A blog dedicated to ending the oppression and minoritization of women everywhere through critical thinking, writing, expression and visual communication. Fearless Feminism means not taking no for an answer, and facing the demons we are often to afraid to confront, but that we can, and must, overpower.

yeahgagas:


Reporter:  What made you lose 37 pounds?Raven Symone: The pressure of society.
FINALLY A CELEBRITY WHO SAYS THE REAL REASON.
In an interview where someone told her that she looked beautiful she said: “I was always beautiful, now I’m just thin.”

She is actually Jesus reincarnated.

yeahgagas:

Reporter:  What made you lose 37 pounds?
Raven Symone: The pressure of society.

FINALLY A CELEBRITY WHO SAYS THE REAL REASON.

In an interview where someone told her that she looked beautiful she said: “I was always beautiful, now I’m just thin.”

She is actually Jesus reincarnated.

(via newwavefeminism)

Source: darkt0wn

"Should parents read their daughter's texts or monitor her online activity for bad language and inappropriate content?"

daeranilen:

daeranilen:

Earlier today, I served as the “young woman’s voice” in a panel of local experts at a Girl Scouts speaking event. One question for the panel was something to the effect of, "Should parents read their daughter’s texts or monitor her online activity for bad language and inappropriate content?"

I was surprised when the first panelist answered the question as if it were about cyberbullying. The adult audience nodded sagely as she spoke about the importance of protecting children online.

I reached for the microphone next. I said, “As far as reading your child’s texts or logging into their social media profiles, I would say 99.9% of the time, do not do that.”

Looks of total shock answered me. I actually saw heads jerk back in surprise. Even some of my fellow panelists blinked.

Everyone stared as I explained that going behind a child’s back in such a way severs the bond of trust with the parent. When I said, “This is the most effective way to ensure that your child never tells you anything,” it was like I’d delivered a revelation.

It’s easy to talk about the disconnect between the old and the young, but I don’t think I’d ever been so slapped in the face by the reality of it. It was clear that for most of the parents I spoke to, the idea of such actions as a violation had never occurred to them at all.

It alarms me how quickly adults forget that children are people.

Apparently people are rediscovering this post somehow and I think that’s pretty cool! Having experienced similar violations of trust in my youth, this is an important issue to me, so I want to add my personal story:

Around age 13, I tried to express to my mother that I thought I might have clinical depression, and she snapped at me “not to joke about things like that.” I stopped telling my mother when I felt depressed.

Around age 15, I caught my mother reading my diary. She confessed that any time she saw me write in my diary, she would sneak into my room and read it, because I only wrote when I was upset. I stopped keeping a diary.

Around age 18, I had an emotional breakdown while on vacation because I didn’t want to go to college. I ended up seeing a therapist for - surprise surprise - depression.

Around age 21, I spoke on this panel with my mother in the audience, and afterwards I mentioned the diary incident to her with respect to this particular Q&A. Her eyes welled up, and she said, “You know I read those because I was worried you were depressed and going to hurt yourself, right?”

TL;DR: When you invade your child’s privacy, you communicate three things:

  1. You do not respect their rights as an individual.
  2. You do not trust them to navigate problems or seek help on their own.
  3. You probably haven’t been listening to them.

Information about almost every issue that you think you have to snoop for can probably be obtained by communicating with and listening to your child.

(via feminismthough)

Source: daeranilen

(via poweredbygirl)

Source: pleasestopbeingsad

(via luna-leona)

Source: shakyahandicraft

Text

By: Rocío Ortiz

(Trigger Warning: Abuse)

Note: Even if it looks like I haven’t at times, I have given this piece a lot of thought. How am I supposed to write about something so deeply personal in a way that it can help other people? Should I? Is my abuse important enough to write about it? How do I convey all the little details, the context? It was chaotic and painful at times and it has brought me to tears more than once, so please, bear with me while I try to tell my story.

___________________________________________________________________

It had been at least 8 days without a word- not even and emoji. I was starting to convince myself that I didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone that treated me like that. For context, this was after a couple months of after we began dating and, to be fair, even though I can remember every detail about that period of time, I am unable to remember what was the fight that lead to the weeks of silence was about.

My sudden clarity about my place in that relationship was soon destroyed. I kept the phone with me at all times and kept looking at it every couple minutes, hoping to see something from him. I must admit that this behavior was not only because that silent treatment but was rather a constant behavior since the beginning of the relationship. And suddenly there is a small, green “typing” notification on the whatsapp conversation I always kept open. But I didn’t get a message that night, or the day after. I wouldn’t get a message for another week. But that small, little detail left me crying and longing for contact.

I met him a couple years ago, when I still was with my back then ex-girlfriend. He was a friend of a friend and to the young and naïve me, he was old, mysterious and interesting. I didn’t leave my girlfriend, he wasn’t even there for months after the break up, but when he appeared, we started dating in a few weeks. At first he was really sweet and he was so subtle whenever there was a problem that for a long time I thought we were so perfect for each other that we didn’t fight. Things started changing soon, but slowly. But I felt that I was in a safe place. I even knew his friends and I would be invited to classy events where I would be mocked and told off for not getting to a standard there was no way that I could reach.  

We had huge, explosive fights, full of screams and tears and rage. But those were almost harmless compared to the silent treatment, the constant shaming of what I liked and enjoyed (he once threw my vinyl collection away because he thought I had no musical taste) and the way he would grab my hand, as if I was some kind of child that needed to be controlled and reprimanded. When I think about all that moments that were so breathtakingly painful, it still gets to me. Especially how the slightest things could lead to weeks of crying.

There were also good moments, great even. But the truth is that all the good things that once kept me in the relationship, ended up being corrupted by fear, because I was constantly afraid of doing something wrong. Everything I did was thoroughly examined, even when most of the time this was completely useless because I ended up being punished for everything I did or didn’t do.

I was never physically hit but I was not oblivious to the fact that I was in an abusive relationship, as I tried to hide it from myself. For example, even when the few friends I was still allowed to meet knew I was in a relationship, they never ever met him. I was paralyzed by the fear that they would point it out, that they would realize that I was so weak and that I hated myself so much, that I stayed in a relationship that was sucking the life out of me.

I was the one that finished the relationship and yet, I wasn’t. I broke up with him after he confessed that he had cheated on my with his ex, because I felt like it was what I was supposed to do. He screamed, threatened, even cried. But I left anyway because for some reason I knew that, as many times as he said that it wouldn’t happen again, I would eventually be replaced and I would be left alone, lost without the person that controlled every aspect of my life and at least this way, I still had some control over the situation.

I didn’t feel free or relieved. I was sad and I felt lost. I thought about going back to him several times, but I kept reminding myself that I couldn’t do it, that I deserved freedom and happiness. I must confess I didn’t entirely believed it, but I thought that it made sense.

One of the things that I have to tell you is that, if you ever leave an abusive relationship (and I hope you never have to) you might miss it. I did. I tried having small simulations of relationships with a couple of nice, decent friends of mine. They were sweet, they tried to make me happy, comfortable and safe. But I got bored. I was used to really high highs and really low lows and a normal relationship felt monotonous. But that feeling does fade away. There are other things that, at least in my case, don’t.

The fear of hurting people by doing anything at all, the constant feeling of guilt, the sensation of not being good enough. I hate when people grab my arm, even if it’s only to get my attention and can barely finish a sentence without saying sorry. Every time I talk about something that I’ve done and it’s in some way important to me, I’ll say that it’s stupid. But the worst part, is being terrified of becoming that thing I’ve run away from. Even if it’s not remotely close, even if my behavior is out of sadness or fear but not intention, thinking that I might be hurting my partner the same way that I was hurt terrifies me constantly.

But you know what? I’m happy. I lived through something horrible and scary, I lived with the consequences of it and I still do and I don’t think I will ever get completely over it. But I’m happy.

I’m free.

I feel as intensely and deeply as I always have. You can be completely happy even when there are negative things that affect you. 

(via recoveryisbeautiful)

Source: youmatterlifeline

gossamerglitch:

shelbydoesnotpwn:

amazingatheist:

maitaijulie:

aviculor:

important psa about buns

We raised rabbits when I was a child and my sister gave a rabbit a bath (she was 5) and it died..so heed this instruction.

I wasn’t going to reblog this, but then I realized I might save a rabbit.

This is important guys. If your rabbit gets into something gnarly and you HAVE to bathe them:1. Fill a bowl with warm water.2. Get a washcloth. Put it in the water. Squeeze it out until it is just damn. 3. Lightly scrub the dirty area on your bun.4. That is it. DO NOT get your bun wet. Only slightly damp on the part that was dirty. (source)

VERY IMPORTANT! SAVE A BUNS LIFE!

gossamerglitch:

shelbydoesnotpwn:

amazingatheist:

maitaijulie:

aviculor:

important psa about buns

We raised rabbits when I was a child and my sister gave a rabbit a bath (she was 5) and it died..so heed this instruction.

I wasn’t going to reblog this, but then I realized I might save a rabbit.

This is important guys. If your rabbit gets into something gnarly and you HAVE to bathe them:
1. Fill a bowl with warm water.
2. Get a washcloth. Put it in the water. Squeeze it out until it is just damn. 
3. Lightly scrub the dirty area on your bun.
4. That is it. DO NOT get your bun wet. Only slightly damp on the part that was dirty. 
(source)

VERY IMPORTANT! SAVE A BUNS LIFE!

(via veg-tastic)

Source: sfrishberg

"I love my naked body like few other things in the world. It is mine, to do with as I please. It carries me through this life and has allowed me many things I didn’t expect. It changes and morphs into new versions of itself and I love all of them. I decorate her with tattoos and take her out dancing. I could never be ashamed or embarrassed of her…I’m not exposed or exploited when I am naked. That would be applying someone else’s expectations onto my body…When I am naked I am not brave or vulnerable or there for you. When I am naked, I am divine."

Source: noctivagantdust

why-are-you-afraid:

inspirational.

why-are-you-afraid:

inspirational.

(via luna-leona)

Source: pocketsizepeople

(via luna-leona)

Source: pleasestopbeingsad