aflowerthatbloomsinadversity

We were grabbing a bite of lunch at a small cafe, in a mall, right across from a booth that sold jewelry and where ears could be pierced for a fee. A mother approaches with a little girl of six or seven years old. The little girl is clearly stating that she doesn’t want her ears pierced, that’s she’s afraid of how much it will hurt, that she doesn’t like earrings much in the first place. Her protests, her clear ‘no’ is simply not heard. The mother and two other women, who work the booth, begin chatting and trying to engage the little girl in picking out a pair of earrings. She has to wear a particular kind when the piercing is first done but she could pick out a fun pair for later.

"I don’t want my ears pierced."

"I don’t want any earrings."

The three adults glance at each other conspiratorially and now the pressure really begins. She will look so nice, all the other girls she knows wear earrings, the pain isn’t bad.

She, the child, sees what’s coming and starts crying. As the adults up the volume so does she, she’s crying and emitting a low wail at the same time. “I DON’T WANT MY EARS PIERCED.”

Her mother leans down and speaks to her, quietly but strongly, the only words we could hear were ‘… embarrassing me.’

We heard, then, two small screams, when the ears were pierced.

Little children learn early and often that ‘no doesn’t mean no.’

Little children learn early that no one will stand with them, even the two old men looking horrified at the events from the cafeteria.

Little girls learn early and often that their will is not their own.

No means no, yeah, right.

Most often, for kids and others without power, ”no means force.”

from "No Means Force" at Dave Hingsburger’s blog.

This is important. It doesn’t just apply to little girls and other children, though it often begins there.

For the marginalized, our “no’s” are discounted as frivolous protests, rebelliousness, or anger issues, or we don’t know what we’re talking about, or we don’t understand what’s happening.

When “no means force” we become afraid to say no.

(via k-pagination)

I was forced to have my ears pierced when I was 4 b/c I got earrings as a present and mum felt guilty that I couldn’t wear them

(via antaresia)

I suddenly feel very fortunate to have a mom that let me chose to get my ear pierced.

opprobriouscunt
If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them.

anonymous reader on The Dish

One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.

(via mysweetetc)

THISSSS!!!!

(via thisisglorious)

admiral-yousmator
admiral-yousmator:

You know what really gets to me, and I’m sure many know this, is the blatant abuse and betrayal that white photogs display in POC countries. Every time a photo has gotten famous like this photo did in history, the actual focus of the photo is left behind in the dust while the white photog is hailed as a hero for displaying the ills of that country. He didn’t even fucking ask her name. He didn’t ask for 17 years. The world knew nothing about her life and her story. He captured one moment that made him famous and she got nothing.
Every time I see this photo, I seethe.

admiral-yousmator:

You know what really gets to me, and I’m sure many know this, is the blatant abuse and betrayal that white photogs display in POC countries. Every time a photo has gotten famous like this photo did in history, the actual focus of the photo is left behind in the dust while the white photog is hailed as a hero for displaying the ills of that country. He didn’t even fucking ask her name. He didn’t ask for 17 years. The world knew nothing about her life and her story. He captured one moment that made him famous and she got nothing.

Every time I see this photo, I seethe.

northernselkie

northernselkie:

lightsharpnesssong:

Knitting Inspiration: hoods. Like, fairy tale hoods. I read somewhere that “capes are in” this year and, while I don’t give a flying fuck about that sort of thing, it does mean that suddenly all these fetching hooded capelet/shawl things are sprouting like mushrooms. (Get it? Mushrooms? Fairy rings….fairy tales? You’re right, that was a bit of a stretch.)

I’m particularly drawn to ones that are heavily textured or almost insubstantial. There was a thing with hooded scarves a few years back that I never really committed to; having seen these more voluminous alternatives, I suddenly understand why I waited. Unlike hoodies, which are ubiquitously casual to the point where I refuse to wear them, and hooded scarves, which make me think of kids who can’t be trusted to not lose individual cold weather items and are thus given a combination mittens/hood/scarf thing, these are poised somewhere between little kid make-believe and massive sophistication. I also suspect that they won’t cause hat hair, although I might have to line them to prevent unfortunate bobby pin accidents.

Sources are, as always, in the captions.

I might need to investigate this trend…because winter…

I think I need a me project. I think one of these will be it.