It’s fifteen years since Jeff Buckley died, and it feels morbid as hell drawing extra attention to dates like these because they’re really not the type I’d like to remember. Grace is usually on repeat, Dream Brother mostly, but not today. I don’t know. I guess it just isn’t a Jeff Buckley day.
“The problem with sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, classist, ableist, etc., remarks and “jokes” is not that they’re offensive, but that by relying for their meaning on harmful cultural narratives about privileged and marginalized groups they reinforce those narratives, and the stronger those narratives are, the stronger the implicit biases with which people are indoctrinated are. That’s real harm, not just “offense.”—
Additional ingredients of your choice - onions, peppers, cheese, etc.
Pour oil into frying pan
Slip and create oil flood
Crack egg directly into pan and stir poorly
Collapse by hob
Rise and throw in salt, pepper, additional ingredients, your shoe in frustration
Drain excess oil (there will be a lot) and sleep in for warmth
End of week special You will need:
Coat pocket full of loose change
Don identity-obscuring outfit and slippers
Run outside to machine
Feed in 5ps
Grab item and run
Curl up in bed
Fall back to sleep
Wake up with packet lodged in hair
Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Hahaha. Ha. Ha ha. Ha.
Dinner What would my mother say? You will need:
Instant mashed potatoes
Pour instant mix into bowl
Pour too much boiling water into instant mix in bowl
Talk into laptop screen as if television chef about rich mix of textures as you venture from the soup-like surface, ooh, the wateryness, the air of cardboard, to that inner core of dry potato flakes, mmmm, your personality in food form.
I used to have potential You will need:
Dip spoon 1 into nutella
Dip spoon 2 into jam
Continue until sick
Carry on until delirious
Aim for mouth
Just smear both products onto face
Lie down on floor
Coat hair with nutella
Empty out jam onto stomach
Throw jars against wall to symbolise all aspirations
This line is a favorite of the bigot. The problem is, it’s backwards.
It’s a great trick. It works because it’s a simple dismissal. If it’s you who are “Sensitive” or “Easily offended,” they are cleared of all wrong doing. Not only are they cleared of all wrong doing but they…
There are so many sensitive portrayals of South Asian poverty [among other issues] that are way more gripping. Movies that explore what it is like to live in a variety of South Asian communities, examine the dichotomy between rich and poor, and effectively appreciate…
I went to bed at 5.00, woke up 13.42, made a cheese sandwich and watched episode two of The L Word, and went back to sleep at 15.30. And then woke up again at 20.16.
Then stayed in bed until about forty minutes ago. Thinking about how today was so early July 2009 and I was being a miserable little git doing nothing at all and telling myself that was better than being bad at revision for this Saturday.
Oh God, Saturday. Everything’s resting on that exam and I know nothing.
I really don’t know what I was thinking booking tickets to go home next week. Leave on Monday morning, come back Saturday evening. The free food will be great, but I’m afraid I’ll use up all of my home-sweet-home euphoria, and the boredom will set in even quicker when I am back permanently. I say permanently, I only mean for the summer. That’s what happened over Easter, when I went home for the weekend a little while before we broke up. Mind you, that was worth the boredom because that weekend involved the BEST BIRYANI I HAVE EVER TASTED.
Total lie, it gave me heartburn, but -
I’m going to Lahore Karahi next week.
I need to go to the Tesco here. I’ve been needing to go all day, but I look and feel like something three men dragged up from the bottom of a swamp, so I’m trying to wait off until the early hours of the morning. I threw caution to the wind and went at 18.00 the other day, and it was windy and my jacket wouldn’t stay still and my leggings were falling down and my hair decided to garrote me several times.
I washed my hair yesterday evening and it’s been wrestled up for around twenty-two hours. I have to take it down to sort it out soon. I’m a little afraid I’ll forget to remind myself that an animal has not died on my head.
“I grew up in Pakistan with two Americas. One was the America of To Kill a Mockingbird and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, of the young Michael Jackson and Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Charlie’s Angels and John McEnroe and Rob Lowe’s blue eyes. Of Martin Luther King and Snoopy. That America was exuberance and possibility. But there was another that I lived with. The America which cozied up to Pakistan’s military dictator, Zia-ul-Haq, because it served its own interests in Afghanistan to do so.”—
This America threw vast amounts of money at Zia, propping up his rule, strengthening his military, turning a blind eye to its nuclear program, working with him to promote the war in Afghanistan as a jihad for all Muslims rather than a territorial matter between Afghans and Soviets; this America spoke eloquently of the Afghan people’s right to freedom and self-determination but decided it was an internal matter when Zia’s government cracked down on pro-democracy protestors in Pakistan, or when he instituted public floggings and hangings, or when he passed a law which made it possible for a woman who had been raped to be stoned to death for adultery.
Janus-faced American policies. Something you won’t find openly discussed in political discourse: US regime(s)’s habit of backing up dictators in third world countries.
Your soldiers will come to our lands, but your novelists won’t. The unmanned drone hovering over Pakistan, controlled by someone in Langley, is an apt metaphor for America’s imaginative engagement with my nation.
I’ve developed this sort of rapport with the guy who works at the convenience store because we’re both Desi; I’ll walk in and he’ll ask me questions about favourite food, movies, etc. It’s really warm outside right now, so I was paying for my stuff and:
Him: Too hot for you, yeah?
Me: Mmm? Yeah, I guess.
Him: You don’t like the sun? You like it more when it’s cold?
Me: No, I really love when it’s sunny, it’s just when it’s really hot. I like it when it’s not sunny too, though.
Him: Haha, yeah, because then at least you won’t get dark, isn’t it?
And now I’m eating my twister and I’m sad on so many levels.
Like many of you who have been discussing the issue on Twitter and Facebook today, I was angered to learn that a new UK conference for radical feminists, RadFem2012, is not only playing host to a well-known transphobe, but is actively excluding trans women from attending.
The conference is open only to “women born women living as women”. Now, I personally support and fully appreciate the value of women-only space, but that space has to be open to all self-defining women. Excluding trans women from an event that aims to build an “anti-oppressive movement for the liberation of all women from patriarchal oppression” is bitterly ironic.
Trans women suffer horrifying levels of violence, abuse and discrimination, fuelled not only by the fact that they are women, but by the refusal of the vast majority of the cis population to acknowledge and respect their identities. The organisers of RadFem2012 have actively chosen to align themselves with this majority, and in so doing are complicit in trans women’s oppression. Radical? Feminism? I think not.
My first ever exam was not me getting dressed and staring at my laundry bag, by the way. I meant it more along the lines of, here I stand, ready to embark on inevitable failure, HAHAHAHA, what is Burke and Paine? etc.
It is hard to deny that fairness creams often get social commentators and activists all worked up. What they should do is take a deep breath and think again. Lipstick is used to make your lips redder, fairness cream is used to make you fairer-so what’s the problem? I don’t think any Youngistani today thinks the British Raj/White man is superior to us Brown folk. That’s all 1947 thinking!
The only reason I can offer for why people like fairness, is this: if you have two beautiful girls, one of them fair and the other dark, you see the fair girl’s features more clearly. This is because her complexion reflects more light. I found this amazing difference when I directed Kabir Bedi, who is very fair and had to wear dark makeup for Othello, the Black hero of the play. I found I had to have a special spotlight following Kabir around the stage because otherwise the audience could not see his expressions.
“Many women of color, like their Anglo counterparts, eschew the term ‘feminism’ while agreeing with it’s goals (the right to an abortion, equality in job hiring, girls’ soccer teams). But women of color also dismiss the label because the feminist movement has largely focused on the concerns of middle-class women… . Attempts to address the racism of the feminist movement have largely been token efforts without lasting effects. Many young women of color still feel alienated from a mainstream feminism that doesn’t explicitly address race… . Feminism in the United States has stagnated in part because it has largely neglected a class and race analysis.”—“Feminism’s Future Young Feminists of Color Take the Mic” Daisy Hernández (via brazenbitch)
(trigger warning: rape, rape jokes)
Here is why I refuse to take rape jokes sitting down…
Because 6% of college-aged men, slightly over 1 in 20, will admit to raping someone in anonymous surveys, as long as the word “rape” isn’t used in the description of the act—and that’s the conservative estimate. Other sources double that number (pdf).
A lot of people accuse feminists of thinking that all men are rapists. That’s not true. But do you know who think all men are rapists?
They really do. In psychological study, the profiling, the studies, it comes out again and again.
Virtually all rapists genuinely believe that all men rape, and other men just keep it hushed up better. And more, these people who really are rapists are constantly reaffirmed in their belief about the rest of mankind being rapists like them by things like rape jokes, that dismiss and normalize the idea of rape.
If one in twenty guys (or more) is a real and true rapist, and you have any amount of social activity with other guys like yourself, then it is almost a statistical certainty that one time hanging out with friends and their friends, playing Halo with a bunch of guys online, in a WoW guild, in a pick-up game of basketball, at a bar, or elsewhere, you were talking to a rapist. Not your fault. You can’t tell a rapist apart any better than anyone else can. It’s not like they announce themselves.
But, here’s the thing. It’s very likely that in some of these interactions with these guys, at some point or another, someone told a rape joke. You, decent guy that you are, understood that they didn’t mean it, and it was just a joke. And so you laughed.
Or maybe you didn’t laugh. Maybe it just wasn’t a very funny joke. So maybe you just didn’t say anything at all.
And, decent guy who would never condone rape, who would step in and stop rape if he saw it, who understands that rape is awful and wrong and bad, when you laughed? When you were silent?
That rapist who was in the group with you, that rapist thought that you were on his side. That rapist knew that you were a rapist like him. And he felt validated, and he felt he was among his comrades.
You. The rapist’s comrade.
And if that doesn’t make you feel sick to your stomach, if that doesn’t make you want to throw up, if that doesn’t disturb you or bother you or make you feel like maybe you should at least consider not participating in that kind of humor anymore, not abiding it in your presence, not greeting it with silence…
Well, maybe you aren’t as opposed to rapists as you claim.
so usually i don’t bother writing about all the problems with glee, in large part because the problems are thoroughly covered by seemingly every other person on the entire internet. but this recent storyline with coach beast being hit by her husband and the…
Look, if you see a post where someone is questioning why white people do racist shit and the only damn thing you can think to say is “but I’m not like that”, you’re part of the god damn problem. Why? Because you have just successfully derailed the conversation and made it all…
“Fat people in America are reduced to nothing but fatness. A fat person has a health problem of any kind? It’s because they’re fat. A fat person is single? Well, duh. Fat. They deserve it. A fat person is poor? That’s not surprising-obviously they have bad judgment and no impulse control! Because why would a smart person choose to be fat? If a fat person goes to a restaurant and sits on a broken chair and the chair collapses under them, it’s because they’re fat. But if a thin person sits on the same broken chair and the chair collapses under them, it’s because they sat on a broken chair.”—