Puebla by Cosmojojo on Flickr.
white girls are having a crisis, y’all.“While we throw shade at each other” omg Jesus fix it
the whole idea of daddy issues makes me so uncomfortable? like your father abandoned you, you had a bad relationship with him or he abused you and we created a term to shame, humiliate and laugh at you for dealing with the emotions that come with that
today was a good day for my wardrobe
shonda > > >
Anonymous said: What's the best way for a poor person to avoid buying sweatshop stuff? I hate what happens in sweatshops but at the same time my options are limited due to money and what's being sold in my area :( Do you have any advice?
Thrift is the only thing i can think of
Not buying from sweatshops would do nothing to improve the lives of the workers so it’s probably best to not waste energy on shopping “ethically” and concentrate on organising our own workplaces and communities.
Over the past decade, factory and sweatshop workers across East and South Asia have been militantly organising. Their unions are getting stronger, they are taking direct action against bosses and militias, and they are gaining better wages and working conditions all the time.
To boycott the products they make, when no union or sweatshop workers are calling for a boycott, doesn’t strengthen their struggle, it’ll weaken it.
Nike or Primark, whatever you buy you’re buying from exploited workers. And that includes the first world primark shop workers and delivery people. You cannot boycott capitalism under a globalised capitalist system.
Boycotts lead to less profits lead to already exploited workers being laid off. Unless they call for a boycott (in which they’ve hopefully prepared for the fallout) you’re only added more exploitation and starvation. It’s a fucking terrible tight-rope act that was purposefully designed to weaken solidarity and direct action.
your periodic reminder that there’s no ethical consumerism under capitalism.
Layered Passion Fruit Cake with Coconut Frosting
sometimes I get hit and so overwhelmed by the fact I’m in the same room as I lived my whole life before 18, on the same bed by the same window where I’d write aimlessly in a diary at 2am listening to the radio, or at the same desk where I studied for a test about teeth in Year 6, drawing diagrams in a purple A6 notebook while listening to classical music because I thought it’d help. and I’m so glad I changed the walls from lilac to two shades of orange, and changed the carpet and curtains too, because moving isn’t an option and I don’t think I could stand it if it felt even remotely the same.
I’m still recovering from the heartbreak of finding out that life insurance isn’t something you take out that ensures you live. it’s been years and I think I always will be.
I really want to be in my late 20s and making breakfast and going to the hardware store to buy paint to decorate the nursery, and staying up all night with someone thinking about the baby and painting the walls, with a rickety bedside table in the middle of the room on bunched up old sheets, holding a sangria, and it’s humid but there’s a really distinct breeze when we go outside to find a 24hr place that sells something we ran out of, and we go out for breakfast the next day - except we overslept so it’s lunch - because the paint fumes are headachey.
it’s just so unrealistic for countless reasons, and I don’t want to want the someone I’d be doing it all with.
Aamne Samne (1967)