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immortal sasquatch

@space-chicken-str

BLM. 🏳️‍🌈

hey, c'mere. I wanna say some stuff.

I wanna tell you that I love your stretchmarks. they're a part of you, and they happen to most of us, and it's just your body's way of making room for all of you. (you don't have to love them, btw. that's okay too.)

and even though I love seeing you grow out of your clothes, let's make sure you have things that fit. c'mon, we'll go shopping and pick out some stuff together. I want you to have clothes that make you feel comfortable and confident.

oh and lastly, this: you are enough, just as you are. I know I get carried away sometimes, always craving more, but you as you are right now...you are so precious, so dear, so enough. 💖💖💖

The fact that I get to be one of those people wearing the suit next to my actual Spider-Man hero, Tobey Maguire, and the brilliant, incredibly talented, heartfelt, funny, good, sweet, perfect Spider-Man of Tom Holland, and I get to be the middle brother? And I get to be in awe of my older brother and in full longing to protect my younger brother. 

no, listen, when I say I want to integrate more specific solarpunk stuff in my life, i don’t mean to ask for yet again new “aesthetic” clothes that now you have to buy or make to show your support of the movement (screw that i’m consuming enough as it is), or more posts about impossible house goals, or whatever, I’m asking you what my options to build a portable and eco friendly phone charger are, im asking you viable tiny-appartment edible plants growing tricks on a budget,  im asking tips to slow down when my mind and society tell me im not fast enough, i don’t need more rich art nouveau amateurs aesthetics or pristine but cold venus project, okay, i know i should joins associations where I am tho i’m constantly on the move, thanks for that, just, you know, can we get a bit more practical ??? how do I hack my temporary flat into going off the grid for the time i’m here

THE BODY OF A BLACK WOMAN.

The body of a black woman.

It’s quite divine in my eyes.

The flourishing hair, to the round lips.

That is ours.

The body of a black woman.

It carries so much, and yet it gets disrespected.

The body of a black woman.

A baby is carried, carried by the stomach.

The black woman is the backbone of the world.

Soil to the trees you chop down.

The warriors to the beatings you get.

The body of a black woman.

The anger she holds by her tongue, tightening her grip on a dress.

Because when she speaks she’s either ghetto, stupid, and much more unpleasant words.

The body of a black woman holds many more things than you could ever imagine.

The anger, the peace, and the world.

And when we speak right we sound white.

When the white woman tries to embody the royalty the black women have, they fail.

Because the body of a black woman can never be embodied.

Black women hold too much power.

And for that, they shut us up, tell us we are worthless and such more.

But when we take a look at ourselves deeply and fall in love with what we see.

No one. And not even the white man could shut our mouth and tell us to change our hairstyles.

Because the body of the black woman is royalty.

Our ancestors are queens, and we take that cup of sovereignty and pour it over ourselves and to our children.

Because royalty is our name.

The body of a black woman.

It’s too beautiful for the world to handle.