"

It’s Monday. I’m going home at 6pm and a middle aged man and a teenage boy are the only people left on the bus with me. I consider the fact that because the driver is also a man I am the only person left on the bus with the correct genetic makeup for boobs. I’m automatically scared, scared because of my own anatomy. I wonder how old I was when I realized that my own body was going to be the cause of the constant anxiety and fear I feel in situations like this. I get off at the last stop and the older man smiles at me while following me up the street. His smile drips, drips, drips and my heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. He turns off down another road, but I run the rest of the way home.

Not all men.

I’m at home on a Tuesday, beginning to plan the travels I want to go on next year. I dream of wandering the streets and meeting strangers. I just can’t wait to escape the city I’ve lived in for 17 long years. But… my mum is hesitant. She’s forever worried about the danger that being a young girl traveling alone can bring. I’ll be alone and she’s scared. Surely I’m invincible. I feel invincible. But I know, I know this danger is real and I can’t help but think to myself, if I feel unsafe in my own city, how am i going to feel in a strange place with strange men who don’t speak the same language as me? If I was my brother planning this, I would probably just be wondering if European girls are going to be hot.

Not all men.

Wednesday is a beautiful sunny day but I’ve always been told that I don’t have a “nice enough body” to wear a bikini on the beach. Ever since I was 6 years old I’ve thought that having tummy fat was ugly. That skin that doesn’t have a perfectly golden glow is undesirable. I amble to a clear patch of sand in my one piece and I can feel pairs of eyes latching onto me. Hairy men in speedos who I don’t look twice at eat into my body with their stares. I’m a piece of meat. I am a piece of meat? I am here for their amusement. Please don’t let me be eaten alive.

Not all men.

Thursday night two friends and I are walking to our god damn school dance when we hear “Jesus look at you! You sluts heading to a pole?” These words snarl out of the mouth of a respectably dressed man and we stop in horror. Shivers roll up my back in fear. It’s dark. We are alone. What. Do. We. Do??? One of us pulls the finger back. I can never be sure how quickly a sexist man can get angry so we walk quickly away. We’re angry, so so angry. But also so… deflated. I wonder if we deserve this shame.

Not all men.

Sitting on the internet, Friday night and scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed:

“Haha, good job at the game today bro. You RAPED them!”
“Damn with tits like that, you’re asking for it :P”

Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…

I’m shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and I want to CRY because these boys don’t realize how small they make me feel with just pressing a few keys. I see these boys on the streets, I talk to these boys, I laugh with these boys. Dear GOD, dear GOD i hope these boys don’t think actions speak louder than words…

Not all men.

Three rules that have been drilled into me since I was young run through my mind at 1.30am on a Satur… Sunday Morning:

-Don’t ever talk to strange men
-Don’t ever be alone at night in a strange place
-Don’t ever get into a car with a stranger

I break all 3 of these laws as I pull open the taxi door. Making light conversation with the driver, he doesn’t see my sweaty hand clutching the small pocket knife I keep hidden on me at all times. He doesn’t even realize the fear I feel at his mere presence. He cannot comprehend it, he never will. How easy would this 15 minute car ride be if I was born a boy?

Not all men.

It comes to Sunday, another snoozy, sleepy, Sunday and someone has the AUDACITY to tell me not all men are rapists. I say nothing.

I’m a 17 year old girl.
When I am walking alone and it’s dark, it’s all men.
When I am in a car with a man I don’t know well, it’s all men.
When men drunkenly leer at me on the streets, it’s all men.
When a boy won’t leave me alone at a party, it’s all men.

Not all men are rapists. But for a young girl like me? Every one of them has the potential to be.

Not.
All.
Men.

"

(via nonjazzscatcat)

(Source: trueho, via worldtea)

(Source: peachypalm, via vileallure)

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lil-banshee:

When you put on your favorite movie for someone and you’re really excited for them to watch it for the first time AND THEY DON’T EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO IT 

image

(via run-the-lights)

equestrianfangirlswag:

she’s so touched for a moment

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(Source: theinturnetexplorer, via run-the-lights)

Tom Hiddleston is the latest victim to take up the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge (and we’d like to thank Nathan Fillion for providing him with the opportunity).

(via worldtea)

csebastian:

Paris Match, January 2010 photographer: Frederic Auerbach Eva Green
muse muse muse
// myforget-me-notsandmarigolds:sylviagetyourheadouttheoven

csebastian:

Paris Match, January 2010 
photographer: Frederic Auerbach
Eva Green

muse muse muse

// myforget-me-notsandmarigolds:sylviagetyourheadouttheoven

humansofspore:

via one of PinkDot’s excellent speeches, reprinted by permission of Benjamin and son "When I was in secondary school, I was among the fortunate few to have friends who were gay. Some of whom I knew were gay before they knew or cared to admit.My father was most concerned, of course, and told me he was worried that I would get affected or influenced - in his own words, ‘you spend so much time with him, you become a gay then you know’.I said, ‘Pa, look at me, I can’t dress to save my life. I wish I COULD be influenced’.Then came NS, the 2 and a half years that was meant to make men out of boys. Interestingly, it was also where I learned how brave my gay army mates were, and how they stood the tallest among the fighting men in my combat unit. Not only did they endure the physical duress of training, they took the insults - being called Chow Ah Kua, Bapok, Faggot - any derogatory term for a gay man, daily. It was only after my unit became operational that the tables turned somewhat.The best GPMG gunner was gay. Two of my company’s best platoon sergeants were gay, and the guy that broke another soldier’s leg during unarmed combat was one of those Chow Ah Kuas. These NS boys were tortured and I cannot begin to imagine the torment they must have endured, having to hide and deny who they were.Things are every so slightly better these days. There’s this civil event right here that celebrates and affirms the right to love, regardless of orientation, even if some people don’t, and even if there is an unjust and unconstitutional piece of legislation that doesn’t.My hope is that it doesn’t stop here. And I will support the celebration and affirmation until it becomes a right under the laws of this otherwise dynamic country.I saw this because my family and I count ourselves the luckiest people. It’s not because we probably have more gay friends than straight ones. But it’s because many of our gay friends have shown us the ability to sustain love above all manner of obstacles, objection, ridicule.And more importantly, they love my wife, my son, and myself for who they are. We are without doubt blessed by their friendship, and our family cannot do without their love.I am glad that we are raising our son amongst friends who share the same family values. That two people can love each other regardless of gender, gender identity or labeling.If this is the ‘gay lifestyle’, then my family and I will wholeheartedly promote it.”

humansofspore:

via one of PinkDot’s excellent speeches, reprinted by permission of Benjamin and son 

"When I was in secondary school, I was among the fortunate few to have friends who were gay. Some of whom I knew were gay before they knew or cared to admit.
My father was most concerned, of course, and told me he was worried that I would get affected or influenced - in his own words, ‘you spend so much time with him, you become a gay then you know’.
I said, ‘Pa, look at me, I can’t dress to save my life. I wish I COULD be influenced’.

Then came NS, the 2 and a half years that was meant to make men out of boys. Interestingly, it was also where I learned how brave my gay army mates were, and how they stood the tallest among the fighting men in my combat unit. Not only did they endure the physical duress of training, they took the insults - being called Chow Ah Kua, Bapok, Faggot - any derogatory term for a gay man, daily. It was only after my unit became operational that the tables turned somewhat.
The best GPMG gunner was gay. Two of my company’s best platoon sergeants were gay, and the guy that broke another soldier’s leg during unarmed combat was one of those Chow Ah Kuas. These NS boys were tortured and I cannot begin to imagine the torment they must have endured, having to hide and deny who they were.

Things are every so slightly better these days. There’s this civil event right here that celebrates and affirms the right to love, regardless of orientation, even if some people don’t, and even if there is an unjust and unconstitutional piece of legislation that doesn’t.
My hope is that it doesn’t stop here. And I will support the celebration and affirmation until it becomes a right under the laws of this otherwise dynamic country.

I saw this because my family and I count ourselves the luckiest people. It’s not because we probably have more gay friends than straight ones. But it’s because many of our gay friends have shown us the ability to sustain love above all manner of obstacles, objection, ridicule.
And more importantly, they love my wife, my son, and myself for who they are. We are without doubt blessed by their friendship, and our family cannot do without their love.

I am glad that we are raising our son amongst friends who share the same family values. That two people can love each other regardless of gender, gender identity or labeling.

If this is the ‘gay lifestyle’, then my family and I will wholeheartedly promote it.”

(via shiyihao)

(via shiyihao)

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kdw0118:

Vogue Korea

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(Source: Flickr / missellieneous, via koreanpyong)

(via vileallure)

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