1 : Shirin Ebadi, is an Iranian lawyer, a former judge and human rights activist and founder of Defenders of Human Rights Center in Iran. On 10 October 2003, Ebadi was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her significant and pioneering efforts for democracy and human rights, especially women’s, children’s, and refugee rights. She was the first ever Iranian to receive the prize.
2 : Nasrin Sotoudeh, is a human rights lawyer in Iran. She has represented imprisoned Iranian opposition activists and politicians following the disputed June 2009 Iranian presidential elections as well as prisoners sentenced to death for crimes committed when they were minors. In 2012 she was awarded the Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought by the European Parliament.
3 : Azar Nafisi, is an Iranian writer and professor of English literature.
4 : Pardis Sabeti, is an Iranian-American computational biologist, medical geneticist and evolutionary geneticist, who developed a bioinformatic statistical method which identifies sections of the genome that have been subject to natural selection and an algorithm which explains the effects of genetics on the evolution of disease.
5 : Maryam Mirzakhani, is an Iranianmathematician. In 2014 She won the Fields Medal, the most prestigious award in mathematics. Becoming the first women and Iranian to do so.
6 : Anoushe Ansari, is an Iranian-American engineer and co-founder and chairwoman of Prodea Systems. In 2006 she become the first Iranian and the first self-funded women to visit the International space station.
7 : Laleh Sedigh, is an Iranian race car driver. She is one of the most famous race car drivers in Iran.
you wanna hear something really dark? you know how the titanic was famously like women and children first to the lifeboats?
you know what the deal with that is?
um. if you don't do that. you know what your survivors look like? all dudes.
because they're stronger and they'll just push down anyone drowning and float on them.
every other similar wreck in its time had
something like, 399 male survivors, 1 child, cos one guy was very big and very tenacious and managed to save his kid or whatever but
"i'll kill you all motherfuckers"
--i thought that was--
probably shouldn't have said that lol
--i thought -- wow -- i thought that was kind of implicit in the rule cos like, i kind of assumed that was the case, compensating for like, when the actual when the actual survival of the fittest shit kicks in--
"hey mrs fuckin pennybottom, that frilly hat ain't gonna protect you from this fist"
Transracial adoption first became a controversial issue in the early 1970s. A heated public debate occurred about the transmission of African American cultural identity to Black children adopted into White middle-class families. The central question in these debates was whether or not White parents were capable of teaching their children African American culture and history, and inculcating them with the skills necessary for Blacks to survive in the racially unequal United States. Concerns over the transmission of identity have shaped public opinion and social policies regarding racial matching between children and parents since the 1970s. Transracial adoption became a contentious public issue after the National Association of Black Social Workers (NABSW) released a position paper in 1972 stating their opposition to the practice, citing their concerns about racial identity and survival skills as the basis of their objections (NABSW 1972).
The Black social workers’ critique of the ways Black children were treated in the child welfare system was a contestation of state-sanctioned regulations determining which families African American children would become part of, and thus be socialized by. Their protests against transracial adoption were largely motivated by a concern for the futures of African American children and a desire to strengthen Black families, and were often politically grounded in Black nationalism. Policy changes reflecting these concerns gradually occurred at the state, county, and agency levels. While standards varied in different regions, in most areas of the country adoption agencies became committed to the goal of racial matching whenever possible. Many states drew up regulations governing how long agencies could spend searching for same-race placements.
Transracial adoption receded from public debate later in the 1970s, and received very little media attention until the early 1990s when it once again became the subject of fierce public discussion. While arguments against this practice continued to focus on racial identity, the political context of the 1990s had changed. Whereas in the earlier debate attention was focused on the importance of racial matching between children and parents, in the current political climate the debate has led to new federal policies promoting “color-blind” adoptions by prohibiting the consideration of race in the adoptive placement of a child. The public discourse concerning this issue goes beyond the specificity of transracial adoptees’ lives. Indeed, this policy dialogue has implications for political struggles over teenage pregnancy, “illegitimacy,” and welfare reform.
While the current public dialogue is explicitly concerned with issues of race, the linkage of transracial adoption with welfare reform, tax credits to adoptive parents, and the termination of (birth) parental rights reveals a more implicit agenda focusing on women. In fact, the 1996 law was explicitly designed to combat “illegitimacy” among welfare recipients. In a political context dominated by proponents of traditional “family values” as the solution to the supposed “breakdown of the family,” celebrations of adoption as a panacea to the “epidemic of illegitimacy” among “underclass” women and the misfortune of infertility among primarily middle-class heterosexual couples must be viewed critically. This political dialogue sounds disturbingly similar to early-twentieth-century eugenic prescriptions for strengthening the White race by limiting the reproductive capacities of “undesirables”— namely, Black women, immigrant women, “imbeciles,” and “immoral” women. In the shifting political alliances and commitments of the 1990s and beyond, adoption has become a curious battleground on which the social meanings of race and identity, gender and family, work and poverty, culture and nation are being constructed, contested, and enforced.
Sandra Patton, Birthmarks: Transracial Adoption in Contemporary America (2000).
I watched Hidden Figures this weekend and it was amazing:
-such amazing leading women, each with their own amazing narrative, supporting each other -sO many black women in a single film: like 30 of the computers who later became the first programmers at NASA, and also the main character’s mother and three children -black women being loved and supported by their husbands (at first I was like ‘why is there a romance subplot when this is about her accomplishments’ but then I remembered that the ‘independent black woman’ is a harmful trope and that there aren’t enough representations of black women being loved on screen) -the colors they were wearing! Taraji P. Henson’s colorful suits in a sea of white bread men wearing white shirts and black pants -Taraji P Henson outrunning the guy in sky high heels (the reason she can do that is heartbreaking though) -the best wingwomen you will ever meet -the part where Octavia Spencer’s character (Dorothy Vaughan) finaaally is called Mrs. Vaughan instead of Dorothy by the white supervisor lady -Dorothy Vaughan being super cool and teaching herself and then all the other black computers how to program a computer so they would have a place at NASA -Janelle Monae’s as Mary Jackson…all of her lines were gold -HARDISON??? (Aldis Hodge as Levi Jackson—sorry but he will forever be Hardison to me)
note: I’m not black so I hope I didn’t say something wrong/miss something important, but lmk if I was stereotyping/repeating harmful tropes about black women and I’ll take it down or fix it! I also haven’t seen much floating around about Hidden Figures which is surprising but if you know anyone who writes about it please @ me!
I wanted to have a little fun drawing stuff for the Adventurers of Torland project. The main group visits their first town on their adventure on planet Gizastein called Cerisha; the town of flowers
While the young men and women in the first image are only conceptual stuff, the children at the bottom are somewhat relevant because I grew to really like them in the drawing process so there!
They even have names! The little mouse girl is named Marlone Allowny (nicknamed Marie), the girl next to her is Prier Shulze, Mr. Quinlan 2.0 >_> is named, Stahn Montblanc, the rabbit kid is Roderick Fleur (nicknamed Rody), the girl and her baby brother are Corderlia Eckberg (or Corrie for short) and Luke Eckberg and the otter kid is named Yksel Johann.
The kids playing as warriors dream to join the Noble Chevaliers; the military force serving planet Gizastein under the Grand Lord, while Corrie and Yksel dream to run an alchemy workshop together.
There’s more to it though so I’ll post more in the future.
the day that you left I sat for sixty minutes in the middle of a light blue hula hoop on the dusty floor.
i sat for an hour with my arms and legs tucked in neatly, as if it was a lifeboat, as if I had been reduced to a child.
but women and children weren’t first in your eyes, and so I clung to that hula hoop safety as if it was the last home I’d ever know.
because the captain must go down with her ship, they say.
and I thought that if you weren’t my cocaptain at least you’d be my first mate, but you were more accurately the weight of the anchor that held me down, the cold ocean waves that watched me drown, the tear and pierce of the iceberg against my hull of a naive heart that would have bet her own sanity on you coming back.
and i bet my sanity like a child sitting at a slot machine, tugging and waiting and paying up bits and pieces of myself that kept me breathing, because I had so much faith in you that I would have looked God himself in the eye and told him that he was wrong.
the noise that night was so loud that I thought I would wake the sun.
on that night that I realized you would never be back I clutched onto my pillow and wept so hard that the stars came to brush back my hair and kiss away my tears.
and i looked at them, and i whispered, i’m fine.
because it was the very stars whom I’d begged for your return, whom I’d prayed to, because God had failed me and you had failed me and wishing wells failed me and stars failed me and blue hula hoops failed me…
you failed me.
the noise was so loud that I thought I would wake the sun, so I hid my face in my hands and forced myself to go silent, and I shook with the weight of all the pain that you had laid upon my shoulders before you left without even having the guts to say goodbye.
without being able to look me in the eye,
and admit that every promise was a lie.
to this day, i am afraid to be captain again.
to this day, I am afraid to swim.
to this day, I no longer wish on stars.
the noise was so loud that I thought it would wake the sun, so since that day, i’m afraid to make a sound.
to this day sometimes I forget that I’ve forgiven you.
–Trump will be only the second US President to have been divorced – twice in his case. (Ronald Reagan was the other.) Trump has five children with three different women.
–Trump will be the first president with a male child living in the White House since John Kennedy. (The male children of other presidents were adults when the president was elected.)
–Trump will be the first president in American history with no elected OR appointed government experience, who was also never in the military. He will therefore be the only US president to have made a career only as a businessperson prior to being elected.
remember when lucifer was a bad guy who slaughtered a town women and children first because he wanted the apocalypse and now he’s a moody teenager locking himself in sam’s room and blasting music because dad refused to apologise to him
Harvey M. Robinson was a serial killer who terrorized the residents of
Allentown, Pennsylvania throughout the 1990′s. He is one of America’s youngest serial killers. He grew up in an abusive family. His father, Harvey Rodriguez Robinson, used to hit his mother and torture her. He was also an alcoholic. Despite this, the young Harvey idolised his father and ended up seeing his criminal behaviour as the norm. When Harvey M. was three years old, his father ended up going to prison for manslaughter after beating his mistress to death.
Robinson excelled in school, and showed great athletic prowess. However, teachers noticed a dark side to him that was later diagnosed as Conduct Disorder (psychopathy) at just age 9. As he grew older, his behaviour spiraled out of control. He was getting arrested once a week, and was doing heavy drugs. His peers and teachers became afraid of him, and he became drunk from the power. When he was 17, he began raping and butchering women and children.
In his first murder, he hit
Joan Burghardt, 29,
over the head 37 times after raping her. He masturbated over her shorts when she was dead. He then slashed a 15-year-old girl’s throat and stabbed her 22 times. She was also raped.
He continued committing these brutal assaults until 1993 when he was captured. It is unknown how many innocent people became victim to Robinson, as he is thought to have committed dozens of burglaries and rapes, aswell as the murders. He was given three death sentences and a combined 97 years in prison.
A/N: It’s been a while. Instead of normal cinnamon roll Josh, we’ve got *bad boy Josh*.
You know how there’s always those people that seem to have the best of luck? Their life is perfect, all because everything that’s supposed to go right does. Women who want children receive them on their first try, young adults who want to achieve do, girls get the perfect boy they dreamed of having.
I didn’t, sometimes I wonder if I ever will. Instead of the perfect boy I thought I’d snag, I got a hollow body that never seems to stay longer than a few hours at a time. Nothing I could do would make him stay.
He was the type of boy every girl was taught to avoid. Tattoos, piercings, dyed hair. Maybe it’s a stereotype, but it’s one he wore proudly. He indulged in being every college freshmen girl’s fantasy. The bad boy that you could take for just one night, your dirty little secret that you tell your friends about over a glass of rosé years down the road. If your life is really that boring. Sometimes I believed I stayed out of hope, or desperation. Often those two intertwine.
I let him go off with girls, and, most of the time, he came home to me. But there was always that hollow feeling inside of me that I feel he carved out, trying to fill himself. But he was like an abused jar of honey, everything sweet had leaked out through the damage done. Though he never told me where that damage came from.
Our apartment was small, dimly lit, and constantly dirty. I never cleaned. It was my passive-aggressive “fuck you” to his infidelity and neglect. He always complained about my large collection of shampoo, but although my complaints were bigger, I kept my mouth shut.
Sometimes I see just a glimpse of the boy I’m hanging on to. I say boy, and not man, because a man would never treat a woman the way a boy does. Sometimes, when we’re completely alone, there’s a happy light in his eyes that I wish I could capture on film. I wonder if he hides it, or it hides itself. Maybe it hides him.These moments never last long, hence why they’ve always been called moments. By the time I’ve woken up the next morning, he’ll be somewhere. I’ve never received a text, or a call in regards to where that is.
Eventually, both of us had had enough. He took me to a party in a parking lot with his friends. I saw a sculpture from across the plaza, he wanted to stay and drink beer.
I tugged gently on his sleeve, “C’mon, Josh, it’ll only be for a minute. Please?” I pleaded.
He rolled his eyes at me, yanking away. “Go by yourself, if it’s really that important. God, you’re being annoying.” He snapped.
His friends snickered and ‘ooooh’ed. His face paled as he realized how he’d just treated me. Maybe, for a split second, he was clinging to me the way I did to him. I pulled my hood up, trying not to cry.
“Right.” I mumbled, my voice cracking. I turned and left, but instead of walking towards the sculpture I started walking home.
He ran after me, now tugging on my sleeve. I yanked it out of his grip, continuing to speed-walk. “Y/N, stop! Just talk to me!” He shouted.
I whipped around, shoving him. The small amount of eye makeup I wore must’ve been smeared from crying. “What?! What do you want from me, Josh?! Because I have nothing left to give you! You’ve already taken everything, and you’ve treated me like trash! I’m so tired of it. I never should have thought that there was any good left in you… I hate you!” I scream, pushing him again before I run off.
After several hours of sleeping on the bathroom floor, I vaguely feel someone pick me up. Their arms are warm and strong. They lay me down on the bed, and plush lips softly kiss my forehead. I can faintly smell cigarettes and Old Spice, and I know it’s Josh. He lays down next to me, pulling me close like he never does. I sleepily cuddle into his chest, opening my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, softly stroking my hair.
I pull my face away, looking at him. “Are you though?” I say, my voice quiet and full of disbelief.
He cups my cheeks, his sad eyes even more sad than usual. “Yes, I am. I spent all this time searching for someone to love me, and I was too stupid to realize that it was you. I hurt you so many times, not even thinking… and I’m so sorry.” He said, tears slipping down his cheeks. He pulls me into a tight hug. “Please, don’t leave me.” He whispered into my hair.
I nod a little, hugging him back. I know I’m an idiot, but I’m seeing the change in him, and I want to be around for the finished product.