getting married without my parents there. I’m grieving for them, and they’re not even dead, but I’ve still lost them. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come to terms with that. They’re not even old yet, they’re not even retired, or grandparents. I was supposed to have so much more time with them. I’m not ready to be parent-less, not even close. I feel so lost. I still haven’t been able to really cry yet. It hasn’t sunk in yet. It doesn’t feel like reality. When the tears do come, I hope to God I’m not alone for it.

They say that me being not-straight hurts them, but it can’t possibly hurt them as much as their bigotry has hurt me.


Answering the age old question.:
“What if my OCs had social media accounts?”

Daiki: Cute photos of rescued monsters and the latest info on support group meetings

Jordon: Photos of himself working out, photos of his ‘children’ (his birds)

Mike and Ranjeet: Garbage. Nothing but the dankest memes and self promotion of their crazy youtube channel.

Asher: Circulates a social activist blog and posts many rants nightly.

Everyone else in the apartment is either too young, too old, doesn’t care or is just afraid of social media in general.
Or merfolk who live in a pool.

(This was actually really fun let me know if you want to seem more in this style or their other social media platforms.)

anonymous asked:

Hello, I've not been part of the Drarry Squad for long (or at all officially) but I'm wondering if you could tell me what WFI is?

Hi! And welcome to the Drarry Squad (if you ship Drarry, you’re in!)

So WFI stands for “Warriors for Innocence,” and is this noxious, hateful group that misunderstands Christian theology and uses ignorant, illogical arguments to attempt to condemn ships they consider “immoral,” such as gay ships (Drarry and Wolfstar in particular).

They popped up a few months ago, but were quickly shut down, likely because their blog was rampant with hate speech. So things will probably blow over soon.

Even though their blog is very upsetting, the best thing we can do is rise above them and just ship our boys harder. Drarry has a magic they can’t touch

And in the meantime, they provide us with many colorful phrases to describe ourselves. My personal favorites are “cesspool of sin,” “immoral smut peddlers,” and “immoral, perverted, smut-infested HP Fandom.”

So go forth and peddle that smut, fellow sinners! ;)

There is nothing charming about a “country boy.”

( tw: animal abuse, tw: hate speech, tw: homophobia )

I know that at some point in everyone’s life they’ve been exposed to at least one TV show where the farmer’s son and the preacher’s daughter have a relationship so sweet it seeps diabetes. However, the glamorization of “country boys” (or country life in general) shows how incredibly out of touch with reality some people are, and how far the media can stretch and distort what happens in the real world. Hear me out.

I live in a rural area. I have grown up around “country boys” all my life, and I know for a fact that they are not the desirable romantic interests many make them out to be. Typically, the real “country boy” is an ignorant, misogynistic, homophobic alcohol abuser, and not to mention an all around scumbag. Yesterday I overheard one proudly regale his story from a few weeks ago where he and his friends, in a drunken stupor, beat an opossum to death with a baseball bat. Another time, a group of these wonderful human beings discussed how they would “hang a queer” in the woods if an openly homosexual male moved to our town. How classy. 13/10 would date these fine young men.

tl;dr: Country boys/boys from rural areas are not respectful, kind, loving young men. Stop romanticizing them.